#lose weight palm beach gardens

[tinabrooks7]

Achieving Hormone Balance: A Path to Optimal Health in Palm Beach Gardens

Maintaining hormonal balance is essential for overall well-being, yet many individuals struggle with hormone-related issues. In Palm Beach Gardens, there exists a community of dedicated healthcare professionals who specialize in hormone balance. This blog post will explore the significance of hormonal equilibrium, its impact on health, and how seeking professional care in Palm Beach Gardens can lead to a vibrant and balanced life.

The Importance of Hormone Balance:

Regulation of Vital Functions:

Hormones play a crucial role in regulating various bodily functions, including metabolism, reproduction, and mood. Achieving balance ensures these processes function optimally.

2. Stabilized Mood and Emotions:

Hormonal imbalances can lead to mood swings, irritability, and feelings of anxiety or depression. Balancing hormones can significantly improve emotional well-being.

3. Improved Energy Levels:

Balanced hormones contribute to sustained energy levels throughout the day. This can lead to increased productivity and an overall sense of vitality.

4. Enhanced Metabolism and Weight Management:

Hormones influence metabolism and the body's ability to maintain a healthy weight. Achieving balance can support weight loss efforts and overall metabolic health.

5. Optimal Reproductive Health:

Hormonal balance is crucial for reproductive health in both men and women. It can improve fertility, menstrual regularity, and support healthy pregnancies.

Professional Hormone Balance Services in Palm Beach Gardens:

Specialized Healthcare Providers:

Palm Beach Gardens is home to a diverse community of highly skilled and experienced healthcare professionals specializing in hormone balance. They possess the expertise to assess and address individual hormone-related issues.

2. Comprehensive Assessment and Testing:

Professionals in Palm Beach Gardens conduct thorough evaluations, which may include blood tests and hormone panels, to identify specific hormonal imbalances.

Common Hormonal Imbalances and Treatments:

Estrogen Dominance:

This imbalance is common in women and can lead to symptoms like irregular periods, mood swings, and weight gain. Treatment options may include hormone replacement therapy (HRT) or lifestyle changes.

2. Testosterone Deficiency:

Low testosterone levels in men can result in decreased libido, reduced muscle mass, and fatigue. Treatment options may include testosterone replacement therapy (TRT) and lifestyle modifications.

3. Thyroid Dysfunction:

Imbalances in thyroid hormones can lead to symptoms like fatigue, weight gain, and mood swings. Treatment options may include thyroid hormone replacement medication and dietary changes.

4. Adrenal Fatigue:

This condition is characterized by fatigue, stress, and difficulty handling everyday tasks. Treatment may involve stress management techniques, lifestyle adjustments, and sometimes supplementation.

Why Choose Palm Beach Gardens for Hormone Balance:

Experienced Professionals:

Palm Beach Gardens boasts a community of highly skilled and experienced healthcare professionals specializing in hormone balance. They are dedicated to providing personalized care.

2. Cutting-Edge Technology:

Healthcare providers in Palm Beach Gardens are equipped with modern technology for accurate diagnoses and effective treatment planning, ensuring patients receive the highest quality care.

Achieving hormone balance is an essential step towards optimal health and well-being. By seeking professional care in Palm Beach Gardens, individuals can take proactive steps towards restoring and maintaining hormonal equilibrium. Whether addressing estrogen dominance, testosterone deficiency, thyroid dysfunction, or adrenal fatigue, specialized healthcare providers in Palm Beach Gardens are equipped to provide comprehensive care. Take the first step towards a balanced and vibrant life by scheduling a consultation for hormone balance in Palm Beach Gardens today. Experience the transformative impact of harmonized hormones on your overall health and vitality.

Reclaim balance and vitality with ThinWorks in Palm Beach Gardens. Schedule your consultation for personalized hormone balance today. Embrace a healthier, more vibrant you!

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 4

“Why do you have an invite from The Adam?”

You pause from where you’re bent at the waist, attempting to open a pack of water bottles. You’re very obviously losing the battle, the plastic only wrinkling under your grip. At his question, you hesitate, unsure of what he’s referencing, before remembering that damn ticket. An annoyed groan on your lips, you release your grasp on the plastic and quickly straighten your spine with a weak pop.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, exasperation from the stub creeping into your voice. You try to keep it steady; it’s not Aeson you’re annoyed at. “I live near the venue, so I figured…”

From behind, Aeson guffaws in disbelief. For a split moment, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at his reaction. He doesn’t understand- it’s not like you asked for it. “Dude, he signed it. That’s his signature.”

You finally spin around, taking in his paled expression. He looks as though he’s holding back a laugh, unsure if this whole situation is a joke. At his concern, you begin to feel your walls crawling up. He doesn’t need to be scared. You’re in heaven. Nothing bad can happen to you now…

Right?

“Yeah, I’m aware” You snipe. Aeson’s face falls, and so does your mind’s defensive stance. He’s just trying to help. “I’m sorry, I just… I guess he doesn’t usually do that?”

“No, he doesn’t” his voice is softer, as if approaching a scared animal. He’s walking on eggshells and it tightens your throat in guilt. This conversation is teetering towards something serious, and if your sweaty palms were any indication, you don’t like it. “He doesn’t even officially announce his concerts. He expects everyone to just show up– except you, apparently.”

Your mouth starts to feel dry, “Oh. Maybe I knew him while we were alive?”

At that, Aeson actually laughs. “Yeah, sure– if you were alive in the Garden of Eden. That’s Adam. The Adam. The First Man, Adam. How did you even get this?”

A flash of golden feathers crosses your mind.

You ignore it.

Instead, you shrug, the weight of the situation finally weighing on your shoulders like a heavy blanket. You’re hoping if you don’t look it in the eyes, then it won’t be real. Rather, you avert your gaze to the floor, fingers half-mindedly picking at the seam of your robe. It’s only your first week in heaven. Did this mean you were in trouble? If you didn’t go, though, you’d only receive more and more tickets. How did you even end up with one?

“Well,” Aeson draws out, earning your attention. He has more color to him, the once-dulled twinkle in his eye shining as bright as ever. “Maybe we can both go.”

“Oh? Do I get a plus one?” You know it’s wishful thinking, but can’t help the relief that washes in like a comforting wave.

“Nope,” That wave instantly recedes, the metaphorical beach transforming into a dry, disgusting desert. “But I can sneak in under your robes.” You couldn’t help but giggle at that, playfully swatting at his chest.

“Yeah, no.”

“Eh, worth a shot. You should still go, it could be fun!”

You tilt your head, weighing the pros and cons. Pros? Fun concert! Cons? Everything. “Ehhhh, some rando inviting me to his concert? Kinda creepy.”

Aeson nods in agreement. “No totally. From what I hear, he’s an asshole who’ll try to get in any bombshell’s pants. But dude… free concert ticket. Just sneak out before it ends– I can even find something to do nearby in case you need help or something.”

You pucker your lips in thought, not even sure who Aeson would hear that gossip from, before sagging your shoulders in hesitant defeat. “Yeah alright, you got me. However, if I go, then you have to come with me to buy some better clothes and makeup. Your treat.”

Aeson, ever the optimist, beams at the idea of a day out on the town. “Deal!”

–

You had to learn the hard way that if you give Aeson an inch, he’ll take a mile. And after inviting him into your apartment for a bottle of water, suddenly he decided he can come and go as he pleases.

Safe to say, the pounding on your door shattered the peaceful stillness of your apartment like a sledgehammer through glass. Startled from your sleep, your mind struggled to shake off the grogginess as you reached for awareness in the dimly lit room.

Heart pounding, you sat up abruptly, disoriented and confused by the abrupt banging. For a moment, the fear of the possible intruder gripped you tightly, your pulse racing with adrenaline-fueled dread. But as your senses gradually sharpened, the rational part of your brain came forward.

You were in heaven now, far away from the dangers of the mortal world. Not to mention, even the most polite robbers wouldn’t knock on your front door and wait for you to let them in. With a shaky exhale, you forced your racing heart to slow its frantic pace.

Careful not to make a sound, you slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room, every step cautious and deliberate as you made your way downstairs, afraid to open the door to a pair of golden wings. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you paused, hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob, before swinging it open.

As the door unfastened, it revealed a hyper Aeson standing on the other side, his expression a mix of excitement and mischief. Relief washed over you in waves as you took in his familiar face.

“Come on, we gotta go look at clothes!”

–

The promenade unfolded before you, offering not only an array of food, but also a variety of charming shops that transformed it into a fanciful mall of sorts.

Amidst the crowd, you couldn't resist the allure of the cute robes on display. They were perfect for providing coverage, while also presenting different cute patterns. That way, you can still look and feel like an angel, but at least an angel with a personality. With a grin, you snagged a few, already envisioning how they would look. You stuffed them into Aesons arms, making him pay for you.

As you kept an eye out and about for a good makeup store, you nearly toppled over someone in your path. With a startled gasp, you moved to apologize, only to feel your expression sour as you realized it was the platinum-haired girl from yesterday. There was a hint of satisfaction in her smirk as she caught sight of your reaction, but it quickly vanished as her gaze landed on Aeson beside you.

“Are you two on a date right now?” she didn’t seem pleased.

“Wh-no!” you were taken aback. “What is your obsession? We’re friends! We do friend activities!”

Tuning out Aeson's playful jabber about how you “called me your friend.”, you were caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere as the platinum-haired girl fixed her piercing gaze on you once more.

“Will you be in attendance for the concert tonight?”

"How did you—" you began, your voice faltering as she cut you off.

"I'm Lute. Adam's Lute," she stated firmly, her words laden with authority, leaving no room for argument. "But you don't get to call me that. You call me Lieutenant.” She thought, before adding a quieter, “We’re friends.”

The air crackled with tension as you struggled to process her words, your mind racing with questions. The most pressing of which burned on your tongue, demanding to be voiced.

"Why do I have a ticket?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and defiance.

Lute's frown deepened at your question, her displeasure palpable as she delivered her blunt response.

"He thinks you're hot," she stated matter-of-factly, her words punctuated by Aeson's nervous laughter before he wisely fell silent under her withering gaze. "And you have a nice rack. Which I agree. I'll see you tonight."

With that, Lute turned on her heel and disappeared into the throng of people, leaving you standing there, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath her penetrating scrutiny.

"What a bitch," you muttered under your breath, the weight of her words echoing in your mind long after she had gone.

[slimweightlossclinic]

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[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

My Little Mermaid, part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Synopsis: a human man finds a mermaid washed ashore in a storm. His dream come true becomes her nightmare.

Content Warnings: mermaid whump, lady whump, creepy whumper, obsession, captivity, torture, noncon touching, starvation, exhaustion, heat, escape attempt,

Tag List: @deluxewhump @freefallingup13 @strangerthanx @whumpinggrounds @just-a-whump-lover @kixngiggles

Author’s Notes: thanks so much to everyone who is along for the ride so far. I’m really enjoying this, even if Myla isn’t.

btw, her name is means either “soldier” or “gracious/merciful” depending on the language (it’s a feminine variant on the names Miles), and I think that suits her well...she’s a fighter and protector for her pod, but has softness reserved for those she loves

Hayes means “hedged area” and I like that that implies being trapped

----

There’s no mistaking the shift in her captor’s demeanor after that. He regards her coldly, when he regards her at all. He doesn’t visit nearly as often the next couple of days and she wonders if the fool thinks that his absence is somehow a punishment, when in fact it’s a relief.

It gives Myla time to reconsider her escape plan. The dull points of the comb he tried to gift her with gave her an idea. She may be unable to tear the walls of her enclosure with her hands or teeth, but if she had a tool, something sharper, perhaps…

It doesn’t solve the problem of what she would do once she was out. She could be miles from the ocean for all she knows. But the only thing on her mind is getting away from Hayes.

For now she bides her time, waiting for the right moment. She hopes to rest and regain her strength, but instead it dwindles. It hurts to breathe through her bruised gills, and the stale, unmoving water is barely breathable to begin with. She barely sleeps in spite of her desperate need for it. There’s no room to stretch or swim, and she can feel this deeply in her tense muscles. On top of all that, the human only brings her half as much food as before. Rather than wait by the side of the pool, he tosses it in twice a day and leaves. She eats every horrible bite of it but is never full.

On her third day she realizes that if she doesn’t try to leave soon she might not be strong enough to try at all. So when she hears the door to the outside slam, the rev of an engine, the crunch of tires on gravel, she doesn’t hesitate.

Myla props herself out of the water and perches on the edge. She takes a few practice breaths with her lungs. She has had to get used to using them more than ever before.

She scans the room for something to cut through the mesh with. There’s little in the room that would be of any use, but her eyes land on a pair of gardening shears poking out of a pail.

Carefully she makes her way over to them. It’s harder than last time. She feels heavier and weaker than before and her arms are still not used to bearing her weight like this. But she pushes through it, driven by the need to escape.

She grabs the shears and puts the handle in her mouth, then begins the trek to the wall. Even after crossing the short distance she has to stop and rest a moment. It doesn’t bode well for trying to move across the land beyond these walls, but she’ll worry about that when she gets there.

Myla holds up the tool and examines it. She’s never seen or used anything like this, but the end is sharp, and that’s all she needs. She holds the mesh with one hand and uses the other to stab it with the tool.

A rush of triumph rushes through her when the material rips under the sharp blade. It’s the first good feeling she’s had in quite a while.

She keeps at it, hacking and tearing with renewed vitality. She can see outside! She can see the sky and clouds, she can hear birds! She can smell salt on the air!

The ocean, though, is nowhere in sight.

One thing at a time, she reminds herself.

Soon the gap is wide enough to fit through. Myla tosses the shears aside and pulls herself through.

A light breeze tousles her hair and she breathes in as deeply as her lungs will allow her. It’s beautiful out - a bit warm, but clouds peppering the blue sky enough to provide some cover. It is the sort of day she would spend exploring and playing with her friends or traveling with her pod.

The thought of them urges her forward. She can hear seagulls in the distance, her only indication as to the direction of the ocean. Between her and it is an expanse of lawn and then a forest, with a dirt path cutting through.

At least the lawn is grass and no longer concrete. She’s grateful for its soft brush against her tail as she pulls herself forward bit by bit. No matter how tempting it is, she doesn’t look back.

It’s a long and grueling journey just to reach the edge of the woods. By the time she arrives at a tree to lean on she is gasping for breath. The hot air is merciless. Her arms ache. Her tail is useless deadweight.

Myla allows herself a moment to lean back and close her eyes, arms folded over her growling stomach. She thinks of the cool water and the promise of real food. She thinks of comfort and safety and friends…

She forces her weary eyes open. There will be time to rest later. Now she has to move, before he returns.

She turns back onto her front and moves from the grass to the trail. It’s a mix of sand and dirt, pebbles and broken shells. The dread of dragging herself over the bumpy surface is alleviated only by the sight of sand. That’s promising; where there is sand there is beach, and where there is beach there is water…

Without the gentle grass to glide over she has to move even more slowly so as not to hurt her tail. No matter how carefully she moves the pull of her scales over the rough ground is uncomfortable, but she is patient and her reward is no further injury.

The path is flat at first, but begins to slope slightly downward. It grows steeper as she continues forward. Her arms burn and tremble from the effort by now. Her skin feels overheated, though the shade from the trees provides at least some relief.

Still she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t want to see how little progress she’s made; what matters is looking ahead.

But she’s so sore, so tired...the shade is cool and the thick trees provide a sense of safety she hasn’t felt in days or longer. By now she wheezes with every inhale.

Maybe...just a little break...To catch her breath, to let her arms rest. But what if I’m close...

Her arms make the choice for her. They give out and Myla crumples to the ground. She presses her forehead to the cool dirt.. Every inch of her is warm and weary. Exhaustion grips her mind, tries to pull her under. She closes her eyes. Just for a moment...

It feels like the blink of an eye. But when she opens them again the sun has moved significantly, the trees casting long shadows around her. She lies there heavily, blinking the sleep from her eyes. How much time did I lose?

Too much.

In the distance, but not distant enough, she hears a vehicle and then the telltale crunching of gravel. A door slamming.

The sound terrifies her into action despite feeling as though she’s made of stone. She forces herself back up onto her arms and crawls down the path, no longer bothering to be careful.

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he’ll go the wrong way.

Her panic doesn’t help her strained breathing. Not paying attention to where she’s going, her palm lands on a sharp rock. She hisses and stumbles, landing face first in the dirt.

No, no, no…

Myla’s arms shake violently beneath her when she tries to push herself up again. She feels like they are screaming at her to let them rest, and she wants to scream back we can’t, we can’t!

The sound of another door slamming reaches her.

Her blood runs cold. She drops to the ground and drags herself with her forearms.

And then - footsteps.

She isn’t even close to the sea, and she knows it.

Mumbled cursing, twigs snapping under heavy boots.

Myla stops moving and lays there staring ahead at the path that seems to go on forever. Tears blur her vision.

I didn’t make it...

“There you are…”

[surrepo-iuvenisdomina]

Mistress Kaya.

GENERAL INFORMATION.

NAME. Kaya

NICKNAMES. blondie, Ka-chan, Yaya, M.K.

DATE OF BIRTH. august 24th, 1505

AGE. 19 years old (post ts)

RACE. human

GENDER. female, she/her

SEXUAL/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.

PLACE OF BIRTH. Syrup Village, Gecko Islands, East Blue

HOMETOWN AND CURRENT RESIDENCE. Syrup Village, Gecko Islands, East Blue, variant

OCCUPATION. medicine student

AFFILIATIONS. Syrup VIllage/Gecko Islands, Straw Hat Pirates

APPEARANCE.

FACECLAIM(S). herself and doh soojung from lady and the butler

HEIGHT. 5'6’’ / 1.67 mts

WEIGHT. 141 lbs / 64 kgs

HAIR. pale blonde (#E0E0B6); loose for the most part, shoulder length; straight and thin, soft to the touch

EYES. dark brown (#473A33); wide open, expressive, and compassionate. While reading and studying, she uses a pair of round glasses

SKIN. delicate and pale (#F0E7DF); easy to bruise. Despite the lack in color, Kaya makes sure to get a fair amount of sunlight during the day

BODY TYPE. hourglass, not as pronounced but still defined

POSTURE. elegant and ladylike, with her shoulders back and down; a straight stand-up and her eyes rarely seeing the floor. she doesn’t usually slouches, but won’t hesitate to relax when in the presence of people close to her.

STYLE. simple, feminine; though she has begun to expand her wardrobe 

SCARS. only in the palm of her hands, which are hard to find unless paying very close attention

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS. none.

HEALTH.

BLOOD TYPE. F

PHYSICAL CONDITION. not the best, below average

ALLERGIES. none

SLEEPING HABITS. semi-organized schedule, sleeps maximum 6 hours

EATING HABITS. slightly selective over what she eats, but has overall a good appetite

ADDICTIONS. none

ALCOHOL USE. extremely low; low tolerance

DRUG USE. none

INTERESTS.

GOAL(S). become a doctor and heal Usopp’s wounds

HOBBIES. reading, gardening, walks on the beach, fishing, sailing

LIKES. cats, honesty, warm weather, peace, children, helping others, cherries, sunlight, ballet, seafood

DISLIKES. ungratefulness, betrayal, violence, nicknames, socks, loud noises

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS. hardworking, responsible, kind, caring, strong-willed, clean, organized

NEGATIVE TRAITS. prideful, bad liar, perfectionist, harsh

ZODIAC SIGN. virgo

PERSONALITY TYPE. isfj “the defender”

ALIGNMENT. lawful good

TEMPERAMENT. phlegmatic

FEARS/PHOBIAS. insects, losing the people she loves, isolation, loneliness, ATELOPHOBIA, ATHAZAGORAPHOBIA

ASSOCIATIONS.

BEVERAGES. hot tea, fresh water

FOOD. soups

SONG. ONE DAY IN AUGUST BY MARC TEICHERT

QUOTE. ❝To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.❞ ——Ralph Waldo Emerson

SCENT. cleanliness, flowers

PLANT. stephanotis, heathers, gladiolus

ANIMAL. deer

COLOR. yellows

METAL. gold

GEMSTONE. peridot

ABILITIES.

usage of morse code.

medical studies.

dancing/music.

fishing.

sign language.

BIOGRAPHY.

- rough draft -

Born august 24th, 1505, only daughter to Kazuo and Naomi on Syrup Village after many attempts at having children

Shortly after being born, betrothed to who would come to be known as Masked Deuce, though this fact was never disclosed to her per request of her late father

age 6: starts being homeschooled by multiple tutors and Merry arrives to the manor 

age 8: starts being left at the care of a guardian and the staff of the manor, as her parents had taken a break from their business when kaya was born

age 9: starts learning how to play the piano, fishing and gardening

age 12: Kaya’s parents commission the Going Merry (designed by Merry himself) as a gift for her 12th birthday; the christening ceremony doesn’t go as expected, but the caravel is still used for leisure

age 14: Black Cat Kuro, alias Klahadore, arrives to the front door, on the verge of death and is saved by Kazuo. After months of gaining the family’s trust, is named Butler of the manor.

age 15: Kazuo gifts Kaya a couple of peridot jewelry sets (earrings, necklace and ring) for her 15th birthday - example 1 / example 2

age 16: Kaya’s parents fall ill to a mysterious disease after a rather long business trip, and subsequently pass away (more to be explained later), leaving her orphaned and inheriting their wealth. 

striken with grief, and unknowingly being food poisoned, stays bedridden for a year, and in between, meets Usopp, who decides to cheer up her spirits

age 17, the truth about Klahadore comes to light, and the village is saved by Usopp and the straw hat pirates from the attack of other pirate crew. as thank you, she gifts them the Going Merry and Usopp decides to leave as well.

Her studies on medicine begin, and shortly after, she becomes an apprentice to a local doctor on the Gecko Islands

age 19: current.

[ohblackdiamond]

“you win again” fic tidbit (ace/paul, 1988) (pg-13)

I mentioned that this story was in the works awhile back. It’s about 40 percent there, I’d say. I stuck it under a cut because it’s a bit long. There’s a very obvious gap between the second and third parts that needs cleaning up, but the gist is there.

teaser: The truth is, his own distaste for the era makes it obvious he’s not a part of it. Paul can’t keep up with what’s in now, and that’s the surest sign he’s out. Thirty-six is too close to forty. Too old to play the game. He’s square. He’s fucking square.

“you win again”

by Ruriruri

No one knows the man he may become when he loses his self-respect. —Camille

There’s nothing to recommend the Cat Club. The big names don’t come here, just the has-beens. The security’s perfunctory. The parties laughable. But Paul comes anyway. Frequently. All the Cat Club asks out of him is a shave and a bit of halfassed charm, and all he gets in return is a drink and maybe a lay and the vaguest passing memory of the way things used to be.

Studio 54, the Ice Palace, all the old haunts are carcasses. Paul’s heard that the Limelight’s in now, their club owner some one-eyed, painfully straight Canadian, which is a sure sign the scene’s got to be dead in the water. Kids ten, fifteen years younger than him run the promotions. The shit that he remembers, aquariums underfoot at the discotheques, coke handed out at the door, orgies downstairs, all that’s gone. The big clubs get their pull from day-glo bright mascot characters and raunchy freakshows, pure excess that makes for a lousy bedfellow with AIDS and designer drugs. He doesn’t understand the appeal. He gets cynicism; he gets hedonism. But the nihilism he finds utterly repulsive.

The truth is, his own distaste for the era makes it obvious he’s not a part of it. Paul can’t keep up with what’s in now, and that’s the surest sign he’s out. Thirty-six is too close to forty. Too old to play the game. He’s square. He’s fucking square.

The lines on his face aren’t too bad. His cheekbones are maybe more prominent than they need to be. Paul’s watched Gene’s weight fluctuate over the years and hated the way it scared the hell out of him. They’d sworn to each other way back that they’d diet off at least twenty pounds apiece before they’d dare get a real band together. Paul’d kept that weight off, and more, but to Gene, it’s just become another mostly tossed aside tenet. The way he looks doesn’t matter to him. Maybe it shouldn’t anymore. He’s had Cher and Diana Ross and he has Shannon Tweed now. Great girls, all of them, better than the vapidly beautiful women Paul’s tried to make a go of it with. If Gene can attract all of them without giving a shit about his weight or his looks, maybe Paul ought not to care so much.

Except, as always, Gene’s looks just aren’t the appeal. Gene’s being in a band isn’t even exactly the appeal, no; Gene would probably still be stacking away entire albums of Polaroids if he were a senator or a school superintendent. Gene’s appeal is Gene. The total package. Confidence glimmering like grease on a burger.

Paul’s no total package of anything. Some assembly required. Batteries not included. His looks get him into beds, sometimes, and his personality gets him right back out of them before too long. Twenty-one years with Hilsen and there’s still nothing he can do about the latter, but he can at least try to preserve the former.

But what really bothers him about his mirror’s reflection isn’t the age imprinting itself on his face, or the three or four grays he plucks every month, or even the way his hair’s gradually gotten thinner, the curls more like frayed wires, brittle from years of dye and bleach and teasing. It’s the look in his eyes. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of something wholly desperate in them. And it’s not just in scattered, low moments on tour or in the privacy of his own bathroom. He’s caught that look playing back tapes of himself guest-VJing and interviewing on MTV. It’s the look of somebody—somebody scraping for relevance.

He’s ashamed of that. Ashamed because that look got in his eyes so fast, ashamed because he wasn’t able to savor those scant moments of being on top. He remembers thinking ten years ago, so cocky and self-assured, that the Stones were getting sloppy and long in the tooth, that maybe they needed to bow out before they got to be a bigger embarrassment onstage. They’d come out with Some Girls later that year, so what the hell did he know. What the hell did he know about anything.

There’s legends, real legends. Real greatness. There’s rockstars and then there’s rock gods. Chuck Berry. Muddy Waters. The Beatles, the Stones, fuck, even the Beach Boys with their obnoxious California sound created something eternal. KISS hasn’t. KISS won’t. KISS peaked at lunchboxes and pinball machines, and KISS descended—well, KISS is still descending. It’s just a matter of time before Gene lets the whole enterprise fold like a lawn chair.

Too close to forty, Paul takes a seat at an empty table and orders a Pepsi, and he tries to look for a girl the way a security guard might look for a shoplifter. His vantage point isn’t great. The crowd isn’t great. But maybe there’s someone he could waste his time with, someone that would humor him for an evening.

He hasn’t had that in longer than he wants to admit.

Oh, he’s with people. He’s with Samantha, but the age gap depresses the hell out of him. There’s always that tacit understanding between entertainers, anyhow, the knowledge that they’re both going to fool around on each other that goes almost unmentioned. Sometimes he wants to make a clean break of it, start something sincere, whether with her or some other girl, stripped away from the publicity rags, but then his own lonesomeness gets the better of him. Like right now. It’s just not enough to be wanted by one girl when he used to be wanted by thousands. It’s not enough to fill two-thirds of an auditorium when he’d once played Madison Square Garden.

It’s just empty.

He sees a tall, pretty blonde before too long, by herself and practically poured into a sparkling silver dress, hair wildly permed. He’s about to make a move towards her when he hears a sound that stops him dead in his tracks. It’s not so much a laugh as a cackle. He hasn’t heard it in two years at least, but he’d recognize it on his deathbed.

It’s Ace Frehley. Ace Frehley, here at the Cat Club.

--

Paul’s never known Ace to go anywhere unaccompanied. Now’s no exception. Standing with him is some long-haired guy that Paul doesn’t recognize from the rock scene. Not that that means much, these days. Ace’s arm is looped behind the guy’s shoulders, though the guy doesn’t seem too comfortable with it. Paul purses his lips, trying to gauge their relationship from fifteen feet away, but it doesn’t end up mattering. Ace spots him after not even five seconds, and stumbles to him, with the guy in tow.

“Paul! How are you, man?”

“Ace,” he says, standing up on automatic, reaching for Ace’s free hand. Ace’s palm is damp in his.

“Oh, oh, lemme introduce you, Paulie, this is--” and Ace untangles his other arm from the guy, “this is Gordon. Gordon, y’know who this is.”

“Paul Stanley,” Paul says anyway, offering his hand again. Gordon takes it with all the cursory indifference of being introduced to a fourth cousin at a funeral.

“Gordon plays keyboard,” Ace says. “He’s real good.”

“Cool.” Paul can feel his mouth twist a bit. It’s petty to already be bristling a bit, only a few sentences in, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He’s so used to faking being cordial that the words still come out warmly enough to his own ear. “C’mon, have a seat. Plenty of room.”

--

“He’s using you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you care?”

Ace shrugs.

“I’m running low on friends, Paul.” A quick quirk to his mouth. “Maybe you are, too.”

“I only ever had the one.”

“Bullshit. You still got at least three, if you want them.”

--

“I’ve got a place in California. This is just a rental,” Paul lies. He owns this shitty apartment outright. “My parents are getting older, y’know, it’s good to have somewhere close by. And Ericka--”

“She’s gotta be in high school now.”

“She’s graduating in May.”

“Shit, man.” Ace shakes his head. “Monique’s gonna be eight this year.”

“I’ll send her something.”

Ace waves his hand absently.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, let me--”

“You ain’t sent her anything in six years. Don’t start now.” Ace pauses, glancing at Paul in a flickering, fleeting way, and then he shakes his head. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it bad.”

Paul doesn’t say anything else for awhile, just crosses over to the kitchenette and opens the refrigerator. He takes out two Diet Cokes, handing one over to Ace, who looks at it before handing it back.

“’S fine. I’m not thirsty.”

“I don’t have any alcohol, Ace.”

“I don’t really want it.”

“You don’t?”

Ace shakes his head.

“What do you want?”

“Dinner and a movie, Paulie.” Ace’s mouth quirks up. “Dinner, we’ll have some of your fucking Lucky Charms; movie, we’ll put on an porno.”

“Ace--”

“What’ve you got, anyway?” And he’s scurrying to the T.V. set. Beneath it is his tape player and a few stacks of movies still in their packaging. His workout tapes. And there--

[johnnydoe69]

The Switch

I woke up in a forest in nothing but a medical gown, surrounded by soldiers trapped in orange slime.

Sprawled out on the forest floor, I picked myself up and stumbled out of the clearing. The orange slime twitched and moved as I walked past, occasionally gathering in larger chunks or shrinking away to let me through. Everything felt strange and I was extremely lightheaded. My feet were bruised, bloody, and starting to swell. I wandered for what could have been hours or minutes when I came upon someone’s backyard. 

I climbed the small metal fence and landed uneasily onto the well-manicured lawn. At the base of the house was a garden hose and desperately dehydrated, I wandered over and began drinking from it. After I had satisfied my thirst, I took to cleaning off as much dirt, blood, and orange goo as possible. By the time I finished, I was soaking wet and freezing, my medical gown pressed against my emaciated body. 

That's when I noticed the comforting aroma of barbecued ribs coming from inside the house. It sat right on the kitchen counter, unguarded, and drizzled with sweet honey. Still, in a daze, I made my way up to the back porch and tested the door. I found it to be unlocked and I quietly slipped inside. 

The smell of the ribs was even more intoxicating inside the house than out and I pounced on them like a wild animal. I never even took the time to chew, each rib smoothly slid down the back of my throat and immediately started to dissolve. When I finished, I slumped to the floor, taking everything in. 

I suddenly realized that what I had just done should have been biologically impossible and yet, the bone, meat, and sauce, was absorbed into my body within minutes, providing me with a shockwave of energy.

Testing my limits and vaguely remembering using my arm as a sword against the soldiers, I willed my fingers to fuse into something sharp. In seconds, the fingers of my right hand became one and sharpened into a blade the color of rust. 

Terrified, I quickly asked my hand to go back to normal and it obliged, the sword separating into fingers and returning to my natural skin color. 

Below me, there was the squeak of feet on hardwood and the sound of footsteps heading upwards to a nearby door in the kitchen. I dove behind the counter, my heart rate pulsing. 

The door opened and a man shuffled out.

 He wore nothing but a tight-fitting lavender polo and a silky drawstring thong, looking very clean despite just cooking with barbeque sauce. He blearily looked to the counter and his eyes opened wide.

“What the fuck?” he stammered.

 He ran over to the pan and examined it. Cold sweat dripped down my back and I did my best not to breathe. 

“Nate? Baby, did you come home and finish all these without me?” the man asked, nervously, searching the room. 

His bare feet edged inches away from where I hid and before I could think I grabbed his foot on impulse. From the palm of my hand, tendrils made of ooze penetrated the man through his foot and inserted itself directly into his bloodstream.

He gasped, but before he could scream or move, a paralyzing agent was introduced to his body, pacifying him. Moving with the paralyzing agent were the tendrils themselves, growing and expanding as they rode the current of his circulatory system before reaching his brain. From there it quickly gained control of his entire body, inserting itself into the many grooves of his brain, until his every heartbeat, breath, and thought was firmly under my control. 

I pulled my hand away and the tendrils connecting us severed. The man wobbled on his feet, eyes rolling to the back of his head, before finally falling hard on his back, with a silly grin plastered on his face. 

I stood up. The man remained silent, his breathing slow and relaxed. Despite removing my hand from his form I could still feel deep inside him, the ooze communicating back to me every function that was being conducted in his body. 

Taking a deep breath, I kneeled back down, and using the influence of the ooze in his body, I looked over some of his surface memories.

The man was Max Larsen. 29. Ex- fashion model, now a computer programmer. Married to Nate. Living on the outskirts of Benton in upstate New York. The date was March 7th, Nate and Max's 3rd wedding anniversary.

I looked up and sure enough a bright and sparkly banner with the words “Happy Anniversary to Us” spanned the kitchen. 

I sighed. Nate would be home in an hour and there was no telling when the reinforcements for the military unit I devastated would arrive. 

Acting partially on instinct, partially on intuition, I placed my hand on Max’s foot again. Establishing a better connection with the ooze in his body, I willed my body to take on Max’s form. 

The first thing to change was my arms. They inflated with muscle, tissue pulled, and past their normal limits to match decades of exercise. The next thing to change was my skin tone, shifting from a fluorescent white that hadn't seen the sun in years, to a healthy tan that had just left the beach. Accompanied by the skin color change was a light dusting of blonde hair that started from my arms and began growing over my once hairless body. Then my chest enlarged with muscle, my pecs growing to the size of milk jugs, straining the fabric of the ripped medical gown. My neck and shoulders quickly followed, adding more weight to a body that was now more than a little too top-heavy.

I fell over, panting from the strain, my hand still firmly on Max's foot. I relied on my newfound upper body strength to keep me upright, but soon my lower half began filling out to pick up the slack. From my waist down muscle and a thin layer of fat were added to my body as I felt my dick grow several inches, my balls dropping against my skinny legs. From there my legs ballooned to accommodate the rest of my body and a perky bubble butt replaced my bony ass. Soon I was able to support myself by just kneeling again and picked myself up.

Then I felt my face begin to change, bones cracking and breaking to fit a new shape, making me wheeze with pain. Once that was finished, hair sprouted on my face and the top of my head, growing thicker and heavier as the seconds trickled past.

When all the pain in my body receded, I grabbed Max’s phone off the counter and checked for my reflection in his camera. I was his spitting image, albeit covered in barbeque sauce and a ratty medical gown that was now two sizes too small. 

Then I went to work on Max. I needed a decoy to throw my assailants off my trail in case there were more of them, so I began shifting his body to take on my old form. 

I knelt back down to the floor as Max’s good looks and health quickly receded from him like a desert storm over a savannah. Never losing the smile on his face, his body deflated, years of exercise and healthy eating replaced with the look of someone fed on nothing but an IV tube. His skin color shifted to a pallid white as his healthy golden locks of hair thinned and shrank before disappearing completely. His face hollowed and his boyish good looks and charm faded.

When I finished, I stared down at the man before me and was horrified. It looked like staring down at a corpse. 

I took a deep breath. I tore off my medical gown, slightly ripping it, and got to cleaning myself off in the kitchen sink, too terrified to waste time going upstairs and cleaning myself in Max's bathroom. 

Once I was clean enough, I moved Max behind the counter and stripped him of his polo and thong, taking time to undo the many strings of his underwear and weirded out by the sensation of gripping what had once been my balls, now on another body.

I put the clothes down in a pile and did my best to slide Max into the medical gown, careful not to rip it any further, to prevent him from being completely nude in the woods. Once that was finished I noticed the two thick gold rings on his now too skinny fingers. I easily slid them off and applied them to my hand, careful not to put the wrong ring on the wrong finger. 

Then I put on his polo shirt, soft against my hairy chest, and then stuffed my new dick and balls into the silk thong. Despite the weight of my heavy balls, the thong was a smooth fit and accentuated them perfectly. 

Firmly taking Max’s place in appearance I noticed the blinds on his kitchen door and shut them, casting the kitchen in darkness, before I got to work taking his memories. I spent the next 45 minutes soaking up as much information as I could, anything that would convince people, but especially Nate, that I was Max and always had been.

When I was satisfied, I wiped my old body's mind clean and replaced them with only my memories of waking up and wandering in the woods. I made sure to withhold any memories of finding and going inside Max's home, leaving him a nearly blank slate. 

Then, still unsure, but willing to test the extent of my power I willed the ex-Max to enter a dream-like state where he would not remember anything for the next hour and commanded him to find a new shelter, far from here.

His eyes snapped opened and a part of me was afraid I fucked up and would be conscious, but he calmly ignored me, pulling himself off the kitchen floor and stumbling to the door. He pushed his way outside and quickly disappeared into the woods, letting me breathe a sigh of relief.

Satisfied, I took Max’s phone and sitting in his living room scanned the news for any word of what happened in the forest. 

I did that for a few minutes and found nothing when a car parked in the driveway. It was only then that I remembered that Max had promised to make barbecued ribs for Nate and that I had devoured it only an hour before. I cursed myself and ran to the front door. When Nate let himself inside, I embraced him in a bearhug, kissing the back of his neck.

“And hello to you too,” Nate said with a laugh. 

Feeling him take a step towards the living room and beyond that the kitchen, I spun him around and met my soft lips against his.

His shoulders relaxed, but he still kept moving to the kitchen, so I went further, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, accidentally cutting it against his teeth. From Max, I knew that he had been looking forward to those ribs for a while. I had to distract him with something else to keep him from asking questions. 

As I kissed him, I placed my hand on his lower back the way he liked and succeeded in leading him out of the doorway and up to several of the stairs. 

Nate dropped his briefcase on the stairs, letting it tumble to the bottom when he pulled away for a moment.  

“Wait, don’t you have a meal waiting for me?” Nate asked, confused, looking behind him. I grabbed him by the chin and gave him a big smile.

“Come upstairs and I’ll make a meal out of your ass,” I said, playfully, remembering how much Nate loved getting his ass eaten.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Nate said, kissing me sweetly on the cheek before we went up the stairs together, the sound of military helicopters gathering in the distance.

[dusky-dancing]

The Prince and the Pirate - CH 5

For SoKai Week - Day 5

Story Summary: Sora finds himself far away from the walls of the Radiant Garden he's known his whole life, kidnapped by a rowdy group of pirates whose captain is as alluring as she is mysterious. What he thought was a simple hostage negotiation turns into an adventure that Sora couldn't have anticipated. He doesn't know which is worse, not knowing what's up ahead, or liking it that way.

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Adventure, Pirate AU

Length: ~ 2900 words

——————————————————–

Links for story navigation:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7

——————————————————–

The first sensation that hit Sora was just how cold he was.

No, it wasn't just cold, he was soaking wet in his clothes, his hair, everything. He tried to breathe in but only found himself choking.

Breathe.

I can't breathe!

Waking in a startle, his lungs forcefully coughed up sea water until air rushed into his lungs.

The lullaby of gently tossing waves almost tempted him to lay back down, but then his memories came flooding back to him. Specifically, his memories of the one who'd saved him from drowning.

"Kairi!"

He pushed himself onto his knees and glanced around. Besides the beach sand, whatever island they'd washed ashore was covered almost entirely in green, from the lush bushes to the tall palm trees.

Well, atleast it seems livable, he thought to himself.

Then his eyes caught a splash of pink, and he was on his feet not a moment later.

"Kairi!" He shouted over and over as his weakened legs carried him across the beach.

Besides the wind tossing her damp hair, she wasn't moving. His knees crashed into the sand beside her.

She lay on her back, breathing - thank the gods - but he knew the sight of a broken leg anywhere. His heart ached, like he'd just watched priceless porcelain shatter. She wasn't going to feel great when she woke up, and she wasn't going to like what he'd have to do.

The break was recent enough that there was still time to set it back into place. It wouldn't heal perfectly, but atleast she'd be able to walk normally again.

"Kairi." He lifted her torso and brushed the hair out of her face. "Please, wake up."

His only warning was a gurgling sound in the back of her throat before she began coughing sea water into the sand. Her eyes slowly opened, and for a moment relief washed across her face before it was replaced with a painful wince.

She glanced down by her leg, but he kept her down. "It's broken pretty bad," he said. "Probably best that you don't look before I… I have to…"

She nodded in understanding. "Just give me something to bite."

That part was easy. With the amount of plants and trees just in their vicinity, spare branches and sticks lay just beyond the shore. Sora picked one that was hard enough to do the trick, but soft enough to not damage her teeth. At the same time, he gathered sticks and vines sturdy enough to serve as a temporary splint.

He returned quickly, dusted it off, and silently handed it to her. No words could properly communicate how hard it would be for both of them, but the quicker it was over with, the better.

Kairi bit down on it and rested back on her elbows. Closing her eyes, she nodded in preparation.

Sora knelt by her leg. In any other circumstance the act would've felt much more intimate. Her legs were so smooth yet hardened from her life on the sea. Sora took several deep breaths before gently placing his hands above and below the break.

Just focus on putting it back in place.

Don't think about who it is.

Counting down would only make it worse, so he just went for it. After a final inhale, he flexed his hands and moved her bone back into place.

Even when muffled, the blood-curdling scream that followed made Sora shudder. In that moment, he felt like a worse monster than the Kraken that had caused this. Her back arched as she kicked and tore through the sand with her healthy limbs. After securing her leg with his improvised splint, He rushed back up to her upper half and pulled her close.

"The worst is over, Kairi," he tried to remain calm despite his accelerating heartbeat. "I'm so sorry."

She muffled more cries of pain in his chest, and he endured the punches to his torso. The stick finally fell from her teeth as her breathing steadied. Jabs turned into tight grips on his jacket.

"Thanks," she breathed.

Now that he knew she'd be okay, the reality of their proximity hit him. He'd barely done more than shake her hand before, and now she was lying in his arms. Even the chilled ocean breeze couldn't stop his face from warming. Afraid he'd crossed a line, he set her back down to support her own weight once she relaxed.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "You saved me."

She met his eyes for the first time since waking up, though her own were still wide and unfocussed from the pain.

"And you saved my crew," she smiled before turning her gaze away. "Besides, I worked hard to get you. I wasn't about to lose you to some sea monster."

Sora wasn't about to let her sincerity hide away again. "Oh, so you'll just toss me to the sea once we're done?"

She tensed up. "No, of course not! I-" her eyes narrowed once she noticed his smirk. "How mean, to tease a girl when she's down."

"Couldn't help it," he smiled. "Speaking of which, though, what do we do now?"

She sat up further and turned her gaze to the sea. "Now we wait. I told my crew to get the rescued to safety first, then circle back for us. It hopefully shouldn't take more than a few days."

"A few days is pretty fast."

"You're right. Plus, the Leviathan won't be as fast without my magic." She closed her eyes, but the growing anxiety showed itself all over her face. "Let's make it a week."

"Hey, on the bright side, this isn't the worst island to be stuck on," he smiled.

Careful of her leg, she turned around and took in the cliffs, waterfalls, and endless green that stretched all around the beach. The island was small, but not uninhabitable. Under different circumstances, it would've been a paradise. Some relief washed over her, and she relaxed again.

"First thing's first, though," he continued, "we gotta make you a better splint."

One thing neither of them could deny was that the island was beautiful. It transformed as the sun moved through the sky. The tide crept up the beach, but not too far or too violently. Salty air complimented the scent of life-filled trees and shrubbery.

But what caught their eyes the most was a small sub island just off the shore.

During their slow journey up the beach, with Sora practically needing to carry Kairi, they'd spotted food like mushrooms and coconuts - nothing as bright and yellow as the star-shaped fruit that rested on that tiny island. Sora laid her down within some nearby shade and stared out at it.

"I'm sorry," Kairi said after a moment.

He sat beside her. "It's okay, Kairi, but you'll have to get more specific," he cracked a smile in an attempt to lift her spirits.

"For not being entirely honest, from the beginning."

He lay back and laced his hands behind his head. "You were being vague for sure, but anything that pulled me from home was going to be exciting."

Her fingers traced random lines in the sand. "Remember the story from the other night?"

"The Leviathan one? That's the quest you're on, right?"

She nodded. "There's more to it. I'm not the only piece to the puzzle. Although the Kraken is powerful, he's not omnipotent. Remember how I said he had to lock away her heart?"

Sora sat up and regarded her curiously.

"Well, where there is a lock, there is also…"

His heart stopped. She'd paused to let him think, but Sora blurted the answer before he could stop himself.

"A key."

Besides the smile that graced her features, Sora couldn't pay attention to the rest of her explanation. Something about the same light creating a key and bestowing it upon a worthy heart. His mind was racing. It all made perfect sense why she needed him and why the Kraken had attacked him. But why had Kairi been so...forceful?

"You figured it out," her voice drew him back from the pit in his stomach.

"Why didn't you just ask?" he shook his head. "I would've gone with you still, without the kidnapping or anything."

She hummed. "Maybe you would've, but would your kingdom have let you?"

"What about your powers?" he asked. "They come from Leviathan. People would believe you in a heartbeat."

She laughed, "As always, you give people too much credit, Sora." Her gaze drifted out to sea. Though the evening had begun to darken their surroundings, she seemed focussed, possibly on the sound of tossing waves or the smell of the ocean breeze.

"In a world where the ocean is terrifying and monster-infested, what would people think of a girl with water-based magic?"

Her eyes were filled with sadness, and Sora wasn't sure if he wanted to know how many times she'd tried to win people over, only to be feared and tossed out.

"I suppose I've always been believed." His hand extended forward between them, and his Keyblade manifested before her. Her eyes grew wide, and she shuffled closer. "When my Keyblade appeared, my father took it as a sign of strength and heroism, and therefore that our family must be blessed. The irony is, I don't think I've done a single heroic deed with this blade. Fought some battles, sure, but nothing to actively help people." He chuckled, "If this whole time I'd been kept locked away, I was supposed to be helping people by ridding the ocean of those monsters, then my life's been a waste."

She reached a hand out and hovered it over the neck of the blade. Her eyes asked for permission, which he answered with a simple nod. She waited not a moment longer before touching the cold metal. Her fingers ran slowly from the hilt to the teeth a few times before she glanced up to him again.

"You're here now," she said, "that's not a waste." With her curiosity satisfied, she drew her hand back and regarded him fully. "It seems we're both missing something the other can provide. You need a heroic quest, and I need a hero to complete my quest."

The chilled night air suddenly grew warmer. Sora's chest tightened, but in a way that just made him want to sit closer to her. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned away.

"Well, we both need a way off of this island first."

——————————————————–

A day passed, and still Sora couldn't shake the island with the star-shaped fruit from his mind. Though it sat easily within swimming range, even at high tide, he found the rock and soil too slippery to climb.

It was a strange little sub-island, able to sustain a single tree that didn't grow anywhere else. He swam back to the main shore, bested again by the mysterious island.

"Still trying, huh?" Kairi giggled.

"It's killing me." He turned back to face it with his hands on his hips. It mocked him, standing just out of reach.

Kairi sat up and began unfastening her splint. "I have an idea," she said. "Take me with you."

"What? No! Kairi your leg-"

"Will be fine," she finished for him with that stubborn smirk of hers. "See, I'm taking the splint off so it doesn't get wet."

He was never given the chance to deny her again, for as soon as it was off she extended her hands out for assistance. He pulled her to her feet and supported her weight as they made their way back into the water. A hum of delight escaped her throat when the water hit her ankles. He hadn't thought of how much she must have missed the water. It probably pained her to be sitting a few feet from it all day yet unable to go in.

Once waist-deep, Kairi sighed and let her legs float. "Oh man, why didn't I think of this earlier?"

Sora chuckled. "Feel better?"

"Amazing." She closed her eyes and let her legs suspend in the gentle waves while Sora supported the rest of her weight.

If she hadn't been injured, this would've been the perfect moment to splash her while she'd been distracted. Later, Sora promised himself.

He shifted so they both floated on their backs, with her upper body weight supported on his chest. Through the blush spreading across his face, he told himself the position was necessary to get them to the small island. Gently, he began to kick his legs and guide them along. He half-expected Kairi to use her abilities to push them through the water, but she remained still in his grasp.

"Letting me do all the work, huh?" He teased.

Her torso shook as she laughed. "You'll see."

Sora's feet soon touched sand again as they neared the island.

"Stop here," she commanded, "and stand with me."

He did as she said. Using one hand for balance on him, she brought her other up in a familiar elegant motion. As expected, the water followed her lead and swelled around them. He suddenly felt less like he was in the water and more like the water was gripping him.

His instinct proved true when she raised her hand even further, and the water lifted them. Quickly, he was the one clinging to her for support as their roles reversed. In one smooth wave, they glided up and onto the raised sandy platform.

Even up close, it looked like any tropical tree that bore colorful fruit. Sora couldn't quite place what had drawn him so deeply to this tree, whether it was the fact that it only grew there or just his own stubbornness wanting to prove itself. Regardless, it felt anticlimactic as he stood beneath it.

"Well?" Kairi's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Only then did he notice she'd hopped herself over to the tree and pulled herself up to sit on its tilted trunk. "Are you gonna stand there, or are we gonna try this fruit?"

He joined her side and stood under the star-shaped fruit. "I was just thinking, how do we know it's not poisonous?"

She shrugged, "We don't, but something tells me it isn't." Without further hesitation, she reached back and plucked one from the leaves.

Sora winced, feeling a bubble of guilt for ridding this tree of half of its harvest. As she offered the fruit to him, however, the guilt subsided into a sense of peace. They knew this was a one-time trip, and surely the tree would grow more fruit soon in the perfect environment. He picked the final fruit, sat beside her on the trunk, and extended it to her in return. The fruit she'd picked was much larger than his, and she smiled victoriously.

Instead of taking the fruit from his hand, she leaned her head down and bit from it.

The sight sent Sora's mind spiraling, compounded by the pleased look on her face as she took in the flavor. His eyes glanced down at her own offering staring him in the face. With a move like that, how could he not respond in kind?

The flavor burst onto his tongue immediately, and he understood Kairi's expression. It was sweet, unbelievably so even for an island fruit. A bite of tang danced across his mouth just enough to purse his lips a little. The flavor only deepened with each second, and this was only the first bite.

A pleasant aftertaste lingered, enough to leave him happy for the day, but when he opened his eyes to the woman beside him, he found his heart stuttering.

He knew her appearance, understood her cause, and had seen her in both joy and pain, yet as he took her in again, he saw much deeper into her as a person. It wasn't only understanding her, but knowing her, feeling her emotions right alongside her. Not only appreciating her beauty, but cherishing every inch of her. Not only tagging along with her mission, but desiring nothing more than to see it through to the end and beyond.

And based on her wide eyes, she was experiencing something similar.

"Sora…" She dared to speak, with an affectionate hint in her voice that drew him in further.

Sora blinked and shook his head. This was the woman who had him kidnapped to use for his abilities. She was a pirate.

A pirate who was kind and hospitable. And only raided those who committed evil. And cared for her crew. And was drop-dead gorgeous even after washing ashore a deserted island.

Her hand touched his arm and startled him. "You felt it too, didn't you?" she asked.

He couldn't even parse what had happened in his own mind, so how was he supposed to articulate it to her, whatever "it" was?

"Yeah," he responded as calmly as he could, turning away.

Her hand retreated. "Must just be something in the fruit." her voice had returned to normal.

He nodded, trying to convince himself that was the case. Even when each subsequent bite hadn't caused the same reaction as the first. Even when the sensation hadn't subsided hours after they'd returned to the main island.

Up until the very moment he admitted it to himself:

He didn't want to leave her side…

Because he was in love with her.

——————————————————–

A/N: This whole fic began when I asked myself, "What if two pirates reluctantly working together were stranded on a pre-civilization Destiny Islands, unknowingly shared paopu fruits, and intertwined their destinies forever?". Then of course I answered myself, "Yes, and make it SoKai," and it just kept building from there! There's still much more to happen though, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading and leaving your feedback :)

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (18)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: A romantic getaway goes just a wee bit awry…

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Tony’s house is absolutely amazing. Of course, it’s far more than just another getaway spot for the billionaire. It’s the first of several planned (extremely) high-end villas in one of the most sought-after tourist destinations in the world. “He’s actually going to start a resort,” Tessa hums in awe as they enter the ocean-side palace.

“That is correct,” says a voice coming from… somewhere. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the slightly accented voice goes on after noticing the startled response from Bucky. Tessa is too busy exploring her new surroundings to pay much attention to the computerized creation. Besides, she talks to Friday so much that having a voice in the walls somehow seems completely normal to her. “My name is Nisa.”

Bucky grunts in response. “Makes sense,” he mutters. “When in Rome…”

“Oh, you are not in Rome, sir. You are in Baa Atoll, the Maldives.”

“Thank you,” he deadpans as he finds the master suite and drops off their luggage.

“You’re welcome. Would you like to know a bit about the area?”

In unison, both Bucky and Tessa respond… he with an adamant “No,” and she with an excited, “Yes, please.”

“Perhaps I’ll give you some time to settle into the villa first,” Nisa suggests. “Your chef will arrive at six to prepare your first meal.” Chef, Tessa mouths to Bucky, a look of pure joy on her face. “Until then, you have the villa and surrounding beach to yourselves. Please do let me know if there’s anything I can assist you with.”

“Thank you, Nisa!” Tessa flops down on the king-size bed, splaying her arms and legs out as far as they’ll go. “It’s huge,” she breathes out, turning to roll over onto her stomach. She looks over at Bucky, who’s standing nervously in the doorway, and wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Wanna take it for a spin?”

“It doesn’t make you nervous at all? All of the… tech? The disembodied voices?” He pushes off the doorframe and moves to the side of the bed.

She army crawls over to him and reaches her hands around to grab onto his upper thighs. “Nope,” she says, tugging at him.

He lays his hands on her shoulders to steady himself, seemingly unfazed by her attempts to get him into the bed. His eyes ping suspiciously around the room. “I feel like Stark could be watching us.”

“Ugh,” she lets out dramatically, dropping her hold on him and sitting up onto her knees. “That’s gross.” She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a long, deep kiss. When she releases him and sits back on her heels, she can see that his face is only a teeny bit more relaxed. She rolls her eyes. “Tony’s a lot of things. But he’s not a voyeur.” She scoots to the edge of the bed and jumps up. “His life is far too exciting for him to care about what other people do with theirs.”

“Where are you going?” He spins around to follow her as she glides through the double glass doors. Just outside of the bedroom is a large deck that overlooks the ocean. At the edge of the deck, built into the steep rock face is an infinity pool surrounded by the most beautiful tropical garden.

“I’m dead,” she states, standing stark still in the center of the deck. “I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”

She turns around and takes in Bucky’s expression. He’s gazing out over the serene blue waters, the bright white beach that lies below. He doesn’t seem quite as awestruck as she is, but his face is noticeably more relaxed, and intrigued. He shifts his gaze to her and his face softens even further, a genuine smile taking over. “We should probably go for a swim,” he states simply, a glimmer in his eye.

Tessa takes no time at all stripping down, flipping her flats off and launching them across the deck as she shimmies out of her pants. She doesn’t bother to undo the buttons on her linen shirt, opting instead to yank it off along with the tight tank top underneath. But she somehow gets caught in the two shirts and Bucky has to come rescue her.

He’s laughing like a maniac as he helps to peel the clothing off of her. In the process, some of her hair gets stuck between the metal plates of his palm and she screeches in pain. That only makes him laugh harder. “Hold on,” he says, somewhat out of breath. “Just give me a sec.” And he works the clump of hair loose with his right hand.

Once she’s free, she shakes out her hair and reaches around to undo her bra. “You’re still dressed,” she chides him, noting that he hasn’t so much as removed his shoes.

“Yeah, well, I was going to go inside and change. I didn’t realize we brought bathing suits for nothing.”

She tosses him her bra and shimmies out of her panties. “You heard the disembodied voice. We have the whole place to ourselves.” She cocks a single brow at him and puts her hands on her naked hips. “There are no clothes needed in Heaven,” she says. “So I plan to stay naked all day.”

He breathes out deeply, wide smirk on his face. “I have never loved you more than I do right now,” he says before quickly shedding his shoes and running full force at her. She squeals with surprise as he grabs her and leaps into the pool.

They spend the next several hours either in the pool or right beside it, laughing, kissing, talking, and baking in the sun. They lose all track of time until Nisa calls out to them to tell them that their dinner is ready and waiting in out on the front terrace. Tessa throws on a T-shirt and nothing else. And Bucky can barely focus on anything but that fact… until he actually takes a bite of the food.

“Oh my God,” Tessa moans out, mouth full. “I feel so bad eating this, but it’s soooo good.” She looks over at him and sees a similar look of delight on his face.

“Is it the fact that it still has a face that makes it so much better than other fish?”

“It’s staring at me,” she says, tearing into it with her fork. “But I can’t stop.”

It may well be the best meal either of them has ever eaten.

They head back to the pool after and watch the sun set from matching lounge chairs. Just as Bucky’s about to drift off, he hears the creak of the chair and feels the weight of his girl in his lap. She squeezes her knees tight around his hips and leans down to nibble at his neck. “Wake up,” she whispers in his ear as her fingers lazily drift around his waistband. He grins and sighs contentedly, but doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m naked again,” she singsongs, sitting back on her heels.

He brings both of his hands up to the small of her back and slowly blinks his eyes open. The moon is very nearly full and almost every star is visible in the sky. But all he can see is the beauty sitting before him, her skin luminescent in the moonlight. He runs his fingertips delicately up her sides and tenderly cups each breast. But he makes no move to sit upright, or to speak, or to do anything other than silently gaze up at her.

“What, baby?” she asks with a small frown. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “Absolutely nothing in the world,” he tells her before wrapping her up in his arms and carrying her inside.

000

The rest of their trip is… less than ideal.

They begin Day 2 by waking to crisp, warm sunshine beaming in through the glass doors. Another day in paradise. They decide to start the day with a shower. Together. But the huge rain shower is freshly minted with the smoothest of granite, and the moment that Bucky makes a move to hike Tessa up around his hips, his heel slides out from under him. They both go down. Hard. Bucky splits the back of his head open on the corner of the built-in bench and bleeds everywhere.

“Just stop,” Tessa tells him as he tries to stand back up. “Wait.” She hurriedly tries to scurry over him to get out of the shower and grab some towels. But her feet fly out from under her as well and she drops a knee into Bucky’s gut, knocking the wind out of him.

By the time she manages to get him into bed, the bathroom looks like a murder scene. He refuses any sort of medical treatment – it’ll heal on its own – so she quickly dresses the wound with some gauze from the first aid kit that Nisa directed them to, and positions a towel behind his head in case the dressing starts to weep.

Tessa spends the next hour and a half scrubbing the bathroom. Bucky spends the rest of the day lying in bed, watching as the ceiling spins above him.

That night he starts to feel better, so they take dinner out on the terrace again. It’s amazing and delicious and absolutely perfect. And it seems that their shit day is about to become just another sad, silly memory. Bucky’s already joking about how the worst part was her knobby knee collapsing his diaphragm.

At the dinner table, Tessa embarks on a journey of self-discovery. First, she unearths a new favorite food.

“How have you never had mango?” Bucky asks her.

“I don’t know,” she replies with cheeks full of the sweet, succulent fruit. “But I’m never gonna stop eating it.”

Just a few short minutes later, she makes another discovery – she’s deathly allergic to mango.

They spend the next several hours at the closest hospital. It is not the nice tourist hospital where westerners are treated like the rich near-royalty they often are. This is the place the locals go, and poor locals at that. Neither of them are at all convinced that they’ll make it out of there without a raging staph infection. By the time they finally get back to the villa, it’s almost sunrise and Tessa has so much Benadryl in her system that Bucky has to carry her to bed.

Day 3 consists of Tessa, still somewhat puffy, tossing and turning and scratching at hives while Bucky hangs out by the pool. He falls asleep in the mid-afternoon sun, his metal arm uncovered as it lies beside him on the wooden lounge chair. No big deal. Until he shifts in his sleep and rolls over onto the arm, giving himself a massive second-degree burn across his torso.

Day 4 starts out with Tessa demanding that they get out and do something fun. “Let’s go snorkeling!” she tries.

But Bucky hates the water. Well, he hates the idea of being under the water. Ever since Steve almost drown at Coney Island and he went in after him and got sucked out by a riptide. So… “No. No way in hell.”

The compromise, it seems, is to sit on the beach together all afternoon, silently stewing.

The moment they arrive back at the villa, Nisa tells Tessa that she’s had several phone calls and texts come in from New York. “It’s Claire,” she tells Bucky, as though mentioning the name of her assistant is enough to explain why she has to spend the next four hours combing through some sort of statistical analysis of something on her laptop.

And how is it that the laptop is even here? “I thought I took that out of your bag,” he says, watching her from the doorway to the sitting room. His arms are folded over his chest, his face drawn and pinched.

“You did,” she responds shortly. “Which was rude.” She looks back up at him, takes in his almost threatening posture, and lets out a long, frustrated sigh. “I repacked it,” she says simply, turning her focus to her work.

They do not eat dinner together on the terrace that night.

Day 5, the final day, begins with Bucky waking to find the bed empty, save a note that says simply, Went for a swim. He heads to the far end of the deck that overlooks the beach below, and he sees her lazily floating on her back about thirty feet out. Every so often she rolls over and freestyles against the current for several minutes before pausing to catch her breath and bask in the early morning sun. Then she lets go again and floats closer to the shore. He watches her intently. Observes how relaxed she seems as she lets the ocean guide her, falling back against the waiting water so it can pull her back to where she started. Then, all at once, she’s at it again, fighting the tide, straining to move forward, struggling to get… somewhere.

He shakes his head and lets out a strange, small laugh. “You and me both, babe,” he mutters under his breath. “You and me both.”

[bricxbrac]

2 I'm curious to know what would Abel's life be if he never decided to visit the gardens that day and Souji and he never met

a slightly altered timeline.

It was warm. Abel had traded his typical style of attire for something a bit cooler. A loose linen shirt and a pair of light colored shorts. He wore no shoes, opting to feel the sand between his toes as he strolled leisurely down the beach. A warm breeze rolled in with every wave that lapped at the white shore. Even beneath the stars, there wasn’t a hint of a chill in the air.

To some, it would be a perfect scene. A perfect getaway from their everyday lives. The ideal vacation spot. But to him...it was nothing special. Beautiful, yes, but nothing he hadn’t experienced countless times before. Just another stop on his endless, aimless journey.

He eventually settled down on a patch of grass further from the water, leaning against a palm tree. He closed his eyes, breathing in the salty air. He let out a soft sigh and sagged, feeling weary. So weary. Perhaps it was his age finally catching up with him, though that was doubtful after all this time. Or perhaps it was simply the weight of all that he’d lost. All the time he had wasted pitying himself. Yet he knew that even if he acknowledged it, he would continue to do so.

He was a coward. All of the skills he possessed. All of the knowledge. Abilities that were deemed by rational people to be the stuff of fiction. Yet he did nothing with it but serve his own purposes. And what purposes were those? Moving from one point to another to avoid detection. Helping the few people he could when he could. 

He was too afraid to know what would happen if anyone discovered what he was. So he was no one. A whisper in the wind. A passing face. Waiting out his days until the end of time. Waiting for nothing but the end. Fearing the end. Longing for it. The end of everything. Perhaps a final chance to escape.

But for now, he slumped into the sand, breathing shakily and trembling as he curled in on himself. He covered his face with one hand as if he could shield himself from this existence. Time could pass around him...minutes, hours, days. It was all the same to him. It didn’t matter. He had nothing to live for. He had no purpose. No friends, no family. And what was life worth without someone to share it with? 

Yet he could not have such attachments. Couldn’t bear the idea of losing anyone else. Of hurting like that again. He was a coward. But in the end, he thought, no one should be stuck with someone like him. Anyone would be better off if they never knew his name. Never saw his face. If he’d left this world when his time had come. He wasn’t meant to be there any longer. He was an anomaly. An abomination. 

A stain that could never be removed.

[etani-a]

Tani’s performance from tonight’s @keepers-kiss cabaret set to Cherry by Lana Del Rey. Thank you for having me! )

Tani emerges upon the stage in a swathe of layered velvet in pale-white. The hemline of his skirts have been sewn with golden thread to look like stars, scattered across a cresting, nighttime sky. Corded about his waist with a gilded pin sits a thin, threadbare sash, and a collar low enough to leave his freckle-scattered shoulders exposed.

Blonde hair has been threaded into a finely-twined, blonde braid that has been drawn over his left shoulder, and tied with a bow to match his skirts. He approaches the front of the stage in silence, with his harp cradled in his arms. The heels of his thigh-high boots echo against the glowing podium as he pauses by the front, and grasps a handful of velveteen fabric to whisk it away from his feet.

Daintily, he bends his knees, and he folds down to sit upon the edge of the stage, with his skirts fanned out around him until they frame him — as if he’s some sleepy fae, sitting in his place amidst the stars, with a golden harp to match his constellations. He dutifully folds one leg over the other, and he props his harp within his lap. A hand whisks through his hair to brush it from his painted features, and he lifts his chin to speak.

“I’m a little rusty.” he starts, with a faint smile. “..an’ I’ll hope you can forgive me. I’m gonna be singin’ somethin’ a little different. This’ll stay on-..” He plucks at the front of his robe, tail fluttering, and coiling around to rest by his hip, laid upon his robe. “..don’t go worryin’.” he adds, with a little wag of a claw-tipped fingertip, that lifts toward his red-painted lips in a shushing gesture more aimed at himself, than his audience.

That hand lowers as his silence lingers, tail offering a nervous flick at its tip, white-tipped ears quirked forwards, attentive to the quiet murmurings of the milling crowd before him as his grasp adjusts upon the frame of his lyre. His fingertips settle, and curve, painted nails hooked beneath their pulled-gold strings that glimmer, and shine beneath the golden lights. Tani inhales, a deep breath that lifts the slope of his sternum, and he begins to sing.

“Love, ♪ “

It’s drawn-out, and smooth, as melodic and velveteen as ever. His fingertips move across their strings, plucking them, one at a time, pulling them forth in flowing, yet succinct notes that underline, and accompany his words. His tone shifts to something almost-conversational, melodic, but colloquial.

“I said, real love is like feelin’ no fear. ♪ ”

“..-when you’re standin’ in the face of danger. ♪ ”

“..’cause you just want it so much. ♪ ”

A low, lurid, echoing drumbeat rolls from the veiled orchestrion behind the stage to set a beat to his words, and to the smooth melody of his harp. His left ear cocks back in a subconscious move toward it. His tail lifts, and re-settles, whisking in an outward display of his nerves as his gaze remains lowered to his fingertips as they glide along his strings.

“A touch from your real love.♪ ”

“Is like heaven takin’ the place of somethin’ evil, an’ lettin’ it burn off from the rush..♪ ”

“..yeah, yeah..♪ ♪ ”

The drum picks up, Tani’s folded leg offers a loose swing forwards, his fingertips sweep away from his strings, the sweeping, retrograde of his underlying base rumbles. Tani’s head slips aside, his smile turns crooked, and wider, until his fangs press into the curve of his lower lip as his next line slips from his lips in an almost unbidden whisper.

“/Fuck/. ♪ “

No, it wasn’t an accident. Tani’s smile broadens, some confidence returning to him as he slips from his perch in a smooth, and graceful glide. His robes whisk, and flutter after him, arm tightening around the frame of his lyre as he gathers himself to his feet with a slight tilt of his head to brush his hair from his eyes.

“Darlin’, darlin’, darlin.. ♪ ”

“I fall to pieces when I’m with you. ♪ ”

“I fall to pieces. ♪ ”

He takes a smooth step forwards, tail fluttering behind him in time to his saccharine beat as he walks, moving along the aisle amidst the crowd, swaying at the waist in time to his music, lowering his aether-bright gaze to watch the slow motion of his fingertips across his strings as he goes.

“My cherries an’ wine, rosemary an’ thyme. ♪ ”

“..an’ all of my peaches-.. ♪ ”

“..-are ruined. ♪ ”

His smile fades as the last line is uttered, coming to a halt by the cusp of K’sato Tia’s couch. His hand parts from his lyre for long enough to sweep the fabric of his robes under his thighs as he lowers to sit upon the arm of the couch, followed, illuminated by the spotlight beaming above him until he glitters with every small movement.

“Love, is it real love? ♪ ”

His gaze turns toward K’sato Tia, as if he’s posing this question to him. He folds one leg over the other, and again — his harp finds rest within his lap as he leans forwards, head tipping to one side, until his loose hair comes tumbling over a slender shoulder, fingertips parting from his harp to press, palm-down, to his chest for a brief moment, before lowering for his strings once again.

“It’s like smilin’ when the firin’ squad’s against you.♪ ”

“..an’ you just stay lined up, yeah. ♪ ”

He pushes from where he sits, drawing abruptly to his feet in another glittering sweep of his robes as he turns in a dainty twirl back toward the aisle with another elegant twirl. His melody is gaining momentum, his lyrics are garnering strength, and his music unfolds in twining layers.

“Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’..♪ ”

“I fall to pieces, when I’m with you, I fall to pieces. ♪ ”

His fingers lift to his lips, index and middle splayed against the shape of his lower as his tail sways, as his shapely hips offer a loose sway, uttered against a quiet hum that echoes for all that he tries to conceal it behind his palm. That hand lifts from his lips, it rises above his head, palm-up, toward the glimmering chandelier as he twirls in place, braid swinging in a golden arc from his shoulder, until that arm extends before him as he flutters forwards a stride.

“My cherries an’ wine, rosemary an’ thyme.♪ ”

“..an’ all of my peaches are ruined. ♪”

Again, the curse is uttered with the same sickly-sweet tenderness as the rest of his lyrics, velvet-smooth, layered honey, thick and indulgent and everything Tani’s songs ever seek to embody. His lips form a smooth smile around it, as if he’s still speaking in rosette platitudes, in quiet sonnets, and irate poetry.

His song doesn’t lose its momentum, it remains flowing from his chorus, with all the white-foam exuberance of a running stream, as his hand extends, and his movements pause by Cyrus Nightingale. He extends a hand towards him, and his claw-tipped fingertips skim along the crest of the familiar Hyur’s cheek.

“My rose garden dreams, set on fire by fiends. ♪ ”

“..an’ all my black beaches are ruined. ♪ ”

He leans down, close — until he hovers by the crest of Cyrus Nightingale’s brow, words sung into the silken crest of his hair, harp clutched close to his chest, words paused for long enough for him to press a kiss into the heart of the familiar Hyur’s brow, a kiss that leaves behind an outline of vibrant-red lipstick. He straightens, his fingertips sweep down, until they hook beneath Cyrus’ chin. They offer a small nudge to urge their gaze up, before snaking away, and withdrawing.

“My celluloid scenes are torn at the seams. ♪”

He’s lost in the song, enveloped in its eerie melody as he turns away in a whisk of golden silk, and peridot constellations outlined by gold. He moves back into the aisle, free hand lifting to press to the heart of his half-exposed sternum, now flushed both from the exertion of his singing, and by the weighted warmth of the vibrant lights above him, sweeping across his flesh, and illuminating the glittering highlights applied to his skin.

“..an’ I fall to pieces. ♪ ”

His hand lifts to his lips, he takes a short step back, tail whisking his robes from his path as his index finger sneaks past the bow of his lower, gaze turning away as the light at the base of the stage illuminates the frame of his silhouette with enough vapid iridescence to give his voice more emphasis. His music fades, it falls to a transient, and temporary silence, until it’s only Tani’s velveteen voice left to carry his song.

“I fall to pieces when I’m with you. ♪ ”

That hand lowers from his lips, it sweeps behind him to rest, palm-down, upon the edge of the stage as he lifts himself up just enough to fold back, and sit upon the glossy surface. His tail whisks behind him, fur glittering and dotted with his characteristic pearls that rattle, and catch against the stainless glass beneath him. His head tips, expression still alight, eyes still vibrant.

“Why? ♪ ”

He moves to stand, rising to his diminutive height with one last flick of his over-thick tail, music mounting as he stands, rising to set along the narrow curves of his bared, freckle-scattered shoulders. His free hand lifts, his harp is propped to his hip once again, and his touch returns to his golden strings all over again to sink into his final verse with a sway of his hips, voice reaching a new, fluid, liquidesque height.

“‘Cause I love you so much, I fall to pieces. ♪ ”

His voice lowers, again— but the emotion it leaves upon his fair, fae features remains all the same. He holds his note until he runs short of breath. He sucks in a brief gasp to re-gather himself, fingertips never once stalling their movements across his corded harp’s strings, head tipping aside, gaze lifting to regard his audience, though seemingly only ever settling upon one figure, amidst many.

“My cherries an’ wine, rosemary an’ thyme. ♪ ”

“..an’ all of my peaches are ruined, -bitch-. ♪ ”

His beat begins to dwindle, his hands begin to slow against his harp-strings until they withdraw with a flourish, and a dainty flutter of his painted claws as his palm tips upwards, and his fingertips curl toward the heel of his palm, head tipping loosely to one side as that serpentine smile finds its way back along his lips.

“..are ruined. -Bitch-. ♪ ”

“..are ruined. ♪ ”

His hand splays. His palm comes down to press to his reverberating strings to cease their tumbling tune at once as he utters the harshness of his final line with enough sweetness to glaze a sugarcomb, coiled smile still drawn across his lips as his lashes offer a dull, coquettish flutter.

“♪ ♪ /Fuck/. ♪ ♪”

His beat finds its ending, his song meets silence, and his hand comes away from the harp to whisk toward the curve of his chest, smile turning something more sincere, and less hyperbolic as he tips his gaze down to regard his audience with earnest concern, tail finally still behind him, curled away from the heels of his boots.

His hesitance fades at the first ring of applause. He drops that hand to pinch a forefinger and a thumb within the skirts of his robes as he draws them from his feet to dip into a graceful, and dainty little curtsey. He straightens again, and he adjusts his grasp upon his lire, lifting that hand to his lips to blow a honeyed kiss toward his audience.

“Thank you~!” His words are uttered sing-song, airy, and light. He turns away with a flourish of his robes, and a flick of his adorned tail as he turns his back, and heads backstage again with a light bounce to his step.

[quest-thejourneythatislife]

Can your heart survive outside of your body?

Can your heart survive outside of your body?

First things first, this is a highly emotional post.

Have you wondered at times, if a piece of your heart could live in another being? Yes, it absolutely can! Many have fantasied about it growing up as teenagers in romantic settings, read poetry and even listened to songs wishing the same. But, it is only now, when I have been away from my babies for the longest period ever, that I realise it to be true.

To begin with, I am a mother of three. A three year old Labrador called Penny, a two year old son and a one year old Newfoundland called Skyler. Some of you reading this may already know me or know of me as a certified crazy dog lady! So it wont be a surprise to many that Penny and I have been inseparable ever since she came into our lives and became my eldest kid. From then on, apart from our yearly vacations, when our gracious neighbours bestowed her with loads of TLC, we have spent all our time together doing mother-daughter stuff.

Mother-daughter stuff meaning, I try (try being the operative word) to train her and she cleverly takes all the treats and does nothing. Or when I plant my veggie garden and Penny takes a whole week to rip one plant off at a time and bring it back to me. Or when I get her a soft toy and she rips it apart in a few minutes and I spend an hour cleaning up filling and styrofoam. Or when I try to clean the walls (again try being the operative word) and she runs off with the cleaning sponge, what can we say…. some habits are for life I guess. And Penny and her love for cleaning sponges is one of them!

Hence, over the years, with such intense bonding experiences (some almost on a daily basis), we have truly become a family. And after more than 3 years, this is the first and hopefully the only time ever, that we have been apart for more than a few weeks. Currently due to Coronavirus (Covid-19) I am staying put in India with my son while hubby back home takes care of both my daughters.

Its been months! and God, I miss Penny so much! I miss her so much that it physically hurts sometimes. I miss Sky too, a lot, but that is mostly because of her cuteness quotient. Who wont miss a silly furry cuddly bear with innocent eyes? But, with Penny its like missing a part of myself. My heart feels like parentheses stretched 4800 miles over two continents.

I miss the feel of her hair as my palms stroke it. Slightly prickly but still soft and smooth. I miss the weight of her head on my lap as she naps while I read. When she has been out in the sun for a while and her fur is toasty warm, I miss cuddling her then and its like soaking up sunshine. I miss the dog smell when I hug her. I miss that she likes her pats on her bum and scratches behind her ears. I miss giving her a massage and brushing her hair.

I love how she is a complete pillow hog in bed and takes my seat on the sofa. I miss how she sleeps on top of me and when I get up during the night to wee ( yes I am that old!) and she take up my warm spot and does not budge when I come back.

I miss how she loves her food and them treats!! How she preempts my training sequence to get most treats in the least amount of time… haha.. always keeping me on my toes. I miss how she can sleep through a movie but wont miss a single crinkle of a wrapper from the kitchen. I miss how she makes a judgey face for veggies, but inhales all kinds of meat, yogurt, banana, peanut butter, etc…….you get the picture. I even miss her eyes on me when I stealth eat..muawhahaha…!!

I miss that she follows me inside the washroom every time. I miss that I brush her teeth and clean her ears every time she does so. I miss giving her a bath and the workout to catch her first that it entails. I miss her excited jumping when I come back home and her patient stays as I unload my stuff from the car (unlike her very silly sister, who is like a rug, but all around you, so you might trip and fall, as you make all those trips back and forth to unload your shopping).

I miss the innocence of her eyes. I miss how she is completely in the moment (Labradors aren’t the best examples of delayed gratification… but still….). How she lives in the present, every day a new day and only day to live! I miss how she does naughty stuff and gets told off one minute, and the next she is in my lap snuggling or getting me one of her toys to play. I love how she has loved me and taught me how to love. I thought I did before her, but I was so so very ignorant. I love how she has given herself to me and accepted a part of myself, even without my realising so.

I love how she looks after the entire family. I miss her sense of freedom when she gets to go off leash and reign free in our park. Our park, because she knows every blade of grass, every human, every lamp post, every tree, every toddler, every pram, every scooter, every cyclist and every dog in that park. I miss how she has taught me forgiveness and patience, my Achilles heel till now. Raising my three monsters, sometimes I feel like I am surly on my way to sainthood….…:)

I love how she has reinforced the value of hope in me. Penny seldom gets human food but still never loses hope of getting some…. :) I love how she has taught me to never give up and hope! And don’t you go feeling sorry for her. My doggie pantry is as big as my kitchen pantry and equally well stocked. I miss her enthusiasm to explore this world and start every day fresh with limitless possibilities. We never know what mum might cook for us today or what treats are in store! What parks we might go to or even the beach. What games we might play. Will it be tug or some mentally enriching stuff like sniff and go find the treat or may be even some doggie puzzles. It’s Penny’s simple uncomplicated way to taking each day as it comes and making the best of present, that has guided me to examine my take on life and manage expectations.

I even miss the bloody dog hair, bane of my life, that gets into everything. Unlike Sky’s hair thats long soft and smooth, Penny’s hair is like fine, flexible pine needles, that gets into the fabric and doesn’t come out with a vacuum until you manually pull it out of your comforter. Yes! it gets into the comforter even with the cover on. This just goes on to show how far gone I am. I wish it is soon safe enough for us to fly back home and be united with my other two babies.

In the meantime, as I am going to miss both their birthdays this year, I wish them both loads of love and blessings. May they both be happy healthy and have loads of fun testing daddy’s patience. Hope to cuddle you soon. And when I get back home I am sleeping with the two of them straight for a month and hugging the life out of them. I am going to be in their face and space, so much so, that they get sick of the sight of me and run away as I approach……:)

Until next post. Stay blessed!

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why testosterone injections are best

Issues like lethargy, feeling weak or depressed, or experiencing erectile dysfunction are problems hard to talk with a physician, but they are hard to live with. Why wait?

A Low T count may indicate an androgen deficiency. This is referred to as andropause, a type of male menopause. This condition has been known to cause a very low sex drive, erectile dysfunction or signs of early osteoporosis, depression, sleeplessness, fatigue, and other ailments.

 Low T Palm Beach Gardens Fl

Men may feel pressure to"live with," these issues, even if it reduces their quality of life. They may not seek out medical assistance. But it can be risky to not. As we get older, our bodily systems can lose up to 60% of the regular purposes before symptoms present themselves. That is HUGE. And, it proves how important it is to take care of a state like low testosterone with hormone therapy before symptoms receive the best of us.

How Do Testosterone Injections Work?

Dr. Berman will help you in ordering lab tests which will give you a thorough picture of your endocrine health.

The most extensive evaluation is best when assessing whether you've got levels of testosterone which are simply below normal, or significant levels that would reap the benefits of testosterone therapy. The simple standard for"low" is anything below 245 nanograms per deciliter (ng/dL). However, Dr. Berman will take your overall health profile into account and may determine your normal range is a little more different.

Fundamental factors such as your own body mass indicator, patterns of weight gain, your height versus weight, regions of fatty tissue, sleep patterns and eating habits may influence your t levels. All of these are clues that may make up a final decision whether Dr. Berman's low testosterone treatment would benefit you.

When above a single amount of fasting sugar, you are diagnosed as being diabetic. The line drawn is quite clear. Hormones do not work like that. With testosterone especially, physicians work within recommendations made by the Endocrine Society about who would benefit from replacement therapy. While these are accepted criteria, hormones, and the endocrine system are complicated and interacting quite differently in every individual. It requires a qualified physician, like Dr. Berman with expertise in hormone imbalances to help you make the ideal decision.

Your cells, organs, muscles and circulatory and digestive systems just operate at their peak in the event the appropriate hormonal balance exists. The medical community agrees that biochemical and biological functions in our bodies possess a cause and effect connection using hormones. Neither can live with no other operating efficiently. Regrettably, hormonal imbalance is too frequently overlooked as a possible culprit for a significant number of health issues.

He's seen renewal and rejuvenation as men have recovered their ability, strength, capability to have good sex, and more. These guys had previously thought that fatigue, irritability, insomnia, weight reduction, gynecomastia, and erectile dysfunction were all part of the aging procedure they would need to take. Not true!

For others, it is a completely new freedom in conditions they have long suffered from but not knew hormone imbalances could cause.

Hormone replacement for men isn't something to be decided with no serious thought and reliable information. Dr. Berman is a superb resource, an authority in the field with over 30 years as a medical professional. He will be able to assist you in making a decision that is right for you.

Dr. Berman considers in testosterone replacement therapy utilizing testosterone injections because it provides you both complete control of the process. He'll instruct you to administer small doses in the solitude of your own home, which is significantly easier than it sounds. Injections allow for much more precise doses, designed to suit your specific and unique hormone profile, especially your amounts that are deficient. Dr. Berman closely tracks your progress via regular visits.

Patients undergoing this treatment report that their fascination with sex has returnedand that their episodes of erectile dysfunction are no more a problem. They wake up in the morning energized and sense capable of physical activity, such as sports, exercise, and hobbies. Those that engage in weight resistance training record even higher levels of fitness and in some cases, weight loss.

Dr. Berman can also be trained to keep your eye on symptoms of your dose being slightly too large.

But with the specific quantity of hormone replacement patients may undergo improvements they never imagined, including a happy, healthful lifestyle of eating and weighing less, engaging fully in physical activities and sleeping soundly through the night.

Call Dr. Berman's office today at (561) 841-1837 to take that first step toward a healthier hormone balance and a better quality of life.

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[brooklynshain020-blog]

think your andropause treatments is safe? 8 ways you can lose it today

Andropause, which is essentially male menopause, occurs when men age and start to undergo a drop-off in male sexual hormones. Testosterone begins to diminish around the age of 30 and starts to steeply decline once a person reaches his mid 30s. While once believed to be an inevitable part of aging, andropause treatment has become more common in the past several decades.

Aging is a natural part of life, but there are many factors that can affect the way the body approaches age and a decrease in levels. Genetics, exercise, diet, and healthy sexual activities are only some of the many contributors to fit hormone levels or a lack thereof. When these factors or easy age trigger low t, testosterone replacement therapy may offer a very helpful solution.

Signals of menopause in men may be broad reaching and can include everything from erectile dysfunction to exhaustion and sleeplessness. Since low hormone levels could lead to such severe side effects, it is important to use great care when approaching andropause and treatment. Fortunately, this is something by which Dr. Mikhail Berman may be able to assist.

For over 30 years, Dr. Berman has supplied guys in the Palm Beach Gardens area with hrt treatments designed to alleviate symptoms of andropause. By incorporating dietary advice and exercise tips in addition to cutting-edge cure for andropause, he has successfully helped many men address the challenging, and frequently embarrassing unwanted effects of aging and decreased hormone levels.

How Can Andropause Treatments Work?

Andropause can cause a wide number of symptoms, many of which have demonstrated great improvement with testosterone replacement therapy. A number of these side effects may have an extremely detrimental impact on both quality of life as well as relaxation, and that's why Dr. Berman is indeed dedicated to supplying helpful hrt therapies that offer effective and secure relief.

This is especially true as a healthy sexual life and elevated energy levels play a critical part in maintaining adequate hormones in the body. When disruptions occur, the result can be very tricky to manage and can often exacerbate the issue indefinitely if not corrected.

Believe it or not, sex hormones can also radically impact your mood. Additionally, this may cause a vicious cycle of nausea, nausea, weight gain, and then more melancholy, etc.. While this occurs, it is only through the support of a certified medical doctor and testosterone injections which you can break with the destructive pattern.  

Andropause Treatments Palm Beach Gardens, Fl.

Schedule a Consultation

Andropause is an inevitable event, but it does not mean that you need to handle it unprepared. While there are some men who don't experience any symptoms of andropause, there are many more who are facing difficulties that they never anticipated dealing with. Whether you are among those lucky few or you're facing unwanted side effects and symptoms on a daily basis, seeking the proper care is essential.

For over three decades, Dr. Berman is a go-to resource for men that are searching for relief in the symptoms of andropause. If you too are coping with erectile dysfunction, fatigue, muscle fatigue, low libido, or one of the other frequent indicators of andropause, do not wait. Give the office of Dr. Berman a call today to schedule a consultation and to speak to our staff about our clinic. Call (561) 841-1837 today.