#i haven’t been the greatest mentally after months of healing.

[dadbots]

April, huh….

[mental-health-solution]

Real-Life Depression Recovery | Relief Mental Health

Let’s explore the real-life depression recovery given below:

Personal Story 1: Stacy’s Journey with SPRAVATO® Here’s Stacy’s update after being on SPRAVATO® for a year. She first shared her story on Drugs.com six months after starting the treatment.

“This is an update to a review I wrote six months ago. I’ve now been on SPRAVATO® for a year. I’ve had suicidal thoughts and depression nearly every day for the past 25 years — except for the last year on SPRAVATO®.”

For someone who has battled depression and suicidal ideation for more than two decades, the past year has been transformative. “Every month, I see a gradual improvement,” she shared, highlighting the slow but steady progress made with SPRAVATO®.

“The biggest improvement in my first six months was the cessation of suicidal ideation.” This huge milestone marked a turning point in her mental health journey. Over the next six months, she noticed even more profound changes. “The last six months, not only has my general sadness gone away, but I can now bounce back when things are rough.”

Despite the ongoing journey of healing, she expressed immense gratitude for SPRAVATO®. “I still have healing to do, but none of it would be possible without SPRAVATO®.”

Personal Story 2: A Life-Changing Experience with SPRAVATO® For many, the journey with depression is long and arduous, filled with numerous treatments and little relief. Austin’s experience with SPRAVATO® illustrates a profound transformation and renewed hope.

“SPRAVATO® has been miraculous for me. The day after my third treatment (first at 84 mg), I felt the darkness lifting.” This quick response to SPRAVATO® marked a significant turning point. “My depression score went from severe depression to mild mood disturbance.”

After six years of struggling with severe depression, Austin finally began to see a change. “I haven’t felt normal in six years. Tried dozens of meds, and nothing.” Despite trying numerous medications, it wasn’t until SPRAVATO® that he experienced a noticeable improvement. “I’m still not 100%, but so much better. I don’t dread my life anymore. The crushing sadness is gone.”

While acknowledging that everyone responds differently to treatments, Austin emphasized the profound impact SPRAVATO® had on his life. “I know everyone responds differently, but it’s been life-changing for me.”

Personal Story 3: Sano’s Experience with SPRAVATO® Sano’s journey with SPRAVATO® provides a compelling story of the impact of this innovative therapy on people with complex mental health diagnoses.

“I can only speak about my own experience. SPRAVATO® does the work it sets out to do.” Sano, who has been struggling with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD) and major depression, found relief with SPRAVATO®. “Spravato has helped significantly minimize suicidal ideation, lower depression, and overall improve my well-being.”

The administration process involves a nasal spray, and while the post-nasal drip is similar to any allergy nasal spray, the effects are profound. “It’s the same as allergy nasal sprays. The onset lasts approximately two hours, during which I listen to audiobooks, meditate, and practice mindfulness.”

Sano underscores the significance of SPRAVATO® in the realm of psychiatric medication: “SPRAVATO® is the greatest innovation in mental health medication since 1987. I haven’t been paid for this review, nor am I affiliated with the pharmaceutical industry in any way.”

Personal Story 4: Robert’s Transformation with TMS Robert’s struggle with depression began in his teens, severely affecting his quality of life. “Depression greatly interfered with my work and relationships. It defined who I was,” he shared.

After years of battling these symptoms, Robert decided to try transcranial magnetic stimulation. The results were transformative. “TMS therapy has allowed me to feel better and work better.”

He noticed significant symptom improvement within just weeks of starting treatment. “The improvement in my symptoms came within three weeks of treatment,” Robert reported, highlighting the efficiency of TMS. “The treatment process was easy, and the side effects were minimal.”

Reflecting on his journey, Robert offered words of encouragement to others suffering from depression. “If I could go back and talk to my depressed self, I’d say, ‘don’t hesitate. Get the TMS therapy and make that change.’”

Personal Story 5: Kim’s Journey with TMS Therapy Kim’s journey with depression had been challenging, marked by unsuccessful attempts with multiple antidepressants and their associated side effects. “I had tried four antidepressants, none of which adequately helped my depression symptoms,” she recounted, describing symptoms that included decreased interest and a negative impact on her daily life.

Turning to TMS therapy, Kim found remarkable improvement relatively quickly. “I was impressed with how well TMS therapy improved my symptoms in as little as five weeks after starting treatment.”

Compared to the systemic side effects she experienced with antidepressants, Kim found TMS therapy to be a pain-free experience. “The experience was painless in comparison to the side effects I had with antidepressants.”

Following TMS therapy, Kim’s outlook on life underwent a positive transformation. “After TMS therapy, I started feeling joy and motivation,” she shared, highlighting a significant change in her emotional well-being. “I stopped isolating myself from loved ones.”

Kim is now hopeful about what’s to come. “After TMS therapy, I am motivated and looking forward to the future.”

[artxyra]

Healing Gotham | Part 2

Prologue | Part 1

Just hours before her schedule plane ride from Paris, France to New York City,  New York, Marinette was sitting across from her husband of five years. Luka and Marinette have been talking about this for months on end, but there was never a perfect time to enact it until now. Their eyes lock onto one another, he hums a soft tone knowing that it will calm his wife’s nerves just enough to talk or to think. While they stay in place, they don’t acknowledge the small flying gods watching them in curiosity.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks once their silent conversation concludes. Marinette visibly gulps and nods. Though Luka could tell something was on her mind.

“Yes, I’m sure. Ever since I was little, I could feel the darkness that surrounds Gotham and I doubt anything has changed even with the help of Batman. Doing it now just seems perfect. Hawkmoth is no longer a threat, our careers are decently stable, and the Miraculous Team is finely spread across Europe. Granted, the European Justice League seems to butt in every now and then trying to recruit our members…so yeah now is perfect.” Marinette responds getting up from the couch and into her husband’s arm.

Luka instinctively wraps his arms around his wife’s small waist. Maybe this would be good. Marinette would finally get closure about Jason’s death and bond with her brother’s growing family—something that they have been meaning to start on their own.

“If anything, having Tikki around could help speed up the cleansing. If not, well…” Marinette trails off not sure what to say next. Will having Tikki help speed up the process? She wasn’t even sure herself.

“Say no more, everything will work out just fine. You’re healing years’ worth of pain and suffering, and on top of that, you need closure for yourself. I know Jason’s death took a lot out of you and going back just seems wrong to you.” Luka tightens his hold on Marinette. He knows she was near a mental breakdown of her own, and he just hopes that a hug would suffice.

Marinette smiles and looks up to her husband, “You’re right this might do me some good.” Her lips brush against Luka nearly nibbling on his bottom lip.

Breaking for air, the couple smile at one another but the moment is lost when Plagg decided to make himself known.

“As much as this is a sweet moment, can someone please get me more cheese?”  The kwami of destruction moans out causing the two to chuckle.

“Sure Plagg, but remember you’re going with Luka on his tour while the others that aren’t active are coming with me, which means you’ll be on a strict cheese limit.” Marinette states before walking into the kitchen and returning with a small block of cheese. Plagg blanches at the thought of having a cheese limit. That defeats the purpose of his greatest love.

In honesty, Plagg could hear Tikki and the others somewhat laughing at him about this latest piece of news. While this isn’t like being with Adrien (his former wielder & best friend), it’s home to him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.” Plagg waves it away with little care in the world.

“You better keep an eye on him.” Marinette turns to Luka as if her husband hasn’t been the wielder of the black cat miraculous for years.

“I will,” Luka kisses Marinette’s forehead and turns to Plagg, “Are you coming or what?” Plagg flies over to Luka and settles down on the taller man’s shoulder.

“Well miss you bug; don’t let that brother of yours beat you down.” Marinette scoffs at the kwami before sending him a little chuckle.

Marinette looks at the time, her plane boards in just under three hours. That is enough time for her to get through the checkpoints and to her gate. She didn’t want to say goodbye, but maybe leaving Paris is a good idea—they haven’t exactly left unless it was for tours or fashion shows. Luka was going on tour with Jagged Stone and his own protégée, who he is currently the producer for, and Marinette didn't have any shows planned for weeks but visiting her Gotham branch is good. They plan to meet up in New York for the final show and then head back to Gotham depending on Marinette’s mental health stage and the progress she made in Gotham.

“Marin Etta Martha Wayne, you stay safe and we’ll see you in a few months.” Luka jokes at first but he seriously wants his wife to be safe in Gotham. Their lips meet saying goodbye to one another.

Making it to the airport was nothing. Originally, Marinette was supposed to take Kaalki but she didn’t want Bruce or anyone to question her early arrival. That and riding on a plane gives her ample time to think of a game plan and build her confidence.

“Flight 04857 to New York City is now boarding now.” A voice announces over the coms. Time really does pass quickly when someone is stuck in their head. Marinette barely would have acknowledged it if it wasn’t for Tikki making movements in her carry-on bag.

Taking a big breath, Marinette gathers her carry-on and takes her stance line to board. In less than twelve hours, she’ll be arriving in her birth city where it all started.

The flights were exhausting, on the first flight she had in front of a crying toddler (first time flying) and her seating partner would not shut up. Though there were some good moments before it all when down the hill. Then her second flight was slightly delayed. Apparently, Gotham’s airport was attacked, and this is the only flight that enters Gotham that day.

Miraculously, she managed to get into Gotham within the same time frame she gave Alfred just days before. Gathering her stuff, she takes notice of all the damage the fight did. Some parts of the airport were unavailable, and a handful of airplanes were destroyed. Seriously, how high is Gotham’s insurances for this to be an everyday occurrence? Due to regular superhero fights, Paris would be forever grateful for the miraculous cure because it saved so many people paperwork and having to replace what was lost.

After getting off the phone with Alfred, Marinette knew she had some time to spare which was enough time to grab a cup of coffee and find a nice bench in the cool weather.

“Welcome home, Miss Marin Etta.” Alfred states once the car is parked and he exits the vehicle to hug the person he has forever viewed as a daughter (or granddaughter at best). Marinette flings herself into Alfred’s arms.

“Alfred, please Marinette is just fine.” Marinette laughs before her voice lowers with the next statement, “And I missed you too, Alfie.”

They break the embrace to finish placing her three luggage into the car’s trunk. Marinette wanted to take a seat in the front, but she knew Alfred would instruct her to sit in the back, just like he did when she was little and six years ago.

“So, Miss Marinette how much of your life has changed? I hear your business MEM Fashions is looking to start a new branch.” Alfred knows everything that happens within the Wayne household but having a conversation with Marinette was always different than that with the boys. He doesn’t see her as often as the others.

Marinette’s eyes lit up, she loves talking about her fashion and retail business.  Ever since she turned eighteen, she decided that MDC no longer represents her, who she truly is, so she rebranded to MEM Fashions (or Styles) when she gained access to her shares of Wayne Enterprise. Since then she takes care of the fashion business that runs through WE, but not many people know that. All they know is that MEM is a brand that is being sponsored by WE and nothing more.

When Alfred pulls in through the gates, Marinette had to take a deep breath. There was no turning back. The moment the doors to the Wayne Manor opens, she and Alfred knew that there will be chaos before them.

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[do-not-careissa]

Now that Men in Black has reinvaded my mind so have new plot bunnies. So have 2 Jason joins the min ideas/options.

1. Sort of a Mr and Mrs Smith type thing, jaykyle, only sadder and angstier:

Post death and resurrection Jason wasn't picked up by Talia, instead it was MiB. Using their alien tech they're able to heal him and put his mind back together. They know who he is, just like they know who Bruce and the Justice League are (for how much the Kents believed no one noticed their sudden baby acquisition, they were wrong. MiB's known all along, if anything they're the reason the Kents and other alien adopters and adoptees have done so well at staying hidden.) They give Jason the choice to either return to Bruce, go with a normal family (in both cases he'd of course have his memories wiped), or stay and work with them. Now while Jason might not have the Lazarus Pits affecting his emotions and mental stability here, he's still a teen/young adult (say like 18 or 19 by the time he's healed enough to leave) and his last memories of the bats and his bio mother weren't exactly the greatest. Add on top of that the feeling of being forgotten/replaced that would undoubtedly come at seeing the addition of, what, at least three more people to the batfam. He doesn't believe there's a place left for him there, decides to stay, at least he can do some good while he's at it.

Cut to a few years later, Jason's moved up the ranks, he's one of the organization's best agents (could be just that branch, division, or overall) but of course the job doesn't really leave much for certain other needs. So on his rare time off he'll slink off to this nice bar or something and just enjoy himself, feel human, all that good stuff. And that's how he gets involved with a certain Kyle Rayner. The guy seems normal enough, an artist with laughably bad pickup lines but a smile and eyes that make you want to laugh with him rather than at him. They have a night together, and that one night turns into two, then three, and by the fourth Jason's sure he's making a mistake here. Regulation says to keep contact with non-mib individuals to a minimum and don't give them a reason to remember you if you have to interact more than once. He shouldn't be doing this, really, but he's also given up so much over the years, both to mib, to the bats, to the universe, can you really blame him?

Between the two of them rain checks are a regular, either one or both claiming a sudden work trip that couldn't be skipped. It made Jason guilty every time but he couldn't just not go. This was his job after all. And Kyle, well he was just a normal guy who happened to be a bit loose in the head sometimes, it made sense for him to forget to call off meetups and hookups, that's just what normal people their age did right? It takes far too long for him to admit that he's in too deep, that he's fallen for this loveable dumbass. But the same could probably be said for Kyle too.

The moment they meet not as Jason and Kyle but as MiB and Green Lantern you could hear a pin drop. Jason couldn't believe this, not in a million years. Kyle? A fucking Green Lantern? Are you kidding?!

Because you see, while the general population and even the capes might be unaware of MiB, MiB is more than aware of them and they have a very big problem with them, especially the Lanterns. Because they know the GLs and Guardians would argue that earth is their terf and that minehas not right to set up rules and protocol, byt MiB has been on Earth longer, they've existed since Roswell if not earlier, GLs haven't touched Earth til maybe 15-20 years ago. And MiB's work is to protect not just the humans of Earth but the aliens who've made a home here, or even just those ones that are here for a visit. Thanks to the GLs, and by extension the Justice League, not only is MiB and its agents in so much more danger of being exposed or attacked, but so are those aliens.

Suddenly Jason's happy go lucky secret relationship has been soured if not ruined. Kyle, he'd trusted him, even l-, he actually liked him as more than just a fuck buddy, but this? He's devastated, he's angry, and while he's sure Kyle's feeling something like that too, he doesn't get to, not when he's siding with the group putting innocent people in danger, not when he's siding with the bats and Tha Guardians and everything Jason stands against.

He manages to catch Kyle off guard, taking him down and neuralyzing him quick enough that him can't take him down too. It hurts to see that blank look take over Kyle's face once the light fades, but he can't let that affect him. Kyle made his choice, and he needs to make his.

Idea 2: much angstier in the "fuck Bruce and the JL" sort of way

Post rhato 25 and Roy's death, Jason's health is deteriorating quickly. Maybe he lied about how well he was out of guilt so Roy wouldnt feel like he had to stay with Jason instead of going to Sanctuary. Now with no one there to help him, along with the mental and emotional toll, Jason's body is shutting down. This is it, he's accepted it, he fucking hates that this is how he goes, but well, it's kinda poetic that Bruce would ultimately be the reason for his deagb this time wouldn't it? Between the physical injuries he gave Jason and the mental ones he's caused, everything all ties back to Bruce.

So Jason's just there, accepting his fate, but then out of nowhere these suits just show up and they've got an offer for him. They know who he is, what he's gone through, they know how to help him and keep him safe. They can heal him. But the only way they can let him know exactly what they're doing or who they are is if he joins them. They say they've been watching him for a while, we're actually planning on approaching him, but the situation with Batman and now with the League and Jason's health has pushed their time table up. He's obviously skeptical til they really go in on everything, breaking down mib, breaking down what they try to do, and you know what, he's in. Fuck Bruce, fuck the JL, fuck them all.

None of them stepped in to help him, none of them did anything to stop Bruce, no one except Roy, Roy who's now dead because of them. They don't get to tell him what to do anymore, they don't get to control him.

So they bring Jason in for the procedure, and there's a few ways this could go. A) They just use whatever alien tech they have that heals him no issue, maybe need to replace a few bones or joints or something, whatever it is he's healed. B) they need to meld his DNA to a sample from an alien species that heals quickly (personal favorite, could go down the route of this giving Jason superhuman abilities, or even something akin to energy absorption as the reason he's able to heal which would make him a massive threat to everyone especially the gls (imagine him just draining their rings in minutes and then using that power against them)). C) the Lazarus Pits are actually of alien origin, and since Jason's already been dipped in one before and had his brain and body altered/healed by it, it still remains dormant in his system, they just need to activate it.

Whatever they do it works, and soon enough we get Jason as MiB and Bruce and the others all believing Jason to be dead ala MiB​ tricks. Months or even years later there comes a confrontation, the "I thought you were dead!" Shit. Or the GLs/guardians learn about them and try to impose their bs on them, try to scare them into disappearing, and guess who MiB sends to deal with them? Why their star agent of course.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 22)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 21

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Sorceress Ingrith might be going on far more ways to plan your early demise for you and your unborn child without the witcher around. The queen also thinking of plans to punish you without the use of drudging.

Warnings: Derogatory, plans attitude and words. Mention of the Witcher character named ‘Auckes’. 

Words: 5.6k

A/N: I’ve been feeling on and off with my mental state since last month. I just don’t tell anyone. Anyways, Feedbacks will be nice to receive. Thank you. I plan on writing two more last smuts for Witcher of the Night in the future chapters. So, watch out for that. I needed more of my Geralt fixation. LMAO. I’m sorry if my fic  is beginning to be boring for you, but I needed to write this for the sake of the story. I know I’m not the best writer out here. So, I’m sorry for any disappointments. Stay safe, Bb’s.

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. I only own my original characters in this fanfic. Geralt GIF from the Tumblr account named (B-N-A-O)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It's been a day of hearing from Eanraig that your witcher has started his journey over the hunt for the lost witch.

Hours have also passed after hearing such devastating and surprising news from the druid about your unexpected 'cursed' pregnancy whose father was a witcher that is expected to actually be infertile. The happenings intentionally given by a genie you only knew and expected to watch and read through fairytales; Disney fairytales.

Sleep was hardly your partner last night. Thoughts coming over the idea of a maddened witcher and your pregnancy, having only minutes of light slumber that has gotten you waking up with every single thud you hear from outside your chambers. Thinking that it was someone who wanted to hurt you again especially that Geralt wasn't around for you to hide from behind.

The early knock received before sunrise has got you scrambling on your feet, latching off the locks of your door for the queen of Kaedwen to emerge from your doorstep with more than a trio of servants following her while she trespassed inside your chambers.

She stood before you in her silk, expensively designed, black night gown. With her head held up high and hair bedazzled before she even decided to pay you a visit in her usual lavish gowns.

"You are quite the woman. Also, your witcher is as well."

Queen Makeda interrogated, gaze raking all over the room to check any evidences of her necklace being thrown around. She huffed to herself when there was no traces of her enchanted, Cobalt amulet that has been stolen by your doppelganger.

"---Demanding for a soft bed for you to sleep on while he hunts for the witch who has cursed my son?"

"Not even my young daughter would approve of this," she spoke in animosity, spitting the words like how she truthfully felt, "---Your horrible kind," the latter continued, taking heedful steps forward as you've stood on your ground; firmly and never backing down.

The queen was undeniably taller than you. She'd peered down, glaring into your narrowed eyes fighting back for her attempt on intimidating you. After everything they've done, feeling scared was running through your veins. It was pumping wrath and distaste for how they've treated you like an animal for pointing fingers over the woman who has stolen her necklace---even asking such favors for Geralt when they knew how he acted towards you; using it to their advantage.

"---You and your witcher. It disgusts me,"

"Look who's talking, guess Geralt is the only way to save your cursed son then? But, you still manage to hate his kind when you're depending over him to save your prince,"

Out of the blue, you've felt fingers clasping around your throat. Her long nails sinking through your skin as her hold was tight, ceasing the air passing through your throat that has gotten you growling beneath her palm.

She intently given you a death look, bequeathing the opportunity of laying a hand on you without the witcher who has never left your side from the moment he arrived.

"Give me back my necklace. It was a gift by the king that I hold dearly,"

The bitch was barking when she had no evidence at all. You mindlessly thought in the back of your head whilst being choked at the same time.

"Your h-highness," you dryly coughed out the air she was trying to cut you off with. You've given her a menacing glare as well, your mouth in an obvious lour. Her hold shifting around your neck as she tried to shift your jaw out of its current position, making you tilt your head to give her a sharp, side-eye.

You can't help but bark out a mocking giggle, appearing to be sicko while being manhandled by your very own gender while a taunt left your fuming mouth.

"---what's your kind? I doubt your kind may be human,"

Queen Makeda scoffed after hearing that, pushing you to the ground which has left you heaving breaths and coughing out from the lack of it. Your fingers quickly grabbing onto your growing belly to protect whatever Eanraig believed there is to be inside of you. A child that he was cognizant of; slightly still leaving you in disbelief because of how you weren't seeing any changes at the image of your belly.

Until, you've realized that your period haven't visited you since the last week.

The realization had you staring at the ground you were currently sitting upon while the queen stood before you with all her might and certainty. Your instincts telling you to cease the in-denial for your pregnancy because it was the truth.

"You are awfully disrespectful. Just like your mutant."

At the mere acknowledgement of that towards your witcher, your longstanding antagonism for her has given you all the willpower of spitting on the ground she was standing on, tilting your head up at her from your seated position with utmost spite, glaring from below her in the greatest hostility you can ever give.

"You're not my queen. So I give you the least amount of my respect, Ma-ke-da. That's your name, right? Is there another word for Bitch here?---You're a bloody skank! Have I got the accent correct for everyone? Or should I continue my fake British accent? would you like it to be Scottish?"

Hushed gasps has been audibly heard from the queen's maids who stood aligned in vertical. Their posture slightly curved in a bow and never giving their gazes towards their majesty and had them glued to the ground. Howbeit, their hearing couldn't be helped as it was a natural instinct to listen despite of being ordered not to.

They've been disoriented from their prior poses, taking heed of how you've disrespect the queen who was reigning the whole kingdom. She reached out behind her, ushering over the court lady who was holding onto the used golden kirtle that seemed to be owned by a maiden who left the castle or has been punished to death.

In a cruel gesture, Queen Makeda has balled up the dress with her hands. Throwing them over your head that felt too impetuous and disfavourable because of how her servants felt the need to slyly giggle from the background.

"Womanly hands are needed in this palace," she brashly scoffed, tip-toeing over her tone like a taunt, playing over a prey she decided to amuse for the moment. You heedlessly yanked off the dress overthrown on your head and avoided their loathe-filled peepers who find your vulnerability entertaining their day.

The evil queen couldn't help but laugh beneath her breath, watching you bask in your own solitude and hopelessness---being a woman they believed as a thief or a girl with no name nor worth of living a happy and abounding life. A renegade in their kingdom that deserves the least amount of attention and respect.

It was probably your doppelganger's reality as she lives in Kaedwen; thriving in the most difficult way to live in their world---more desperate to stay alive more than you back in earth.

"I suggest you must help the maids as they serve us through night and day," she nonchalantly reiterated with a slip of her laughter every now and then. Her offhand way of talking resulting in giving her the most stony lour you could muster.

Queen Makeda spurned your woebegone with a simple simper, passing over the sepulchral spirit radiating off you. She'd turn her heels away, parading through your chambers with her servants following suit, but not forgetting to leave without a ridicule.

"Better than any corporal punishment. Am I right, tramp?"

Sundown came earlier than you've calculated. Being given the job of a scullery maid for this certain day has been backbreaking. You've scoured the dirtiest pots and plates with all your healing strength, straining your energy for the heck of it all because of how heavy their utensils and equipment can be. More than how the stuff in your workplace were much more lighter than ever. It wasn't a punishment you've expected from them considering how they've injured you in the flesh, taking Geralt's words accountable or was this just a hoax of their upcoming plans?

You knew that it won't be the only job given. Five days living in the castle has been a crestfallen experience that not any normal earthling could handle well.

Which has probably been also the reason why you were too stressed and angry with everyone and anyone including the father of your unborn child, raving in bluster for his slow-witted self in terms of one's feelings.

That was probably one of the disadvantages of being in love with a witcher. Geralt hardly receives love and care that he doesn't know how to distinguish it even for himself.

Laying on the cold surface of such mattress; back flat with aching muscles and healing wounds, one palm reached up to your slightly bilged stomach. The feeling of another human growing inside weren't obvious yet. Thinking that it was probably just because of the pastry they've fed you with which has gotten your stomach swelling.

"Are you really in there?" you quietly muttered to the ceiling, feeling your chest tighten from being all alone and dealing with what the witcher has said to you before he left. His words becoming an echo of your regret and sadness.

"---Or am I just bloated, Little princess?"

Soft caresses over your slightly curved skin has given you goosebumps all over your body. The act feeling too real for you to be talking to a baby that has probably never learn to kick yet. Simultaneously, a sigh left your mouth when you truly believed and hold on to Geralt's infertility tales when he has gotten you pregnant out of the blue.

Magic. Right. All of what was going on between you both was magic after all, even your growing child. He has been right after all.

"Am I really having a baby grow inside of me when I haven't expected this at all? your daddy probably has great swimmers---oh, wait. He should've been infertile." the train of thought has been ceased, your mouth curling in the opposite of a smile. Frowning being your constant expression the past few days with a round-the-clock dismal mood once you wake up and try to have a nap when you were hardly being given the chance to just like how your insomnia tries to eat you alive again.

It hasn't even visited you since before you've woken up from a different dimension. Insomnia has never been an issue when you've arrived in the continent. Perhaps, the witcher may be one of the reasons for your inner beasts to hide. Though, with the mist surrounding you both---it started to pay you a visit especially after experiencing physical and mental struggles through out your stay in the castle.

No matter how disappointed and angry you were with Geralt, he has still been your refuge from all the danger that his world can cause.

"Is this really happening? I'm going to be a mother now?" you went on in talking to no one in particular, caressing your stomach against the palm of your hand like how a mother would.

"---with the brooding witcher as your father?"

The mouth curled downward languidly pulled the strings to a solemn smile. Memories of Geralt and how he was finding you unappealing as each day passes was like a reality meant for you because even men in your world eventually leaves when you were showing them your humanly capabilities---the darker part of you that nobody can ever tolerate.

Even the witcher found you pathetic---a man from another world seeing what you actually were. Not an angel that all men believed you to be.

With a growing baby inside of you, it would be difficult to forget Geralt because of how he'd left a part of him inside of you and will eventually be born in a world you were fearful of.

When you said back in earth, that you wanted a child with Legolas. You didn't mean for it to happen in real life. Especially from a man who don't take children as a gift---something worth to be proud of as you remembered how Eanraig said that he would rather have his own child as a bait for monsters than to let him live in the continent.

Your heart was tightening further as you continued talking to your unborn offspring and into the brisk, solitary midnight with nothing but shadows to comfort your forlorn soul, "Your poppa' certainly won't accept you if he knows about your existence. Based on how we got into a fight over feelings we both don't understand." Pause.

"---If I shave his white head, will it be worth the revenge? You think he cares for his hair? Or maybe hide his witcher potions somewhere else where he would have a difficult time seeing it?"

You couldn't help but slightly giggle to yourself. The sound dethering and fading in the end from how forced it sounded; faking the happiness and trying to uplift your spirits by thinking that Geralt would still accept you in his life after tying him in a responsibility that he will surely detest.

"---I still can't help but think of him though. Especially after knowing you're growing inside of me now. I doubt he actually thinks of me more than I do,"

"Maybe the witcher might want to say that he loves you and that he is still on his witch hunt!"

Catching you off-guard, a squeaky, upbeat, childish voice resonated in your chambers. Hushed to the most quietest voice she could do, standing before the end of your bed was a curly haired child who was grinning amongst the shadows she tries to hide herself in. Her two front teeth sitting apart which has made her appear more adorable than ever. The features she had slowly coming to a point that it seemed to be familiar---like you've seen her face and heard her voice back in earth.

The child standing before you was a little demon known in your dimension. Delilah Cincinnati. A child who has always made your work more difficult than it can ever be---a nuisance who could always get you tripping when you were serving food for customers. You've had a nickname for her, Deli-the-menace that came from the character 'Dennis-the-menace' but this one was a little girl and her devilish grin suited her name.

But, her grin seemed to be different in this world. It was more sweet, utterly masking in pure innocence that made you sit your back on the headboard. Your fingers reaching below your pillows to grab onto the kitchen knife you've managed to sneak in because of how you didn't trust anyone in the castle---taking Geralt's advices seriously.

People would probably think you were crazy, but you've been thinking that this child in front of you would transform into an evil gnome and eat your unborn baby because she was hungry for flesh.

"Delilah?" your voice turned squeaky as well. Swallowing the nervousness back down the pit of your stomach, you crumpled your legs under your thighs, shifting away from the child when she dragged her feet upon the foot of the bed; crawling towards you with a smile.

She jumped the half of her body beside you, tucking her little legs under the bed sheets. The ends of it pulled by her tiny fingers and tucked under her chin whilst turning her whole body with a ceaseless smile.

"You're a silly lady! I'm no Delilah, miss witcheress."

The adorable child snuggled closer on your side, hiding behind your body as if she was sneaking from someone.

"Princess Corinthia of Kaedwen. You can call me 'Coco' instead. Just don't tell my mother!" she placed a finger in between her pursed lips, giggling behind as she thoroughly sneaked her miniscule body in between you and the headboard.

You've inhaled a deep breath before being cut-off by the princess and her mischievous warning, "Shh. The knights are searching for me!"

She pointed towards a large sized painted picture of the whole royal family hung over the stone walls, enclosing her mouth with her small palms while she whispered.

"---A secret door."

Princess Corinthia offered another giggle that has kept your mouth zipped because of how untrustful she still is to you. Though, you dropped the knife back under your pillows again when she seemed to be harmless than what you imagined her to be; a little devil or a tiny monster that she might be in the witcher's dimension.

"I am a curious child. I've been hearing the tales of a white haired beast slayer stepping foot in our fortress! The maids even said that he has brought a frog for him to protect and this frog is his bride as every single person in the palace has gossiped about. Are you the frog? Do you have a curse like my brother too?"

At the mention of that, the scowl suddenly became one prominent expression since the moment you arrived in the castle. Huffing out a breath of exasperation over what nickname you've gotten. The witcher's frog. It didn't sound too appealing for you and even for the child because she was giggling through it all.

"A frog?! Seriously?! They were calling me ugly. How rude of them," you stated as a matter of fact.

"Our maids are just probably thirsty whores who may want your witcha'!" your eyes grew from the profanity that left her mouth. A single, plain warning of a look has been given to the child.

"That's a bad word."

The castle princess ignored your upbraid, palms covering her mouth with her eyes turning into big saucers that looked like to be as if she was guilty over saying such blasphemy.

"---because of the epic that his humble bard has created, many have been less frightened over their kind. Though, some are quite suspicious and still looking at them in disgust just like how most of our servants are. Is he handsome? they were chattering about him last supper in the kitchen! Also, they've talked about how they have seen how he didn't think twice to point his sword at any of our men---Chivalry at its finest from a butcher as said by them,"

From the way she has mentioned it came with astonishment over the witcher's valiant and chivalrous actions. Your mind in a blurry mess when you have seen him the first time---being brought to a room where Geralt has reacted in an aggressive way towards everyone in the room that not even a king can scare him away when you were a bleeding mess shoved on the floors. Your heart constantly being poked by a knife after realizing that a fight came after his magnanimity, the other side of you thinking that he has done it out of affection and care. Expecting it to be more than just how a sentiment is towards a friend because you've been seeing him more than just your confidante.

Was this how friends with benefits is in their world?

You couldn't help the crinkles on the side of your eyes. A small, close mouthed smile warping your face at the thought of the witcher you were highly proud of deep inside.

"He is quite dashing, brooding and utterly like a knight in shining armor, don't you think?"

"I may want to have a husband like him in the future!"

"I doubt you could," you simply testified, remembering that princesses in the medieval era are forbidden to marry a commoner. More so, for a witcher whom everyone repels towards their kind.

"---A princess can only be with a prince. Unless, you're in a Disney story. Then you can be like---"

She immediately cut you off with a sad pout, "Aren't witchers like a prince? beast slayers but still a prince?"

You've turned to look into her eyes; genuine and seeming to be in a different state of mind as you sincerely implored, "To me---he's a knight. An imperfectly, perfect scarred knight who always saves my life." pause. "---Sometimes, picking a commoner is better than being with a perfect prince because they always make you believe in fairytales that don't exist. The witcher's a mutant. A freak of nature that they always see of him. An experimented human who had no other choice but to accept his lonely fate. But, this doesn't make him any less human, Princess Coco."

Princess Corinthia had her almond, doe eyes peering up at you. Her spirit filled in utmost inquiry for what your witcher really actually is. Unable to perceive how he also looked like because she had only seen his armored, broad back as he gently dropped you on the bed. Both of you seeming to be in a debate while his face inches away from yours, seeing him lean all the way forward to give you a pucker of his lips. A gesture that the princess has always seen from servants who had a secretive relationship with their knights. The opposite of what she sees from her parents because you never leaned away from Geralt unlike how the queen avoids her husband's affections.

Endearing to be seen from you both because her parents hardly appeared to cherish one another.

"Geralt has a kind heart that no other prince may let me see from and I wish for your future to be best and full of love like how I wish to have,"

"Geralt? is that the witcher's name?"

You've heard loud stomps of footsteps banging outside the room, knowing that it was probably chevaliers searching for the young princess. She was quick to pull the blanket over her head, forcefully shoving herself on your side for cover. Hence, it also made you slip under the covers, grabbing onto her fragile shoulders to pull her inside to veil away from the night that wanted to pull her in for a nightmare. The cloying feeling swaying your insides because of a young child that could delicately press onto your heartstrings, showing you how precious it was to have a daughter who was utterly sweet and gullible.

You couldn't help but giggle under the covers with her, subtly reaching for your growing stomach with a hidden caress.

"Yes it is, Princess. Now, hide!"

Morning came after and the night has still given you beasts as your foe, battling through the hours which has never given you enough sleep. The queen's princess having more sleep as she laid on your arm, telling you that she also had her own monsters to challenge with because she slept alone in her bed, thinking that it was all a lie when she dozed off after half an hour of your stories about Geralt and his adventures.

An understanding hitting you like a freight train when she began snoring as she slept on your bed.

The princess just needed someone to cuddle with. Comfort from another woman that the queen should've been doing because it was her daughter and not yours to begin with.

Dressed in your servant's clothes and standing in the middle of an empty kitchen, most servants have been called to be in the queen's chambers except for you. With a gurgling stomach and a set of pastries lined up in front of you and on the decrepit, wooden table---your fingers reach out for a piece of marzipan cakes until it has been whacked away from your hands with a tolerating slap of strength.

You were too hungry to even process that you have grabbed onto a kitchen knife, seeming to be in a greater starvation as each day passes by due to cravings for more food everyday. The blade has been hastily pointed upon the man's weak spot on his neck---remembering Jaskier's teachings about what vulnerable spot does it take to slash one's neck for him or her to bleed till her death.

Stunned forest green eyes were all wide as you point the tip upon his jugular. Your teeth barred and appearing wild before the familiar gallant whom you remembered to have seen back when Tybalt has forced his entry through your home. He was the cavalier who wanted nothing to do with Jaskier being shoved to the ground. The hesitant knight that you awfully remember.

"What are you going to do to me? Hurt me again?" you bark out loud, your fingers slightly trembling as the blade was close to his porcelain skin,  "---You knights are---!!!"

The obsidian eyed gallant raised his palm to covers your mouth, his gaze shifting around the empty kitchen before he talked, "Shhh. Don't eat those."

"---Mmmh!" you battled against his hold, shifting away but he forcefully kept you close by, never risking for you to scream or run away.

He shook his head, seeing him anxiously bite on his lower lip and looking away. His hand promptly leaving your mouth as he reached to grab onto one dessert that he saw one charmed servant bake and pour a nasty vile in the batter, "They're poisoned. I've heard it from Tybalt that you might be having a cub growing inside of you. One of the maids have been enchanted, poisoning your food."

You couldn't help but shut your eyes close in exasperation over people wanting to put you in danger. Your hunches immediately thinking about Ingrith because she has been the only person who couldn't stand you and the child you were bearing.

"Notice how no one eats them?"

"But, I seen them eat before I'm around,"

"But, not these. Correct?"

The maids have never eaten any dessert---nor had it look touched. They were devouring food, right. But, not desserts because somehow they suddenly had no sweet tooth over pastries; slyly knowing that you had a penchant over sweets.

It was probably the reason why they were simply poisoned.

You couldn't help but bite the insides of your cheeks, pulling out a chair from the table to tiredly sit and sigh about how stressful it is to stay alive in Geralt's dimension when people wanted you dead since the moment that an out-of-the-blue child has been living inside your stomach.

Was it a mistake made? was the child a mistake so that was why people were scared for it to be born? Eanraig has said that she would be born with a purpose to save their dimension---receiving such help to save humanity and cease chaos.

As much as how difficult it was to understand that, the only thing that has ever been a mistake was trying to honestly tell Geralt you love him before being cut-off by your witcher.

"Is it true?" the gallant curiously inquired, leaning his hip on the edge of the table as he crossed his arms in front of you.

"---that the Witcher is your child's father?"

It was still quite awkward to tell knowing that he was supposed to be infertile. But, being in a world where magic exists probably isn't the only thing peculiar after all.

"Yes."

"Oh, great. It wasn't just plain gossip after all," he momentarily exhaled a breath, rolling his shoulders back. Quietly moaning as he stretched his limbs, his youthful, juvenile timbre in his tone turning squeaky and nonchalant, "---They'll loathe you more especially that you're up the spout with the witcher's child,"

You could see the disgust in their eyes. People in the castle who somehow managed to see you. Though, the case with Eanraig, princess Coco and this chevalier was different because they looked at you as if there was nothing wrong which it should've been.

"Why?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head, grabbing onto another set of pastry that looked like some pudding as he raised it to his nose, subtly sniffing the food before calmly throwing it back away again, "That's not a question. Think of it---you're pregnant by a monster slayer who had tales of his kind that he is completely barren due to his genetic mutations. Then, you're suddenly carrying his sprog for magical reasons,"

Your eyes quickly narrowed with how sarcastic he sounded.

He continued his chatter, sighing every once in a while as he said his words that seemed to be a quote coming from another, "---Witchers are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are unscrupulous scoundrels without conscience and virtue, veritable creatures from hell capable only of taking lives..."

The latter exhaled one last long breathe, dramatic enough to pay heed over how you were trying to see through him; thinking what kind of person he was because after being injured within the castle has made you wary of anyone who wanted to talk. It even got to the point that you were guessing he wanted to talk and seek out information from you.

"---I've always remembered Amaury and his beliefs over witchers since he has encountered one before he was killed by him," he gave a small beam, showing teeth while he was in a flashback of memories from his journey before with a deceased close friend.

"I remember he goes by the name Auckes---maybe your witcher might know him,"

You simply nodded. Still cautious of his presence while you hugged your stomach from him.

"There are other witchers too?"

Geralt has left that question unanswered, back when you were serving ale for him. You've tried to remember that name for when you try to ask your witcher---that is if you're still planning on talking to him after the fight you and him had or if he would even care to answer.

Eventually, it was needed to talk to the father of your own child of surprise. A child of surprise that had no law being given or said.

He noticed you were dazing off, too deep in your thoughts that got him sauntering over the kitchen cabinets, slipping a hand inside to try and eyeball some fruit he tried to hid this morning. The man was thinking you were starving already which tells why you were staring out of nowhere, considering that you were eating for two.

"---Auckes became an assassin. He was formerly a witcha',"

You've snapped out of your stupor, the empathy you had for people swiftly slipping through your mind, "I'm sorry to hear that. May your friend's soul rest in peace."

"Amaury might be having a good time where ever he is right now,"

He strolled back to where you sat, standing before you with a bundle of apples, oranges and boiled eggs. His hands reaching out to give them while whispering the next sentences like he was forbidden to do it from the start or even talk to you, "Watch out for anyone. They have an entire repugnance for his kind and anyone related to him," you've taken the food out of his hands, placing them all on your apron and bunching them to yourself.

The lean built gallant took a step back, hands behind his back and realizing that he was younger than you thought. In the same age as Jaskier when he gave you a boyish smile, "Take care of yourself. Especially your child,"

You've finally beamed before him, slowly loosening up around his infectious presence. Self deciding that he was worth to trust after he took a bite of his own apple hidden inside the pocket of his breeches, showing you that the food he gave was poison free.

"Do you have a name?"

"Of course. The name's Otker."

"Thank you for the warning, Otker." the latter gave a toothy grin before it fell in a hot second, reaching to cup his nape in sheer embarrassment for whatever he was thinking.

"Forgive me for I have not helped you through Tybalt's plans," he honestly apologized.

Without warning, there were voices echoing outside. Voices of maidens chewing the rag over what the queen has told them and it made you shot up from your seat, the bulwark surrounding you suddenly building itself from hearing other people closing in---people who weren't worth the trust.

"It's fine. You had no other choice. You can't betray the man who you work for. Evil or not."

Otker cocked his head to the side with a knowing smile, his mouth in an amused straight line as he walked away with his steps going backward. He was agreeing to what you've said but also somehow disagreeing too.

"Tybalt's not all evil," the green eyed gallant pursed his lips from his psychoanalysis over the higher vampire after working with him for half a year or so; having faith over his ungodly gestures like his appearance had been a misunderstanding for his wicked characteristics that you find in him.

"---but, he isn't good either. Just being whispered words of propaganda by everyone surrounding him,"

A simple shake of your head was enough to get Otker shrugging his shoulders because he knew you weren't convinced after Tybalt basically stabbing you on the hip before he walked away as the judging servants came in the kitchen one by one again---planning to continue the stress they have been pouring.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings, bb’s! Thank you.) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​ @marvelousell​​​ @kingniazx​​​ @angelias134​​​ @tapismyforte​​​ @chook007​​​ @covid-donotenter​​​ @deadlydemon​​ @cheesecakeisapie​​ @angelofthor​​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky​​, @shesthelastjedi​​, @a--1--1--3​​, @gutfucks​​, @raynosaurus-rex​​, @britty443​​, @suhke3​​, @shadowclawstudio88​​, @ruthoakenshield​​, @just-a-sad-donut​​, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg​​  @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​, @alexwinchester23​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​

General taglist for any Henry Cavill fics: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​, @silverkitten547​​, @henrythickcavill​​, @kaatelyyynn​​, @marvelousell​​, @madelinelina​​, @summersong69​​, @raynosaurus-rex​​, @fckdeusername​​, @evansislife​​

[roxxelll]

Good day all. Since today is my 26th birthday, I’ve been doing a bit of reflecting & I thought it’d be fitting to share a part of myself I seldom talk about. A little over a week ago, it was the ninth anniversary of my admittance to rehab. I haven’t thought about my time there for a long while but for some reason this year I’ve been a little overwhelmed with emotion. I thought I’d write it all down and share a bit of it in hopes that it might help someone, whether it’s to shift their thinking or give them a little hope. 

I wrote the piece below almost 6 years ago but after reading over it I still find it one of the most eloquent things I might’ve tried to express. The reason I chose to share it is to say to anyone- if you are struggling and this time is testing your mental health and your strength, you are stronger than you think. A bad day doesn’t mean you are losing, it means you are coping and working hard at beating your own demons. 

I don’t talk about this side of my life a whole lot but it would be nice if you could share it if you resonate with it in some way or if you feel like you know someone who might. 

>>It gets a little long and there are TRIGGERS for eating disorders so please proceed with caution !!! << 

I do this thing where I often brush over my anorexia in conversation, and as expected, this might be the first time many of you are hearing of it. I just never felt the need to tell my story to the people in my life, I never wanted it to be the thing that everyone rolls their eyes about. 

However, I think it is time for me to tell my story. In full. What prompted me was that I have seen how my story became an inspiration for someone else; a reason for them to feel that they are not alone in the world. I was in awe that something so terrible in my life could be used for something so good.

This is the story of my eating disorder and I.

19 January, 2015

My mind was my body’s worst enemy. It was a weapon of mass destruction, ticking away in my head. Misconceptions invaded my mind and multiplied into thoughts and soon after their images were all I saw in the mirror.

I can’t give my mind all the credit; I didn’t create all the misconceptions in my own mind, even if they were all allowed to grow there. My mind only mimicked what it was being fed at just about every turn. One of the things I remember so vividly is seeing an underwear model. She was sexy and beautiful and I could think of nothing I wanted more in the world than her body. So started the worst train of thought I have ever had: the aspiration for perfection.

The media can be a scary thing. As a teenager, it was pretty much most of what everyone was talking about and consuming on a day to day basis. By the time I was in grade 10 in high school, all my time had been consumed by trying to getting the best grades and only producing my best work in my visual arts class. My time in the sports field ceased all together and in my mind the only way for me to achieve my standards of perfection was to go down the dark, sinister route that I had not even realised I'd taken.

On 26 October 2011, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. There is no easy way to explain the feeling of your own head telling you that you are not good enough, that you are disgusting, that you are too fat, that you may not eat.

2011 was not a good year for me, I remember so well that a bad day would grow into a bad week and eventually evolve into bad months. My family seemed as dysfunctional as ever, I picked up the nasty habit of smoking and the stress of school had only weakened my state of mind. I hated what I was and I had somehow convinced myself that everyone else around me felt the same way, when in fact I was the one pushing them away. Sometime in mid October, armed robbers had broken into my house. No one in my family was hurt, but I had gotten away with a broken arm and a few bruises.

It was then in hospital that doctors had noticed there was something off about me. It must have been brain shattering for my parents to see what had been eating away at me for months only at that moment. How could they when all I did was hide from the world?

I was admitted into rehab after that and I did not sit for my November exams. In six months I had lost 14kgs. I have been in remission since.

My life was consumed by loss. First it was the weight, then my strength, and eventually demons began to nibble away at my personality. I watched my life crumble away as fast as my body did. My hair started to fall out and my nails stopped growing. I lost my period all together. My bones stuck out of my body like they were unwanted intruders, I became as frail, dead and dull as an old building.

Misconceptions are the hardest scars to heal. They forced my body apart from my mind. I have learned that it's called body disconnection, the feeling of being absolutely cut off from your body. No experience was good enough in my body because my mind wanted to be as far from this body as possible. I don't know how you can even explain it... Imagine wanting to be so far out of a room you would give anything to leave it. Now imagine that was your own body and you can start to understand body disconnection. You can leave an uncomfortable room. You can’t evacuate your own body. Excruciating, isn’t it? Looking in the mirror, I never saw a body that was perfect, only the disgusting images of what my mind had made me believe I looked like: the image of imperfection. It was shattering, painful and exhausting..

It's been three years now.

I'm quite proud to admit that my annoying need to overachieve at everything has been my biggest weakness and my greatest strength. I never wanted to do something halfway, and this was no different: I got an eating disorder as bad as they go. But I sure as hell got a recovery as good as they go. I have not relapsed or regressed. I have just grown in confidence and in strength. I haven’t done that on my own: the support I have had from just about every corner of my life has been my lifeline. Even on Tumblr where people are so confident just to share selfies and feel good about how great they look. Nothing makes me happier to see people love who they are. The people in my life have fought with me in my corner with so much strength they could collectively save the world. I am not sure I could ever find the words to describe the impact they have made.

People tell me every day how far I have come in three years. They see me eat and think it is all over. There is little truth in an assumption so bold. Here’s the thing no one told me about when I first thought an eating disorder is a good idea: it never leaves you. It just becomes less overwhelming. I still have the scars to face every day. I say remission because I never really heal. Then again I am only human and people often forget that when I have a bad day. The truth is I face my worst fear every time I sit down to eat no matter how much it seems like I love food.

I'm not perfect, no one is. And in time I've learned this fact and to love myself. I don't burst at the seams with confidence, but I definitely have more now than what I did three years ago. There are days where a relapse sits on the horizon but you just have to hold your head high and fight it. I don't write this in hopes of becoming a role model but I do hope it inspires people, not just those who face what I did, but with any curve ball life decides to throw at them. There's always a way out if you're willing to look for it.

_______________

I wrote this five years ago. This passed year has probably been the biggest test of my recovery in a long time. Staying at home with constant worries about access to the gym, my safe foods and social distancing are prime triggers for a relapse for me. It’s true that you never fully recover, but you do get better with time. Every day is a constant fight against my ED, depression and anxiety, and there are many days where it seems like climbing this never-ending mountain is impossible. But I’ve come to realise that any step we take in pushing against it (even just acknowledging our emotions and thoughts) is one in the right direction. 

In the past week I have thought quite a lot about my anorexia and impact it has had on my life, my family and my body. And the truth is, I still choose to wake up and fight the “mad bitch” everyday. Some days are definitely harder than others, sometimes it’s easy. But I win everytime because I choose to fight it. So I really hope that anyone fighting their demons (whatever they may be) will reflect on how strong they are and the journey they have walked.   ♡ 

[wyrd-weaver]

"𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫."

Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Rape (That Resulted in Pregnancy), Mention of Binge Eating, Mention of Weight (By a Disgusting Man), Depression, Anxiety.

⤷ Remember: Every body type is beautiful, and you're legally allowed to maim those who say otherwise! The brief few sentences in this story are not accurate of any decent, sane individual.

Word Count: 1887

～～～～～～～～～～

Depression had you caged, shackled to the memories...the all-consuming sensations of horror and disgust. The very same that were forced upon you, that iced all your muscles twelve hellish months ago. Twelve! And yet, the nightmares refused to cease. Every evening, you battled demons most powerful and foul, acquiring scar after scar after scar. If you stumbled, if you lay down your weapon or lost...could you really be faulted? If this was Heaven's retribution, a cleansing of your contaminated, sinful body, then...was it not misguided? Surely a void replaced the evidence against you?

Blame should never have befallen you! This child, despite his mask of innocence, attested to humanity's ugliest side. Your heart was unravelling - you needed him, as an extension of yourself, as someone to cherish, but...you didn't want him. He wasn't the product of consent. He was loathsome...and a burden. He was so young, so dependent.

Casting him to the mercy of the streets would be more than a mere violation of morality. You already felt criminal - convicted on thoughts and false claims, serving a life sentence in the bowels of Hell. There was an escape, of course. Although...it wasn't accompanied by a light, or the gentle touch of a loved one. No...this escape was advertised as selfish, shameful...weak. And maybe so. Maybe life's greatest demand was the forgoing of happiness. But...to such an extent seemed excessive, and deliberately cruel. You shouldn't have been so dirty, so broken...an embarrassing stain on your family's name.

A single mother. A victim. A failure.

Plagued with flashbacks that favoured spontaneity above calculation, you carved miserable little lines on to your arms. Nobody knew - not your son, nor the Avengers...nor even Loki. They all harboured some form of trauma, however deep-rooted, and so...they had no need for your sob story. Who would care for someone so violated? Someone so...afraid? Your mind, weakened by fatigue and chronic worry, was simply too weak to resist those thoughts, and all hope had been drained from your heart. Why should you be tethered to life, if only for your child? Should you instead seek liberation, peace...joy? Decency discouraged it, but pain stood its ground.

With your dignity in shambles, your disowning, your binging...nothing felt right anymore! Nothing felt...clean. Loki had noticed, observant as he was. Here, sequestered within the walls of the Avengers' Compound, he was the closest to a friend...maybe even more.

No, no, no! I can't think like that! He's a man! A man! I shouldn't even be going near him anymore! Why, oh god...why is he the only one I'm not afraid of? The only one who can comfort me when I break? I can't...! I haven't even told him about...about...Well, I haven't told anyone! They all just think I slept with someone recklessly! And now...now I'm tainted, unlovable! This is...it's all my fault...I should have defended myself. I should have done something! Anything! Why...why did I freeze...? Why? Why?! Why?!!

Loki understood mental anguish and the torture of dissimilarity, as his birth-rights. Perhaps that was reason enough for your breathing to even, in his embrace. It had taken moths to allow such a privilege, and Loki's persistence, how his voice quivered as he begged to help you in any form...

You, whom he held so very dear...

You might have assumed his affections romantic, once upon a time. Yet...no longer. An ailment had struck you - one that rendered both eyes and ears ignorant to his double meanings, his implications...his love. You couldn't process them over the fear and paranoia. Didn't all relationships entail force, and...activities of a sexual nature? You never wanted to experience that again. Never! So, while sleep washed over the Compound, you crept to the kitchen, intent on expanding your waistline evermore. That your size may, to some, be cause for revulsion, had never previously occurred. It was only when the words danced on the tongue of that godforsaken man...

Eat, eat more! Who cares if you're sick? Keep eating! He said...he said that excess was unattractive. So - so maybe he won't...maybe I won't be...again...?

It had been dominance play, a show of superiority.

Loki would never steal something so sacred, unless you willed it.

He was a gentle soul, manipulated into committing an atrocity, and scorned - by the Avengers, especially. He wouldn't find any resonance in your tale (and you hoped he never would), but as a companion, a patient listener...surely there would be no judgement in his heart? He wouldn't be so quick to abandon you...right? Still, a single utterance of that day, of that most fright-inducing event...required courage far surpassing your own. Maybe...just a word? A sign? Something...?

Lonely was the path you wandered, in spite of Loki's presence. Alone, he failed to drown your demons. He held them under the waves, but they always returned.

You appreciated the effort. Plasters may cover your scars, but they could never heal your heart. Could Loki?...In time? If distorted thoughts of him were enough to ground you in the midst of panic...could he aid your recovery?

He also wondered that. Your deception wasn't half as masterful as you had hoped. Or perhaps you were simply the target of Loki's observations, and therefore came under frequent scrutiny. He had, of course, picked up on the subtle changes in your demeanour - particularly post-pregnancy. He idled at your side, throwing neither intrusive question nor accusation. This was at the behest of his conscience, although he longed desperately to ignore it. He wanted to know...what exactly happened last year, when your transformation began?

Your lips were sealed, but his very essence ached - sorrow, curiosity, love, sympathy and compassion all melding together within him. They ran amuck, refusing any whisper of sleep. His concentration had flown alongside it, rendering him unable to enjoy the book that rested in his palm. It had maintained a decent level of interest until now, but duty called. He would pry open your chamber door, glimpse your ethereal, sleeping form...and finally feel content. If you were strolling through dreamland, then his concern could dissipate. At least for a while. If not...he would discover why.

Loki hesitated outside your door, for if you were truly non-the-wiser, asleep...vulnerable, then a mere survey of yourself and the room would leave, on his tongue, a terrible aftertaste.

But, lo and behold, only your young son slept soundly, in his crib.

Loki was grappled now with a sense of alarm - where in Odin's name were you? And, pray tell...why was your child on his lonesome, cleansing himself of the prior day, in such a frigid room? He was wrought with grief upon recalling your distaste for the babe, and again when he realised there was no option to remove him, bring him to a warmer space, rock him and sing soft melodies...

Loki's primary goal was to find you, and perhaps...coerce you into confessing everything. From a true account of the day that always replayed in your mind, to your innermost feelings and thoughts...he needed to know, and to understand.

He had scoured half the building before laying eyes upon you. However...relief proved elusive. There were an endless number of questions, but none dared to grace the air. Why was your beautiful face stained with tears? Why were you eating, despite looking so sickly? What had troubled you so? And...could he kill it? He was unsure of the proper manner in which to approach you. He had always tread lightly, but complete silence and delicacy were more fortes of his mother. He swallowed down the nerves.

"(Y/n), darling...why aren't you sleeping?"

You startled, eyes bloodshot and a biscuit lodged between your lips. "U-Uh..."

He walked forward. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

"...No?" This was mumbled, as though credence escaped you.

"My dear, you aren't a skilled liar. Talk to me, please." The heartache nearly tore him apart.

You wouldn't meet his gaze. "I...I can't."

"Please?" Both of your voices cracked, in unison.

Oh god, alright. Okay. This if fine...right? It's fine. I'm fine...Am I? What if I'm not?! I can't tell him just yet! But he looks so upset...I did this! I caused this! Oh god...just stay - stay calm! Calm down...calm down...

A tear trickled down your cheek, then another. "I-I've never...I don't want to - to relive it."

He brought you into a protective embrace. "Then you won't. I swear, by all the beings in the Nine Realms, that I will keep you safe. Please, let me share your burden."

Three sentences. Who was so weak-willed, that a mere three sentences shattered all their defences? You cursed his silver tongue. "(S-S/n)...! He - he's...I didn't...I-I don't want him! J-Just because I didn't fight back...I didn't try to run, he...t-that man, he did...things. To me. And now...now I'm so dirty! I'm disgusting...unclean, weak. B-But...sometimes - sometimes I think it's all in my head. But it isn't! I-It happened, and (S/n)! He's...he's the proof! He reminds me...o-of that..."

Loki froze. "What...?"

"But I-I couldn't - I couldn't tell anyone! They wouldn't...believe me, o-or care! People like me, they don't - this...this doesn't happen! Why...why did this happen?? A-And now...there's (S/n). And every...every minute is Hell! I can't take it anymore...I don't w-want to be here. I don't want to be...to be alive anymore..."

Loki could almost see the threads of rationality thinning. Who would...defile you, hurt you? You were so important, so genuine and...lovely. "I will find this man, and personally deliver his comeuppance. He never deserved your voice, let alone your touch."

"No!" You stiffened in his arms. "Then he'll...he'll come back..."

"If he does, I shall slay him." Yet, Loki made no attempt to leave. Instead, he slipped into a mask of composure, enough to continue speaking without seething. "I apologise...if you thought I wouldn't care. I do - more than you could ever imagine. You are the most stunning creature I have had the honour of meeting, in all my lifetime. I was resolved to spend my days at your side, never professing my love, but after hearing that...I..."

You panicked. "Loki...don't. Please-"

"I know it would be impudent to assume that you could accept me right now, but consider that...I can protect you. I will never let him, or anyone, hurt you again." Loki wiped away your crystalline sadness. "But, please...when you can't see worth or joy in this life...please come to me. I will be here to remind you of your victory - you survived such torture, and delivered a child. You are far from weak, (Y/n)."

Loki's fingers darted along your wrist. He yearned to kiss every scar, every inch of your skin.

Though, he would do nothing without permission. "Now, my dear...let's put these treats away. I would suggest that, henceforth, you eat balanced meals and partake in some fun activities. Perhaps I could read to you, one day? And venturing out for a walk - we can do that together. I...um, hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries. I'm simply thinking of ways to occupy your mind...and your time. You can do these things alone, of course..."

You nodded. "But...you'd - you'd do them with me?"

"I would gladly do anything with you, my love." Loki's words were empty of duplicity.

You were angelic - the only one safe from his lies.

[nineteenninety-six]

Trouble Maker

REQUEST:  Tommy Shelby x pirate-kind-of!reader? Where like the reader is similar to Pirates of the Caribbean (if you've seen the movies) and she and her crew walk in to Small Health ever so casually and just... start mischief? What would Tommy do when he found out the captain is a woman and he falls head over heals for her? 😂 Thank you

This isn’t exactly what you asked before, I didn’t go with the pirate route but hopefully, you enjoy this.

Y’all, I keep on procrastinating my uni course work and it’s due next month :/ I need to do it asap so I can pass and graduate but I’m just so lazy. Anyone else have a problem with procrastinating? 

TAGLIST: @futuristicslimemongerbanana​ @dayna041101​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @sweetgoodangel​ (If you’ve changed your user or wanted to be removed/added pls tell me :)

 “Again Tommy! That fucking group have done it again!” 

Arthur came storming into Tommy’s office, face red from anger and frustration and Tommy was starting to feel the same. They had been dealing with a troublesome gang that had appeared in Small Heath a few months back, the gang had taken their clients, money, men and more and Tommy had reached his limit. The most frustrating part was that the members of the gang blended in with the general public, they didn’t wear anything that indicated that they were part of a gang like how his men wore peaky caps.

“Tommy, we gotta do something about this,” Arthur growled out, struggling to keep calm. 

“We will Arthur. Family meeting tonight, tell everyone.”

Arthur huffed a sigh but nodded at his brother and left his office.

Tommy put his head in his hands and sighed, he was utterly exhausted from everything and this new gang was exhausting him even further, he just wanted to sleep for a few days and have nobody disturb him but he couldn’t so after he downed the rest of his drink, Tommy stood up and left his office to start laying down the foundations of his plan. 

That evening when he returned to the house on Watery Lane after spending the afternoon in Small Heath and the surrounding area, he found his family already waiting for him along with his uncle Charlie and Johnny Dogs.

“Right.” He started as he slumped into the free chair, he didn’t think he could stand for any longer, “It’s about time we dealt with these fuckers eh”

“Too fuckin’ right,” John grumbled as he chewed on his toothpick irritably.

“What’s your plan, Tommy?” Polly asked her nephew.

“Since they blend in so well, we’re gonna sneak into their ranks.”

“How are we going to manage that?” His aunt was doubtful.

“We’re gonna get some of the kids to try and sneak in and join that gang, ones that haven’t fully integrated into the Peaky Blinders and haven’t been seen with anyone here. They’re our best chance.”

Everyone in the room looked doubtful and Tommy couldn’t blame them, it was a weak plan but it was the best thing they had.

“I know it’s not the greatest but we’re barely able to catch their street crew. We have no chance of even sniffing the leader otherwise.”

Polly sighed but nodded, “You’re right.”

“Is everyone in agreement?” Tommy asked.

Everyone in the room voiced their approval, it took a bit for Arthur and John to fully come around as they much to prefer to go around storming into places and shooting but they understood that it was possible.

“Good. I’ll send the kids off tomorrow.” Tommy told his family before he left the house, he set a path towards his office before he changed it to the Garrison, he really needed a drink.

It took a few weeks before they made progress on their plan, one of the kids they sent out and returned with the address of the rival gang’s main hub. They had immediately struck gold and Tommy was grateful because he was on the verge of giving up. Tommy didn’t tell his family straight away knowing they wanted to go in there guns blazing, he didn’t want that, he wanted the chance to see the person who was giving him so much grief.

The building was old and derelict, an old thing that been abandoned for years and it was the perfect place for a new gang to inhabit.

Tommy spent a few days watching the building where they based, taking mental notes of when guards changed shifts and any weak spots of the building along with watching for any faces he recognised going in and out of the building.

One night Tommy slipped into the building, after days of staking out he found out this was the best time as defences were weak. He slowly crept around the building, gun in hand just in case as he tried to find the place where the boss of the group settled. After scaling the building he found what he assumed to be one of the original old offices of the building on the second floor but he could tell it was currently used, it had paper strewn everywhere along with a few candles that currently weren’t lit. It reminded Tommy of the messy tidiness of Alfie’s office.

Tommy decided to make himself comfortable, he lit the candles in the room before he sat himself down in the chair that sat opposite the desk. He got a through a few cigarettes before he heard footsteps approaching the office. The footsteps faltered slightly as the person realised the lit candles before the continued but more cautiously. 

“Can I help you?” The person asked.

Tommy found himself caught off guard, that certainly wasn’t the voice he was expecting. 

Tommy shifted so that he turned to face the doorway where the person was waiting and what he saw, it was a woman, a very beautiful one at that.

“I hope so.”

The woman’s lips quirked as she recognised the man in front of her, “Ah, Thomas Shelby. I was wondering when I was going to see you.”

“You expected me?”

“Of course.” The woman walked further into the office, “I’ve causing havoc in your streets for the last few months, I knew you were gonna find me, it was just a matter of when.”

“So you’re the one behind everything.”

The woman smiled as she poured them drinks, “Surprised that I’m a woman?”

Tommy paused for a bit before he answered, “I am but at the same time, I’m not. I know my fair share of strong women.”

“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint then.” The woman brought over two glasses of whiskey, placing one in front of Tommy before taking her seat behind the desk.

“(Y/N)” At Tommy’s confused look she elaborated, “My name.”

“Well (Y/N), you’re a hard person to find.” Tommy nodded.

(Y/N) smiled again, “How did you end up finding me?”

“Got some boys to infiltrate your crew, as soon as one of them was taken here they told me.”

“Smart.”

“Listen.” Tommy switched the topic, “We need to come to an….agreement on what to do.”

“What to do? There’s nothing to do Thomas Shelby, it’s a turf war and we’re winning.”

“You know how easy it was to sneak in here after a day of watching in place? I could’ve easily came storming in with my brothers, who would have happily come in gun blazing but I didn’t tell them for reason. I wanted to talk.”

“So? I can tighten up security.”

“I know what you look like, I’ve already infiltrated your network once, I can easily do it again and you’d have no clue who it would be. So unless you plan on gutting your crew and starting anew, I suggest you listen to what I propose.”

(Y/N) scowled and took a gulp of her drink before she nodded for him to speak.

“First off, you stop taking my clients and business deals--” Tommy saw her open her mouth the protest but he cut her off before she could even speak, “No- listen to me. You can keep the one you already have but that it. You want business clients? Go and find them yourself instead of taking mine.”

Tommy continued. “Second, there is no fucking turf war. Small Heath is the Peaky Blinders and I’ll allow you to stay here and work but nothing in this town belongs to you. And thirdly, stop attacking my men and destroying my buildings.”

(Y/N) was still scowling but she was nodding along.

“Have we got a deal?” Tommy asked.

(Y/N) sighed but nodded, it wasn’t a terrible deal by any means and she wasn’t being shafted. The deal allowed her to still work and get money.

“We’ve got a deal.”

Tommy stood up and held his hand out to shake her hand but instead of shaking it, (Y/N) made her way around the desk to stand next to him. When she reached him, she tugged him down by his collar and gave him a kiss which he then deepened. When they pulled away they were both breathing heavily.

“I like to do things a little differently.” (Y/N) said as she licked her lips.

“I can tell.” Tommy’s eyes followed the movement. 

“Goodbye, Thomas.”

“Call me Tommy.”

(Y/N) smiled, “Goodbye, Tommy.”

“Goodbye, (Y/N).” Tommy stepped back and sent her a wink before he left her office.

Tommy was looking forward to their next interaction, he found the woman intriguing and fascinating and he wanted to know more about her.   

[pretendrocketships]

What Am I Now?

A/N: I suck and so do guys so this has been floating around in my head so lets go 

About: How do you explain a relationship you don’t even understand? The one where being away from each other hurts but staying together isn’t what it used to be. 2.5k, Lil thing, part 2? angst warning 

Song: Falling by Harry Styles

The sun was hot and unforgiving, and the heat did nothing to help your mood. It seemed like everyone was out. People littered the cafes along the sidewalk of the city. Everyone toasting to whatever and laughing about jokes you probably wouldn’t find funny. Scents of pizza and pasta wafted through your nostrils. You swatted at your nose to remove the scent, and lingering flies, from your area. It always seemed like everyone around you was at their best when you were feeling your worst. Isn’t that something? You rounded the corner with a purpose, to get away from everyone who was making you feel more shitty then you felt when you left your house. 

It wasn’t anything particular, just a bad mood. Yup, that was it. Just the wrong day on the wrong side of the bed. That’s all. There was nothing in the world that would make you admit that the headlines kept cycling around your head, that you didn’t skim, but read the full articles. “Harry Styles Seen Sneaking Girl Out Of Bavel Late Last Night,” “Who Could Style’s Girl Be? Here Are Our Guess,” and your favorite “Are You Harry Styles’ New Girl? Take Our Quiz and Find Out!” It was a circle. Headline after headline popped into your head. Snippets of articles flashed before your eyes. They were saying they haven’t seen a girl on his arm since you. They were saying she was the new you. They were saying that she was replacing you. Then, articles stopped mentioning you all together. That hurt. You felt that. 

Another block zoomed by. You wanted to wear yourself out, to the point where your mind could only think about sleep and not stories you’ve read. The run keeps your mind everywhere but where it wants to be. One foot in front of the other. Don’t step on that crack, might break your mother’s back. The beat of this song is really good for keeping my mind off -- fuck. The next half a mile was a constant battle, to turn round and go home, giving up on a weak attempt at a distraction, or to power through and hope the next mile would keep your mind off your thoughts. By the time you reached the next stoplight, you were over it, submitting to your thoughts and turning home. Head down, feet to the floor you flew yourself home, desperate to get back to safe space where you could let yourself feel hurt.

 “I’m allowed to be upset.” You kept mumbling those words over and over to yourself on the way home. “I’m allowed to be hurt and upset.” Tears threatened to fall. You ignored them. “I choose when and how long it takes me to heal.” The bastards fell. Oh like a flood, they fell. ‘No Crying in Public,’ a rule you actually had framed on your wall, was already broken. So, once you locked your door, you let the tears flow as freely as they wanted. For five minutes. Five minutes to mope then get up and go. The little saying seemed even stupider when you were upset, but you needed a reason to stop crying and get up. And that’s what you did, got up, got in the shower, and started the pile of work you’d been avoiding all week. A shower is usually your restart button, but with a desk full of papers that held no meaning, you couldn’t focus. You shook your head, rolled your shoulders and pressed your pen to the paper and attempted to “just get over it” like every friend who offered you unwarranted advice said. If your professors didn’t care about heartbreak, why should you? 

It took a while, an hour and twenty-four minutes to be exact, to get your first assignment done, wandering thoughts occupying most of your time. The stack beside you was still overwhelming, much like your mind at the moment. You wagered a deal with yourself. Ten minutes to think through the situation, then twenty minutes doing work, a back and forth deal that appeased your mind.

No, he technically wasn’t in the wrong because technically he didn’t do anything since you technically aren't together. That was too many technicals. You always thought you were special. Special enough to think the whole “friends to lovers” thing would work out for you and a mildly famous popstar. Fuck, were you wrong. You remember laughing in your kitchen. Sunday morning and teasing him. Calling him “mildly” famous was always your thing. You would grab at his belt buckles and pull him closer, or brush past him to start the Keriug and remind him how much you loved your “mildly famous boyfriend”. Your rationale: making sure his ego didn’t get too big for your shared apartment. A place only you two shared when you were both in the city. He would laugh. A big one. The kind where his eyes were squeezed shut and one, or both, of his large hands were gripping the counter. Soon, he’d be wiping tears from his eyes and pulling you flush against his chest, whispering about how he loved his “little star.” The memory stung, like a fresh paper cut; the moment was small, but the pain mighty.  

This is how your days went, seemingly productive until you got hit with the past. The smallest things could set you back months, stuck seeing a replay of what you thought was the greatest love story ever told. While coming back from grocery shopping, you remembered when you backed into the garage door and left your mark on Harry’s first home with a sizable dent. You told Harry about your accident, nervous as hell, while he doubled over in laughter, wondering how anyone could not forget to open the garage door whilst backing in at 25 miles per hour. You get into your garage and you’re attacked by the memory of Harry yelling up into the house that he found the succulent he’d lost, and that it was in the corner of the garage surrounded by boxes you’d been meaning to go through. He came upstairs, sheepishly holding a very much dead cactus. “Those things are so hard to kill, so tha fact that ‘ve managed to do so, quite impressive on my part, dont’cha think love?” 

As days turned to weeks and weeks to the following weekends, you felt yourself less and less haunted by memories of what used to be. Going out for a run was starting to be just that, a run, not an escape from a mental prison you and your past love created. Things felt right -- 

HARRY STYLES SINGLE. CONFIRMED

This. This is why you hated twitter. Four words threatened to pause your progress. I mean, if this were a movie, he would’ve confirmed this weeks ago. And you would’ve been back together and everything would have been perfect. But this isn’t a movie. You logged out of twitter and deleted the app. You never liked it anyway, so why let it suck you back into a place you just crawled out of on your hands and knees? You can’t lie to yourself and say that he didn’t pop into your head late that night while you were surrounded by pillows on all sides. You weren’t sure if you missed him or the feeling of comfort his arms provided. Did you really need someone or were you just being weak. Did you need someone to hold you at night, or did you just want it. Your heart was racing with the possibility of any of this being your fault. You needed to stop. You needed to sleep. So, you turned on a podcast specifically about sleep and forced your mind to be filled with stories about someone else.

Last night threw you off. You had to admit that. It wasn’t the end of the world, wasn’t the end of weeks of progress, but it just made you realize you needed a schedule. Something to stick to that wouldn’t fail you. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Free. You needed some freedom to breathe and not follow order, but the repetition kept you sane, kept you going. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Go Out With Friends. Shower Sleep. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Drinks with The Girls. Sleepover. Sleep. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Family Game Night. Dinner. Sleep. Wake up. Work out. -- Answer the Doorbell?

Sticky. Sweaty. Gross. Your run felt good at the time, but left you itching for your shower as soon as you stepped inside. Whatever telemarketer or Jevhovah’s Witness that was at your door was about to get a version of you you didn’t even like. You contemplated just letting them ring the doorbell until they got the hint, but the chimes kept ringing through your house, now following by incessant knocking. You wanted to pick up speed so the noise would stop, but another part of you wanted to walk as slow as possible torture whoever was behind the door.

You should’ve peeped. You shouldn’t have just swung the door open thinking it was someone just trying to take your money or your time. You should’ve listened to every muscle in your body screaming no, because it wasn’t just from the workout. It was your body trying to protect you from someone who was trying to steal your heart. 

“What the fuck.” The words fell from your mouth before you could even register the whole situation. He looks up, hands shoved in his pockets. That sheepishly smile he usually wore was plastered across his face, only this time the corners of his mouth twitched with nerves.

“Hi, (Y/N).” You laughed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing was funny, but it was almost comical how he thought he could come to your house, as if seeing him didn’t make you sick with emotion. You could almost feel his discomfort, or maybe it was yours, who could say.

“So again, why the fuck are you here?” You could feel your stomach bubbling, like a witch’s cauldron. You felt yourself getting red, hot, angry without any way to control it.

“I have three things to tell you, then I’m gone,” he blurted out quickly. Smart boy. You squinted at him, trying to guess what he would say before he could say it, so you could avoid a conversation all together. He sensed your hesitance. “Just hear it from me, I owe you that much.” Did you catch a whiff of Harry admitting his faults without you prompting him? The words were sickenly sweet to your ears. You moved aside, barley, admittedly finding joy in his large frame squeezing into the small entry you provided him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He stepped in and looked around, taking in all the changes since he was last there. Your TV was bigger now, funny considering you always said he was the only reason you used your TV. The couch was pushed up against the back wall, instead of angled facing the tv. You moved around the loveseats. His favorite blue and white bean bag chairs were no longer hidden behind the couch. Harry had a bad habit of sitting too close to the tv, so you bought yourselves bean bag chairs, insisting he didn’t sit on the floor. He saw all the cook books he bought you from every country he visited no longer called the coffee table home, instead you had autobiographies of various artists, world leaders, and celebrities surrounding your candles and coffee mugs. His gaze landed on every single detail that changed since he last called this place home, your voice pulling him out of his trance.

“And you waited so long to come here… why?” Your attitude, the one he learned to love so much was oozing out of every word you spoke. He wished you would just drop the act and open up to him, but he also knows he deserves it. He wants to laugh and see the corners of your mouth twitch up into a smile, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that.

“I don’t know. --” he started.

“No, don’t. Don’t do that!” Your hands were up in the air. You were frustrated. The anger was radiating off you in waves, far enough to reach every part of the house. You knew him. You knew he had an answer he was afraid of saying. You turned to him, your eyes pleading with him to just let you hear the truth.

“I didn’t think you saw them, didn’t think you cared,” he mumbled, playing his favorite game: tracing the patterns on the brown, granite countertop while avoiding the impact of his words.

“You didn’t think I would,” you laughed, bitterly, humourlessly, “didn’t think I would see it?” Your voice got lower, and he got scared. Scared because he knew it meant your anger was not dissipating. You didn’t have to name drop the articles. You both knew what you were talking about, the emotion in your voice making that clear.

“I didn’t think you still kept up with me. I didn’t. . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know whether or not he should say it, because if he did, it would make everything he’d felt these past few weeks real. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. 

“Didn’t think what.” You whispered this. To be honest, you were tired. You were tired of just how much you cared, tired of what feeling anything for him did to you. To hate him meant you had to harbor all of this anger and remind yourself of everything he did to piss you off. You had to keep that hatred bottled up inside you, shaking up your feelings every now and then so the feeling never died out. To love him? God. To love him you had to reach inside yourself and pull out the months of sheer adoration; the nights in the sheets; the blood, sweat, and tears that went into your most beautiful relationship yet. Everything and anything you felt for him took pieces of your heart you just wanted back. You wanted to feel again, feel anything that didn’t have to do with him. 

“(Y/N)....”

“We have to talk, for real this time.” 

[treechangeseachange]

The return

It’s coming up to 3 months since we returned to our block and it took us 8 weeks to slow down. On the weekend we slowed down we enjoyed the first official Friday night catch up with our neighbours as the full moon rose. On Saturday we went out for brunch. No sport on Sunday morning meant a sleep in. I played handball with my boys for the first time ever in my life. Lamb shanks slow cooked on the wood heater. We squeezed in a late Sunday afternoon fishing trip. It took us 8 weeks to find some calm. We had forgotten how to do normal. I haven’t written for this blog since um wow December?! My leisure time since then has been extremely limited and when it occurred I prioritised my mental wellbeing and sleep.

This journey has brought me to the edge of my psychological and physical limitations. I watched my husband do a terminator style non stop renovation while trying also to commence a rebuild. His promises to take time off over Christmas dwindled to 2 days. There was so much to do. I helped with whatever jobs I was able to and then focussed on the household and occasionally, our boys. Midway through January this year we realised trying to work on both the renovation and the rebuild was insanity. The local real-estate market was booming. Post COVID, Sydney city dwellers realised they could put in a few days in the city then work from their coastal holiday pad the rest of the week. We decided to get our investment property, come bushfire haven, onto the market before the summer ended. We mapped out each remaining job and the days required to accomplish them. We calculated selling time, settlement time and remaining bank balance. What were need to do’s and what were optional extras. If everything went to plan, we could pay to get some work done at the block and make it habitable enough to move into. It was an extreme test of time, energy and resources.

It worked. We listed by the end of February, sold in three weeks and settled five weeks after settlement. I write that all in one glib sentence. Of course all of that only happened with considerable focus and effort. Life for the boys was hectic. 99% of their toys were packed and moved into storage weeks before the house went on the market. As the house neared completion we stressed about them damaging something. When the house was on the market we stressed about them getting things dirty - the walls, the windows or the cupboards. I banished them from the bathroom, they had to brush teeth in the laundry and shower outside. Luckily it was warm and didn’t rain much in those few weeks! Anyone who has sold a house while living in it knows how painful open homes are. The logistics and effort of cleaning and styling, while working full time from home, scheduling everything between work appointments, getting the dog out of the way and the boys to school, nearly broke me. Thankfully the selling process was short, but we packed a lot of opens into that time and by the end of it all, I had become a shouty, grouchy mum and wife. It was also a real highlight to hit menopause and bring some phenomenal hormonal energy into the mix. Phew.

Before we packed up and left I was lucky enough to have a week away with the boys. My fully wired self hit Melbs and my family gave me refuge and forgave my intensity. We managed some fun and the change of scenery was a big relief. Husband, however, stayed behind to work on the temporary shed home. Holiday behind me, I returned to packup and clean and polish the house for the financial return of our lives. Literally.

Can you then imagine our triumphant and spectacular return to our block bathed in happiness and light? Um well perhaps instead picture this - we arrived exhausted to an unpowered, work in progress temporary residence in the middle of a mice plague and endured 200ml of heavy rain in four days leaving us surrounded by mud. Happy to catch the rain in our tank? I wish! The new tank leaked 8000L the week before we moved, and only our neighbour’s spare tank loan meant we had any water at all. But being so small, it overflowed and made even more mud. The heavy rain was so loud on the tin roof it frequently woke the kids in the night (who then woke us), mice ran across the floor, huntsmen spiders dropped from the ceiling. With nowhere really to unpack things, cooking became like the biggest ever memory game, which box were the bowls in? Where did I pack the cutlery? The rain delayed our solar power install so for 10 days we lived out of an esky and by torchlight. We both kept working full time, getting the boys to school, after school sport commitments and then husband kept building after he got home and into the night. After a week of stress and chaos we knew something had to give, fortunately husband could take time off work to focus on our build and family life.

Fast forward to now. The financial pressure of the summer has eased. The temporary living quarters are functional and steadily improving. We have a beautiful wood heater. Our off grid solar system is powering us even during these short winter days. I have more kitchen cupboards than ever before, plus a dishwasher! I have hung up my clothes in a full wardrobe for the first time in nearly four years. The boys each have clean new wardrobes. Their separate rooms are still being built so they are in what will be our room which is insulated and wall paneled. We can cope with an outside shower and toilet. My husband is a legend.

What’s it like actually being back? I confess I was nervous about my own and the boys emotions. Eldest son is extremely happy to be back. Youngest son has taken time to adjust but that has more been due to his fear of the dark. The noises of the bush are unfamiliar and there are no streetlights out here! There has only been one time where a prebushfire memory overwhelmed me. Every person’s bushfire experience and recovery is unique. Unlike many others we are fortunate have the opportunity to not have to build on the exact footprint of the old place and I think this is psychologically helpful. It’s not the same space, and with some trees dead and gone the landscape is altered, its a slightly different perspective. The boys are older now, so our lifestyle is different too. Slowly we are finding a new rhythm on our land. The boys are absolutely loving being back on their bikes on bush tracks.

I was excited to resume my morning walks, although maybe not as excited the dog! He’s happy to have his off-lead roam again. But the first week of walking I found tough, the burnt and recovering state forest I traverse didn’t bring me the joy it used to. In the heavily logged areas where only isolated saplings were left unlogged, they couldn’t survive the heat of the fire or they didn’t have community trees to share nutrients through their roots to support recovery. The undergrowth is now the canopy and is booming with all the extra sunlight but when I look at it, all I see is fire hazard. Then as the weeks went by, my view softened, I recognise the bush is healing like me. I am appreciating small wonders of nature. A spider’s web highlighted with morning dew or the fascination of new plants thriving. There are trees that have fully recovered, others seem to be doing well, and there is much green in the landscape to enjoy.

On my morning walk I also see which animals are about in the night from what they leave behind. There is at least one very busy wombat! We see wallabies reasonably often and last week one morning I found big roo prints in the clay right near our place. We hear a boobook owl calling most nights and more frogs chirping croaking from the gully than I ever remember. Which now makes sense, we definitely were in drought for some years prior to the fires and the creek has this year been running for months. Less exciting is hearing foxes at night, my son especially dislikes their eerie calls. In daytime the bird life is altered. We are down to one lyrebird, there used to be two with adjacent territories battling loudly with their extraordinary mimicry. But at least there is one, how a ground bird survived I can’t imagine. The yellow robins aren’t around us now, we have wrens in the cleared spaces and in the lush shrubs busy brown gerygones dart and chirp. A shrike thrush has made a nest in our bushfire remains pile, her song is piercing and wonderful. Rarely are the yellow crested black cockatoos here now. This past weekend we did see two circling wedge tailed eagles the silent assassins of the sky wheeling high over the gully with that phenomenal wingspan.

Surprisingly my greatest source of happiness in these first few months being back has come from the sky. Unobstructed by buildings, the sky feels bigger in the bush. I’m loving the late winter sunrises. My very favourite time is just after the sun has risen when the horizontal sun rays set tops of the trees bright orange. Those are magical minutes of golden tinged trees. The sunsets. The stars. The moon. the sky has been a revelation and a source of happiness. Maybe because I’m spending more time outside I notice it more. Seeing glittering stars through the steam of a hot outdoor shower makes the cold walk inside completely worth it!

Slowly I am regaining my sense of gratitude for this place. The quiet. The privilege of not seeing another house. Having no curtains and that not mattering. Not worrying about noise and neighbours. Lack of street lights at night.

All of a sudden things aren’t hectic and we are settling in. It still amazes me after 6 moves in 5 years how intense moving is and then how imperceptibly things transition to not being new anymore. Normalcy sneaks up on me every time. Clearly this isn’t really normal but we’re enjoying this new start in our old place.

[llendrinall]

Omg what if Draco was also a spy for Dumbledore? Like imagine him biting his tongue when everyone is hateful and cruel to him cuz he's gonna have the last laugh when it comes out he was a spy. And in this version Percy still fucks off. Draco stays behind cuz he wants to see everyones reactions (especially his asshole boss that made his life fucking hell) He could be a seer in this and secretly became friends with Harry during Hogwarts. Idk, add whatever you want ❤

Ha! I don’t know why that “Idk” at the end made me laugh.

I have different mental versions of Draco. I can see him more or less happy, more or less certain of what he wants to do or of his relationship to the wizarding world. Other things are fixed, they are the things that make him Draco and appear in all versions of him, like:

1.- He can draw. He might have more or less practice, but he can draw pretty well.

2.- He is smart in the sense of doing very well academically, being able to understand something instantly. He doesn’t need to put many study hours, so he doesn’t.

3.- He doesn’t like Dumbledore. Regardless of his relationship to his father and Voldemort, he just doesn’t like Dumbledore as a person. It has nothing to do with how Dumbledore treats people (although that certainly doesn’t help) it’s more visceral. Just like some people will look at an actor or celebrity and go “no, I do not find Jimmy Fallon funny and can’t tell you why”. This is the same.

So Draco would never become a spy for Dumbledore. Dumbledore’s spy, hell no.

However, at some point Draco looks at Voldemort’s white flabby face and thinks “oh, no, I’m not doing this.” He decides he is going to work against Voldemort, but with whom?

(Draco is very proud of knowing when to use “whom” and also lives in fear of getting it wrong).

Draco has to find someone who can be an actual challenge against Voldemort. The Ministry is out because they are stupid, incompetent and infiltrated to the brim. And who else is there? Potter? Draco goes to class with Potter. He has seen how he spells, meaning both his charm use (Potter knows one a half spells and that’s it) and his orthography. He simply can’t consider Potter a serious contender against Voldemort. Nothing against him, Draco actually, (secretly) kind of likes the guy, but Voldemort can read minds, knows all kind of ancient magic and performs incredibly complex curses and conjurations.

Draco has seen Potter lick ice-cream out of his t-shirt.

If Draco wants to get rid of Voldemort, there is only Dumbledore. Draco doesn’t spy for him. He does nothing regarding Dumbledore that involves the preposition ”for”.

But he shares information. There is a “to” in there. Give information to Dumbledore. He can do that. Draco is quite smart, so he is able to deduce Voldemort’s strategy from little clues. He knows about Voldemort’s quest for information (both for the prophecy and the elder wand) months in advance.

This does not happen in the same universe as Percy Ministry Spy, but Percy is acting as a spy nevertheless. This means that Dumbledore has a pretty easy run setting his plans in motion and ensuring Voldemort’s defeat. It also means that he suffers though some absolutely miserable months which probably have something to do with his enthusiasm for the let-Draco-kill-me plan.

Each and every interaction with Draco is a reeling experience. Draco is not handing the information for nothing. He wants Voldemort dead by next month and when Dumbledore doesn’t deliver, he complains. He complains (note the italics). Draco doesn’t ask for the manager because there isn’t one, but he actually asks if Dumbledore has any older siblings Draco could talk to. You could say Draco acts entitled, demanding and full of expectations, but those words mean nothing. Draco breathes past entitlement to land somewhere between “Angel of Vengeance” and “Greek fury”, only instead of a flaming sword or claws, he has attitude and an excellent command of grammar. What a horrible little child.  

Meanwhile, Snape has developed the habit of twisting every conversation so he can say “pity you don’t have any other orphan available to sacrifice” and “oh, if only we had a child to endanger” and “yes, but how can we solve this by killing a child?”. It is very rich coming from him. Dumbledore is not amused. Apparently there is a line for Severus Snape and that line is drawn when sacrificing oneself for the greatest good.

(“Ah, but it is not yourself who will do the sacrifice, is it?” Snape says, and a week later Dumbledore tells Draco that of course he will let him kill him. Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes as if somehow that wasn’t enough).

And then, there is Percy Weasley. Neither Snape nor Draco are supposed to know about him, but they both know and it is unclear how. Probably Percy himself let them know (no, he didn’t). He would do something like that (no, he wouldn’t). Percy is a horrid nightmare (he… he may be). Dumbledore despises him (and how!). Snape will talk about Dumbledore not doing the greater sacrifice but Dumbledore honestly can’t think of anything worse than working with Percival Weasley.

(70% of Dumbledore’s dislike comes from the suspicion that Percy might be two or three points more intelligent than him. After almost a century used to being the most intelligent person in the room by far, Dumbledore does not like this new scenario. He misses Grindelwald.)

Dumbledore dies. Then so does Potter (briefly), followed quickly by Voldemort (permanently). Surprisingly, Snape also jumps into this dying fashion until he thinks better about it and survives, although severely wounded. Percy doesn’t die but as soon as the battle had ended and all Death Eaters are either dead or apprehended, he dissaparates right there from the Hogwarts grounds.

He sends a postcard to Draco a month later, which is kind of nice. There is also one for Snape and Draco props it next to the vase of flowers by his sickbed.

Thus begins the After-War.

By day two, Draco understands why Weasley left so quickly. It is a fucking disaster. Potter has to plant himself by Snape’s bed to stop the Ministry from arresting him. The man is barely coherent and barely alive and yet they wanted to interrogate him and transport him to a holding cell. The Ministry. The ones who allowed themselves to be infiltrated.

It is perhaps unsurprising that when the Ministry sends a hastily formed examining tribunal to Hogwarts, so students can sit their OWLs and NEWTs in August, the examining tribunal refuses Draco.

Draco doesn’t particularly care. He is rich enough that he doesn’t need to work and, in any case, once they finally start proper investigations and find Dumbledore’s trove of notes and testimonies in his sealed will, Draco will be exonerated and recognized as the hero he is. This insult or punishment, whatever you call the Tribunal’s unfair treatment of him, doesn’t hurt. Draco is immune to their attacks.

Soon after, he receives a letter from bloody Hermione Granger saying of course he can sit his exams, they expect him on Tuesday at ten. McGonagall will be there to put the fear of herself on the Tribunal and ensure they are fair.

And… he appreciates her intervention, he really does. Awfully nice of her. True moral backbone. It’s just that… Draco actually enjoyed the insult? He realizes now that he only attempted to sit the exams because he expected them to say no.

He sits the exams and aces them. They are particularly hard in the last one, the astronomy test. McGonagall coughs three times, rolls her eyes and finally says “bloody enough, don’t you think? He has shown he knows the material.” He sends her a handwritten thank-you letter just to be annoying.

Draco realizes that his behavior is very odd, but given that Weasley has fucked off to somewhere and that Snape refuses to heal so he won’t have to talk to people, Draco believes he is entitled to some oddities of his own. Thus, he begins collecting insults. From the low-brow and simple “Death-Eater scum” to the vitriolic “murderer”. The best, and the worst, are the ones that don’t come wrapped in words. Shunning and discrimination. Oh! He can’t explain it, but they taste tart and sweet.

He likes it. Not the dismissing, no, but the idea that they don’t know him and that their judgment of him is wrong. If that means they will also wrong him and treat him badly, so be it. It doesn’t change that he and Snape and Percy Weasley, are the heroes of the war.

He applies to a mediwizard program and is naturally denied. Then he tries a traineeship at the Wizengamot, also denied. Just for the fun of it, he applies to the Auror Office and receives a wonderful letter of rejection that has an actual dead spider inside the envelope.

It has been three months since the end of the war, now, and Weasley refuses to let himself be found. Snape barely manages to stay awake for three hours, and only with Draco. Evidently the stress of the war did a number on them, so it’s perfectly understandable if Draco keeps prodding and asking and applying to things knowing full well that he will get a resounding “no”.

You would think this was some sort of atonement for his past misbehavior and his admittedly awfully narrow views and even more abysmal manners regarding muggleborns. But Draco is quite sure he atoned for all of that when he lied to Voldemort’s face and, more terrifyingly, he lied to Aunt Bella’s face, stole their secrets and passed them to Dumbledore. He doesn’t need to punish himself any more.

No, it’s just… it’s just hard. He has spent three years with a carefully crafted lie as his only protection. It is not so easy to discard it. He liked that lie. It kept him alive.

And then, come October, the Ministry takes Malfoy Manor and all associated assets. Just like that. Puff. Seized. They haven’t even begun an official investigation on Draco, but they have taken his house as a precaution.

Now it’s personal.

It turns out that Draco is a vindictive asshole, who would have guessed? Probably everyone but him. Doesn’t matter. He will make them pay. The Ministry, the papers who ran the headline about Draco becoming homeless and the people who cut the page and framed it. They will regret it.

He moves into Snape’s ugly cottage because he has no other place to go and if Snape has any objections, he can say so when he pleases. Oh? He can’t talk? Too bad, then.

The Ministry has also seized his funds and Draco draws a line at using Snape’s meager savings (he assumes they are meager, he hasn’t actually checked) so he gets a job in the only place that would employ him: a seedy tea shop in the North side of Diagon Alley. The only reason the owner hired him was because the previous assistant tried to burn the place down and he was in a bit if a rush to find a replacement. After a week, Draco understands why someone would want to burn the place down, and that’s before his boss realizes that Draco is drawing a small crowd of people who like seeing him serving tables. From then on, he takes to screaming and insulting Draco for absolutely everything before turning to his customers with a smug smile.

Every time he or any of the customers complains, Draco smiles a cheap version of the smiles he used to give Voldemort and vows. Sometimes their words sting and sometimes they break against his armor. He lives in a weird state between immunity and pain.

Dumbledore’s actual true will, to be open by Hermione J. Granger (funny how he didn’t address it to Potter) is found in late December. Given the state of the Ministry, Draco expects that they will only get around summoning Granger by early February at best.

Weasley sends another postcard around Christmas. This one comes with an address, in case either he or Snape also want to drop everything and fuck off, he supposes. Draco writes back explaining he is bidding his time to exact just retribution over all those who wronged him and Snape is in no condition to travel. Weasley writes, well, he doesn’t write, he sends a third postcard with quite a nice drawing of a thumbs up.

Snape can now sit up and read the paper. He still can’t get a single sound out, but he can manage sighing in a very meaningful way. They receive another summon to have Snape declare before a Tribunal and he groans before passing out and staying unconscious the next two days.

All things considered, Draco is evidently the one coping better so he feels he can afford a little extravagant behavior like sitting in front of a mirror and practicing his own sighs of heroic suffering for when the vindication comes.

It comes in March.

The world goes absolutely insane. People knew that Snape had done… something, mostly because Potter had very obnoxiously advocated on his behalf.

(Potter is so obnoxious. He comes every Tuesday to Draco’s tea shop and asks for a cup of tea that he barely touches and stays there for an hour saying nothing).

But they had no idea of the extent Snape’s involvement. None. All the curses he surreptitiously knocked aside, all the misfired spells. It wasn’t just gaining Voldemort’s trust and acting on Dumbledore’s plans, he, Snape, personally saved two dozen lives with none the wiser. He was so good at acting covertly!

That should be enough to make any good newspaper editor foam in their mouth, but there is more. There is Weasley, going twenty steps ahead and being ridiculously clever and talented and just… knowing what to do. There is already a shrine to him in Coleraine because he did something very important there and the locals were merely waiting to find a name to put to it. Percy Weasley has been declared tax exempt in all of Ireland.  

Draco merely has a meager thirteen lives saved on his ledger, but he also has three years of cleverly betraying Voldemort. It doesn’t look like much, but once details emerge of how he stole information and passed it to Dumbledore, the whole thing becomes charming. Double-o-Drac-o, is what the muggleborns are calling him. Snape assures him it’s a good thing, but he doesn’t elaborate because he is a bastard who pretends that writing tires him horribly.

Snape wasn’t planning on surviving the war and for the first time in years he is unprepared. He deals with it by trying to shut the world off. If he wasn’t so weak from his wounds, Draco is quite certain that he would have buggered off to wherever Weasley is now, to sit on the sun and be silent together. He certainly does not appreciate the wizarding world’s earnest interest in him. You would think that the fact that he can’t (or, at this point, won’t) speak would deter them a bit, but it only adds to Snape’s tragic charm. Some women and many young men are particularly attracted by it. Fortunately, Draco has only had to chase two of them out of the house because even though Snape can’t say a word, he remains very skilled at non-verbal magic so he hexes every journalist and deranged fan that has the misfortune of coming close to him. Meanwhile, Weasley doesn’t want to be found (“nooooo” says his last postcard, Draco is a bit worried at the lack of capitalization) and has a ten-month head start. He won’t be found.

This means there is only Draco. Shameful bronze medal in the saving-lives business, but with a delicious aura of cleverness and bravery, a whole year of suffering in silence during the post-war, and a face that was made to be dramatically lighted, photographed and printed in the front page.

Wil you answer our questions, Mister Malfoy? Oh, but he will, he will answer every one of their questions and give all details. No one has given so much, sacrificed so much, suffered so much as him.

“I literally died, Malfoy.”

“And I couldn’t afford dying, Potter. I had to survive. Now, get out, these people have some more questions.”

Potter has moved from coming every Tuesday to the stupid tea shop to visiting them at Snape’s cottage. Draco only lets him in because he might annoy Snape into talking. Plus, he is nimble, he can avoid all of Snape’s hexes and the extra exercise will do Snape good.

His relationship with Potter is… strange, but fittingly so. Everything else has been weird lately, why not this? Potter had always elicited interest, but once people learn that Dumbledore had more or less raised him for the slaughter and that when Potter found out he nevertheless went ahead and died, the press and the public in general goes even more rabid. You would think that with so many shocking stories the scandals would dull each other. But, far from that, the public is on fire, incensed, and each piece of news is kindling for the flames.

Potter, unfortunately, does not have a photogenic face (he tends to look like a sad lost deer in all pictures) and all the attention stresses him out. Draco offers him a mutually beneficial deal: Draco will take care of the press for him and Potter will stop the Ministry from returning the manor and his fortune.

“How is that beneficial?”

“I want to tell the press that they took it from me with no evidence before they have the chance to hand it back.”

“Ah, fair enough.” Potter says. He does not seem to be a big fan of the Ministry, which is a pity because this time the Minister is not attempting to kill him, use him, or run a smear campaign against him, unlike the previous ones. It seems that the odd behavior isn’t restricted to Weasley, Snape and him. The other Weasley (Ronald), Granger and Potter are also displaying oddities. Mostly, there is a lot of yelling at the Ministry (Granger) and at every single adult who ever interacted with Potter (Weasley, Ron). Potter isn’t doing any yelling, but he has taken to following Draco around and chatting at Snape.

(No, not “to” or “with”, “at”. He chats at Snape and Snape suffers in silence having accepted that Potter will deflect every hex thrown his way).

Draco doesn’t judge. He is still working at the horrible tea shop with the even more horrible and petty owner (who has no idea how to treat Draco now and spends every waking second alternating between insults and clumsy flattery) simply because he wants to lord over the Ministry that they took his house and money. If Potter feels like he has to follow Draco and harass Snape into making a full recovery, so be it.

There is, of course, the question of Weasley (Ronald) wanting to know where the only tolerable Weasley (Percy) is. Draco doesn’t tell, despite having his address on postcard number 2. That would be a betrayal bigger than anything he did to Voldemort. He could never do that to a person who managed to annoy Dumbledore so much.

What he does is sit down with two cups of tea and explain to Weasley (Ronald) what his brother did and what he went through and why he might not want to interact with any one he knows when, instead, he could be lying face down on a nudist beach in Spain. It helps. Weasley (Ronald) doesn’t track his brother down, but he manages to get him to reply to his letters. He is overjoyed.

The news about having lost his ancestral home and fortune come out and people are adequately irate. He enjoys it, but not as much as he expected. Some people squirm and blush and walk into doors with the embarrassment of how badly they judged him. Some even apologize to his face which is frankly disrespectful because then Draco has to be civil to them. Overall it is unsatisfying. He wants more, but he doesn’t know what he wants.

He almost accepts one of the multiple offers he keeps receiving to enter this or that prestigious program. He would make a good a lawyer. Fortunately, Weasley (the cool one) talks him out of it via postcard. The postcard has nothing written on it other than a smiley face (evidently the brother talks are going well) but it shakes something inside him.

This gives him the idea of apologizing to Longbottom (extremely uncomfortable for both of them) and Granger, who gets him in a number or boards and committees as punishment. Draco competes to be the most disliked person in each committee, which is hard because Granger is in some of them. She asks for immediate liberation of house-elves and a transition program for them and Draco finds himself demanding (just like he did with Dumbledore, full of bile and entitlement) historic reparations. Each blood-line who ever held a house-elf will contribute proportionally to the transition program. He gets death threats over it, it’s great.

Two years after the end of the war, Draco finds himself back in his manor, with most of his money (he doubled his contribution to the elf fund because then the families who want to wash their names would have to do the same) and, mysteriously, Harry Potter in his bed. He has no idea how that happened. He is quite certain he was too busy being a little shit to seduce anyone. Was he seduced when he wasn’t looking? How dare he?

He also has half a dozen very important postcards on his mantelpiece. The only thing he doesn’t have is an ex-Death Eater, ex-potion professor, living in his mansion because the old bastard finally got well enough to say “bugger off, both of you” and then fled to Ireland where the nice Weasley has got a nice little cottage of his own.  

[67-chevy-baby]

Cradle Our Desire

Pairing - Jensen x Reader

Tags - Angst, Language, Implied Smut, Mentions of blood, Vampires, Use of knives, Death, Confessions of love, kissing, and I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed something, and I will tag it. :) 

Word Count -  1,889

Beta - @winecatsandpizza​

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

The Song I Chose - Drowning by Radio Company

Written for - @saxxxology​’s Vol 1 Writing Challenge

A/N - There may be a part 2 to this. :) I haven’t decided. Also, I haven’t written in a while due to mental health issues, so please go easy on me... I’m sorry if this sucks. 

“That’s a wrap on Y/N!”

You’d been waiting all day for those five words, no matter how bittersweet they’d be to hear. Immediately, you closed your eyes and released a shaky breath. The emotions of the scene you just acted out still played over and over in your mind as you headed towards your trailer. 

It’s not your trailer anymore … not after today. That single thought lingered in your head for a few moments as you willed yourself to keep your tears at bay. As soon as you climbed the stairs and shut the door, your body gave way and you slid down the wall. The tears you tried so hard to hide finally flowed freely down your cheeks. One of your hands covered your mouth just as you let out a choked sob. 

You knew this day would come. Even the greatest of TV shows couldn’t last forever, and fifteen years was a long time. You’d been a series regular ever since season ten, and it was an honor to work alongside two of the greatest actors of your generation. Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles were phenomenal actors on screen and the most humble of men off-screen. You’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t miss them. 

Your character in the show, Taygen, was a rogue hunter who was working on killing a nest of vampires when she met the brothers. The three of you took care of the vamps and the rest was history. Together you worked like a fine-tuned machine and as much as you hated the thought, it was time to say goodbye to her.

Of course, you knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight. No, Tay wasn’t the kind to stand on the sidelines. She would fight until her last breath to protect the ones she loved, and that’s exactly what she did. The tears kept flowing as your mind drifted to how your final scene played out. 

The pounding of your footfalls echoed through the abandoned warehouse, your hand-crafted knife in your left hand ready to strike. Skidding to a halt, you pressed yourself against the wall to listen for any signs of movement. Sam and Dean had decided that the three of you should split up to cover more ground. You knew they could handle themselves, but something about this hunt just felt … off. 

A loud crash came from the floor above you, and Dean’s yells reverberated off the walls. Panic pricked your skin as you ran as fast as you could up the stairs. Nothing mattered anymore. Not your surroundings, not the vampires, not even God himself could stop you from getting to where Dean was. 

The bottom of your combat boot collided with the rotting wood of the door sending it flying into the room. Dean laid motionless on the floor, one of the vamps hovering over him ready to rip his throat out. 

“Hey! Asshole! Get your filthy hands off him!” The monster turned and narrowed its eyes, its hungry glare turning lethal in an instant before lunging at you. The blade of your knife slashed at the vampire’s chest while your free hand blocked its punches. Just as you were about to finish it off, Dean groaned in pain making you lose focus. “Unngh … Taygen?” The monster knocked your blade from your hand and tossed you into the wall across the room. 

You hit the ground with a sickening thud. Weakly, you pushed yourself up in time to see the vampire turn it’s attention back to the elder Winchester. You knew your ankle was probably broken, but all you could think about was saving Dean. He’d trained you, stayed up with you on nights that you couldn’t sleep, and he’d saved you numerous times when you’d been too reckless. Not to mention that you’d been in love with him since the night you met him and his brother. 

Ignoring the shooting pain in your ankle, you threw your body in front of Dean to shield him from the fatal strike of the Vampire’s razor-sharp teeth. You let out a blood-curdling scream as its fangs pierced the skin of your neck. Even though the monster wasn’t on you for more than a few seconds, the damage was already done. Sam heard your scream and came to yours and Dean’s aid, beheading the vampire with one swipe of his blade. 

Everything felt sluggish around you. The shouts of both the brothers seemed far away as they surrounded you. Dean cursed loudly as Sam ran to get the Impala. “Dammit, Tay! How many times am I gonna have to tell you not to be so reckless!” Your shaky hand came up to rest on his cheek as he held you, your eyes sparkling with tears. “D-Dean … I ... “ He shook his head and swallowed thickly. “Shh, don’t talk sweetheart. Sammy’s goin’ to get the car, and then we’ll take care of you. Cas will heal your ankle, and we’ll get that gash in your neck fixed up in no time.” 

A lone tear slid down your cheek as you tried to desperately memorize every feature of Dean’s face. His piercing green eyes, those smooth lips, and the collection of freckles scattered all over his flawless skin. “Dean, listen to m-me … I‘m not missin’ my ch-chance to tell you this.” You winced as another stabbing pain shot through your body. “I…” The taste of blood filled your mouth as your vision clouded. You knew you weren’t going to make it out of this alive. “... Love y-you …”

It had taken you months to prepare for that scene. Being killed off wasn’t the problem, no it was the fact that your character had to finally tell Jensen’s character how she felt. Normally, something like this wouldn’t even phase you. Having a character fall in love with another came as part of the job description, and the actors and actresses who portrayed said characters knew how to separate that from real life. The reason all of this was so hard for you was because your character wasn’t the only one in love. 

Once you finally found the strength to get off the floor of your trailer you walked to where your bedroom was and grabbed a pen out of the cup on your nightstand. Whenever your emotions got the better of you, writing in your journal would always help calm you down. Earlier, you’d started an entry about today’s scene, and you wanted to finish it. You opened the top drawer of your dresser and felt your heart drop to your stomach. It was gone. Your journal was gone. Quickly, you racked your brain and remembered you’d brought it with you to set. You’d been writing in it while sitting in the Bunker’s library as you watched Jared and Jensen do a few takes before your final scene. How could you have been so stupid? There was no telling who’d get their hands on it and see all the things you’ve kept secret for so long. 

You tore across the trailer lot as fast as you could towards the set and came to a stop at the Bunker’s entrance. Calmly and quietly you descended the staircase and navigated to the library. All the color drained from your face when your eyes landed on Jensen. He was sitting there intently reading what had to be your latest journal entry. He looked up at you, his face unreadable as his gaze bore into your own. 

“Jay… I… I can explain! I…” He stood and walked towards you, the emotion in his eyes just as intense as they were when Taygen had taken her last breath in Dean’s arms. “Is it true? This...this passage you wrote about me?” You couldn’t look at him anymore, the chipped polish on your nails became your focus as you tried to make your brain form words. “Wh-What are you talking about?” His brow furrowed as he pointed to the page he’d been holding. You stood there frozen as he began to read the very entry you’d hoped he’d never see. 

“Today’s the day … the day I complete my run on the greatest TV show. Not only do I have to say goodbye to Supernatural, but I have to live with not seeing the love of my life every day. Jensen doesn’t know it, but he’s the reason I can still hold my head above water in this line of work. Without him, I’d surely be drowning by now. He can never know how I feel. I can never tell him. I can’t risk my feelings not being reciprocated…”

By the time he was done reading your vision was blurred by your tears. How could you have been so careless? Jensen approached your shaking form and used his index and middle fingers to raise your chin so you were looking into his eyes. “Tell me Y/N, I have to know if this is truly how you feel.” There was no going back. There was no way to get out of this, and you felt yourself slip into fight or flight mode. “Why?! Why does it matter, Jensen? S’not like you’ll ever feel the same way about me! I’m just… just an average girl from the midwest who’s own family disowned her after she refused to follow in their footsteps and do what made me happy. You’ve got everything going for you! You’re fucking perfect in every way, and could have any woman on this planet! You’ve already read my feelings so why torture me and make me say what you already know?!”

Your chest heaved as he looked down at you. His eyes never wavering from your own. The silence around the two of you only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. “You’re not very observant are you, Y/N?” His smirk only angered you more. “What the fuck are you talking about? So, you find out how I feel and the humiliation isn’t enough for you? You gotta insult me too?! Just forget it! I’m leaving with the little dignity I have left!” You ripped your journal from his hand and started towards the staircase, but before you could get to the landing Jensen had you pressed against the wall. 

“Dammit Y/N, just who exactly do you take me for? You think I would hurt someone I love on purpose like that?! Jesus, you’re just as stubborn as Taygen…” You struggled in his hold but stopped the instant his words hit you. He … loved you? Your eyes snapped up to meet his intense gaze, the silent question being answered. “Yes Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you for a while, but I always thought you didn’t feel the same.” His fingers grazed your cheek and you leaned into it. The anger you felt left your body instantly as he slowly leaned in. “I’m sorry it took so long, but from this moment on, I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me.” 

His kiss sent sparks through your body, igniting a fire you’d never known about until now. His lips never left your skin as he carried you down the Bunker’s hallway, the promises he’d made to you moments before burned in the wake of each kiss he gave.

[somethinginthethunder]

Temporary Love [Gwilym Lee x Reader]

:oo I’m back with another fic lmao. I might be less active this month and next month because I have school admissions, work, and my classes are just kicking me in the ass right now. I’m also not creative so I don’t have a lot of good fic ideas at the moment. This reminds me! If you want to request song fics, go ahead!

Summary: You’ve been burned one too many times, so Gwilym tries to heal you.

TW: none

Word Count:  1,827 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the lyrics. They all belong to Ben Platt, Ben Abraham, and Johnny Price

-

You're afraid to meet someone 'Cause you've been burned, you've been burned, you've been burned Love is good until it's gone That's what you learned, what you've learned, what you've learned

You adjusted the curls on the man’s head, brushing them forward so they fell over his shoulders. If you were being honest, curls weren’t a bad look for him.

“Tilt your head down a little,” you ordered quietly. 

Gwilym obliged, his head of curls falling with him as you fiddled with the back.

“Right, done,” you finished.

The tall man lifted his head and met his eyes with yours. You were his stylist, meaning you saw each other often. This developed a sort of acquaintance between the two of you. You talked and chatted, sharing information and joking around every so often. But you weren’t exactly friends.

“Thanks,” he grinned.

“You’re welcome,” you returned.

You turned your body halfway to reach for your phone to check the time. Once you did, Gwilym cleared his throat.

“Yes?” you asked, glancing up at him again.

“I... was wondering if you’d like to maybe hang out somewhere sometime. You know, just the two of us?” he offered.

This caught you off guard. You never would’ve thought someone like him would have an interest in you. You wanted to say yes, immediately. But the memories of your past boyfriend and dates returned in your mind, making your eyes darken slightly.

“That’s sweet, really. I just,” you started, hesitating. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” he asked curiously. It wasn’t in an angry tone. Not even close, and for some reason, that fact relieved you.

“I’ve just had bad experiences with dates and... boyfriends, you know?” you explained, fiddling with your phone still in your hands.

“Oh, I understand.” A beat passed. “Well, I’ll let you think about it, okay? Just,” he paused to grab a pen from the desk and rip a piece of paper from his script, scribbling down his number. “Text or call me your answer, alright?” He finished the statement with a kind smile.

“Alright,” you nodded, taking the paper from him.

Honestly, you didn’t think you’d go. The mental scars from your past relationships seemed to remind you of what could happen. But it’s just one date, right?

You let yourself go to the date.

And eventually, that one date turned into a few more. And then more. And then a lot.

You don't have to hide your love away and I know that I'm gonna make mistakes, but Leaning on somebody isn't easy I'll do what I can to make you see that

You were both sat outside on the balcony, sipping your drinks as you talked. It was a small date today. That’s all it was. You had allowed yourself to hang out with him, trying to ignore the fact that you might have, in fact, been falling in love with him more and more by the second. You guys weren’t even official. You shouldn’t be feeling that.

 You figured that if you let him take you out, he’ll just change his mind on his own and it’ll stop without any harm.

You came back to reality when Gwilym gave your waist a small squeeze, his arm wrapped around you comfortingly. When he first did it, you were a little uncomfortable, but eventually, you learned to let yourself enjoy it.

“I like spending time with you. I hope you know that,” Gwilym admitted, looking down at his almost empty glass before his gaze flickered to you.

You gave him a weak smile. “I like spending time with you, too, Gwil.”

“Can I ask you something?” he said, placing his glass down for the moment.

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to answer, by the way, I just... would you like to be my girlfriend?” he said.

Your mouth went dry at the inquiry. You weren’t prepared for that question. Not even close.

The silence seemed to make Gwilym panic a little, because he reached for your hand, gripping it gently.

“Hey, you don’t have to. You really don’t. I know your last boyfriend wasn’t the greatest. And I know you were hesitant to even try this dating thing, but I really, really want to show you it’s okay to love again after being heartbroken,” he continued.

Your last boyfriend had cheated on you and ultimately “fell out of love with you” one day. Hah, as if he was even really in love in the first place.

After a few moments, your mind had come to a decision.

“I’ll think about it,” you said softly, hoping you didn’t hurt his feelings.

Gwilym grinned in return. “I’ll take that.”

This is not a temporary love This is not a temporary love Now your heart is in my hands, I won't give it up This is not a temporary love 

Ever since that night, Gwilym had been trying extra-hard to prove to you that you should trust him more than you already do and to let yourself be in a relationship again, that after all the things your ex told you, you shouldn’t believe him. You shouldn’t be afraid.

It started out small, at first with him always texting you ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ when you were apart. Sometimes he would even set his alarm to the same time you woke up for your other project (you had been working on another film at the same time as Bohemian Rhapsody) just to text it to you, even if he was off that day and should have been asleep.

From: Gwil

Good morning <3

To: Gwil

Good morning to you, too. But shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s your day off.

From: Gwil

Yeah, I should, but I wanted to say good morning to you first !

To: Gwil

Go to bed Gwil, but thank you <3 ‘s very sweet of you.

Then eventually it parted off to more frequent compliments, whether it be when you’re fixing his outfit for him, if you’re both hanging out, or on a date.

“You look absolutely lovely.”

“I’m literally wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt and haven’t brushed my hair yet. How is that attractive?” you laughed.

“Because it’s you.”

Your heart melted.

You may not think I know the difference But I do, but I do, but I do I feel the gravity in between us And you can, too, you can, too, you can, too

“I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief, his head turning from the television.

“I’ll be your girlfriend,” you repeated, your voice almost shaky, though you forced it to stay still.

Gwilym’s eyes brightened up in the dim light of your living room. He shifted his body to give you a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Finally,” he exhaled, his voice muffled by your hair.

When you both pulled away he seemed to search your eyes and face. You were smiling, too, though your eyes reflected a different story.

“What’s wrong?” he asked once he detected it.

“Nothing.”

“Y/n,” he said sternly and expectantly.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed after a few weeks,” you admitted, leaning your head against the back of the couch as you looked back at him.

Gwilym’s hand moved up to brush a strand of hair from your face, caressing your cheek gently as he listened.

“It’s been more than a few weeks, love. I promise you, this’ll last very, very long as long as you let it last,” he reassured you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

We don't have to hide our love away  Both of us are gonna make mistakes 'cause Leaning on somebody's never easy But look at me and tell me you don't see that

This is not a temporary love No, this is not a temporary love Now your heart is in my hands, I won't give it up This is not a temporary love

Just as he had predicted, the relationship lasted a long time. It had been exactly three years since that day. Your relationship with him was incredibly happy and exciting, and now you were both celebrating your anniversary. You were both sitting in a restaurant at the moment.

The night was normal as always. Jokes, stories, and compliments flowed easily from one of you to the other. You had finished your meals a few minutes ago, and you had asked Gwilym if he wanted to get going, but for some reason, he wanted you both to say.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, the statement said in a familiar fashion.

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, leaning forward as you met his gaze.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Well I hope so, or else the last three years would’ve been a waste,” you teased, a smile on your face as Gwilym let out a chuckle.

“I suppose so, huh?... Can I ask you another question?”

“Any time.”

“How long would you be willing to spend with me?” 

“Forever,” you admitted quietly, pure love dripping from your words.

He seemed to release a breath of relief, sliding out from his chair as he got down on one knee, a velvet box in his hands. He opened it, revealing the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. It wasn’t big and flashy. It was subtle. It was sweet. 

“Amazing to hear, ‘cause I’d love to spend forever with you, too. Not even death could do us ‘part,” Gwilym said, seeing your face morph into shock.

Other customers seemed to notice the important day, turning around to see your boyfriend on one knee in proposal as you tried to gather your thoughts. The restaurant got quieter as they looked on.

“Y/n, will you marry me and finally become Y/n Lee?” Gwilym added, affection in his offering.

A hand was over your mouth, tears taking over your eyes as your smile stayed on your face. You let out a breathy laugh and nodded.

“Yes?” he said hopefully, trying to make sure he was seeing you right.

“Yes, of course!” you finally said verbally, letting yourself down to his level as you gave him an embrace, pressing your lips to his in a kiss. Around you, people erupted in applause and glee, even though they didn’t have a clue as to who you people were.

You didn’t notice the others though, it all seemed like white noise in the background. At the moment, it felt like it was just you and Gwilym.

Gwilym slipped the gorgeous ring on your finger, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I told you it would last,” he said in a cheeky manner.

“And you were right,” you laughed softly.

When the world around is caving in And the winds, well, they keep on changing Take my hand and let it spin We'll hold still

This is not a temporary love No, this is not a temporary love

-

Tag List (Ask or message me if you want to be tagged in my future fics! Specify if you only want to be tagged for a series or certain person, please!)

@mclfoybaby @radio-hoo-ha

[wayfront4]

7 Soft Skills You Required To Achieve Occupation Development.

5 Ways To Get Fit In 3 Months │ Benenden Health And Wellness.

#toc background: #f9f9f9;border: 1px solid #aaa;display: table;margin-bottom: 1em;padding: 1em;width: 350px; .toctitle font-weight: 700;text-align: center;

Content

Why My Personal Trainer Is Worth It.

Why Is It Essential For An Individual Trainer To Collaborate With Clients To Agree With Objectives And Also Goals?

Five Means Fitness

Just How To Come To Be A Fitness Tutor (2020 Update).

Choosing The Right Personal Trainer.

Layout Your Own Program.

Level 3 Personal Trainer Diploma.

See listed below for an annotated work summary from Sports Direct, one of our corporate companions, and also what an interviewer may ask you pertaining to the advert. When it involves including muscle to your framework, you need to ensure you're giving your body a lot of time to rest between stamina training sessions. Doing the same amount of workout day after day can hinder healing and also cause you to shed muscle in time.

Can I get in shape in 3 months?

If you're serious about getting fit, choose an exercise you really enjoy and carve out the time for a regular workout. Stick to it for three months and you'll reap the rewards, be full of energy and feeling great.

Most of all, your early questions to a customer are to guarantee their safety and security. Think about the info you need to know prior to planning a fitness program. Connection building is one of the most important component to being a wonderful personal trainer. Customers just buy from individuals they like, as well as who they feel engaged with. Just as, don't claim that you intend to use this work to develop skills in order to have a desire job with a straight competitor.

This implies they should be experienced, thoughtful as well as responsible with ambiguity in the workplace. While it is certainly a valuable ability to closely follow comprehensive instruction, it is also necessary to be able to establish what it requires to accomplish the desired end result. Finding work/life balance is important to maintain motivation in your task.

Why My Individual Trainer Is Worth It.

I just wore a polo shirt and blue jeans, I was offered a job withinin half an hour of the interview. This is vital info, so you understand what to anticipate after you leave of the interview area door. If a 2nd meeting is pointed out, make certain you recognize when you must listen to back by.

As alluring as it may be to distinguish yourself from other candidates, do not tell a hinge on your meeting that could come back to haunt you if you get the work. Whether it's knowing just how to utilize a certain software application or experience with a social network's ad system, a lie could harm you if the truth appears later on. You have restricted time in your meeting to make a great impression, so utilize the moment you have to speak eloquently and thoughtfully. Self-confidence is a big part of preparedness, as well as the duty you're interviewing for will certainly most likely need you to be decisive and also positive so you can obtain things done. So don't say you fidget-- it will probably make youmorenervous, as well as it will not do you any kind of favors with your recruiter, either.

If this is true for you, make sure to show this to the job interviewer in your story. Tell the recruiter about exactly how stress or tension can motivate you to really buckle down, focus, and work vigilantly to obtain projects done. To provide a good solution to this question, you ought to supply instances of exactly how you have actually dealt with anxiety in the past as well as just how it's made you a much more effective worker. Recruiters ask concerns similar to this since they need to know just how pressure impacts you as well as what you do to manage it.

Speak to clients at active times on reception to completely involve with them. Offer cost-free suggestions and check up on gym-member that appear to be battling. It is additionally music to an interviewer's ears if you state that you want to go on a sales/marketing program to improve these skills if you are not solid on these areas. Much like taking notice of your responses and way of speaking, paying attention to your body language and also disposition can bring wonderful benefits.

Even the most flexible people can have trouble dealing with others that have certain characteristics or personality traits. Having good team effort skills likewise implies having a solid recognition of just how you deal with others as well as ways you can readjust your technique to far better offer the company. An occupation in the fitness sector can be what you make from it, yet it makes sure to be enjoyable, flexible as well as fulfilling regardless of where you work or who for. Whether you like functioning outdoors, inside, a team setup or solo, there are a variety of settings within the fitness industry to fit.

Why Is It Important For A Personal Trainer To Work With Clients To Agree With Objectives And Also Goals?

You ought to not overlook medical recommendations, or delay looking for medical suggestions, due to something you review in this website. If this is an obstacle for you, focus on getting little exercises in throughout the day. If your work takes the majority of your time, think about taking 3-10 minute breaks and also stroll at moderate intensity, where you damage a little sweat as well as are somewhat short of breath. Taking these breaks are not only great for physical health, but also for mental health. This indicates that your body has actually come to be made use of to the task you have actually been doing to drop weight.

5 Method Fitness

If you truly want to see results reflected on the range and also remain to make development with time, you require to dedicate to working out at the very least four to 5 days weekly. This is especially so if the quantity of time you're placing in doesn't compare with your objectives. Linda Le Phan is the Senior Material Advertising and marketing Manager atkununu United States, a location where work hunters can obtain an authentic view of life at a business and also where employers have a relied on platform to much better involve ability. When she's not developing material regarding the modern-day workplace, firm culture, and also life & work hacks, she is most likely heading out to get an iced coffee, raiding the treat cabinet, or obstructing to kununu's Spotify playlist.

they line up well what you shared on your resume, as well as shows preparedness in case a recruiter does not have a copy. Whether you're interviewing to flip hamburgers or run a country, turn up dressed to excite. While a fit is no more the only way to dress well for meetings, it is still a great go-to in most circumstances. To be lean muscle gainer , ask the firm before the day of your meeting what their dress code is or do a bit of research study on your own regarding proper meeting clothes for various scenarios. At the end of the day, however, It's always, always better to overdress than underdress.

Just because you think of a prepared a specific response does not automatically indicate the answer is the best one. You do not intend to be captured by shock by a concern and also do not have a decent answer. If you lack experience, researched points so at least you can discuss the topic.

If you aren't contacted by then, be sure to ring up and also ask why you weren't successful and also how you can boost your possibilities for next time. This is an excellent question to ask to gage your working problems and also to see how your toughness would certainly profit the business. It will additionally make the company restate your formerly pointed out toughness, which will stick to them through the employing process. Constantly seek the guidance of your medical professional or various other qualified health care supplier. Constantly consult your health care service provider prior to starting any type of new treatment, or if you have any kind of inquiries regarding a health problem.

Prior to you leave the meeting, deal to give the recruiter with any kind of extra details they need to make their choice. Added details can include a list of recommendations, a copy of your profile or a duplicate of instructional and also expert certifications. " Many thanks so much for your time, I truly delighted in finding out more regarding you as well as the firm." " My greatest weak point is public talking, something I haven't had several opportunities to do in my existing function, so I'm hoping to expand on those skills dealing with a bigger group at this firm."

Is Personal Training Profitable?

If you learn how to sell and grow a big business, you can usually make up to $25–35/hour in those situations. So, if you aren't good at marketing and sales, it's not profitable. If you ARE good, and you're a good trainer, you can make as much as you want with the right clients.

The most remarkable prospects regulate their need to fill up every area with impulsive answers as well as hesitant "um" s and also "uh" s. When asked a question, take a moment to think through your response or identify an appropriate story and after that start talking. The pause is great as well as it also reveals your capability to be tranquil as well as made up.

If they do smoke, ask if they 'd fit sharing how many cigarettes per-day they smoke. Obviously, you ought to constantly encourage your client to give up cigarette smoking for their health, yet this can be a turn-off to some clients, so choose meticulously just how much you wish to harp on this. Rest can have a significant influence on achieving fitness results, so you'll need to know just how much sleep your client enters a normal evening in order to help them.

Our bodies are clever machines and also come to be really efficient gradually when the exact same activity is executed. Weight lifters should do reps per muscle of their selection, and the weight made use of differs based upon your fitness degree. You are much less likely to utilize amateur language throughout an interview when you decrease, take your time to consider your action as well as concentrate on talking plainly. You can additionally prevent using filler words by practicing changing them with a quick time out or deep breath.

Individuals picking an as soon as a week routine will certainly require to carry out work on their own as well as can not anticipate to reduce weight without technique.

If you are comfortable with your regular and feel as though you do not require even more training, an as soon as a week training may suffice for you.

These sessions are normally shared with two to 4 other individuals working together under a similar program.

Lots of people that select to deal with a trainer will certainly select an as soon as a week meeting.

If we think about the function of education and learning, accreditation and also certification, we recognize it as a means of quality control.

Various other people value the organized atmosphere that having a personal trainer produces as well as pick to train with them forever.

For instance, you may assume you need to meet your trainer 5 days a week to lose twenty pounds, for an extensive duration, yet in truth, a couple of sessions weekly for a month or more is possibly adequate.

Commonly, people that select this kind of training currently understand just how to make use of the equipment effectively and also understand how to exercise properly.

The length of time with your individual trainer will depend upon a number of various variables.

Several fitness professionals pick the sector to avoid a desk-based work and also have the capability to move as well as remain on their feet. With the rise of the health as well as wellness trend in Australia over current years, fitness is at the leading edge of more Australian minds and service is surely thriving as well as readied to remain to follow this pattern for fairly some time. If you're considering a career in fitness, the bright side is your future can be loaded with excitement, adaptability and financial rewards with a lot of chances to expand as well as establish an effective occupation. Help work hunters learn more about the firm by being objective and also to the point.

How To End Up Being A Fitness Tutor (2020 Update).

Free Courses & Certifications Take courses on the most recent company trends, instructed by sector professionals. Client Assistance Get help if you have questions about utilizing HubSpot software application. If you can be made up as well as offer examples of how you take care of anxiety, you're practically assured to provide an effective response. Do not state that you don't function well in difficult circumstances or mention a time when you could not do your work effectively since you were burnt out.

Do excessive, as well as you take the chance of overtraining and also shedding your hard-earned muscle. On the other hand, if you do not up the strength as well as put the moment in, your muscle gains will be minimal.

If you're not getting muscle as rapidly as you like, you could be dealing with the feared plateau. When you educate the exact same body parts with the exact same exercises as well as amount of weight over an extended time period, there's a good chance your body will certainly quit responding. Finding the right equilibrium of cardio exercise as well as strength training is key when it pertains to placing on lean muscle.

Obtain our complimentary digital book guide of example responses as well as professional interview suggestions emailed to you now. For example, if you have a client who wishes to lose 50 extra pounds yet operates at an inactive desk work for 10 hours per day, after that you're mosting likely to require to amp-up those exercises to make certain maximum calorie and also fat melt. On the various other hand, a client who works as a building employee is already getting more exercise throughout the day, to make sure that ought to be thought about when identifying the best fitness plan. An additional way of life information that you should find out about your customer is whether or not they're a cigarette smoker.

Your recruiter has actually listened to every one of these in guide, so do not try to fool them into believing your "greatest weak point" is anything but an unique ability on your resume. It's alright to not recognize the response to an inquiry, but don't leave it at that!

Attempt to make the inquiries look unrehearsed as this will produce a far better impression of you. You require to show a little of character as well as your story in order to make your response credible.

Selecting The Right Personal Trainer.

Check out on the internet fitness publications so you positively know what hot trends are arising. The fitness world stays one that is rooted greatly in trends and, yes, fads. Whether cardio kickboxing or bootcamp training is the warm thing, studios require to satisfy customer demands or they likely go somewhere else. Not all fitness workshops accommodate people that desire hardcore workouts. Neither is every fitness center wanting to educate individuals who aren't thrilled concerning working out also hard.

How Can You Become An Individual Trainer In Just 6 Weeks?

Providing a response such as this could make the recruiter believe that you won't connect to your employer, also if there's a trouble you require aid with. As an example, if component of the work summary is servicing multiple jobs at once, claiming that you have anxiety attack when you have to handle numerous tasks at the same time is an excellent way to make on your own look poor. Do your best to stay clear of stating that you were emphasized by a scenario that you'll on a regular basis run into at the work you're interviewing for.

Exactly how to Respond to" What Is Easy Fit Personal Training " With Example Responses The blog offers the information required to plan for an interview where the general meeting concern "What is your biggest accomplishment? can be asked. If this is the weakness you are presenting in a meeting, discuss the success you have actually located adhering to instructions yet additionally your occupation capacity when locating convenience with uncertainty. You ought to also explain the steps you are taking to define your day when given ambiguous tasks or goals. Lots of tasks need candidates who are comfortable individually defining tasks and working in the direction of objectives.

When you have actually safeguarded a position, consider making use of company administration software application to track clients, courses showed, etc . Ask for a trial of our All-In-One Fitness Service Management Software today.

Speak to the other personal trainer straight and listen to their sight. Recognize factors of contract and dispute and also prevent routing blame. A recruiter will want to find out about something that actually tested you here. You could have had to find out a brand-new modern technology, or overcome challenging issues in a tough amount of time-- it has to do with exactly how you approach adversity as well as how you conquered it.

She likewise has greater than 15 years of experience training as well as advising supervisors at organizations from American Express to the City of New York City. This candidate has some wonderful teaching fellowship and also part-time experience, but she's a new university grad and doesn't have any type of permanent placements to discuss. She has a great deal of self-confidence and has the ability to concisely sum up how she satisfies the position's leading needs. This solution is a little bit basic as well as can probably be more reinforced with instances.

Personal Trainer Work Summary: What You'Ll Do.

Make sure your solution acknowledges a space in your understanding in a way that still provides you authority. easyfitpersonaltraining.co.uk can provide a solution like, "It's challenging to hit goals when leadership top priorities are constantly changing," but honestly, we don't advise claiming anything that could be regarded as an individual minor. If you're mosting likely to toot your own horn, see to it you have some data or evidence to back it up. Any person can claim they excelled in a previous function, yet numbers or instances will make you attract attention to your interviewer.

Where do most personal trainers work?

Personal trainers typically work in gyms and health clubs. They are self-employed and can also open their own fitness studios. Personal trainers can get creative and work almost anywhere.

While it is definitely respectable and also reveals a solid work principles to spend your energy and time on job, it is also necessary to focus on resting, taking place trip, spending quality time with your family and also taking pleasure in hobbies. Doing so can assist you really feel rejuvenated when you go to work and can raise inspiration, creativity and sustain a favorable expectation.

For optimal results, a workout program should consist of cardiovascular as well as stamina training workout. This permits you to raise your metabolism and melt calories at a greater price, also when you're not working out. How much weight you lose depends upon the quantity of workout you want to dedicate to and also exactly how carefully you stay with your diet regimen.

Design Your Own Program.

A lot of grownups require in between 6 and also 8 hrs per evening to function at their top; if your client isn't getting adequate rest, your very first examination may need to include discussing some methods to improve sleep. Your customer requires to comprehend that the hours they'll invest in the gym won't indicate much if they're not looking after themselves in your home. Run those responses by individuals you trust such as a customer or fellow trainer.

Level 3 Personal Trainer Diploma.

Personable responses that respond honestly will constantly trump reading from a manuscript. Nevertheless, if you were nervous concerning any one of the questions you could obtain, try out a couple of these methods. If there was one thing to look out for, it would be time restraints. You can not bring all of your clients to the table, so select your ideal ones, and also make certain you can talk about them in detail if questioned.

How many personal trainer sessions do I need?

Fitness Goals For example, you may think you need to meet with your trainer five days a week to lose twenty pounds, for an extended period, but in reality, two to three sessions per week for a month or two is probably sufficient.

[rhiezus]

Questions with: Anna Cho

what’s your morning routine?

there is a lot of staring to the ceiling, self-reflecting, until i am with enough courage to check my phone and my schedules for the day. i write everything before hand on my phone the night before, so i can follow it, some days though i just wing it. then i take a shower, try doing a skincare (that i don’t follow strictly like i should), then i walk my dogs first and eat breakfast with them. if i have a schedule, i eat breakfast first and walk them in the evening. i like to eat fruits in the morning, avocados are my favorite, but i don’t follow any diets. 

perfect weekend.

i don’t know if it’s because i’m getting old but i just don’t enjoy travelling that far anymore (don’t think i ever did honestly), these days i’m glad when i can just spend a weekend on the countryside, with a picnic between the trees or something picturesque. i even take pictures of flowers on my phone, seriously, i’m growing towards that. sleeping in a countryside inn after a homemade food, you know?! i love discovering new places not that far away for a getaway like that.

something from your bucket list to stratch soon.

how do you know i have a bucket list? every year i make one, it’s like my mental healing but also more of possible and sometimes just pretty unique goals. one of the things that were in my bucket list forever was to buy the perfect house, i did that! but also there are things like: try knitting. which is one i’ll probably do soon, i already brought all the supplies i need for it. what should i try knitting? send me ideas, guys, but nothing too complicated please. i need to began journaling again too, organizing my journals is in order next.

something you like about your career/job.

inspiring people! meeting new people that had been inspired by my music! i can’t say enough how much it makes me happy hearing that someone was inspired by my work, or when i can meet those people and see their ideas over my own work. it just... bursts me into happiness. when i see these younger groups of my company coming to me for advice, asking for my opinion or simply just interested, i try to give everything i can to empower them because i believe that’s my greatest mission. and meeting all of my fans, getting to know them and providing a progressing ambient over their dreams and creativity is an amazing thing to do. any healing that i can provide it’s my own healing, really. i think that’s something i learned from keun sunbaenim when i was starting, i just love passing that on and i hope they will pass on to the future too. and thank you for asking that, it’s such a sweet question.

are you happy with what you have achieved in your life up until now?

last year i was really reflecting on that, and the answer is probably that i am not sure. the only thing i am sure is that i am glad that everything i did helped me grown into the person i am now; someone that values each day as an accomplishment, someone that grew from knowledge and learned from her own sensitivity. i accepted that i am no longer only the lesbian girl that makes lo-fi romantic songs, but also the woman who saw herself over her own tragedy heartbreaks which help her built the safe home she has now. so, overall, i’d say yes, i am happy with who i am and what that help me got everything i have. but much more than that i am more glad with what happened in my life in that mean time, hoping i can continue to write and sing about that in order to help people who will go through i everything i did and still do. that’s why i’ll never stop my music, my self-reflecting, even if it gets tedious after a while. i wrote my song ‘while living life’ exactly on those terms actually. like- what matters the most is not what i got, but what i learned, the feelings that helped me see life and who i am and hope to become.

things you miss about your childhood.

oh, the feeling of innocence that lays only in the early days of or lives. we literally lived each day as the only day, like the week, month or year wasn’t really our concern and it truly wasn’t, we were just so carefree and passionate about everything. i miss that from my childhood. i’d day eating sweets too, i don’t know why but deserts had an expression of everything of good in the world and i just don’t enjoy candy like i did when i was a child.

your thoughts on marriage.

are you asking me that just because i haven’t mentioned yet that i am happily married? because you didn’t have to, i’d probably do it anyway. to be honest though, i never thought i would get married at the age i did. it was out of sudden, but it was perfect and i wouldn’t change anything about it. the highlight of my life, it was one of the happiest days i ever lived. so my thoughts are: just let it happen, that’s love, that’s life... and when you are ready just proclame it the way you want, getting married or not is just an add on, as long as the person you are with fully know how much you love and want to cherish your everyday with them. 

what’s your life like married to a celebrity?

not hazy like i thought it would be, honestly. i used to think that if me and kuen ever got together there would be distance, miscommunication and lots of fighting over nothing but ever since we actually did it doesn’t happen like once was. because we grew a lot, we are more mature and honest now. we live peacefully, she travels for work, i lock myself in the studio, we walk or dogs, we dine out, we watch shows together, we days out for ourselves and just breath in everything we missed from each other. it’s a sharing, completing and each day discovering feeling. just living day by day, making it work, somehow.

if you could be anything else in the world, what would you be?

i’d like to be a teacher or own my own cafe, hotel or restaurant. just a profession where i could deal with people, help them, ease their ways... just like i think i do. but i can’t picture myself without music though, i’d still be with my guitar alongside those lines. have you met the chinese restaurant next to ong? i don’t know if many people know this but it’s like the “point” between the break, so it’s a place people go to meet, eat and feel safe, that’s what i’d like to be. like the chinese owner of the chinese place next to ong.

your favorite season and why?

i find spring the most lovely season of the year, not only because of the flowers but it’s when the weather is the most stable and it rains a little bit and i like rain. i like days when it’s sunny, but not too sunny. whenever someone asks me what’s the best time to visit south korea, i say spring in a heartbeat because you can see the cherry blossoms and feel like in a drama.

the best kind of cake is...

not to sweet, not too flashy. i like to eat cake in the evening, like after watching a movie or reading a book, sometimes even before going to bed. and i recently discovered this bakery not far from my house, i ask them to deliver and they already know my order is vanilla or strawberry, sometimes ice cream cake is the answer to every sorrow in life.

who are you planning to collab with next? 

you wanna know my true wish is to collab with literally everyone in my company, there are so many talent people! and i am always excited to work with any kind of music, it’s a challenge that i welcome every time. but if i can be honest i loved collabing with arkam! it was something i wanted for a long time, you can say it was on my bucket list. i am not even kidding when i say they are all music geniuses. so as soon as i can i want to collab with them again, i don’t even care how or when, just hopefully it will happen more. also hailey sweetie, if you’re hearing this, contact me, i’ve been listening to your new songs and i’m obsessed.

[paulwalltran]

Dungeons and Dragons Loneliness

Another interview with lofi music. Today was a pretty shitty day, alot on my mind. Here to unload. 

Today’s mood: Fuck it all...

It’s a mad addiction, a horrendous one. It’s all I think about, it’s all I want to talk about. Or almost anything fantasy related. I’ve recently gotten a little closer with one of my co workers. Delerner Banks, everyone calls him Del. He’s always in the tunnel, and always brings warhammer books to read and do work (whatever it is he’s working on.) We talk about fantasy related things all the time, and sometimes we bounce ideas off each other, feeling out our thoughts of settings and lore. Talking to him about some fantasy before leaving work made me feel alot better. The loneliness inside has been eating at me.

I know it’s salt, I know its jealousy, that I’m mad at my friends. They been hanging out more without me, playing cards and shit. Its not a passion of mine, its fun sometimes, but its still not me. Its what they bond over, its what they do together, and that’s what theyre into. If I had to guess, they’re okay with Dungeons and Dragons, but even my best friend said that I take it too serious. Its fallen out of their favor, it eats up a lot of time, and they each have their version of what a fun campaign would be like. In me, I said to myself, “Fine, fuck it. I’ll have to assemble another crew to play with.” Tough situation then isn’t it? Wanting to play a social game that needs bodies, during an age where social gatherings are frowned upon, because they carry a potential to spread a virus... Still, this is what I want to do. I want a group of friends, who share the same passion I do. My current friends must think ill of me, they may just want to hang out. They think that if they come hang with me, I’ll want a game of DnD without a doubt. They just want to chill and kick it, they don’t want to roll dice. But ask me once and I’ll tell you yes twice, to playing DnD. 

I love it with all my heart, all of the contents and materials are here, ready to play. No extra investments, no money needed to be spent, we can get going off of nothing like we did back then. A table top roleplaying game, we started with cardboard and lego figures, and just two books to share. But there was fun to be had, and a few heated sessions. But fun it was, the more we played the deeper i grew fond of the game. I’m even willing to experiment with other systems if I have someone to guide me. With cards, you gotta constantly update your arsenal to keep up with the meta, and let’s be real, not playing anything remotely close to meta isn’t as fun. Different formats allow different decks, and to keep current you gotta keep up. I dont have the fundings for it, I dont have the luck. I would rather buy a module that’ll last for years, versus a pack of cards. I have two books that have skyrocketed in value, cards go up and down like stocks. But thats the appeal I suppose, I don’t care for it though.

Back to the thing at hand, I’m in their group chat as they make plans. I can’t be there for all that. But fuck it, that’s all Im going to say. Fuck it, on repeat, until its engraved into my head. Pride is getting the best of me, I refused to be denied again. If it’s not something they want to do, so be it, I need to look out for me in the end.  I must muster up the courage to start playing online again, the first one wasn’t bad, but it fell apart. I need to get the courage to be social, and get over the fear that everyone expects you to be a pro player. I’m scared going into this green still, roll20 isn’t my forte. But if I want to play DnD, this seems to be my only option. It may fulfill my wish, to find friends who are just as passionate as I. My other friends, they’re over on the other side. Its fine, it truly is, they have one another, and I need to be strong. I need to find the strength in this loneliness, even though its tearing me apart. My circle becomes smaller, thats just the way of the world. Adapt to survive, be formless like water...

Dungeons and Dragons, my greatest escape. I can be anybody, and do things I normally can’t. I can clobber up bad guys, indecent folk, and finesse my way out of punishment from the law. I can save a village, a town, a kingdom, when I can hardly save myself. I can fly, cast spells, break locks, imagination is my only limit. I can hoard and amass vast amounts of riches, I myself can even become a dragon. I don’t have to be me, although a bit of me resides in everyone I’ve made before. I can never truly separate myself, from those Ive breathed life into. For hours on end, I can go anywhere, do anything, I melt into the world thats placed before me.

 Because the reality is that I’m practically shit, and nobody. The world is fucked up and jacked up and spiraling down the drain. I’m mentally fucked and my physicality is pretty much the same. I’m stuck in place when the world is demanding me to change. I lost with no real direction. No map in hand, no guide, and I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t know whether to trust the process or commit suicide. Im not sure where I’ll end up, if it’s good or bad. Im struggling, I’m suffering, and there seems to be no end. I could say I’m trying, but I would be lying, if I had to look at the brighter side. The positive things in life are so hard to identify. But my emotions are raw and hit hard, slamming against the walls in my skull. Demanding me to give them attention...and attention I give them, as they tear me up. Like being pulled at by the limbs, drawn and quartered is the method it seems like today. I was thinking that I couldn’t drink forever, my body would eventually reject. But what if I drank energy drinks on end, a heart attack to get me out of this place. I can down those all day long, so whats stopping me from taking that way out of it? Less grotesque and violent, it’ll probably be painful as hell. An organ seizing up, as the body ceases the function. I get said thinking about it sometimes, but one day, enough will be enough. But damn that lady...damn her for speaking those words... Tomorrow. If nothing is better by tomorrow, then do as you may. But sleep it off, tomorrow is another day. 

It’s not verbatim, but its the gist. Just wait for tomorrow, and hopefully things will change. The choice is still mine to make, and something in me pushes me forward, keeps me going on. Sometimes I think about who I’m leaving behind, and maybe how much it’ll hurt. The evil darkness inside me says that they’ll get over it, they have to, and time doesn’t wait. I won’t be immortalized, I’ll simply end up a statistic. That maybe itll be a few years the sadness remains fresh, but wounds always heal. Discrediting my actual existence, and any form of relations. Like I wouldn’t have made any actual impressions, people don’t weep for me now. People kind of forget I exist already, what makes me think they won’t after I’m gone? 

I think about my folks, my grandma, my girlfriend, my second family, and other close dear friends. I think about how many last will letters I would have to put out there, before I call for the curtains. Sometimes, I say I will start writing them, but they give me pause. I end up not wanting to leave this world, after pouring out my heart. Because I don’t want to leave any questions behind for people who matter, I want them to know how I felt before I passed. I want to leave with them apart of me, so they would never forget. 

Still it doesn’t change, shit is rough as of lately, work has been eating me up. I feel like Im never hundred percent, and me back on gaming is making it worst. I’ve gotten back onto Elder Scrolls Skyrim, its been my virtual version of DnD. Waiting for the Outer World Expansion, so I can get addicted to that again. All I want to do is play Dungeons and Dragons, the question is how do I make that into a living? I think being a Matthew Mercer is one in a million, I don’t think I’m that great. I’m willing to learn, grow, evolve because it is my passion, but I’m always scared of making mistakes. To be one of the greater Dungeon Masters, to be THE Wizards of the Coast Dungeon Master, it may possibly be the dream. To eat, sleep, breathe, Dee en Dee. My obsession isn’t that crazy though, I’m still behind on the lore of creatures and settings, I haven’t studied at all. But with the right drive and motivation, I would, especially with something as real as a legit group.

Enthusiastic players, who show up every week, bi weekly, once every month even, to play this fantastic game. Group of chill folks who is willing to take the Dungeon Master Mantle with I get burned out and have the desire to be in the player seat. One of those is the driving force, they make me want to plan. They make me want to make the world, the style, everything in general better, with the constructive feedback. I mean it’s been so long as I was a player in a campaign until the end, I’m beginning to think paying for a Dungeon Master wouldn’t be so bad. Once a month? A couple of hours? I mean I’m thinking like seven USD per hour? Eight isn’t bad, but after that it becomes a questionable amount. It repeats in my head, “No DnD is better than Bad DnD”, this much is probably still true. I say still because I still might want at least one session with said game, so I can at least say it was the worst after having attempt it, rolling something. Ha ha, I kid myself, I’m lying because I know the rage would be all to real and caution is my game most of the time. But I mean, I just might have to start exploring the idea, I was definitely going to ask on FaceBook if any Roll20 games was recruiting a newbie. 

Alas, today won’t be the last time I speak on the matter, Dungeons and Dragons haunt me everyday. I stare at minis, I stare at the upcoming books and modules, and I watch youtube where they tell RPG Horror Stories, Its become a huge part of my life, such as dancing once was. It almost links right into my earliest talents...writing. I love to write, just like I’m doing now. Im fairly decent at the writing game if I must say. Hey, real life failed Bard here, I should make one who always ends up playing big bro, and end up being friendzoned by all his interests. Im short, so Halfling is very true. Am I charismatic? Who knows, I can’t say for sure. But yes, I feel like this is what I need, a solid weekly game, maybe once every two weeks, hell, once every month would still be great. Something to look forward to the very least, in this life of routine and mundane. Something to look forward to for me, something that’s my own. Something I don’t need my closer friends to be apart of, since they’re not interested anyhow. I’m really talking shit because I’m hella salty, but at least I’m being upfront. Get it all out now, before the typing is done. 

It’s been a productive session, I may have to attribute it to Lofi it seems. The Lofi Hip Hop Radio on YouTube, also found on Spotify. Some tracks still strike me deep in the chest, giving me horrible flash backs and feeling in my chest. Others keep me going, forward, almost propelling. I’m currently training myself to be accustomed to the sounds, because I at first was very scared. That it would just transport me to a dark place and keep me there. I’ve been trying to confront my feelings more with this music, I think I felt better after last session like this. The more I faced myself, the better I became. Yes, I most definitely referenced Persona 4, another amazing and loved title because of the message it portrays. I always wondered what my shadow self would look like, and what they would say. But eh another time, I’m about to start rambling again. I have to conclude here, before I get off topic.

Until next time Tumblr...