#me and my friend concurred their flavors

[bogdreamz]

the solar oppsicles landing in stores august 14th!!

[reptile-ruler]

YAY!

So here are some PRAZR headcanons starting with middle school me:

Purple and Red were friends with Zim back in the academy but once Red and Purple's got a growth spurt around the end of training they were getting more popular which led to slowly drifting away from Zim. Soon they began to get a bigger ego as they began being hinted they may be new Tallests while Zim works harder to be worthy of them

I've always headcanoned Red and Purple are also defective but can't let anyone know, it added flavor in my mind. For Red he just a bit unhinged when it comes to violence which for humans can be anger issues, and for Purple he has higher emotions than other Irkens. Both knew they were defective but hid it/got rid of any evidence of it before they became the Tallests

Now onto the more newer ones:

When any of them cuddle or get really close in a comforting manner or if they feel relaxed enough around them, their antennas will intwine with each other. I grew up with a father who taught me a lot about animals and insects and one of my favorite things to learn was how certain insects mate/show affection and most of them do these little antenna rubs, so I imagine for Irk this is the closest of expressing love when it was mostly advice and encouraged Irkens can't express or feel love or affection since they're whole deal was concurring. Yeah, so obviously things changed once the three grew closer and maybe Zim showed them what humans call a "kiss"

In a recent AU I'm making Red and Purple meet Zim after many years and Zim has long since stopped, as the humans say, "wearing rose colored glasses" about them which confuses them but kind of tries to win Zim back to their side. Also in this AU I had Zim being able to eat other human foods besides snacks and waffles after he pretty much forced his body to consume them until he was used to it, so now he eats pizza and drink tons of stuff. But he still can't stand all meats and eggs.

Also in that AU I have a little side WIP of the three being injured while in space and cuddling up together to make sure they're okay and also cause none of them wanted to be alone, they had sleepy deep conversations about Irk and how things would've been different if certain things happen

I have no idea but I recently fell for the headcanon Zim learns to dance while on Earth and while Irk does the whole antennae thingy, he also expresses his affection through dance sometimes

And final antennae headcanon, sometimes wither it's by kissing or not, they would rub their antennas across their faces when they're real close. Sometimes even rub let their antennas move around their hands if they're cuddling

AW I LOVE ALL OF THESE! YEAH YOU GET IT!!

I think it makes so much sense that there'd been a time where Zim was closer to Red and Purple. He tries so hard to get their approval, it's all the more angst if he knows what they used to have and he wants that back ahhh.

I looove them using their antennae for affection it's CUTE!!

Your AU sounds really interesting!! The Tallest being uncomfortable when they find out Zim is no longer head over heels for them is always really funny. Love seeing them realize they took something for granted and now it's gone BUT THEY WANT IT BACK BUT IT'S TOO LATE!! Hehehehe.

And the cuddling while injured is ahhhhh DELICIOUS!!! Top tier stuff honestly I eat that shit up

Ty so much for sharing these honestly! What a great read I loved it all <3

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 16: Quench

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

“You know what amazes me,” Scully says as they walk along the waterfront. “That day we first met… I never would have guessed we’d end up like this. More than partners, more than friends.”

“I didn’t expect you to last three months with me,” Mulder admits, hands in his pockets. “Part of me wanted to drive you away, make you request reassignment.”

“And the other part of you?” she prompts, gently taking ahold of his wrist and drawing his hand out. She laces their fingers together, and their entwined hands swing between them as they walk. He likes it.

“I came to admire you,” he admits. “I read your thesis, for starters, but getting to know you personally was a transformative experience. I saw your strength, your dedication to your principles, your loyalty. I came to depend on your perspective; you were always matching me, challenging me.”

“I thought you hated that,” Scully points out.

“I definitely did on occasion,” he agrees. “But I needed it. I still do. I need your rationality and clarity and willingness to listen, even when you disagree with me. Especially when you disagree,” he amends.

“Respecting the journey,” Scully concurs.

“Exactly.” He glances down at her. “What did you think of me when we first met?”

“Hmm… I’d heard a lot about you, so that definitely colored my view in the beginning,” she says. “But walking into the basement office for the first time, I thought… well, for one, you were much more attractive than I was expecting,” she confesses. “I was actually a little awestruck; that is, until you started talking.”

“Why until I started talking?” he asks, voice amused and defensive in equal measure.

“You were really laying it on thick, playing up the ‘Spooky Mulder’ image. It seemed like you’d been alone down there for a little too long,” she says cheekily.

“I’d argue with you, Scully, but I think this time you’re actually right,” he concedes. He stops walking, gives her hand a gentle tug to guide her closer.

“Are you glad they sent me to spy on you?” she asks softly, taking his free hand into her other one.

He nods and leans down, dropping a soft kiss to her lips. “Best thing the Bureau’s ever done for me.”

“We should head back to the car,” Scully says. “My feet are starting to hurt.”

“It’s impressive, the things you manage to do in heels,” Mulder notes.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she says with a sly grin.

“Scully, please, be gentle with me,” he pleads. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hm,” Scully presses her lips together, stifling a smile. “I like when you beg.”

Jesus H Christ.

The drive back to Scully’s apartment is short, and before he knows it, he’s pulling over in front of her building, not ready to say goodnight.

Scully must sense this, because she turns to him with hopeful eyes. “Would you like to come in?” she asks. “I’ll make some tea.”

Mulder bites his lip, considering. “Are you inviting me up for a drink or are you ‘inviting me up for a drink’?” he asks.

She shrugs, smiling. “Only one way to find out,” she replies.

He has to at least walk her to her door, right? It’s the chivalrous thing to do. He might as well stay for tea…

Scully seems far more relaxed than she had at the start of the evening. She undoes the straps of her little heeled sandals and kicks them off by the door, tossing her bag and shawl onto the couch.

“What kind of tea would you like?” Scully asks, going into the kitchen and opening a cupboard.

“Uh... you have any black tea?” Mulder asks, sitting on the couch. He knows he should probably be more specific, but the majority of his tea experiences are iced and made by someone else, and he frankly doesn’t know what to ask for.

“Several, actually,” Scully answers, rearranging cartons in the cupboard. “I’m making an executive decision,” she announces, pulling out a box of Constant Comment. “Missy and I liked this one best.”

He watches her over the back of the couch as she starts the kettle, takes two mugs out of the cupboard, drops a teabag into each one. Her hair is a little mussed, and the hem of her dress is dragging on the floor without the added height of her heels. He decides that seeing her all put together at the beginning of the night is no match for watching her come undone at the end.

If only every night could be like this; them sitting on her squishy striped couch, cups of spicy tea in hand, talking about the profound and the mundane. Maybe, somehow, we can have this, he thinks. Pore over case notes on the sofa, kiss each other goodnight, wake up in each other’s arms.

He decides that Constant Comment is, in fact, a very good tea.

Cup empty, Scully sighs contentedly as she rests her head on his shoulder. “This is nice,” she says. “I wish we hadn’t waited so long to do this.”

“What, sit on your coach and drink tea?”

“Well, yes, but more than that. I meant just being together, without holding things back.”

“Maybe we weren’t ready,” Mulder muses. “We needed to grow into what we wanted and needed from each other. I know it took me a long time to figure it out, and even longer to get the courage to tell you.”

“Well, I suppose not knowing how I felt didn’t help; I was too subtle. I took what I considered a big swing in Florida,” she admits, “And when you didn’t respond I decided to back off.”

“A big swing? What are you talking about?” Mulder asks.

Scully covers her face with her hands. “It’s so embarrassing now,” she groans. “Remember when they tried to send us to that team-building conference? And I came to your room with wine and cheese?”

“Yes,” he says slowly. “Wait, was that a come-on?”

“Yes!” she exclaims. “I came in with this stupid plate of cheese and minibar wine, trying to… to telegraph that I was interested, and you just kept talking about culling techniques all the way out the door.”

“What were you hoping would happen?” Mulder asks.

“I don’t know,” Scully muses. “I was newly cancer-free, and we had just been through that whole ordeal together... I wanted to take a chance and see where it went. Maybe make out a little bit, at least? I’m not sure if... if I would have been ready for more, even if you expressed an interest. But I definitely wanted it.”

“I had no idea,” he says.

They sit silently for a moment.

“I don’t suppose... we should make up for lost time?” he suggests, looking down at her.

She licks her lips, and his eyes follow the movement of her tongue.

She tilts her chin up to him, and he places his hands on either side of her jaw. He leans in, their noses brushing as he tilts his head and presses his mouth to hers. She sighs into the kiss, bringing her hands to his shoulders.

Her lips are so soft and warm, faintly flavored with spices and orange rind from the tea, and he parts his lips reflexively. Hers follow, and the sensation of their mouths slotting together makes his head spin.

Suddenly he feels the slip of her tongue again his bottom lip and he’s in a free fall. They part with a gasp.

“Too much?” Scully asks.

“No, not at all,” Mulder says quickly. “Just surprised me. It was good,” he assures her.

“Good,” she replies, taking a deep breath. “Sorry… I feel like a clueless teenager,” she says with a huff of a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever cared this much. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling out of my depth all of a sudden.”

“I’ve never cared this much for anybody either,” he admits. “But like you said. We’ll go slow.”

She licks her lips. “Okay,” she whispers.

He angles himself towards her, sliding a hand around the back of her neck to draw her closer. “Try again?” he whispers, lips brushing hers.

“Yes,” she breathes.

He’s been holding back from this for years, he realizes; all those times his eyes caught on her lips, watching her mouth shape his name. Occupying his tongue with sunflower seeds to distract himself from what he really wanted. Leaning close, furtively whispering, convincing himself that he really needed to be in her personal space. It was all an elaborate buildup for this moment.

He has a hand in her hair, the other tentatively resting on her waist. Emboldened by her previous eagerness, he opens his mouth, inviting her in with a soft lick. She responds by looping her arms around his neck, one leg hitched across his kneecap as their tongues meet.

They kiss like kites dancing on air, ribbons twisting and tangling in the wind, all silk and cotton and hot breath. He’s not sure if he pulled her onto his lap, or if she slid across his knees of her own volition; but she’s there now, her compact body bundled against his chest. She cards her fingers through his hair, sucking his lower lip, grazing his tongue with her teeth.

Mulder wants this so badly it aches. He might die if they stop, but something below the belt is bound to make itself known, and he needs to regain control before his body gets ahead of his mind.

“Scully,” he pants, pulling back. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, and his hunger intensifies. “Scully, if we’re not going to take this further tonight we need to stop now.”

She nods, lips parted as she catches her breath. One strap of her dress has fallen down her shoulder, and he tenderly replaces it with the slip of a finger.

“Don’t touch me like that,” she whispers. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I know,” he confesses. “But… sometimes I want dangerous.”

“So do I,” she says. “But you were right. We should stop.” She slips off of his lap, standing. “It’s getting late,” she say, glancing at the clock. “I have mass in the morning.”

“I hope I gave you a few things to confess,” he says, rising.

“I may add some to the list myself,” she murmurs, and his knees threaten to give way.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” he warns her, picking up his jacket and walking to the door. “The more you talk, the harder it is to leave.”

“Then my lips are sealed,” she says. “Goodnight, Mulder.” She opens the door for him, rising onto her tiptoes to receive one more kiss.

It’s brief, but sweet, and Mulder impulsively pulls her into a hug after their lips part. “Goodnight, Scully,” he mumbles into her hair.

He's ascended; gotten high on her lips, floating through the cosmos.

[wordynerdygurl]

Maybe

Author’s Note:  Hi All, so this was flagged as violating guidelines after I first posted... and I think the gif I used was too hot for tv.  Anyway, I accidentally deleted the first one in bed at 2:30 ET... So, here we go again, like Dolly Parton would say! This story was requested by an anonymous friend.  Loki, living his best life as your master. Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Summary:  You were always curious about being someone’s plaything.  When you meet Loki maybe those fantasies can come true. Warnings:  SMUT, D/s relationship dynamics, language, spanking

Maybe it had always been there.  A feeling, a thought, something that you could never quite give a name to.  When you were a chubby teenager, flipping through the magazines your forgetful father left in the bathroom, the photos of pretty women with their wrists in cuffs made your skin tingle.  As you grew up, the internet provided you with words and phrases that matched your fantasies.  But actually having a dominant lover?  Being the person in bonds, forced to enjoy the delicious torture of your master, that was never going to be real. So you dated here and there.  Men… boys, really, who wanted you to give them pleasure.  And blow jobs.  And hand jobs.  And unenthusiastic sex. In the dark of night, though, when no one else was around, you thought about it and your betraying body responded.  Leather restraints on your wrists and ankles, spreading your sex wide, showing your imaginary partner every inch of your skin.  Rough ropes winding over your torso, across your back, around your hips, keeping you compact and tightly wound for your paramour.  

You could almost feel the sting of a hairbrush on your ass.  The heat that would spread from a firm smack to your bottom.  How your core would clench under the abuse of a well used paddle.  Living in your fantasies made the mundane acts of everyday life more tolerable.

Acts like pouring coffee for rich jerks on demand. 

Having rolled your eyes for the thousandth time that day, you were unprepared for the delicious man in the black suit who looked at you like the last cake pop in the shop.  He was, well, sexy as hell.  And when he ordered his venti iced caramel latte with almond milk in a voice that wove a spell around you, you were certain he could tell that your knees buckled.  “Uh… name?” Leaning into the counter, intimately, the customer crooned, “Loki… and you are?”

“Yours.”

Maybe it would have ended there if your first date hadn’t gone so well but this Loki character had pulled out all the stops.  Dinner at a great diner where the french fries were amazing and the cocktails were hand-crafted.  Nice but not too fancy, exactly your speed.  Next a walk through the city where the conversation flowed smartly and sweetly, never lagging, never hitting a wall of awkward silence.

At some point in the evening, Loki had taken your hand and you had let him.  It felt natural, normal, to have his fingers twined with yours.  Guiding you, directing you to a place that he needed you to go, and you following him there willingly.

On your porch stoop, tense with wondering about a goodnight kiss, Loki trailed you up the stairs.  At your door, Loki, in the most gentlemanly way possible had brushed your hair behind your ear.  Pulling it just a little, directing you to where he wanted you most, his sweet lips pressed against your own.  Teasing you and tasting you until you’d given in to his talented tongue, parting your mouth for his invasion, Loki kept you tangled tightly to him.

You offered no resistance.  Why would you?  The part of you that imagined begging for release loved being handled so roughly at Loki's expert hands. 

The stinging of your scalp sent shivers shooting to your stomach.  Loki's tongue, swiping over your teeth, twisted against your own. Lapping at your particular taste over and over again as if the flavor could be memorized.  

His hands slid down your neck, over your shoulders, crushing you into the hard wood of your door.  Scalded by his marauding mouth, you were panting deeply when he pulled away.  “Look at you… I think you like my kisses, don’t you?”

“Hmm… yes sir.”  You couldn’t say exactly what made you do it, just that it was right. “Sir?  I like that.  Say it again, pet.” “Yes sir.”

“I think you shall have to call me sir from now on.  Do you like that idea?” “Yes sir.”

Maybe that’s where it all started.  Maybe not.

“Hmm… this, this succulent thigh.  This is mine.”  Loki made this declaration before sweeping his tongue over the smooth skin there, lapping closer and closer to your curl covered core.  

Swallowing thickly, "Yes sir." “I am so glad you concur.  And this… this full, happy breast… this is mine, too.”  Squeezing your heavy globe in his nimble hand, Loki sucked your tightening nipple between his lips, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

"Ah!  Loki!"  "No, kitten.  Not Loki.  You know the rules."  You did.  There were two appropriate titles for your God and you hadn't used either one.  

Casting your eyes downward, ashamed to meet his gaze, you knew there would be punishment.  A price had to be paid for your mistake.

"On your knees, position two.  NOW!"

Scrambling, you moved to the end of the bed.  Position two was one of your favorites.  Loki knew just how to manipulate your body when you were on your hands and knees.  Lifting your rump as high as possible, knees wide so that your dripping cleft was on display, you were exposed in every possible way.

"Hmm… kitten.  Sometimes I think you do it on purpose."  Cupping your bottom, Loki stroked up your back, using the cut of your hips as a handle to hoist you closer to the edge of your mattress.

You wiggled.  Loki saw.  He saw everything.  You were always so eager, something that pleased him greatly. 

Coming around to face you, "Do you, little one?  Do you make these mistakes intentionally?  Do you want your master to punish you?"

Having grabbed your chin roughly, Loki turned your head to his, the force of it making your hair swing.  His thick thumb forced itself into your parted mouth.  You wrapped your sweet tongue around it, sucking the digit deeper, reveling in its texture.

Pushing firmly, Loki used his thumb to leverage your jaws apart.  Opening your mouth wider, saliva starting to pool, "I could just slam my cock down your throat right now.  Slide myself so deep that your nose would be at my navel.  And you're such a slut that you'd love that, wouldn't you?  Wouldn't you?"

Loki's words turned your insides liquid.  A gush of female fluid left your inner thighs slick.  Your wail was wanton, wanting and whining.

"I think six should remind you of who you are dealing with, kitten.  You will count and you will thank your benevolent master for the opportunity to correct yourself."

His first open hand slap makes you rock, breasts bouncing, at the strength of it.  Balling the sheet in your fists, gasping, "One… thank you, master."

Rubbing softly over your warmed skin, Loki traced the curve of your round cheeks, teasing your silken slit.  Oh how you wanted to push back against him, feel him from the inside, stretching you around his invasive digits.  But you didn't dare.  

"Tell me, pet.  Who do you belong to?"

"You, sir!"  Loki chose that moment to smack your ass hard.

"AH!  TWO!  Two!  Thank you, master!"  

Without pause, Loki swung again, his hard palm connecting with your yielding bum in a searing slap.  "THREE!  Thank you, master!  Thank you!"  

Tears clouded your vision.  Sore from supporting you, straining to keep yourself in place like Loki commanded, your elbows threatened to buckle.  Your voice was raw, hoarse from calling out, breathless at the relentless pace your master had set for you.

And there were three more strikes to come.

Loki tangled your hair in his iron grip, forcing your back to bend, exposing your neck.  "I wish you could see yourself, pet."

His tone was haughty.  High and mighty, like he was looking down his elegant nose at you and your depravity.  It made you wet.  It made you crave Loki, his rules, his discipline.  Maybe it's what made you such a perfect fit for each other.

Forcing his tongue into your waiting mouth, Loki thrust himself deeper, driving into you with the same intensity you imagined he would use later with his cock.  Just the idea of having Loki sheathed inside you caused a convulsion of your core.  Was it possible to cum like this?  

Rising, Loki massaged your tense shoulders, his hands warm on your chilled skin.  Taking his place behind you once more, his chest curving into your back, "Ready kitten?"

Nodding, you husked, "Yes, master."

Your bottom was hot after you thanked Loki for the sixth and final time.  Still denied your pleasure, the need for release was a pulsing energy in your body.  How Loki could hold out so long was just another nod to his other worldliness.  You, after all, were merely human.

"Please sir?  Please?"

"What is it you want, my darling little kitten?"  After all his harsh treatment, Loki was extremely sweet, petting your hair like the good kitten he knew you could be.

Gulping, embarrassment flashing through you, "Please make me cum."

Smirking at you, knowing too well that he was in complete control of you, "I thought you'd never ask."

Rolling you onto your back effortlessly, Loki took the time to plant kisses along your jawline, your collarbone.  Skilled fingers plucked at your overly sensitive nipples, rolling and stretching them in turn, making you mewl.  Without touching your straining bud, Loki parted your lower lips, earning a gasp of surprise in response. Settling between your widely spread thighs, stroking his stiffened spear just to torment you, “What’s rule number three, pet?” “I am not allowed to cum until you give me permission, sir.” “Correct.  And number four?”  Mesmerized, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Loki’s hand, or the way it was sliding over his satin steel. Whimpering with want, “Um… Four?  I… I have to ask your permission to cum.” Choosing that moment, you felt Loki toying with your entrance, giving you just an inch of his turgid length.  “Indeed, you do.”  Grunting, Loki filled you in one thrust.  

It took everything in you to not break the rules you had just recited.  Loki groaned as your velvet vice gripped him.  “You’re so tight kitten.  So tight.  I don’t think I can hold back.” “Don’t… please!  Please, let me cum with you… please sir!”  Begging was something that you were getting used to, but right now you’d do that and more to release the tension that Loki had built up inside of you.  His pelvis ground into your own.  Wrapping your legs over his hips, Loki snapped into you savagely, sending your spiral of desire sky high.  Bringing his hand up, caressing your cheek, Loki’s blue eyes captured your lust filled gaze.

“Do you want to climax, little one?  Do you want to feel my release too?” “Yes, Master!  Yes!  Please!”

“You have been a good girl.  Go on, let me feel you, darling.  Let yourself go!” With permission granted your body unraveled spectacularly.  Loki captured your lips in a kiss, swallowing your passionate pleas, pumping the last of his pleasure into your willing body.  Holding you close, your body molded to his, you laid locked together through the aftershocks of your intense love making. After your breathing had steadied and Loki had you wrapped up in his strong arms, you wiggled closer, savoring the strength of your bond with the God of Mischief.  

Maybe you loved being bossed around by Loki.  Maybe you loved being held at his side.  Maybe… just maybe, you were lucky enough to have a man that could both. @iamverity @brokenthelovely @nonsensicalobsessions @jessiejunebug @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @vodka-and-some-sass @mizfit2 @jamielea81 @archy3001 @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[calorieworkouts]

Not Giving 100 Percent Can Actually Help You Get Fitter

It took years of having a sizzling, on-again-off-again connection with working out to finally uncover a deep and also following love for physical fitness-- and a six-pack. My key? I offered myself a break and quit asking myself to be so hardcore. Seriously, seldom do I give greater than 70 percent of my max effort.

It's difficult to believe that you do not need to torture yourself to be healthy, particularly when every ripped-AF person you fulfill at a coffee bar is going crazy concerning the CrossFit class that simply made their eyes bleed (... awesome!). Besides, traditional brother wisdom as well as even scientific studies declare that the tougher you function out, the far better results you obtain. (Failure, brother!!! You got ta obtain to failing, BRO!!!) Yep, I swallowed that blue tablet too.

It's simply that hardcore workouts NEVER benefited me.

People thought I was healthy since I had the highest PT rating in my battalion-- as a previous medic, I might run 20 miles at the decrease of a hat as well as knock senseless 130 push-ups soon. In spite of being able to perform under pressure, I never ever felt fit.

That could've had something to do with the truth that I always had some kind of catastrophic injury that maintained me from being regular as well as acquiring muscular tissue. And also honestly, injury was fine with me due to the fact that I hated exercising. It was a high-stress, low-fun point for me, as well as I would certainly take any reason to prevent it.

So I chose being 'slim fat' and semi-sedentary throughout my very early- to mid-20s, just reverting to binges of hardcore exercise when I got fed up with the means my body felt and look, and also always wearing out or obtaining harmed. I was essentially a bulimic exerciser.

That you could enjoy your exercises as well as basically be a well balanced person hadn't struck me yet (failing, bro, failure!!!). But shortly after I transformed 28, I stumbled upon one of those YouTube video clips that simply takes place to resonate with you in a satori-like minute from God (is there a formula for that?). And also it had me consuming alcohol a brand-new flavor of Kool-Aid within 24 hours.

Firas Zahabi, head trainer at Tristar Gym, was featured on the Joe Rogan Show, where he spoke regarding minimizing exercise intensity for more consistency, better type, and also a lot more gains. That's where I found out about the 70 percent concept: Just on uncommon celebrations, Zahabi states, need to you expand on your own past 70 percent of your regarded maximum effort. Essentially that suggests less hardcore exercises and even more 'softcore' workouts.

Certified personal trainer Shawn Mynar concurs, saying that exercises for total fitness must primarily be full body and low strength, with your effort level somewhere in between 60-70 percent of your perceived max.

The suggestion is never ever to be worn down to ensure that you can do premium reps all throughout the day-- we're chatting anywhere from 5 to 7 3-5 minute mini-workouts-- that method, you can continue functioning out the following day (when hardcore lifters can barely leave the pot). It was great sufficient for elite marathoners and weightlifters, so I provided it a shot.

I was hooked after the initial day.

The very first point I observed was that I really delighted in the workouts. Rather of going cross-eyed as well as crying in an edge (OK ... perhaps it was never ever that negative), my 'softcore' mini-workouts were no longer than a coffee break-- and also just as energizing.

I did my first 5 sets of 10 push-ups at 9 a.m. and also was ready for the 2nd round by 10, then duplicated the cycle every hour or two until sunset-- either hitting the flooring right beside my creating desk or roaming to a park five mins from my house.

The finest component was that rather than wanting to the clock and reasoning, Ugh… I've gotta go work out, I in fact couldn't wait to escape from job to utilize my body and really feel like a human being once again. It was entirely trouble-free and also fun, which is the specific opposite of what working out had constantly been for me.

And yeah, I work from house-- so you may be thinking, um, this seems incredibly inaccessible, however I recognize a person who made use of a conference area in his workplace for the same kind of training. Where there's a will (and also a decently flexible work setting), there's a way.

I ended up completing the day with concerning 300 push-ups overall, which was greater than I would normally perform in my hardcore days, as well as I felt awesome-- no strains, no DOMS, no sobbing in dark edges. I did pull-ups the following day (each round was 3 sets of 7), as well as the very same point took place-- I simply wished to return to my bar and also do increasingly more, since I wasn't killing myself, I could actually enjoy the movement and also really feel energized.

I operated in days of burpees, simply 5 at once, brief sprints of 40 yards, squats, slabs, weightlifting-- rarely going over 70 percent max. And it was the exact same story for each: I fell much more crazy with health and fitness after each collection. No injuries, no exhaustion. Simply more energy and results.

Friends and household were commenting on my transforming figure within the first month.

My (undoubtedly somewhat unusual) family participants began chatting about my 'wonderful belly.' By month two, I had actually a specified six-pack for the initial time in my life, as well as my infamously hollow upper breast was lastly starting to fill in. The truth that I was still exercising by the third month was a testimony to how well the 70 percent regulation had functioned for me because I would certainly never stuck to anything for that long.

This isn't to say there isn't a sort of individual that can obtain stimulated by crazy-intense exercises. It's simply that I was never ever that person, try as I did. The very best component of it all? After years of fearing workout, exercising by doing this lastly triggered my love for physical fitness. And also that's something every person can use.

Dan Dowling is an author and train in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Obtained some physical fitness or profession objectives you're putting off? Swing by his blog site, Millennial Success.

[sevsnapeoriginalfanfix]

I Didn’t Think Anyone Would Ever Need to Know...1/4

“Severus, open up. Now!” Hermione knocked furiously on the heavy, wooden door. Silence. The loud knocking persisted. She heard a slight rustling. A groan. She fidgeted anxiously, waiting for the door to open. She waited. And she waited. After what felt like hours, the door creaked open slightly and an exhausted, infuriated set of dark eyes met hers. “I certainly hope this is a life or death situation. No, I retract my statement. No life is worth disturbing my sleep at 3am. What do you want, Miss Granger?” he snarled. Hermione was undeterred and rivaled his anger with unrelenting joy. “I figured it out. The final step to our potion.”

Hermione had been pursuing a second degree at Hogwarts, much like a Master’s degree in the Muggle world. Originally she had been under Professor McGonagall’s tutelage for her thesis, but Hermione found herself more and more drawn to the subject of potions...and subsequently the Potions master. Not that she would ever admit it, of course. Now her final project was to invent a new potion and she had spent countless hours trying millions- perhaps more- combinations to create the potion. Hermione had decided to create a potion to cure arthritis. Sure, it wasn’t the most glamorous potion, but many older wizards suffered from it due to wand use. Hermione also hoped it would help her parents who suffered from it in the Muggle world...not that they would know who helped them after she had been forced to Obliviate them. Snape studied Hermione’s face intently. He wanted sleep more than anything at this moment. On the other hand, falling back asleep at this point would be an arduous task since the arthritis he himself suffered often kept him awake. He wrestled with his thoughts a bit more and finally opened the door. Getting Hermione to go away would be a harder task than simply letting her in. “It was wormwood. Of all things! Why didn’t we think of that? Actually, I think we did, didn’t we? But it was at the beginning. It didn’t mix well with the adder’s fork. After we got rid of that, it might have worked okay. Then again, without the dandelion root...” Hermione babbled endlessly and Severus simply put up a hand signaling her to stop. “Miss Granger, at this hour I’m interested only in whether the potion works or not. I do not need to know every variation attempted.” Hermione shot him a glare of annoyance but quickly sat down the beaker with the potion on his table. Even his dour manner couldn’t upset her now. “Wait a minute,” she began with a giggle. “Do you sleep in your teaching outfit or did you get out of your pajamas just to greet me at the door?” Even at 3am, the professor couldn’t stand to be seen as an ordinary, even vulnerable, human being. Severus smirked. “I prefer to keep the mystery alive, thank you.” Hermione thought she may have even seen a slight smile start to form at the edges of his upturned lips.

“Now, the potion, if you please.” Hermione nodded and poured the proper amount into a much smaller beaker from her bag. “Drink up!” she exclaimed and watched him bring the potion to his lips. “If this kills me, you’ll be in trouble, Miss Granger,” he teased. “And what will you do about it? You’ll be dead!” she laughed. There was a definite smile on his face this time, even if it was only slight. Hermione was relieved. After the words escaped her lips, she wondered if she had taken things too far. After all, they nearly lost him to Nagini in the Battle of Hogwarts. He’d only made a full recovery a year or so ago. Hermione shuddered at the thought and watched her professor finish the potion. He winced. “It’s dreadful,” he commented dryly. “I was a little busy trying to change the world, Severus. I didn’t have time to make it taste like butterbeer,” she retorted. Hermione relished these moments. She was allowed to call him Severus, yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to call her Hermione. Perhaps it was his way of keeping people at arms length. Nonetheless, their professional relationship was mostly congenial...or as congenial as Severus Snape could be. They traded witty, sarcastic comments and though he would never say it aloud, Severus enjoyed her humor and intelligence.

“It seems you’ve disturbed my slumber for nothing. My hands are still every bit as pained as ever,” Severus said grimly.

“Patience!” Hermione warned. “It takes approximately 30 minutes to begin working.” Severus huffed and furrowed his brow. Could this not have waited until morning? “Fine,” he muttered. “Then I’m breaking out the Firewhisky.” Severus made his way over to the cabinet and pulled out a goblet and a half-full container of the cinnamon flavored liquor. He lifted up a second glass and looked quizzically at Hermione, as if offering her a glass. She chuckled, “Severus, it’s 3 in the morning.” He nodded. “Yes, I’m quite aware of that. And if I’m going to have to stay up with you, I’m going to need some liquor. Now, do you want some or not?” Hermione debated but finally nodded. If the potion didn’t work after all, she’d need it. He poured the goblets to the brim and took a seat beside her at the kitchen table.

They made small talk. Did Severus know that Ginny and Harry were engaged? Did Hermione know that Flitwick was finally retiring? Did Severus have any “insufferable know-it-all” first years like herself? Had Hermione kept in contact with Ron Weasley? Not much, Hermione had admitted. And for good reason, since the foul git had cheated on her with a sixth year student. Severus hadn’t heard that piece of gossip and shook his head. “That imbecile didn’t deserve you on his best day.” Hermione’s eyes widened and her breath hitched. Had he just...complimented her? Maybe even hit on her? Surely not, she assured herself.

Severus cursed himself. “Control, Severus. Control,” he thought. The truth was, Severus thought Hermione was the ultimate catch. He was twice her age and knew he didn’t stand a chance- even if he wanted a chance- but it didn’t stop him from admiring her as a woman. She was charming, wise, and stunningly gorgeous for a know-it-all. He meant what he said. Ron Weasley certainly was no match for the ambitious, beautiful witch before him. Severus knew that he was no match for her, either. “Greasy hair, pale skin, deep scars, a large nose, and painfully skinny body. Every girl’s dream...” he thought sarcastically.

After the comment about Weasley, Hermione and Severus sat in silence for a few moments, both lost in thought and unsure of what to say next. Eventually, Hermione broke the silence and exclaimed, “I may need another!” and poured more Firewhisky in her glass. Severus nodded and re-filled his as well. The pair made more chit-chat until Severus felt a tingling sensation in his right hand. Hermione and Severus watched as his fingers straightened themselves out from their tense, curled position. He looked up at her with bewilderment. “I...I think it’s working!” he stammered excitedly before regaining his composure and resumed speaking at his slow pace in a deep, controlled tone. “Well done, Miss Granger.” Hermione couldn’t control her excitement. She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We did it together!” she squealed. “And this doesn’t even hurt?” she gave his hand another small squeeze. He shook his head. His face was expressionless, but his eyes glinted with gratitude. She held his hand longer than she meant to. For a moment they locked eyes. Immediately, they both dropped hands, equally uncomfortable with the palpable tension between them. “Perhaps a toast to our hard work?” suggested Hermione. She was beginning to feel the effects of her beverage, but surely one more wouldn’t hurt. “I believe that would be acceptable,” he concurred. They filled their glasses. “To Hermione...for your hard work, determination, and for this damn potion working, even if you did wake me up in the dead of night,” he said with a raised glass. “To Severus...who...wait, did you call me Hermione?” He glanced down to the floor, annoyed his own slip of the tongue.“You cured my ailment, so I suppose you deserve as much,” he said without meeting her eyes. Hermione smiled warmly when he finally looked up. “To Severus, for all of your help. I couldn’t have done this without you. Behind that stern but handsome demeanor, I believe you really do have a heart of gold.” HANDSOME? This time it was Hermione who had the slip of tongue. Why had she said that? Was the it the glow of success? Was it the Firewhisky? She only hoped he wouldn’t think too much of it...

He would, in fact, think too much of it. Had she just said handsome? To him? Surely it was the Firewhisky. Or perhaps she had meant to say something else. That had to have been it.

“Handsome? I believe you have spent too long staring at books and your eyesight has been affected already. Perhaps you should see Madame Pomfrey about that,” he sneered. Hermione shook her head.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, sir. I wouldn’t exactly describe myself as attractive, either. My hair is too bushy, my thighs are too large. My pores are too big and…well, you yourself have commented on my teeth.”

She smiled after her comment, demonstrating that she held no resentment from the past. Severus was unsure how to continue. His heart screamed, “Tell her she is the most beautiful witch you’ve ever seen, you fool!” His insecurity told him to bite his tongue. The lack of confidence he harbored won out and he shifted in uncomfortable silence. Hermione was disappointed, yet not surprised. She shrugged off the perceived rejection and continued.

“Anyhow, I suppose our time together is drawing to an end. I will graduate in a month and our project is nearly finalized. But we are two misfits in this world, both intrigued more with knowledge than people. I see no reason that we couldn’t be friends.” She glanced up at Severus, who looked as if he had just swallowed an uncomfortably large pill. Friends, of course. He should have known that she viewed him as a friend, only. He debated the proposition. He would love to correspond with Hermione after she left Hogwarts, yet he found that friends had always led to trouble and heartache. He really didn’t need friends. Severus Snape did not need anyone. Nonetheless, he stuck out his hand. Hermione guffawed.

“A handshake? Severus, have you ever had a friend before in your life?” She stood from the table, wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, and squeezed with her face touching the side of his cheek. He froze in place. Being touched was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation. “You know, if we are going to be friends, you’re going to have to learn to hug better than that,” she said in a joking manner, although she was completely serious. He exhaled into a nervous laugh, unsure of what to do or say next. He wanted nothing more than to just whirl around and kiss her. He repeated his mantra again in his head. “Control, Severus. Control.”

Hermione was also unsure of what to do. If only he felt for her what she felt for him. He was unlike anyone she has ever known...strong, intelligent, charming in his own Snape way, mysterious, and to her, exceedingly handsome. Her thoughts were interrupted when he spoke. “It can’t surprise you that friends are few and far between for me. And we certainly don’t hug,” said Severus. Hermione furrowed her brow and looked at him long and hard. “Severus, can I ask you a personal question?” she inquired. “No,” he responded curtly, and even though his comment was followed with a smirk, he was only half joking. Hermione shook her head and laughed. She continued anyway. “Have you ever had a girlfriend? I mean, not that I think you couldn’t have one, you just seem to not get close to anyone.” His face blanched at the uncomfortable question. He thought for a moment about how to respond and answered vaguely, “I have had some...female encounters.” Encounters? What the hell did that mean? Had he dated or not? Then it hit her...Severus Snape was referring to sex. She wondered what it would be like to be with him intimately. Was he has rough as his personality or was he secretly gentle? What did he...look like? Hermione blushed at the thought. “Oh...I see...” she began, not sure how to proceed. All she knew is she envied those women. “But no relationships?” He shook his head slowly and Hermione thought she detected some slight embarrassment at the acknowledgment. “Have you ever wanted a relationship?” she asked boldly.

Severus was very disturbed by the content of this conversation. He simply didn’t share feelings. He hardly even allowed himself to feel them. Part of him wanted the conversation to end right then and there. This was FAR out of his comfort zone. Part of him felt uncharacteristically at ease talking to Hermione about such matters. She always had a way of easing his anxieties somehow. He shook his head before responding. “Whether I have wanted a relationship or not is no matter. What matters is the simple fact that I have not. But Hermione, you must remember that you are still my student. My private life and secrets belong to me. It is late at night...early in the morning, rather, and I’m going to sleep now that the potion has worked. Please see yourself out.” After the words escaped his lips, even he was shocked. Every time he nearly got close to someone, he pulled away or lashed out. It was like a train wreck he was powerless to stop. Hermione blinked angrily at him. She opened her mouth several times to speak before words came out. “Severus...you know was well as I do that at Hogwarts, second degree students are considered much more to be colleagues than pupils. I am 21 years old...I am not a child. But perhaps...” she paused a moment and looked deeply into his black eyes. “Maybe this is why you haven’t had a relationship. You push those away who truly care for you.” Instead or responding in his usual anger, Severus stared ashamedly at the floor. She was right. She was always right. Unable to speak, he simply nodded. He expected her to storm out. What he didn’t expect was for her to walk to him, place a hand on his chin, lift his face up to hers, and plant a soft, tender kiss on his lips.

[ddp456]

A Little Lumberjane Christmas - A Gravity Falls Christmas Story/Poem (Re-post)

Hey, all!  @ddp456​ here, and due to the season, I wanted to re-share one of my favorite creations to spread some holiday cheer.  I changed the format a bit, hopefully making it a bit more readable on Tumblr than the original versions here and here.  Again, happy holidays, and please enjoy!

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Written by @ddp456​ Illustrations by @codylabs​ Based on an idea by Wolf90

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It was Christmas Eve and time to deck the halls, in the podunk town called Gravity Falls. Weirdmageddon had pass, its horrors thankfully gone, bringing peace back to the sleepy state of Oregon.

Its natural weirdness seemed to had taken a pause, as the whole town awaited the arrival of ol' Santa Claus. Stockings were hung and trees were dressed really bright. From a distance, the whole town looked like a giant Christmas light.

Families were brought together, and friends would come and unite, proving enough Christmas cheer can make anything right. But one unfortunate soul didn't see things that way. She sat on a rooftop, watching nightfall rise up from the passing day. Who was this person, seemingly unaffected by Christmas joy? Why, it's the Lumberjack Princess, Wendy Corduroy!

Wendy hidden herself away at the top of the Mystery Shack, as the brutal winter winds blew away at her back. She didn't mind the cold, save for the tips of her boot-covered toes, and the feeling of frost nipping away at her stubby little nose. Wendy wanted a safe place to brood and mope and think, as she sipped from a thermos of hot cocoa, her favorite winter drink.

She had gotten out of her dad's apocalypse training by lying about work. She avoided Soos's Mystery Shack staff party by saying it wasn't her quirk. The rest of the town was swept away in the Christmas action, as McGucket threw a huge celebration in what was once the Northwest Mansion. Her friends Tambry, Lee, Nate, and Thompson begged her to come. Wendy refused. "No thanks. It sounds kinda dumb."

Even the Pines twins made their own attempt. An offered trip to Piedmont, California only added to Wendy's contempt. Wendy turned down their invitation, hoping Mabel and Dipper wouldn't shed a tear. "Sorry, guys. Maybe we'll see next year."

All Wendy wanted was to be left alone with her pain. Why did the world make it feel like she was insane? To her loved ones, she didn't want to seem like a grouch, but because of all the lies she told, Wendy couldn't even go back to her own couch.

Wendy's wandering mind instantly came to a halt, as she could hear crushed snow beneath a heavy foot fault. She sprang into action, her ninja-like moves were so slick. Wendy couldn't believe her eyes, "Holy crap! It's St. Nick!"

Santa Claus stood before Wendy in all his glory. The red outfit and fuzzy beard definitely matched the often-heard stories. Despite her older age, Wendy didn't doubt her own eyes. After all, this was Gravity Falls, where the weirdos loved to hide!

Wendy asked, "Santa, no offense, but what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be posing on soda cans with a cute polar bear? Don't you have, like, a zillion presents to give out today? I won't bother you. You can be on your way!"

Santa laughed. "You need not worry. My deeds with get their well due. But tonight, dearest Wendy, I've come to speak with you. It makes Santa sad to see you so blue. Your Christmas spirit I intend to renew. So, come join me this night. Give me a chance to help make things right. By Christmas Morn, I make this promise so true, your outlook on Christmas will gain a new view."

"Thanks for the invite, Santa." Wendy scoffed at the plan so bland. She sat back down in the snow, "But, yeah, a hard pass from me, my man."

With her back turned, Wendy was definitely out of range, to see "Jolly ol' St. Nick" undergo a sudden change. His famous smile faded into a frown turned amiss, as his opened, gloved hands turned into enraged fists.

"Young lady," Santa said without as much as raising his voice. "I'm afraid you don't understand. I'm not giving you a choice."

"WHA – "

Before she knew it, Wendy was tackled to the ground, She punched, scratched, and kicked, but in the end, was helplessly bound. Left in a hogtie, Wendy could only look around, the identity of her attackers made her let out a disgusted sound. "The gnomes from the woods?! This can't be right! Why are you bugging me on Christmas Eve night? And what's the deal with the elf uniforms? What's your beef? I thought you reformed?"

Jeff the gnome stepped up, since the other gnomes weren't very social. "Sorry, kid. It's just business. I swear this isn't personal. We gnomes need extra scratch for these long winter seasons, and the big man likes to outsource. Need there be a better reason?"

"HO HO HO! Well done, my boys!" Santa heaved with huge amounts of joy. "Please place Miss Corduroy in my big sack of toys! For a job well done, expect a little extra in your checks. Consider it a gracious extension of my respect."

The gnomes cheered as they started to drag Wendy away. Their redheaded captive did everything she could to stay. She pulled and tugged and screamed with all of her might, but the ropes holding her were simply way too tight.

"You can't do this to me!" Wendy yelled. "I have rights! What's the matter, Santa? Too scared to fight your own fights? You know against me, you'd have no such luck! For the last time, let me go, ya fat fu – MMPH!"

The angry ginger's potty mouth was hurting the simple gnomes' brains, so they decided to gag her with a candy cane. From her lips, Wendy couldn't get the sticky treat to waver. The only positive in all this was that it was mint-flavored.

They tossed Wendy into the oversized bag, usually filled with cheer. She let out a muffled cry, landing hard on her derriere. The sack's top was then tied off, robbing Wendy of all light, as Santa and prisoner sailed away well into the night.

Hours felt like seconds until the sack's top was undone. Wendy sprang up from the bag. This was her chance to run! Her ropes and candy cane gag had disappeared. The road in front of her had been perfectly cleared. Before Wendy could take one step, a sturdy hand clamped onto her shoulder. She turned to find Santa, about two seconds away from scolding her.

"Welcome, Wendy," he greeted, "to my humble abode. I wouldn't bother fleeing, for there's nowhere to go. We're at the North Pole, far away from civilization. This is my workshop. Call it my own private nation. Your cell phone won't work. All internet access is password-protected. My best advice is for you to do what you're directed. Now, join me, won't you? The next room is pretty fine. I really want you to see my toy assembly line."

Wendy sighed. There wasn't anything she could do. What if Santa's words were absolutely true? The best course of action was to play along with the part, and trick the geezer that she had a change of heart. The two walked down and across a large loading bay while Santa's nine reindeer happily ate their servings of hay.

Santa led Wendy to the toy assembly line, when the annoyed teen let out a whine. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm telling you, I can't stay. Can't you just leave coal in my stocking, and send me on my way?"

"HO-HO-HO!" Santa chuckled. "Why, Wendy, you're such a kidder! You can't lie to Santa. I must insist you reconsider. I know alone in the dead of winter is what you'd prefer. But in this case, I really cannot concur. There are reasons to my seemingly harsh way. I promise you'll reflect fondly on it one day.

Wendy crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. "I really doubt that, you kidnapping pile of cow dung!"

Santa beaded his eyes, as he tried to stay reserved. "Maybe it's time to get what you deserve. With that negative attitude of yours – and your bad behavior. Santa's got the way to curb that. How about some hard labor?!"

With a hard push, Wendy nearly crashed into the conveyor belt. She looked around to see the hand she'd been dealt. An army of elves stood neatly in line, they slaved and worked tirelessly to finish their projects in time. An endless supply of toys, games, and electronics flew by at frenzied rates, to order to reach children in every country, province, and state.

"Whoa!" Wendy noticed. "Those aren't the gnomes. These elves are real!" "Of course they are," Santa prided. "Back home, this job needs the real deal! Who else could deliver such gifts with speed and joy? They pull out all the stops so each child gets a toy. These wondrous folks are able to look past their own wants and needs, to bring Christmas cheer by doing good deeds. Such is the lesson I expect you to learn tonight. So, jump right in and help, and please don't put up a fight!"

Wendy stepped up to the belt, finding that she was way too tall. "Hey, how can I help? These tools were made for someone super small!"

"Hmm…" Santa stroked his beard. "By George, you're right! Why didn't I see it before?" The old man snapped his fingers. "There! Now, you can easily do your chore!"

With a blink of her eye, Wendy had shrunk by half. She was horrified to see that she barely reached Santa's calf. Her lumberjack outfit and thick winter coat, were now a dorky, striped one piece, and curled shoes that looked like boats. Dipper's pine-tree cap became a cute matching hat with bell tips. Her long copper hair turned pigtails made her lose her grip.

"AHH!" Wendy shrieked as she felt her now-pointed ears. "Change me back!" She demanded. "Don't think I can't kick your chunky rear!"

Santa used one hand to hold back the pint-sized, fist-swinging threat. "Oh, give it up, kid. Just look at me! I'm not even breaking a sweat! All this protesting is really getting you nowhere. Help the elves with the toys, and I'll think about changing you back. I swear. Only when your Christmas spirit is revived, will you be allowed to go home. I'll leave you be now. Santa's got better things to do than listen to you drone."

Santa took his leave, when he stopped after a few paces. "I hate to do this to you, but to be honest, I'm really too old for chases." He snapped his fingers once more, the room echoed with a click. Wendy looked down, "What's this? Another one of your tricks?"

A metal tether was placed around her ankle, meant to hold her in place. Wendy couldn't run away or jump. She could barely walk around or pace. "You think you got me, old man?" Wendy bragged. "I'll be outta here super-quick." She reached under her hat, "As soon as I find my lock – "

"Looking for these?"

Santa flashed a grin, displaying Wendy's trusty lockpicks in his hand. "That's right, kiddo. Santa knows all your secrets. That's why he's the man!" Wendy was left speechless as her captor soon disappeared from sight. She pulled on her chain with all her might. The freckled elf tugged and yanked and fought against the shackle, but every escape attempt resulted in a painful ankle tackle.

Now faced with no other choice, Wendy turned around to accept her fate. She grabbed a toy off the assembly line and followed alongside with her elven mates. But after a few minutes, Wendy found the task to be a bore. She elbowed the nearest working elf neighbor, "So, what are you in for?"

The tiny elf stared at Wendy in a confused state. "I don't think you understand. We elves choose our own fate. We each have free will. Santa doesn't force us to stay. All of us volunteer here. We don't even ask for any pay!"

Wendy looked around at the other elves workers walking around scot-free. She was the only one chained down to the heavy machinery.

"Then, I don't get it." Wendy asked. "Why do you do all this?" The elf replied, "Because the end result is truly pure bliss. Seeing the happy, smiling faces of the grateful girls and boys, it's what powers our great quest. It brings us great joy!"

Wendy grew more curious. "But how can you see all of these things? There's too many to see and they're so far away. Are you just pulling my strings?"

"Watch…"

Wendy grew silent as from the assembly wall came something new. From a small crack, some kind of electrical portal grew. The portal shifted from different planes into a whole new world. Before Wendy's emerald eyes, did the elf's story unfurled.

A little girl knelt on the side of her bed, praying to the powers that be to watch over her loved ones' heads.

"That's little Clara," introduced Wendy's new friend. "She volunteers to take care of her grandma, helping around the house to no end. Even though her family has little money for presents, she gives them little grief. For this, we're giving her a special dollie to provide her some well-needed relief."

A new item flew down the conveyor belt at rocket speeds. Dozens of elven hands rushed to give it the details it needs. A blonde, huggable doll was the final result. Its design was truly perfect. There wasn't anything possible to insult. It flew off the line and into Santa's bag in an almost magical way, and soon, into Clara's awaiting arms on Christmas Day.

"I have to admit," Wendy's mood began to lighten. "That was really neat." She no longer felt like fighting.

"Then, why don't you give it a shot," the elf did suggest. "You're part elf now. You can do it. Try your best!"

Wendy began to picture a child in need, someone who was indeed worthy of the elves' creed. She opened her eyes and gasped aloud, as Wendy was soon presented with her very own cloud. The other elves murmured and gathered around, to see what child Wendy's mind had found.

The image became clear, displaying a teenage boy in punk clothing. His hair was blue. His jeans were torn and holey. But man, was his attitude loathing. The teen was with his mother, doing some late holiday shopping. But to Wendy's shock, she could make out some swears dropping. "No, Mom, you moron! What were you thinking? Are you always this dumb, or have you been possibly drinking? I said I wanted Super Linguini Bros. 3, not Part 2! Man, I honestly can't believe I'm related to you!"

As the image in the portal faded away, Wendy's blood boiled, perhaps more than anytime that day. The boy's expected present had appeared before her, half-finished. But her budding Christmas spirit had been quickly diminished. She picked up the video game machine, and threw it over her shoulder. Wendy let out a chuckle as her insight became ever bolder. All of the elves were shocked and frozen in pause, as the now-wrecked toy landed at the feet of Santa Claus.

Wendy spun around in horror. She knew an apology would be way too late. This latest outburst would surely seal her fate.

Instead, he approached Wendy without a sign of anger and rage. Santa rubbed his bearded chin, knowing he had to take from another page. "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. We need to go inside to find why you despise Christmas Day."

He stepped up to Wendy, who was still stuck in place, and placed his black glove over her freckled face.

"What are you doing?" She tried to pull away. "Stop being a creep! Get your stinking hand off me! I can't see a peep!"

Santa removed his hand, and Wendy was now filled with a sense of dread. She had been warped to a dark room with a yellow light hanging ahead. "Hello?" Wendy called out, no longer shackled. "Is anyone there?" "Sorry!" A new voice answered. "I'm on my way. I had to finish my hair!"

A purple and pink glow invaded the darkened space. Wendy entered a fighting stance, just in case. The small ball became a pixie, straight out of a fable. "Weird." Wendy noted. "You kinda look like my friend, Mabel."

The brunette fairy gave off a familiar smile, "Hey, there! Welcome! I hope you stay awhile. Beyond this point, lie the doors three. They represent Christmas Past, Present, and Future. Yippee! Each door will take you to a different point in time on Christmas Day. By journey's end, we'll learn the real reason of why you feel this way."

Wendy shrugged, "It isn't like I have any choice." The pixie agreed and waved, "No, not really. Just follow my voice! If you need anything, I'll be your busy bee! All you need to do is shout, "Hey, Christmas Fairy!""

The fairy led Wendy to the door labelled, "Christmas Past." She opened the door, "Come on! This will be a blast!" Wendy was reluctant, but did what the sprite asked. The redhead couldn't believe it! She was now ten years in the past!

They stood in a better version of the Corduroy household, one that hadn't been yet damaged by Manly Dan's tantrums left uncontrolled. In the farthest corner of a somewhat messy kitchen, a super-tall, redheaded woman baked cookies as her pigtailed daughter pitched-in. The child was covered in white flour from head and toe, and her chubby, little fingers were caked in sticky dough. But the deed was finally done. Into the oven, the cookies went in. The mother tightly hugged her baby, looking over her proudly with a grin. "I'm so proud of you, my little one. You perfectly made my recipe: Chocolate-frosted Christmas trees with just a pinch of sesame. One day, you'll be able to do it alone. Maybe to impress some lucky boy, or when you have a family of your own, my dearest Wendy Corduroy."

The little girl held her mother even tighter, her hidden anxiety and social fears became a tad bit lighter.

"Mama…"

The Christmas Fairy watched the heartwarming scene with glee. "How adorable!" She turned around, finding something unexpectedly. Wendy had turned away from the memory, as she hugged her own shoulders. "Can we get out of here, please? This all is getting older and older."

The pixie sighed, as she waved the memory away. "Maybe we can find something even better here in present day." Wendy followed the fairy to the next Christmas door, "Are we almost done? I'm not gonna lie. This is becoming a chore."

The fairy reached the large door, marked with label, "Present," so that Wendy could bear witness to ongoing Christmas events. This time, she was presented with not one window, or two, but three! On her left side, Wendy could make out a familiar, half-broken Christmas tree. The Gift Shop of the Mystery Shack was decorated with green and red. A nearby buffet table held quite an awesome spread!

The new Mr. Mystery, Soos, stood at the counter with elbows resting. His saddened face was downright depressing. Melody, his girlfriend and partner at the Mystery Shack, suddenly snuck behind him and gave him a hug-attack. "Hey, why so glum, big guy?" she wondered. "Gee, Melody." Soos lamented. "This party was nothing but a blunder. Everybody went to that McGucket shindig instead. With the way things are going, maybe I should have stayed in bed. Even Wendy, who works here, couldn't even bother to attend, Let's face it, this idea was nothing but a dead end."

Melody lowered her head against Soos's shoulder fat, "Oh, don't be silly. Just you forget about that! They can have their stupid party. Let them be. We'll have our own little Christmas; just you and me! And don't mind Wendy. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you. Besides, with us alone, we can make our Christmas a bit more "blue.""

The couple's lips met as they shared a Christmas kiss, though Wendy turned her head and quickly dismissed. "Okay! Moving on!" She fled the scene with swift feet, though she secretly thought the moment was sorta sweet.

The middle window allowed Wendy to view the snow-covered woods, as four burly soldiers followed a path, their heads covered in hoods. Wendy easily recognized those running around in the dead of winter making noise, It was her father, Manly Dan, and her brothers, the Corduroy boys!

Marcus, Kevin, and Gus followed along with dear old Dad, "Keep going!" Dan barked. "Onwards, my beefy lads! Those monsters this summer were only the beginning! We'll practice and train day and night to make sure we keep winning!"

The youngest boy, Gus, started to complain, "How'd Wendy get out of this? She's totally to blame! She said she couldn't come because of work? Yeah, right! She's full of it! What a jerk!"

It was then when Manly Dan came to a stop. The boys crashed into his mighty form, and dropped. He stuck a finger in his smallest son's face. "You watch your tongue, boy! Don't be a disgrace!" That girl beat the odds and surprised us all, She helped saved this town from its ultimate downfall. Wendy's proven herself to me. My stone-cold heart she had won, I only wish she was here to show you boys how to get the job done! But my girl's not here, so us four will have to do. We'll work together on this blessed day to show the world that Corduroys rule!"

The boys rallied around their father's battle cry, and Wendy watched them march without batting an eye. "Don't think I'm not touched by Dad's words. I hate to betray his trust. I just wanted to get out of apocalypse training without a fuss. Living through Weirdmageddon was more than enough for me. After that mess, couldn't we relax and let things be?"

Wendy's attention was drawn by the window on the right. Every part of the Northwest Mansion was bathed in glorious light. Its new owner, Fiddleford McGucket, had really turned things around. To properly celebrate, he threw a Christmas party for the whole town! Mingles of classes, both rich and poor, engaged with each other without signs of bore. Gathered at a distant table were a collection of Wendy's chums, Thompson, Tambry, Nate, Lee, and even Robbie V., that gothic bum. They sat bored out of their minds, their attention spans were wearing thin, without their fearless leader to swoop in for the win. The plucky cashier's mischievous mind usually created their favorite dares, games, and pranks, and now without her around, the mellow atmosphere really did stank! Surprisingly enough, Thompson threw his fist down! "Why are we just sitting here? Sure, Wendy's not around, but would she want us to sit around and pout? No way! She'd tell us to get off our butts, no doubt! C'mon, guys. Let's make our Wendy proud! We'll cause a little mayhem and make this party loud! He lifted his half-drank cup of punch into the air, as the rest of the teens joined in with the cheer:

"For Wendy!"

Wendy backed away from the third open portal, "I'm not really sure if I get this moral. Sure, all three present views have people that miss me, but their Christmases seemed to be better if I left things be."

The pixie bobbed her head, "Oh, Wendy. Try looking at this way instead. All of these groups would be better if you were there, but in your absence, they refuse to let their Christmas fall into despair. They celebrate what they have, versus what they have not. Now, with that said, maybe is there something more to Christmas that you thought?"

"Perhaps…" Wendy said, stroking her chin with curiosity. "Great!" The fairy proclaimed. "There's one last thing to see!" However, Wendy's interests soon broke away, as the door called "Christmas Future" made her want to stay. "Hold on!" The sprite cried out. "There's nothing interesting in here, I bet, and I'm not sure if Santa wants you to see that yet."

"It's nice to want things." Wendy opened the door and smirked. "What's Santa hiding now, that big, colossal jerk?" To Wendy's amazement, she was back at Santa's workshop. The lines of elves went on building toys non-stop. The big man himself surveyed his on-going mission, as he stood at the assembly line with his newest addition. Santa patted the shoulder of the pigtailed elf with a familiar, striped uniform. Her frozen, freckled beam was anything but the norm. The elf didn't even so much as breathe or blink, as her hands blindly manufactured new goods with a "clink, clink, clink!"

Wendy covered her mouth, "No! No way! This cannot be! I know that mindless little elf – that's me!"

Wendy's stomach grew nauseous as she stumbled away. Her pixie friend pleaded with her to stay. "Please, Wendy. You don't understand! This possible future is not Santa's ultimate plan!" But Wendy refused to hear her anymore. "Stay away from me! Let me outta this place!" she roared.

The blackened arena shattered like broken glass, Wendy was back in front of Santa and his elven class. The force of the mighty ginger had broken Santa's spell, as her outburst made him land on his jingle bells.

Wendy marched towards him with a nasty glare, until she was pulled back by her ankle snare. "I've had it with you, fat man! You've hit my last nerve! Now, it's about time that I give you what you deserve! You kidnap me and bring me to this awful place, and then you turn me into one of the elven race! You threaten me with child labor? So what? Big deal! Do you know the geezer I work for? He's an even bigger heel! Then, you dare to invade my mindscape and some, and pervert my most private of memories, you scum! You wanna make me your slave? I'd want you to try. Come a few steps closer, and I'll be happy to give you a black eye! I'll give you one last chance to change your mind. I'm too generous, I know. I'm not asking, I'm telling: LET-ME-GO!"

The other elves remained silent as Santa stood upright. His demeanor had changed to that of sorrow, not fright. "My poor Wendy Corduroy. I feel I failed you. For on this night, I was unable to give you Christmas spirit renewed. Your anger and pain is just way too great, I fear this time, ol' St. Nick had arrived too, too late. Your fate has been sealed. I'm sorry it sounds so grim. I have no other choice but to leave you to…him…

With that, Santa and his elves took their leave, leaving Wendy stunned as she couldn't believe. "Where are you all going? What? The truth was too much to bear? Didn't anyone hear me? I said lemme outta here!"

Now, left by herself and trapped in the empty hall, Wendy slumped down into a saddened ball. Her green eyes grew watery, but she refused to cry. To give her captors the satisfaction, the girl would rather die. The worse thing of all no one knew she was stuck here, as they enjoyed their Christmases without worry or care.

"I can't really blame them." Wendy said, with her chin on her knees. "I know I have hang-ups about Christmas. That part's solely on me. Still, I wish that someone could look beyond their bliss, and see that I was missing and things were amiss."

Little did Wendy know, as her mind began to wander, a new portal formed on the assembly wall beyond yonder. She didn't notice the window leading away from this nightmare, until she could make out familiar voices she'd know anywhere.

"Dipper? Dipper? Are you in there? Where are you now? To where did you disappear?"

Wendy climbed on top of the conveyor belt, as the icy feeling in her heart started to melt. Dipper Pines sat on his bed, with a wireless phone in hand, as his twin Mabel charged into the room with a demand. "Dipper, come join the party! What's the matter with you?" He explained to his sister, "Mabel, it's Wendy. I can't get through! All I wanted was to wish her a Merry Christmas, but no one seems to know where she is! I tried the Shack, and Tambry and Nate and the other teens. And no one picks up at her home. The phone just rings and rings! I don't mean to be overprotective, Mabel. I know I have a choice, but I'd feel so much better if I could hear Wendy's voice."

"Oh, Dipper," Mabel sat next to him on his bed. "Quit being such a big worry-head. Wendy's a big girl. She can handle things by her own. The last thing she'd want you to do is make this overblown. It's not a big deal. Christmas isn't Wendy's thing. If she wanted to be here, she would have given us a ring. Remember last summer? Here, I'll give you a clue. You can't force someone to do something they don't wanna do. Now, come on, already! Turn that frown upside-down! Let's get back to the party before anyone notices you're not around!"

And with that, Mabel went back on her way, but in spite of her speech, Dipper still wanted to stay. His parents' party was filled with family friends unknown, and older cousins that rather spend more time on their cell phones. The thirteen-year-old felt like a stranger in his own house, wishing for something that could keep his Christmas spirit from being doused.

He sighed, and lurched forward with a sigh. "Mabel's right, but I couldn't help but try. I know Wendy's busy, but I still wish she would have come. Maybe then, this stupid party wouldn't be so lonely and dumb."

It was then that Dipper made a wish that he hoped would travel far: "I hope you're having a Merry Christmas, Wendy…wherever you are."

A heartbroken Wendy rested her forehead against the portal's seem, when at long last, her eyes started to teem. A line of tears traveled down each cheek as she started to cry. She didn't think of herself, but of her special little guy. "I'm so sorry, Dipper." Wendy sniffled. "I really made things a mess. I wish I could make it right. I should have said "yes.""

"Wendy?" "Dipper?"

"AAH!" The boy screamed as he flew off the bed, convinced at first, he was hearing voices in his head. But sure enough, in a wavy window above his room, contained the image of Wendy, with a sense of doom.

"Wendy?" Dipper asked again. "Is it really you in there?" "Of course it is, dork." She said from the portal in mid-air.

Dipper moved towards the vision of his crush, and upon seeing what was wrong, his voice went in a rush. "Wendy, what's happened? Why aren't you tall? Your hair! Your ears! And what's the deal with that weird hall?"

Wendy wiped her face and started to plead her case. "Dipper, you gotta help me get out of this place! You're not going to believe this! I'm at the North Pole! Santa kidnapped me, and he won't let me go! He's forcing me to make toys and talk to Christmas ghosts. It's like he's trying to find what irritates me the most!"

Dipper immediately sprung to the rescue. "Don't worry, Wendy. I'll find a way to save you!" He examined the portal up and down and side-to-side, But hadn't an idea how to reach his secret love without a guide. After a few minutes, Dipper stood on his bed, as no more plans danced around in his head. "I'm really sorry, Wendy. I haven't a clue. I've never seen anything like this before. I don't know how to help you."

The two teenagers stood on different borders of time and space, as they met for the first time in months face-to-face. Dipper placed a hand against his side of the plane, The shine in his eyes had vanished and drained. "I – I wish you were here with us…with me…" Wendy set her palm against her devotee's. "I do, too, buddy. Trust me. Right now, there's no other place I'd rather be…"

All of a sudden, as though a Christmas blessing, their hands were able to touch through the barrier's meshing! Wendy and Dipper's fingers entwined as they laughed in disbelief, the ability to make physical contact came as such a relief.

Dipper said, "How can this be? I don't understand. Is this really happening? Or is it sleight of hand?" Wendy squeezed harder, "Hey, kiddo? Not at all trying to be rude, but Santa's coming back soon, so please, pull me though, dude!"

With that, Dipper tightened his grip and gave a tug, His noodle arms pulled Wendy into a huge bear hug. Once the slender redhead was more than halfway through, their worries returned with a threat somewhat new.

"What's wrong now?" Dipper strained. "Of all the dumb luck…" "I almost forgot, Dipper." Wendy explained. "I'm stuck! That old fat jerk snapped a cuff on my foot super-tight, to make sure I'd stay in his crummy workshop all night!"

Dipper wouldn't stop trying. "There has to be something I can do. There's no way I'd ever give up on you!" Though the kind words touched Wendy deeply in this situation out of whack, a second later, she could feel something try to pull her back. "No!" Dipper dug his heels deep into the blankets of his bed. "Don' t think this is over! I'd rather drop dead!"

"Dipper! Don't let go!" "I won't!"

Both Dipper and Wendy screamed as they were pulled into the wormhole, They landed back at Santa's workshop back at the North Pole, where Santa awaited with a horrific beast by his side, a ten-foot, horned demon, a so-called protector of yuletide. It was bearded and dressed in tattered clothing, its appearance was terrifying and somewhat loathing. The screams of the damned came from a container on its side. It held a wooden paddle, meant to tan wicked hides. Upon seeing this monster, the partners-in-crime shrieked, holding each other in terror as their knees became weak.

Santa shook his head, "Wendy, I've tried my best to make this right, but I feel there's nothing I can do to have you see the light. There's only one way to curb your attitude so pompous. I introduce to you, the Christmas monster known as the Krampus!

The fanged behemoth unleashed an unearthly roar, that even managed to shake the whole floor. It took a hooved step forwards in its quest, far from trendy, to claim the soul of the wicked child known as Wendy.

"Wait!"

Dipper shielded his still-ensnared sweetheart, He held his arms outwards, ready to do his part. The tiny boy's eyes met with his one-time rival, "Santa…" he greeted, thinking only of Wendy's survival. "Dipper…" Santa replied in the same, sober tone. "So, how goes those "Anti-Santa" traps in your home?" "You already know," Dipper grimaced, "That they're far from okay, but that's not the reason I'm here today. I don't have all the details, but I think I know enough. Please let Wendy go, and we'll be gone without a huff! I know at first, Wendy seems aloof and really tough. But she's so much more than that! Take it from this cream-puff! I get that Christmas spirit is your thing. That's okay and fine. If it's such a big deal, then what about mine? There is nothing I want more than to have Wendy to come home with me, so I ask you kindly, can't we please just let things be? I don't have a leg to stand on. But still, I'll beg this of you today: Please, Santa. Don't take my Wendy away!"

Dipper turned back to see Wendy slightly blushing. He corrected the mistake he made by rushing.

"I mean, "Don't take Wendy away!"

Santa and his pet gave each other a quick look, Their combined decision no more than a split second took:

"NO!"

The Krampus crept by Wendy, as she froze in a trance, as Dipper fought back with a second chance. "All right! You want a bad kid to give your curse? What if I could name someone even worse? A person that definitely deserves your type of misery? Here's a thought. How about you take me?!"

"Dude, don't!" Wendy said. "You really need to shut up now! If you keep going, you'll end up as this thing's Christmas chow!"

But Dipper ignored his crush's protests, and began to list off his sins and confess. "I've lied, cheated, and stole too many times, and that's only the beginning of my crimes! I beat up a gang of gnomes and marked them for dead. I fought living wax statues and cut off Larry King's head! I raised zombies up and left those secret agents to die, and made my sister, Pacifica, and even Wendy cry. I won't fight you, creature. I'll admit I made my own bed. I'll ask you a second time, leave Wendy, and take me instead!"

The Krampus licked his lips with a sense of glee, truly fascinated by Dipper's dirty laundry. He changed course to add Dipper to his collection, as Wendy dashed in front to offer her protection.

"Ain't going to happen, ugly! Not no how, or no way! Lay a claw on that kid, and I swear you're going to pay! If you want Dipper, you'll have to go through me first! So, come on, tough guy! I'm prepared to take your worst! If anyone deserves a decent Christmas, it's Dipper, my boy! And it's gonna happen, or else, my name's not Wendy Corduroy!"

To Wendy and Dipper's surprise, both tormentors began to laugh. Santa and Krampus supported each other so they wouldn't split in half. The elder's smile returned, "See, Wendy? I knew you would come through! Your act of sacrifice shows your Christmas spirit has been truly renewed! Santa's deed has been done. There's no further need for this. You two are free to go and enjoy Christmas bliss!"

Wendy raised an eyebrow, worried if there was another trick to be found. "Seriously?" Santa snapped his fingers a third time, as her shackle opened and fell to the ground. "Seriously."

Dipper and Wendy walked to the portal shining so bright, as Wendy realized something still wasn't quite right. "Santa, my man, I really don't mean to stall, but before we go, can you please make me tall?"

Dipper elbowed his friend, "I dunno. I think I like you better this way." "Please, Dipper, don't give him ideas." Wendy whispered with dismay.

Santa let out another joyful laugh, "Oh, I almost forgot, my dear. When you go home, your natural height will return, so have no fear." He and the Krampus offered a wave as the duo traveled back to California. "Have a Merry Christmas! But if not, you can't say we didn't warn ya!"

Back in Piedmont, Wendy and Dipper landed back in his bedroom, as she discovered she was no longer fitted in elven costume. Wendy's lumberjack clothing and height were rightfully restored, as the portal closely behind them, hopefully forevermore. Relieved, they rushed in for a snuggly embrace, their hearts still racing from escaping such a crazy place.

Dipper looked up at Wendy, "Are you sure you're alright?" "Thanks to you, buddy." She grinned and held him tight. "I don't know what to say, Dipper. Tonight, you really came though." "Oh, it was nothing." He blushed. "If reversed, I'd know I could count on you."

Their touching reunion was suddenly interrupted, as from the doorway, a shrill squeal erupted: "Ohmigosh!" Mabel grabbed her cheeks. "You're really here!" She wrapped around Wendy's waist as the much-taller girl rubbed her brown hair. "I knew I heard your voice! Did you change your mind?" Wendy turned to Dipper as she was caught in another bind. "Actually, Mabel." Dipper started. "Wendy wanted to surprise us. She spent all day and night traveling here on a small bus." Wendy followed along with Dipper's white lie about her stay. "I hope I'm not too late to join you guys on Christmas Day?" "What? No way!" Mabel exclaimed with excitement and great cheer. She flew from the room, "Hey, everybody! You won't believe who's here!"

With the two following along at a safe distance, Wendy gave Dipper a love tap, "Hey, thanks again for the quick assistance." "No biggie." He said with an embarrassed modest. "But if I can ask, are you sure you're ready for all this?" She threw her arm around her favorite little dork. "Of course I am, but now, let's get to work! I have something special to share with you two. Call it an old family recipe: Chocolate-frosted Christmas trees with just a pinch of sesame."

As they rounded the corner, Mabel teased, "Hey, you two! Guess where you're below? You guys are right under the mistletoe – "

"O-kay! That's enough right there!"

Wendy leaned forward on her knees as Dipper remained cross-legged on the colored rug on the floor. They looked up at Soos, dressed in a Santa cap, as he read from a selection of his fanfiction in Stan's recliner.

"Wow…" Dipper rested a heavy head against his fists. "I really didn't believe Soos when he said he made a Christmas story starring us, but there it is…"

"What's the matter?" Soos asked with a disappointed look. "You guys didn't like my Christmas rhymes?"

"No offense, Soos." Wendy threw out an arm in outrage, "But that story was kinda sexist, don't cha think? Why was I the one kidnapped? And Dipper saving me? Isn't that sorta cliché?"

"Well," Dipper held a finger up. "There was that one time at the Dusk2Dawn…"

"Exactly, buster! One time! Check the rescue scorecard, pal! I guarantee I have more saves checked off than you. Bet on it! And you really think Santa can take me on? Let 'im try! I'll punch him in the mistletoe, and break my foot off in his ho-ho – "

*CRASH!*

A thunderous crash could be heard on the Mystery Shack's roof. The sound made all three freeze in their tracks.

"Um," Dipper mumbled. "What was that you were saying, Wendy?"

"I – I," The lumberjane rambled nervously. "Like I was saying, maybe we should take a break, and get some hot cocoa and cookies, and see if there's any wholesome Christmas TV specials on."

"Good idea!"

"Sounds like a plan!"

The boys and Wendy jumped up and left the room, pressed together back-to-back. Their eyes searched every corner, in fear of a possible yuletide attack.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"And from this point here, our story finally concludes. Have a Happy Holiday, my friends. And remember, Santa's always watching you…"

[bluepenguinstories]

Intention Headaches Chapter Eight

Silver, copper alloy, platinum, titanium. Sleek, metallic. Smooth.

Walls, reinforced with microscopic creatures of machination. Ecosystems of patrons who shivered whenever their elbows interacted with icy table surfaces. Everyone took turns at the idea of adjustment and in their heads, it was the same, wooden, familiar air. Outside the head, the air held a clean, sterile flavor. In the middle of it all, a bartender, joined by two leaders.

“It’s not right,” one, a silver, sly, never shy lady spoke. “The bar isn’t supposed to reflect the rest of the city. We expect certain things. This isn’t one of them.”

“I know,” the bartender gave a tender, never terse, reply. “I don’t like it either, but it’s only temporary until the repairs are finished. Then the image of what people think of when they think of a bar will return.”

She slammed her fist onto the table only to take note of it not feeling like a tree being punched, but rather one’s whole being being tested by unbreakable glass.

“No one comes to the bar for the socialization! Nor for the drinking! It’s not for pleasure, not for entertainment, and under no circumstances does anyone show up for the ‘atmosphere’! No, we all come for the image!” Her rousing speech moved the bartender, but not because of the words, but because someone had requested a drink.

“I agree. Just try to make do.”

“Oh, I am making do! Why do you think I’m here if I’m not? It’s been days, maybe months. Maybe a few hours between a few days and a few months. My sense of time is not dictated by the passage of it, but by the changes made by such passage. Now, pour me a chardonnay.”

“Our ideals intersect,” an earnest elder, pint-size and several pints within his system, took note of the path the silvery lady’s words made. Her face bore irritation at the notion. Her lips were curled in the exact manner one would make to drink a chardonnay.

Two Woolf members spoke over arid spirits, ignoring the airs.

“You wanna hear what happened the other day?”

“Yeah?”

“So I was just outside, it was after the bar closed down and everyone was going home. Streets were empty, I was having a good time, just whistlin’ a tune or two. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“So, like, get this: I see a bucket and for some reason my first instinct was to kick it. I don’t even know why, it was just a bucket, but I just had such a strong urge to kick the bucket.”

“Did you?”

“No. I reasoned with myself. I said, ‘I don’t know what a bucket’s doing out here, but I’m sure I can take it back home and we can find a use for it.”

“Where was I when you brought it home?”

“I don’t know. Probably in your own room. Doesn’t really matter. Anyway, I bring this bucket to our base and Adeline sees it and you know what she says?”

“No?”

“She goes ‘what use do we have for a bucket? We can get water dispensed for us anytime we want!’ And then you know what she did?”

“What did she do?”

“She opened the front door, took the bucket, and kicked it.”

“What? She kicked the bucket?”

“Adeline kicked the bucket! I couldn’t believe it! I’m sure we could have found a use for it!”

Elsewhere, same vicinity, within the same area, an Annie’s green gabled cheeks turned rosie. She stormed through, her legs thunder bolted across the trimmed, impotent floors. She could have slipped, but didn’t. In her mind, she noticed similar material that made up her arms and legs were also part of the tables and floors. Her voice made no such note.

“Why did Dave do it?” She demanded to a group of drunkard chit-chatters. Most of the chats chittered, but in garbled mumbles.

“He probably felt it was the right thing to do,” those few gave their estimation of an explanation.

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

Shoulders, upward, downward.

“Who would we be if all of us were gone?”

She shook her head. “It just makes no sense…”

Hands on her shoulders. She knew who because she didn’t like those hands.

“Such is the ways of men, my darling daughter.” Mother Gothel, as Annie let her thoughts show, stood and smiled in a way that told all about her; protective and distant. Cruel and tender. “Always risking their lives in the name of some non-existent ‘glory’. Now, be grateful you aren’t like that.”

Annie unplaced those hands in order to decrease the tension of her shoulders. She began to walk away, only managing twelve steps before the mother of the Sextons raised a sharp question.

“Do you have nothing to say to me? Dear daughter, do not tell me you cared for this Dave, failed leader that he was.”

However tense, Annie answered. “Of course not; it’s that he gave me many dalmations, dogs that I love very much, and I do not know how I will manage to take care of them.”

Remnants of Wallace chimed, “how many dalmations?”

“About ninety-nine and two, I think. Or maybe ninety-eight and three. I have lost count.”

Mother who leads the Sexton made haste toward the door leading outside the safety of the bar. Her parting words, “I must make haste, I have many machinations to cultivate.”

Annie sat with the remnants, who reminisced.

“Gee, sure will miss boss, I suppose.”

“Yeah, he was always one to hate irony unironically.”

Annie thought of how the table she sat at could have once been a part of her.

Overhead, out of sight, a few tables down, an old man overheard.

“The ways of man, eh...I would have loved to have heard more...mhm…” He stroked the wrinkles of his chin. “I remember being young and well versed in such ways.”

“Aye, as do I,” a comrade of the old man concurred.

“I’ll be turning 27 this year,” old and young divided between face and age.

“Join the club!” Yelled someone, a gang member. Not one in particular.

“Huh?”

“I’ll be turning 27, too!”

Everyone within the diameter of the conversation erupted in laughter.

Ernie, however, scoffed.

“Harold and I are too opposite.”

“How so?” Sylvie, still on a sip, yet paused to simmer in the heat of this elder child. “Don’t the both of your gangs love men?”

“Another whiskey!” Demands from the child. Bar softener went into compliance. Ernie, turned toward Sylvie. “The Crane gang is filled with men loving men, I, however, believe, yes, in, the, ideals, of masculinity.”

“I see...still too old for your skin.”

“I am of the belief that we should devote ourselves only to a woman and a woman only! To fight with nothing but our fists, and deliver to our wives an animal that we have wrestled to death as a trophy!”

Adeline, not too far, added a line.

“As a lesbian, I can get behind this,” she missed the part of the conversation about men and masculinity as she was too busy having her arms around a Sexton gang lady. Sexton lady, name of Ann (not to be confused with Annie) was wrapped around Adeline’s arms and voracious appetite.

“They’re lesbians,” Harold observed. 

Porcupine and a nondescript turtle, stood aside a wall also not too far from Adeline.

“Speaking of which, I started thinking, my good friend, that since I love and respect women, the best way to show my respect is to be a woman. So my name is now Elaine. Same number of letters as Sydney, which you already know not to call me.”

“Correct.” Nondescript.

“I almost went with Esther, but I’ve never been a religious person.”

Riley made a grunt and looked at his surroundings.

“What’s wrong? Do you think we are broken people? No, it’s the system that’s broken. But we must never go against it, because if we do, we’ll all be gone,” Elaine addressed the gesture.

“I’m just here to get drunk…” a nondescript named Riley declared in moaning motions.

Such motions led Riley to the bartender. “Just give me something.” Riley asked of the bartender.

“How poetic,” mused the short earnest.

“Do not talk to me of poetry,” scolded Syl.

“Why so critical tonight?”

“Woolf leader isn’t here, so I must take her place as the scathing one.” Noble, virginal wolf would be pleased.

“Where is she?”

“Had another case of the ailment, aye.”

“What you got against poetry?” Shambled a drunken Harold.

Syl in heat. Heat of passion. Passion is angry. Heat of anger. The height of anger, subdued. Mellow and ready for a silent strike.

“Poets are nothing but liars and thieves. We in gangs have honor, have our convictions. There is no honor among thieves. Poets are not to be trusted.”

Harry broke a bottle against the sterile surface of a table’s edge. “Them’s fighting words! You take what you said and undo your damages!”

“Aye, but it’s true. They pick and choose their emotions, omit certain things to give you an image. It’s what they decide sounds good versus the reality of the situation. Sometimes things aren’t beautiful, but you wouldn’t tell just by reading about it, now would you? I ask, what do we need of poets in these times?”

“Poetry isn’t always beauty, sometimes what’s written is the ugly!”

“Aye. But then it’s just the bad that they want you to see. In hopes that you find the less savory just as much a thing of beauty.”

“But we can use words to inspire hope! To lead!”

“Can you not do that with your actions?”

You can perform a great many things, but cannot do so after your lifetime. Words may last well after all your bones have become dust!”

Syl sipped, simmered in her laughter, soft. Then, “is that all you have? Your words? If your words aren’t preserved, no one will even know they existed. Me, I’m here for a good time, not a long one.”

Ragged, dirty, Harry broke another bottle.

“You wanna go? I’ll gut ya! No one disses poetry ‘round me!”

“Very well,” her lips spread at the prospect, a hidden pistol in her pocket. “But be warned that I do not fear walking at night. Many a time I have conversed with sailors, heard their stories, and went on about my way. I have traveled to the darkest reaches of alleys and had many a gun pointed at me only to walk closer and demand that they pull the trigger, then fire from a weapon of my own before they have time to react. I have felt the grazes of bullets and walked through the smoke of many explosives only to sit here today, taking sip after sip of my drinks.”

Hearth man sank, recoiled, and slinked away to the comforts of the Crane.

“I’m too sober for sophistry,” sighed Syl, then pieced her body out from her stool seat until she stood and stretched. “I’m leaving. My base of operations needs me.”

Bartender swayed open hand as a sign of farewell.

“Before I leave, I’ll say this,” she said, before she left. “There is a reason us gang leaders save for Hemingway’s seldom show up; some of us are made to forget. Drinking brings the truth out.”

Sylvie exited the safety of the bar and entered the safety of the night, just as there always was a night.

“She will return,” Hemingway’s leader stated.

“I know,” said the one tending to the bar.

Less tender was the table Annie sat at, discussing the matter of a mission involving two gang leaders.

“It’s come out that the one responsible for the trafficking of those drugs was an unofficial gang leader of the Cowen gang - a gang made up of three subgangs: the Burroughs, Kerouacs, and Ginsbergs.”

“Yeah, but that’s just a rumor. Everyone knows those gangs are just stories we tell each other at the bar!”

“It came from a report by the Homeowner’s Association. Pretty sure not a rumor.”

“Okay, so what did the leader of the Cowen gang want?”

“Who knows? My guess is what all of us want: just a little bit of romance right before we die.”

“I wish we could have seen what happened…” Annie added to the conversation.

“What good would it have done?”

“Well, what good did it do for Dave to join with the leader of the Kanes?” She looked around. Card sharks still swam in the shallow end.

“He wanted to match her energy, which was funny, since she was always trying to match ours,” Kane fragment figured. Few Kane members sat with Wallaces in solidarity for their fallen.

Annie and the rest of the remnants and shards laughed a keg full of laughter. Bartender had an announcement:

“Since our bar is still being repaired, karaoke night is suspended. Instead, enjoy this simulation.”

 Siri walked up to the counter where the bartender was cleaning glasses. She slumped over, still in an overcoat, her face obscured by a margin.

“One coffee, please…” her voice a low, groggy groaned murmur. Bar served grog, she knew this.

“We serve alcohol,” the bartender told.

“I know this. I want coffee. I’m tired and I’ve been up all night because my gang makes too much noise. They won’t let me move on to the next mission because they’re poking at the last one. It’s insufferable!”

Of course, everyone could see through her.

The bartender served her coffee and she chugged it down. Then, her image faded.

“Thank you for attending the simulation tonight,” the bartender announced on a screen at every table. No one noticed the announcement nor the simulation.

Many were instead focused on the table where Elaine sat and captivated a fair deal of attention.

“Hey boss, tell us the one about the bun in the oven!”

It was a good joke, solid history. One anyone could laugh to. Or snore. Never a dull moment.

“Okay, so it begins with the mixing the ingredients...then you got the dough...then you stick ‘em in and watch as the yeast rises…”

Bartender let everyone know that it was closing time some few minutes after the joke started being told. Long after the bar closed, out on the neon sidewalk, Elaine kept the joke going.

[three-houses-text-files]

byleth/hanneman

c-s support + paired endings

c

Hanneman: Ah, Professor! Always a pleasure to see you. I wonder, might you have a moment to chat?

>Why?

>What do you want?

H: Come now. You have no need to be on guard. H: I'd never cause you harm. You're far too valuable a specim— Well, that is to say, too valuable a member of the academy staff. H: Indeed, the further my Crest research progresses, the closer you come to learning the truth of your heritage. Is it not so? H: When I learned you bore the lost Crest—the very Crest of Flames itself!—I set about learning everything I could about your past. H: What was the origin of your bloodline? How have the events of your life been shaped by your lineage? H: I became somewhat obsessed, I must admit.

>You investigated me?

H: Nothing so crass as an investigation, no. I researched. I spoke to mercenaries whom you've worked with in the past to learn about your life before the academy.

>My past is my business.

H: I promised you no harm, remember? I merely reached out to mercenaries whom you've worked with to understand your life before the academy.

H: Of course, I also contacted Jeralt and his mercenary friends. Your father does keep rather interesting company. (pre-death) H: Of course, I also contacted your father's old mercenary crew. Quite an interesting lot they are. H: It was difficult work, since I could not speak with Jeralt himself. I am quite sorry for your loss. By all accounts, your father was a good man. (post-death) H: I'm excited to share with you what I learned, but I do ask that you correct me if I am mistaken on any account. H: The story begins with Jeralt serving as captain of the Knights of Seiros... H: There was a woman at the monastery with whom Jeralt was quite close. H: At first, it seemed obvious this mystery woman was your mother. Alas, that cannot be the case. The timing is all wrong. H: As it was told to me, the woman in question passed away shortly before Jeralt left the monastery... H: Yet your birth occurred sometime later, while Jeralt taking work as a mercenary. H: This, of course, presumes your age is accurately reported. If you were born sooner, well, the story would be quite different, would it not?

>I don't know.

H: It is intriguing though, yes? Why is your age so difficult to pin down?

>My father was always one for secrets.

H: Oh, I am aware. You two were certainly enigmatic as far as mercenaries go.

H: For example, Jeralt never once spoke of his time serving as captain of the knights. That's quite a secret to keep for all those years. (pre-death) H: In the end, your old acquaintances had little definitive to say about either of you. H: However, they all agreed on one thing—your father, and yourself, were a strong pair. Warriors to be respected and feared. H: You, in particular. In fact, many came to know you as the Ashen Demon. H: They say you would destroy your enemies without a hint of emotion on your face. The mercenaries I spoke to revered you as a living legend of sorts.

>...

H: So, that is what I learned. And, I admit, it is barely more than I knew before. H: The next step in my research is to ask your blood for answers, and hope that it is more forthcoming than your past acquaintances.

——————————————————————————————

b

H: How are you doing, Professor? Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?

>OK.

>Sure.

H: It occurs to me that, whenever we chat, I have a tendency to pester you with my questions and theories about your history... H: It seems only fair to speak on the topic of myself for once. H: And perhaps you might feel more positively inclined toward my research, if I shared my own story.

>So, you just want me to help with your research.

H: Not at all. I am quite honest in my motivations.

>You have my attention.

H: I am quite pleased to hear you're interested. Yes, quite pleased.

H: Well... I suppose I should begin at the beginning, eh? H: I was born into a noble house of the Empire. Not a large house, mind you. But noble all the same. H: Our land holdings were small, but our bloodline was quite strong. H: So, as you can imagine, there were many of us in the family who carried the power of Crests. I, myself, bear a minor Crest. H: Our family's abundance of Crests may be part of the reason I've been interested in the topic since I was just a boy. H: I dedicated myself to my studies, and after years of effort, I became lead Crest scholar at the Empire's largest research institution.

>Why come to Garreg Mach?

>You gave that up? To come here?

H: I had only Imperial blood, and thus Imperial Crests, at my disposal in the Empire. H: My research is more important than social standing in the Empire. There I had only Imperial blood, and thus Imperial Crests, at hand. H: So I came to Garreg Mach and devoted myself to my research during my time as a professor. H: My progress is slow, but with each revelation, I move ever closer to the answers I have sought for decades. H: Your cooperation as the bearer of the Crest of Flames ensures my research will continue to advance. H: In fact, it may bring me ever closer to the goal of uncovering everything there is to know about Crests. H: I do hope you shall continue helping me advance in this field of study.

>OK.

>If you insist...

H: Together, we will solve the mystery of your Crest of Flames, and our world will be the better for it. H: Shall we proceed? My lab instruments are fully prepared. H: I have a great number of tests I am excited to carry out... No, no, don't worry. They won't hurt one bit.

——————————————————————————————

a

H: Which means that there are some elements of your power that cannot be explained by current theory. H: Although this may lead to a discovery that alters the very fabric of Crest research... H: Oh, pardon me, Professor. I became lost in thought, and I do tend to ramble. H: I suggest we call it a day. Do you concur?

>I'm fine to keep talking.

H: No, no, you mustn't push yourself too hard. When you are not in battle, you are so often here with me.

H: I get so energized speaking with you, well, I must remember to pull my head out of the clouds...

>I'm getting tired.

H: It seems that I have gotten carried away again. My apologies. I know you are quite busy.

H: I become so energized around you. When we get deep into the research, why, I feel 20 years younger!

H: That said, perhaps we should discuss things unrelated to Crests from time to time. H: Some sort of silly, light-hearted topic might be nice, eh?

>Do you have one in mind?

H: I'm not especially skilled at small talk, alas. Let me see... Perhaps we should discuss... Hmmm... H: I know! Food. Not my strong suit, the culinary arts, but I do enjoy a good meal! H: Which kind of food do you prefer, Professor? Sweet or spicy?

>Sweet.

H: Same as myself! Yes, indeed... Oh, now my stomach is growling.

>Spicy.

H: Spicy? Quite the opposite of me.

H: Yet you're an exception in lots of ways, so it's not altogether surprising... H: An old colleague of mine theorized that those who bear Crests favor sweet flavors over spicy. H: She suggested that the Crest exerts some manner of influence over... H: Oh, there I go again. How embarrassing. We were supposed to be avoiding talk of Crests, weren't we? H: Terrible habit of mine, finding a way to turn any conversation towards Crests. H: I really should find a way to stop that...

>It's OK.

>We can talk more about Crests.

H: That is kind of you, Professor, but it's all right. H: If you were to lose your patience with me, it could have an incalculable impact on my research. H: That sort of thing has happened in the past, you know. Back when I was still in the Empire... H: At first, any lady I was spending time with would titter and say she didn't mind if I talked about Crests. H: But at some point, she would always become fed up and stop listening to what I had to say. H: In the end—invariably while I was particularly focused on my research—she would write to say we were done. H: I will do everything I can to keep that from happening this time. (f!byleth) H: You may be a man, but I still don't wish for you to grow tired of my company. (m!byleth)

——————————————————————————————

s

H: So falls the curtain on our time of war. Though I suppose one can never say all is over and done... H: You have much still to do, and I have miles to go before I achieve my own dreams. H: We both have many hardships in store for us, don't you think?

>Yes.

H: Indeed. Well, that talk aside, I have a bit of a proposition for you.

>Maybe not that many.

H: Do you think? Well, I have a proposition for you, if you'll indulge me.

H: I believe it is better to travel the path through life with someone else, rather than go forward alone. H: And you are indispensable to my research... H: No, that's not the full truth. H: Yes, you are indispensable to my research, but also to my life. Altogether, I mean. H: I haven't any idea how to treat a woman properly. And so, I've long thought I would spend my life alone. H: But then, well...I met you. And I want to share everything with you. H: If you happen to feel the same way, er, well, that is to say... Would you accept this ring?

>I've been waiting for this.

H: Did I make you wait? Now, there is an unexpected development! My goodness. H: Well, since the feelings are mutual...I suppose there's no need to hold ourselves back any longer. H: Don't you agree? H: If so, I say we begin the next phase of our research. I wish to learn everything about you.

>Actually… (black eagles route)

H: You say you've lost the power of your Crest? And...what of it?

H: I want you for who you are. Learning about the power of your Crest was just a small part of that.

H: Besides, even without the Crest, I daresay you will still prove a fascinating research subject.

>I'm ready. (other)

H: Ready? No, no. There's no need to be ready. I'm not planning any tests.

H: I don't want the power of your Crest—I want you.

H: First things first, I'd like to do a thorough study. H: And in return...perhaps you would care to learn all there is to know about me. H: I've never been the subject of someone else's research before, but I am open to the prospect. H: I can think of no one more suitable for the task... than the woman I love. H: The future... Ah, I mean our future. It offers quite a lot to look forward to. I can't wait to see the results of this new undertaking.

——————————————————————————————

paired endings

Byleth announced her marriage to Hanneman shortly after becoming leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan. Hanneman provided counsel to the queen as she worked to restore Fódlan, but his goal remained to determine the workings of the Crests and to do away with the inequality caused by them. To that end, his research resulted in magical tools which could be used even without the aid of Crests. The queen made good use of these tools, and they soon became a cornerstone for continued progress. (golden deer + church route)

Byleth announced her marriage to Hanneman shortly after being named archbishop of the Church of Seiros. Hanneman provided counsel to the archbishop as she worked to restore the church, but his goal remained to determine the workings of the Crests, and to do away with the inequality caused by them. To that end, his research resulted in magical tools which could be used even without the aid of Crests. The archbishop made good use of these tools, and they soon became a cornerstone for continued progress. (blue lions route)

Very soon after Byleth and Hanneman had finished their quiet wedding ceremony, the struggle against those who slither in the dark began in earnest. The pair fought in many battles, eventually bringing true peace to Fódlan. Afterwards, they worked together to pursue Hanneman's goal to determine the workings of the Crests and to do away with the inequality caused by them. Their research resulted in magical tools which could be used even without the aid of Crests. The Father of Crestology and his spouse earned worldwide renown for devising tools that became a cornerstone of progress. (black eagles route)

[meditationadvise]

Three Simple Ways to Pay Attention

The most usual reaction I listen to these days when I inform a person I teach reflection is "I'm so worried out. I might actually make use of a few of that." I am also entertained to listen to fairly often "My buddy should actually fulfill you!" I enjoy to see that meditation is recognized increasingly more as something that could be directly handy in our daily lives. Anywhere stress plays a function in our problems, meditation can have a possible role in its relief.

Meditation technique need not be tied to any idea system. The just necessary idea is not a dogmatic one, yet one that says each of us has the ability to comprehend ourselves much more fully, and to care extra deeply both for ourselves and for others. Its techniques work to free us of regular reactions that create us excellent sadness, such as harsh self-judgment, and also to develop wisdom as well as love. Meditation gives any person who seeks it a chance to look within for a sense of abundance, depth, and also link to life.

Rather compared to an ornate, arcane collection of directions, standard reflection is composed of practical tools to help deepen concentration, mindfulness, and compassion.

1. Concentration

Concentration is the art of collecting all that energy, that stormy, scattered interest, and settling, centering.

Concentration steadies as well as focuses our interest so that we could allow go of harmful internal distractions-- is sorry for concerning the past, stresses over the future, addictions-- and also keep from being attracted by external ones. Interruption loses our power, concentration restores it.

We commonly experience our interest scattering to the four winds. We take a seat to assume something through or work with a problem, and prior to we understand it, we're gone. We're shed in ideas of the past, commonly concerning something we currently regret: "I should have said that more masterfully." "I ought to have been less shy and also spoken up." "I should have been smarter and also closed up." We aren't assuming things via to locate a method making amends. We're just lost.

Or our distractedness drives us right into anxiety-filled projections regarding the future. Envision you are resting in an airplane at one of the New York City flight terminals. All of a sudden you begin assuming, "Oh no, I think this airplane may leave late. I make certain it will certainly be late. Currently I'm mosting likely to miss my connection. Exactly what will that suggest? That suggests I'm mosting likely to show up in Rose city, Oregon, after twelve o'clock at night. There will not be any taxis! Exactly what's going to take place to me?" It's as though Portland were famous for having people vanish if they land after midnight!

Without concentration, our minds dilate into the future in such a way that isn't really such as competent preparation however more like exhausting rumination. When I see my very own mind starting that arc of anxiety, I have a claiming I utilize to assist restore me to balance: "Something will certainly take place." There will certainly be a bus. I'll invest the evening in the airport. Something will certainly take place. I can't figure it all out right now.

Concentration is the art of collecting all of that energy, that stormy, scattered focus, and settling. A person came near speak to me just recently when I was educating, opposing my use words focus. He said it advised him of suppression, as though he were squeezing his attention into something, withstanding and feeling bitter anything else that came near pull his interest away. I asked him if steadying or clearing up would excel substitutes, as well as he happily accepted them. That's what concentration in fact suggests. It's not a required, stressful, stretched effort. It's letting points choose exactly what goes to hand.

2. Mindfulness

Mindfulness fine-tunes our focus to ensure that we can connect extra totally as well as straight with whatever life brings. Numerous times our understanding of just what is happening is misshaped by bias, practices, worries, or desires. Mindfulness aids us see with these and also be much more aware of exactly what really is.

Imagine you're on your means to a celebration when you run right into a good friend who points out an earlier meeting he had with your brand-new colleague. He claims, "That person is so boring!" When at the celebration, that do you locate yourself stuck speaking to but that brand-new associate! Because of your good friend's comment (not even your personal understanding), you end up not really listening meticulously to them or looking completely at them. More probable you are assuming about the following 15 e-mails you have to send or fretting as you gaze concerning the room and also see a lot of individuals you prefer to be speaking with. Whatever he or she is stating increases your displeasure and frustration.

But if you understand just what's taking place, it could be that you drop the filter of your pal's comment and also determine to discover out for yourself, from your own straight experience, exactly what you think about your new coworker. You pay attention, you observe, you are broad-minded, interested. By the end of the evening you could choose, "I concur. I locate that individual really uninteresting." However probably not, life also supplies many shocks. Just what is essential is that we're not just led by exactly what we've been told, by the beliefs of others, by conviction or bias or presumption. Rather, we shape our perception with as clear as well as open an assumption as possible.

Mindfulness does not depend on just what is occurring, however has to do with how we connect to what is taking place. That's why we state that mindfulness can go anywhere. We could be conscious of pleasure as well as grief, pleasure and also discomfort, stunning songs and also a screech. Mindfulness doesn't imply these all flatten out and also come to be one huge blob, without distinction or intensity or flavor or structure. Instead, it indicates that old regular methods of connecting-- maybe holding on fiercely to pleasure, to make sure that, ironically, we are in fact appreciating it less, or frowning at as well as pressing away pain, to ensure that, regretfully, we experience a great deal much more, or numbing out, detaching from average, not really interesting experiences, so that we're half in a desire a great deal of the moment. All these self-defeating, restricting reactions don't have to be there.

We could easily misinterpret mindfulness and consider it as passive, complacent, also a little bit boring. I was showing someplace lately and also began the formal meditation guideline, as I usually do, with the recommendation to just sit in an unwinded method and also hear the sounds in the room. Somebody raised his hand right now and asked, "If I hear the noise of the smoke detector, should I simply rest here 'mindfully,' knowing I'm hearing the smoke detector go off, or should I stand up as well as leave?" I responded, "I 'd 'mindfully' obtain up and also leave!"

I understood his concern. When we hear phrases typically used to explain mindfulness, like "simply be with exactly what is," "approve today moment," "do not get shed in judgment," it can appear very inert. The actual experience of mindfulness is of vibrant, alive, open area where imaginative responses to situations have area to emerge, precisely since we're not stuck in the well-worn grooves of the same old habitual reactions. In mindfulness, we do not shed discernment and also knowledge. These high qualities, in reality, come to be much more intense as stagnant preconceptions as well as automated, inflexible responses no more rule the day.

3. Compassion

Compassion opens our attention and also makes it a lot more inclusive, changing the method we view ourselves and the globe. Rather than being so caught up in the construct of self and other and also us and them that we often tend to see the globe via, we see things much extra in terms of connection to all. This fundamental makeover from alienation begins with more compassion to ourselves.

Even in methods that do not especially emphasize compassion or concern, these high qualities are inevitably being created in reflection. If we return and also consider the fundamental workout I defined, establishing focus, we locate that it is typically done by choosing a things such as the feeling of the in and out breath, then resolving our attention on it. What we uncover at first, often to our shock, is that it typically isn't 800 breaths prior to our minds wander. Much more commonly, it is one breath, maybe two or 3, after that we are lost. Possibly extremely shed in a dream or memory.

Then comes the minute we understand we have actually been distracted. Our usual reaction would certainly be to feel that we have actually failed, to rail against ourselves. Just what we practice, however, is releasing delicately rather than roughly as well as returning to the breath or our item of concentration with kindness as well as compassion for ourselves. Therefore, those high qualities of concern as well as kindness strengthen also if we do not offer voice to those words.

And what we provide for ourselves, we could likewise start to do toward others. A few years ago I got on my means to Tucson, yet my strategies were tested when I located myself in an airplane resting on a path for four and also a half hours at La Guardia Flight Terminal. Looking back on it, I often refer amusingly to those hours as "the breakdown of human being." It was hot, and also it expanded hotter. After a point, people beginning screaming, "Let me off this aircraft!" The pilot resorted to hopping on the system and also stating sternly, "No person is leaving this plane."

I had not been really feeling all that chipper myself. I could not connect with individuals in Tucson that were intended to select me up at the flight terminal, as well as I was concerned regarding them. I had a house to head to in New york city City and also maintained thinking, fruitless, "I can simply return there and also try once more tomorrow." I was warm. I really felt mauled by the people yelling around me.

Then I recalled a photo that a friend of mine, Bob Thurman, writer of Infinite Life: Seven Merits for Living Well, typically uses to define the flow of generosity and also compassion that comes from seeing the world more truthfully. He says, "Imagine you get on the New York City metro, and also these Martians come and also zap the train vehicle to ensure that those of you in the cars and truck are mosting likely to be with each other ... for life." What do we do? If somebody is hungry, we feed them. If a person is freaking out, we attempt to calm them down. We could not such as everyone or authorize of them, yet we are mosting likely to be together for life. We need to react with the knowledge of just how interrelated our lives are-- as well as will certainly remain.

Sitting on that airplane, I recalled my close friend's story. I browsed the cabin and also thought, "Perhaps these are my individuals." I saw my worldview shift from "me" as well as "them" to "we." The claustrophobia eased.

In terms of meditative understanding (as opposed to our usual mindset, which may relate to these high qualities as gifts we could do nothing to grow or as prompt psychological reactions we take pleasure in yet can't support), compassion and compassion are undoubtedly skills we establish. Not in the feeling of compeling ourselves to feel, or perhaps worse, pretend to really feel, a feeling that is not there. Instead, if we learn to listen in a various, more open means-- seeing the excellent within ourselves rather than focusing on what we do not such as, noticing those we usually neglect or look right via, releasing groups as well as assumptions when we associate with others-- we are producing the problems for generosity and also empathy to flow.

We method meditation ultimately not to come to be great meditators however to have a different life. As we deepen the skills of focus, mindfulness, as well as empathy, we locate we have less anxiety, even more satisfaction, more understanding, and also greatly much more happiness. We change our lives.

[quixotic-quetzalcoatl]

25 Tdp Questions

Tagged by @aaravos-startouch-elf Thank you for the tag! But I didn’t study, can I cheat off of you?

#1. Which Primal Source Do you identify most with? Why?

Gren. A primal source of entertainment.

#2. Elves or Humans?

Gesundheit. 

#3. If you had to choose, would you rather free Runaan from the coin or Aaravos from the mirror?

Aaravos. Then he can release Runaan.

#4. Best animal companion?

Dinosaur descendant.

#5. Best humanoid companion?

Lotor. 

...

What? It says right here

according to @skaiahart that they are in the same universe. 

#6. You can revive one character, who is it and why them?

Lotor. For reasons. See question 5. 

#7. Otp?

In the immortal words of Mushu, “We’re in a war man! There’s no time for stupid questions.”

#8. Unpopular opinion? 

Can I call a friend first? I’d like to use one of my lifelines. (Ie. I’m tired and I don’t have one)

#9. Favorite headcanon?

Elarion/Aaravos

#10. Best siblings pair?

Three words: Jerk. Face. Dance. <— I concur

#11. Who’s your Queen?

AMAYA

#12. Lujanne offers you ice cream, how do you respond?

No thank you.

#13. Be honest, do you have the guts to use dark magic?

Nope. Couldn’t kill lab animals back in the day, still can’t kill animals now. 

#14. Who’s best elf? Why?

Rayla. She can see beneath the surface and upend the status quo.

#15. Hot brown morning potion or leaf flavored water?

Grande honey lavender iced brown morning potion. 

#16. Best use for magic?

Help others.

#17. Who wins the best hair award?

King Harrow

#18. Viren; misguided, evil, or actually the good guy?

A misguided evil. Are there good guys in war? Tdp beautifully illustrates the answer to that question in so many ways. 

#19. Would you rather fly with Phoe-Phoe, hike with Corvus, sail with Villads, or stay home with Opeli?

Hiking with Corvus! I love hiking! I’m afraid of heights and get sea-sick.

#20. Who’s your crush?

None. *Sigh* as is often the case with me. 

#21. You’re being chased by a cotton candy hippo; reaction?

OM NOM MOFO.

#22. Choose a champion.

AMAYA.

#23. Favorite scene? Why?

Every scene with AMAYA. 

#24. Should Soren be a poet?

He’s almost as good as Sokka. Almost.

#25. Soggy Socks. (No more context)

BOLLOCKS.

[quarterfromcanon]

How Long Do You Plan to Keep Me at the Back of Your Mind?

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 21 - Basic [2,442 words]

“Hello, ladies, and welcome to the trial run of Hallmark & Hummus.” Rebecca splayed her fingers. She waggled them as if the name were appearing in lights. “On this very special evening, we will be enjoying some unarguably bland dip only made interesting with other foods. Whatever film is selected by our vote will be much the same: devoid of flavor until the added ingredients -- us, in this case, the added ingredients are us -- come along to spice things up.”

Valencia offered a strained but well-intentioned smile. She turned to the right and consulted with Heather. “Translation, please?”

Heather’s beleaguered sigh preceded the reply. “She wants to watch sappy made-for-TV movies and eat tortilla chips while we talk about them.”

“Ohhhhh,” the rest of the group chorused. 

“I wanna take this opportunity to just apologize to everyone,” Heather told them, ignoring Rebecca’s background indignation. “The theme tonight is my fault and I am already so sorry.”

“How’d that happen?” Paula draped her arms over the sides of her chair.

“We were kicking around viewing options for Girls’ Night earlier this week and everything totally snowballed outta control. I was trying to steer her away from them by pointing out that they’re usually a little boring and unoriginal... which, like, ‘a little’ was being generous, honestly... and she just really latched onto the metaphor.” Heather folded her arms and shot Rebecca a ‘Why are you like this?’ look. 

Rebecca tried to mirror the stance but ultimately just stuck out her tongue. “I still think we can make it fun. Plus, your cleverness sparked the creative spin! You should be owning this with pride! You were my muse.”

Heather wrinkled her nose. “I accept full responsibility for the apt comparison but not its application.”

“Compromise met.” Rebecca clapped her hands into a clasp. “Now, before we get into any of that, the first order of business is to greet our special guest. Thank you for joining us tonight, Beth. Welcome.”

Beth was clearly not expecting an individual shout-out like that. Still, she leaned forward to acknowledge them all with a salutatory wave before settling back against the couch. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Heather readjusted on her respective cushion. She pulled one leg up to her chest and locked both arms around the kneecap.

“Okay, so, drinks are in the fridge,” Rebecca continued the hostess explanations. “There’s wine, juice, water, beer, et cetera. I originally floated the idea that we take shots of Hennessy for every glaring instance of sexism to keep going with our letter ‘H,’ but Heather did actually talk me out of that one because we would all die of alcohol poisoning.”

She gathered a tall stack of borrowed cases in her arms, each labeled with a barcode from the local library. “I grabbed all the ones I could find. Their collection was unexpectedly extensive, so let’s see if we can start the process of elimination.”

“Nothing with a cover that looks like pretty white characters are gonna fall in love or die at Christmastime,” Heather declared.

Rebecca pouted and removed six boxes from the tower. “That’s practically their entire yuletide catalog - heh, yule log, that was unintentional - but fair enough. It does whittle the options down by a significant margin.”

“No movies with sequels,” Valencia suggested. “The last thing we need is to get stuck with these people for more than one.”

“And none with punny titles,” Paula added.

“Why not?” Rebecca countered.

“Check how many that eliminates and you’ll see.” Paula assembled a plate while she waited.

“Oh wow, you guys are going after their whole brand,” Rebecca muttered as she continued to weed out entertainment that matched the criteria. “Hallmark came out to have a good time and is honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“What does that leave?” Beth peered at the titles one by one when they passed through her acquaintance’s hands.

Rebecca held up a single DVD. “Something called The Love Letter.”

“Hang on a sec.” Valencia’s brow furrowed. “Can I see that?”

Rebecca passed her the box. Valencia tapped the name in the bottom corner. “I knew it! That’s Jennifer Jason Leigh.”

Beth chuckled. She rubbed her palm along her girlfriend’s spine. 

Valencia peeked to the left self-consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s cute you followed the career of an actress with a big gay fan following before you even figured things out.” Beth kissed Valencia on the cheek.

Rebecca joined in the affectionate laughter. “Adorably oblivious.”

Heather popped the lid off her beer and drank.

Paula tucked a diced piece of pepper into the side of her mouth and lifted her own bottle. “Let’s get this party started.”

She tapped the alcohol against her friend’s serving. Just for a moment, Heather thought she saw a flicker of sympathy in Paula’s eyes.

They all settled more comfortably while Rebecca turned out a couple of the lights and readied the selection. Rebecca stretched across the chaise lounge. She pointed the remote control toward the censor. “Drum roll... play!”

Within the first sixty seconds, a store owner made a comment about women dragging their boyfriends into the building to look at a white dress in the window. Valencia and Rebecca automatically flipped their middle fingers at the screen. 

“Damn,” Valencia commented just shy of the seven minute mark. “She likes some imaginary pen pal better than the guy who just proposed to her. Are we sure she’s not a closeted lesbian in this, too? Fixating on an unrealistic man-of-her-dreams seems like a handy excuse.”

“You would know,” Paula teased with a smirk. She sipped more of her drink.

Valencia arched an eyebrow but inclined her head. “Touché.”

“Ooo, it’s near Salem!” Rebecca enthused. “Witches?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Dude, again, late ’90s Hallmark,” Heather reminded her. “They aren’t gonna throw us a lot of surprises. Also, wrong time period.”

“If Hocus Pocus taught us nothing else, it’s that they don’t have to be bound to their own era. Spooky shit happens,” Rebecca reasoned.

Heather shook her head and laughed quietly.

The female lead was finally introduced. Valencia and Beth exchanged knowing glances when her first onscreen act was writing a poem for a flower consistently referred to with “she” and “her” pronouns. ‘Gay,’ they both mouthed.

Half an hour into the run time, Beth whispered, “So, is this basically The Lake House with a more cockblocking year gap?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Heather confirmed. “This one’s just eight years older.” 

“Good to know.” Beth smiled with genuine appreciation for the trivia.

Heather felt a twist of guilt that her first internal response was ‘ugh.’  Then the story randomly included a scene involving kitchen spices and she choked on a scoop of hummus.

“Are you okay?” Valencia murmured.

“Yeah, just went down the wrong way,” Heather managed to reply.

A strange reaction crossed Valencia’s features but she periodically hovered a concerned hand over her friend’s back until ten minutes later.

“It must be true love if you get turned on by air touches, amirite?” Rebecca joked. Heather and Valencia froze before they realized she spoke in reference to the film. They scooted to opposite ends of their couch space.

Beth’s fingers interwove with Valencia’s when the movie’s ill-treated fiancée got to confront her betrothed’s emotional infidelity. Heather’s eyes found the ceiling as she tried not to notice.

The end credits rolled. Rebecca wiped away a few tears. She tucked both legs beneath her body as she faced the other women in the room. “So, what did you guys think?”

“I really liked that checkered dress. Oh, and the giant cloak when she left for Gettysburg!” Paula stayed seated but pantomimed donning the aforementioned clothing while sweeping away in a hurry. “I mean, c’mon, can you really call it a dramatic exit without some kind of cape to swish behind you? It’s the only way to go.”

“Right? So pretty. So stylish. And when they got into the rowboat and she read her poetry to him?” Rebecca pouted and held her hands over her heart. “I loved that.”

“He was kind of an asshole, though,” Valencia concluded. “Waffling between them both like they were equally viable options. Pick a path and stick to it. And for the love of God, invest in wax or a razor.”

“That’s a justifiable point,” Rebecca acknowledged. “I’m a big advocate of a person having as much or as little body hair as they see fit so, you know, more power to him. But, practically speaking, that stuff is gonna scratch your tits to hell when you’re pounding it out together. R.I.P. reincarnated lady’s boobs.”

Heather and Paula concurred with empathetic nods.

“I’m not super into the reincarnation angle itself, though,” Heather decided. “They had a few set traits because of the whole same-internal-essence thing, but Caleb and Scotty were still different guys living different lives, y’know?”

“They did each have their own vibe,” Paula concurred. “The two were very similar but not identical. Close, but no cigar.”

“Exactly! And I think they knew people weren’t gonna be as into modern JJL after ninety minutes with Civil War her. That’s why her name went from Elizabeth to Beth so it’s like, ‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s cool for us to just end the movie now because she’s literally the same,’ but she’s not. She wasn’t there for any of it. Beth doesn’t share all the history and she doesn’t know everything that happened before she came into the picture. It’s like, dude, she’s a separate person and eventually you’re gonna have to explain everything. I guess go ahead and get attached to someone who’s superficially a match, but it doesn’t make her your soulmate.”

Heather finished her rant and stared down at the empty bottle in her hands. She could feel Valencia tense beside her but neither risked eye contact. 

Heavy fabric pelted against the top of Heather’s head and fell to the floor. 

“What the...”

She looked up to realize Rebecca had chucked a throw pillow at her. 

“Start believing in romance, you cynic! Stop deflating love bubbles with your logic!” Rebecca reached for another to lob, but Heather held her hands aloft.

“Yeah, there’s an open container of salsa literally two feet away from me, so I’m thinking we should call for an armistice.” Heather forced her expression into a semblance of contrition. “No more mood-killing. But also no more furniture attacks. Deal?”

“I can agree to those terms.” Rebecca let the second pillow fall from her grip.

“Cool. I’m gonna go use the bathroom before we start whatever’s next.” 

Heather departed for that location and locked the door. She splashed water on her face and met her own gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “You are acting like such a jealous douche,” Heather reprimanded herself in a low voice. “That may be the literal brand you represent, but it’s not who you are as a person. Cut the crap.”

She towel-dried her skin and sighed. Somehow, she had to come to terms with the chasm between where she used to think her life would be at this point and where things were actually headed. It wasn’t fair to Valencia to keep letting an undercurrent of bitterness guide the course of their interactions. Then there was Beth, genial and charming, who had done absolutely nothing to earn a cold shoulder. Heather frequently hashed and rehashed it all out in her mind, and she knew Beth had proven herself to be an exemplary first girlfriend. Whether the process of doing so was easy or not, she had to step aside. After all, Valencia wasn’t the only one in a new relationship. Heather had someone, too. Hector... No, she couldn’t tackle her feelings about him right now. The main thing to focus on was turning over a new leaf, and she intended to do so once she rejoined the others.

Heather left the bathroom, pivoted out of habit toward the living room, and almost ran right into Beth. She pulled to an abrupt stop. “Sorry. All yours.”

Beth hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. “Thanks. Hey, I don’t now if it’s a breach of that treaty you and Rebecca have going to tell you this, but you made a pretty solid point earlier.” She cast a covert glance at the rest of the group, playfully following along with the faux tension as well as the subsequent peace. “What makes a person isn’t just what they’re starting with, but how they’re affected by things, and what they do in response to that. Like you said, it’s from their ’90s collection, and I don’t know if they were really encouraging us to look that deep, but still.” She shrugged. “V told me you’re good at reading people, and she was right.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Heather nearly crossed her arms, but instead she slipped her palms into the pockets of her vest. “I may need to call on you for backup in the event of another pro-tearjerker uprising, so, be ready with a strong argument. Rebecca loves a debate.”

Beth laughed. “You got it.”

They parted ways and Heather turned around again. Valencia was watching. She twitched her lips upward timidly. Heather flushed with remorse that things had become so difficult between them. She returned the greeting with a sincere smile. Valencia beamed and approached to talk. 

“How’s movie vote number two going?” Heather asked.

Valencia looked back at their companions with loving exasperation. “We’re officially in Eeny Meeny Miny Mo territory, but Rebecca and Paula got into a discussion about whether it should be the full rhyme or just those four words. I feel like I don’t need to tell you which friend was in favor of which option.”  

“It’ll be all right. Paula will wrap things up one way or another,” Heather said confidently. “My money’s on her grabbing something out of the pile and shouting ‘This is it!’ just to cut the rounds short.”

Paula’s voice suddenly projected over Rebecca’s. “Oh, look! It’s the brunette from Down with Love. A Christmas Wedding -- we have a winner!” She held the box aloft and then carried the disc to the player. 

Rebecca was miffed by the interruption for only a few seconds before her shoulders rose and fell. “Works for me.”

“You called it.” Valencia nudged Heather. “You know us all too well.”

“I feel like you could probably make an educated guess what I’m thinking sometimes, too.”

“Like right now?”

“Sure, if you want.”

Valencia considered Heather with exaggerated scrutiny. “Switching from beer to wine before we start another cringey movie?”

Heather elbowed her and they both smiled. “Bingo.”

[quotescaption]

20 Quotes For Friendship Forever

20 Quotes For Friendship Forever.What do you think is the best way to make new friends? Would you believe that the best way to make friends is just to say “Hello?” That’s right, say “Hello” to someone you don’t know.

I can say this with some confidence because that’s how I met my wife! I was taking evening classes at the University of Waterloo and I would often stop at Tim Horton’s while walking home.

Quotes For Friendship Forever

1-Weve not necessarily had to chat each and every one hours of daylight. Weve even later without talking for weeks. But behind we have spoken to each new, its behind we never stopped talking. 2-Weve laughed at the silliest jokes, sanction each choice at our worst, following along behind the craziest of ideas and thats what makes us the most amazing best contacts! 3-Thats the situation nearly you and me — in the heavens of siblings, weve pissed each supplementary off and made each added cry but in the subside, weve always been there, to giggle gone each subsidiary even at our darkest grow antique. 4-Dont make buddies who are pleasant to be considering. Make connections who will force you to lever yourself happening. Thomas J. Watson. 5-A valid buddy walks in subsequent to than the land of the world walks out. Walter Winchell 6-The suitable matter very roughly substitute connections is that they bring added simulation to your soul. Shanna Rodriguez

7-Dont be scared of auxiliary beginnings. Dont shy away from connection people, supplementary simulation, adjunct surroundings. Embrace adding going on chances at happiness. Billy Chipata

8-Each new friendship can make you an extra person because it opens going on new doors inside of you. Kate DiCamillo

9-No distance of place or lapse of era can lessen the peace of those who are fully persuaded of each additionals worth. Robert Southey

10-Throughout computer graphics, you will meet one person who is gone no appendage. You could chat to this person for hours and never profit bored, you could declare this person things and they will never go along together in the middle of you. This person is your soulmate, your best buddy. Dont ever permit them go. Unknown.

Read More 30 Mother Daughter Quotes

Meaningful Friendship Quotes

11-Some of the biggest challenges in relationships come from the fact that most people enter a connection to acquire something: theyharshly speaking aggravating to locate someone whos going to make them environment deafening. In veracity, the by yourself further marginal note a association will last is if you appearance your relationship as a area that you add manage to pay for, and not a place that you build uphill concur. Anthony Robbins

12-If there ever comes a day following we cant be together, save me in your heart. Ill stay there at all times. A. A. Milne

13-A pal is someone who understands your p.s., believes in your well ahead, and accepts you just the mannerism you are. Unknown

14-Growing apart doesnt fiddle taking into account the fact that for a long become earliest we grew shoulder to shoulder; our roots will always be tangled. Im happy for that. Ally Condie 15-Let us be grateful to the people who make us glad; they are the gorgeous gardeners who make our souls flower. Marcel Proust 16-Lots of people ache to ride when you in the limo, but what you twinge is someone who will understand on the bus taking into account you gone the limo breaks all along. Oprah Winfrey 17- “If you think of your membership as a place you add have enough money, and not as a place you photo album put uphill considering, it will last.” 18-Weve not known each added for too long but back more authentic peace isnt about whom youve known the longest but who came and always stood by your side. 19-You, my best pal, have always made pure grow pass greater than before and danger easier! 20-I dont have words to flavor nor attainment I have tears to shed. I dont nonexistence to evaluate for a smile, or a hand to retain. All I dependence is to be your best pal constantly!

As the old saying goes, “there’s a time and place for everything.” Real friends will pick you up, even when you are at your worst. They will take you to coffee, get you ice cream, and even just listen to you. Fake friends, on the other hand, will find one reason after another as to why they can’t help you. 

[queen-scribbles]

Little Things

Dragon Age Secret Santa fic for @styliferous​, featuring her Tabris, Anila, and camp bonding time. Anila was a delight and super cooperative, so this was extra fun to write. :D Merry Christmas!

It was the little things in life you didn’t miss until they were taken away that made this difficult. Warm baths after a long day, sleeping in your own bed, not having to pick darkspawn guts out of your hair....

Of course, Anila couldn’t be too mad about the last one, because the darkspawn she was picking out of her hair had looked dead-set on decapitating Zevran before Morrigan put a rather spectacular end to it. Didn’t make her current state any more enjoyable, but with the likely alternative fresh in her mind, it was more tolerable. 

Still this was going to take a while. All she had to work with was a single wooden comb, a shallow bowl, and the stream near camp. Sooner you start, the sooner you’re done, she encouraged herself, and reached back to unpin her hair. The twin carrot-orange braids had scarcely unwound down her back when she heard footsteps behind her. Anila half-turned to look as she dipped her fingers into the stream to test the temperature. Brr. “What can I do for you, Leliana?”

Her fellow redhead smiled. “Actually, I came to see if I could help you. Alistair told me what happened, and I figured it might be easier to clean up if you had some help, no?”

Anila smiled gratefully. “Help would be wonderful. It went everywhere. I can clean it off my armor and other gear easily enough, but I’m paranoid I’ll miss some in my hair and smell to high heaven for the next several days.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Leliana sat next to her at the stream’s edge, filling the shallow bowl and setting it on a mostly flat rock nearby. “Mm, that’s brisk.”

“I know,” Anila said as she untied her braids, running her fingers through the strands to loosen them. “This’ll be fun.”

Leliana laughed softly. “I’ll try to keep the rest of you as dry as possible.”

“I appreciate that,” Anila replied, settling herself with her back to the stream. “I’m sorry we were so late getting back to camp. I know we said midday, but-”

“Anila, please, a darkspawn ambush is among the better excuses for not sticking to your timetable,” Leliana said wryly, running her fingers through Anila’s hair. “I’m just glad you all made it back in one piece.”

“Well, mostly one piece,” Anila muttered sourly, picking at the grass and trying not to dwell on how heavily Alistair had been leaning against her the last half-mile back to camp.

“Wynne will have him patched up in no time,” Leliana assured her, as if she’d read Anila’s mind. She poured the bowl of water over her hair, and Anila barely repressed a shiver. “And he seemed in good spirits when I talked to him.” She picked up the comb and ran it through Anila’s hair. “Maker’s breath, Anila, how close were you standing to this darkspawn when it exploded?”

“Pretty damn,” she admitted. “You should see my armor.”

“No, thank you,” Leliana said with half a smile.

“I’m just glad most of it landed on me and Alistair,” Anila sighed. “So we don’t have to worry about Morrigan or Zev catching the Taint. On that note, be careful. I don’t need you catching the Taint either.”

“Oh, I am, trust me,” Leliana promised. The two women lapsed into silence for a few minutes as she worked section by section to comb out Anila’s hair. Despite the water’s chill, and the awkward position she was sitting in, there was something undeniably relaxing about having someone wash your hair, and Anila closed her eyes to better enjoy the simple pleasure. She tried not to worry too much about Alistair, or the risk involved with Leliana combing darkspawn ichor out of her hair, but it was hard with no distractions. Leliana hummed softly to herself until she broke the silence to comment, “I really do love your hair, mon ami.”

Anila smiled, remembering their last conversation on this topic. “Thank you. It took ages to get it as long as I wanted. Nice to have that work appreciated.”

“How come?” Leliana asked idly, pouring more water over to hair to wash out loosened ichor.  “About growing it, I mean.”

Anila shrugged. “Just circumstances in general. Growing up in the alienage meant going without food sometimes, or not getting enough, or getting the same thing every day for a week. And malnourished hair falls out or breaks much more easily, so it wasn’t until I got older and could help provide that it got healthy and I made any kind of progress growing it out.” She sighed, smiling slightly at a memory.  “Shianni was furiously jealous for weeks, until the first time she caught me trying to brush it.” As if on cue, the comb snagged a knot and she winced.

“Sorry,” Leliana murmured. “That’s a tricky spot...”

“S’alright. But you can see why Shianni decided she was okay with short hair,” Anila said wryly. 

“Indeed I can,” Leliana chuckled. “And I’m sure it suits her just as well as yours does you.”

Anila hummed in gratitude, and the two women let silence return until Leliana finished.

“There you go,” she said, sitting back and working a cramp out of her hand. “Completely gore free.”

“Thanks,” Anila smiled. She picked up the comb and parted her hair precisely down the middle, deftly split each half into thirds, and had it back in twin braids before you could say The last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. She left them hanging down her back and bent to collect up the bowl. “If I pin them up, it’ll take forever to dry,” she explained to Leliana.

“I figured as much,” Leliana nodded. “I’ve never had my hair that long, but I have friends who did.”

“Any of these friends bards?” Anila asked idly as they walked back toward camp.

A half-smile quirked Leliana lips. “One tried it. She found the lifestyle was not to her liking, no?”

“It does seem the sort of thing that would only appeal to a very specific type of person.” Anila swatted at a cattail, sending it bobbing back and forth long after they were past.

Leliana nodded. “Very true. Alistair, for example, would fail miserably. Poor dear is a terrible liar.”

Anila giggled. “As faults go, that one’s not too bad.”

“Also very true,” Leliana concurred as they reached the edge of the camp, walking into the middle of a playful yet spirited debate.

“I’m still not clear on why you get to cook tonight,” Alistair was saying, as he shifted position against the tree serving as his backrest. He rubbed briefly at the bandages encircling his left thigh before his hand returned to rest atop Cyrion’s head. The mabari whined softly, and Alistair absently scratched between his ears. “It was s’pposed to be my turn, and there’s nothing wrong with my hands.”

“Ah, yes, but you need rest, amico,” Zevran countered, flashing Anila a grin when he noticed her approach. “Besides, we all know the food I cook has actual flavor. And I know what my cara likes.”

“Your cara likes Fereldan lamb and pea stew just as much as her fellow Warden,” Anila interjected, amused.

“Ah! I am betrayed,” Zevran said, clucking disappointment but grinning even as he pressed one hand over his heart. “I must rescue your taste buds from this dreary Fereldan cuisine, yes?”

“Not if it involves as much spice as last time,” Alistair grumbled. Cyrion let out a low wuff of agreement.

“I have to side with them, Zev,” Anila said with a smile. “You can have a little fun, but please do keep it simple.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded with a theatrical sigh. “Your wish is my command and all that. Though it is criminal how little you Fereldans appreciate good food, is it not, Leliana?”

“Oh, non, mon ami,” she laughed, raising her hands in protest. “Even if I agree with you, you’re not pulling me into that. I’m sure whatever you make will be good, and let’s leave it there.”

The rest of the dinner preparations, as well as the meal itself, passed in a swirl of laughter, teasing, and good-natured ribbing. Anila was still smiling when she crawled into her bedroll, heart warmed and worries calmed by time spent with her friends. It was the moments like tonight--Alistair laughing ruefully as he cave to Cyrion’s umpteenth plea for belly rubs, Zevran’s smile as he tucked a stray wisp of hair back behind her ear, Leliana skillfully balancing all the dishes on her way to the stream to wash up--that  carried her through the harder ones. The little things, that made this saving the world business a little easier.

[mpdgmustdie]

French Toast and Families

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil

Pairings: Prinxiety (can be read as platonic) and Logicality (can also be read as platonic, idk there might be others but that’s the only subtext I intentionally put in

Word Count: 1710

Summary: A few weeks after the ‘Fitting In’ video. Virgil is becoming more comfortable with his identity as part of the group, but still has some lingering doubts. Lots of fluff.

Warnings: negative self-talk, angst; I think that’s it, but please correct me if i’m wrong

A/N: This is my first fic, so feedback would be appreciated. I’m sorry for any typos or ooc behavior. So anyway, here goes... (I am afraid.)

     Virgil awoke to the noise of the other sides clattering in the kitchen. "Oh crap I overslept I was supposed to help with breakfast and- Hey. It's okay. Deep breaths." As he practiced his usual 7-4-8 rhythm he focused on the sounds of the others from down below his room. It had been a few weeks since that whole Harry Potter incident, and he was still trying to get used to the idea that Thomas, Patton, Logan, and Roman all needed- no, wanted him around, that he belonged with them, that they were his friends, his- family. The word tasted so sweet and strange on his tongue, almost too beautiful to be real. More often than not he woke up convinced it was all a dream.     "Speaking of waking up, I should get downstairs before they somehow manage to burn down the mind palace..." He quickly changed into his new attire and went downstairs.  

"Hey there kiddo!" Patton chirped. “I was just about to come check on you!”     “No need, I’m up,” Virgil muttered, perching on the counter a safe distance away from what appeared to be the beginnings of French toast.     "Well obviously. I-" Logan was cut off by a loud remark from Roman.     "Is that milk you're putting in? the prince asked incredulously.     "Yes," Logan replied. "Is there an issue?"      Roman seemed to be at a loss for words. "I- You- You can't just put in milk! It dilutes the flavor! French toast is an experience! It's bland, ordinary bread baptized in rich, eggy, goodness to make a treat worthy of royalty!"     "I'm afraid I must correct you there. Though French toast, or 'pain perdu' as they called it at the time, was consumed by Henry V, it dates back to as early as the 5th century, when the bread was primarily dipped in milk and fried for the consumption of peasants." Logan smirked.      "Aww... Lo, you're such an egghead!" Patton grinned, making finger guns at him.      Logan groaned, looking like he wanted nothing more than to dump the milk on Patton's head.      "Ooh, I know eggxactly how to fix this milk dilemma! Moove over!"

     This was apparently too much for Logan, who shot Virgil an exasperated look as if to say "look at the things I put up with" then walked off to collect himself, presumably in the sane realm of his room. Patton reached into a cupboard and pulled out two bottles. "With a little vanilla and cinnamon there'll be more than enough flavor!" He poured a thin stream of vanilla into the bowl, turning the liquid a lovely shade of brown. Then he uncapped the cinnamon and began shaking a bit of the fragrant powder into the mixture. Unfortunately, Logan chose to reappear at that exact moment, and Roman burst into his own rendition of Belle's song from Beauty and the Beast to acknowledge his return. "Here comes Logan with his books like always The same old facts and notes to tell..." Startled both by Logan's sudden reappearance and Roman's sudden musical outburst, Patton squeezed the bottle a little too hard and cinnamon came flying out, covering the counter and turning the bowl's contents a dark brown.     "Vanilla?! CINNAMON?! Who taught you how to cook?" Logan fumed, peering into the bowl with a dismal expression on his face as he tried to skim some of the extra cinnamon off the top of the mixture with a fork.     Virgil snorted. Logan was definitely not a morning person. And his temper had been pretty short these days, which was worrying... 

“Hey kiddo, do you wanna come help Roman cook this stuff?" Patton asked.     "Sure," Virgil slipped off the counter and over to the stove. Because if anyone could burn the mind palace down, it'd be Princey...     Despite Logan's best efforts, the French toast goop was still dark with cinnamon. Virgil, dragged a piece of bread through it, which removed most of the excess cinnamon, then threw it on the pan. Roman did the same, flipping the slice sharply through the air with a spatula and landing it on the pan with a satisfying hiss.     Roman's sharp movements gave Virgil an idea. It was silly, but it seemed like the sort of thing friends did... He picked up his spatula and pointed it at Roman like a sword. "En garde, Prince!" Roman, who had been hovering over the cooking toast, whirled around, exchanging a bewildered look with Logan. Patton let out a high pitched squeak. I should have thought this through everyone is looking at me I'm so stupid why did I-     Distracted by his rising panic, Virgil nearly failed to dodge Roman's spatula as it came swinging towards him.     "If it's a duel you want, a duel you shall have, edgelord!" cried the prince. Virgil stabbed at him then ducked behind the counter, running out into the other room. Patton was beaming and Logan looked confused, a rare expression for him. Neither Roman nor Virgil noticed, as they were locked in the middle of an all out spatula duel in the living room.

    All the sides loved acting, as they were all parts of Thomas, but Virgil loved the rush of adrenaline that came from stage fighting in particular. "This," Virgil decided, "is a positive kind of anxiety." He fought defensively, ducking behind couches and chairs and parrying jabs from Roman, who had an affinity for spinning and flourishing his spatula dramatically. Roman was relentless, and eventually, despite Virgil's best efforts, the prince had him pined down against the floor with one hand, pointing his weapon towards Virgil's throat with the other.     "Yield," he commanded.     "Never!" Virgil laughed, out of breath. Roman grinned, then looked at him.     "You know Verge, I've never heard you laugh before."     "Oh, uh... you know..." Virgil trailed off, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. What was he supposed to say to that?     "Relax, Hot Topic, I like it," he said easily, offering one of his trademark charming smiles.     "Well, thanks, I guess," Virgil replied awkwardly.     "Boys, your toast!" Logan called from the kitchen, sounding vaguely alarmed.

    "Crap!" Roman ran to the kitchen, followed by Virgil. Logan was standing over a pan of brownish black toast and Patton appeared to be distracted by a cat video.     "What... happened?" Roman asked, aghast. "Toast... why did you toast my bread? Now it is blackened and dead!" He lamented.     "It wasn't my fault!" Logan said quickly. "I assumed Patton was keeping an eye on the stove, so I started reading!"     "Well, you can't really trust Pa-" Roman was cut short by a glare from Virgil. "I mean, it's alright, we can just make more."     "I gotta be honest, I don't know what you all are talking about. French toast tastes the best this way," Virgil admitted.     "What?!" Roman cried, outraged.     "Yeah, you know, the more cooked it is, the less risk of Salmonella there is..."     "While only 1 in about 20,000 eggs is contaminated with Salmonella bacteria, it never hurts to be careful," Logan added helpfully.     "Plus it looks kinda, I dunno... edgy?"      Roman blinked. "...You think Halloween crayons and burned toast are edgy."     "And?"     "Nothing," said Roman, hiding a smile.     "I'm not-" Virgil started, but was cut off by Patton.     "If fish could make snow angels, what would they look like?" he wondered aloud. No one knew quite what to make of that.

After many bad puns, a few more pieces of burned toast, and one slightly singed tie, the sides were sitting around the table eating happily. Logan and Roman appeared to be drowning their toast in Crofter's.     "Seriously guys, what is with you and that jam?" Virgil asked.     "Oh you simply must try some; it's exquisite!" Roman advised. I concur," Logan said thickly, his mouth full of jelly-soaked toast.     "Uhh... No thanks," Virgil grimaced.     "What do you guys wanna do after breakfast?" Patton questioned.     "There's a few things for next month I need to plan," Logan replied.     "I was planning on having an epic adventure!" Roman announced.     "I dunno, just chilling in my room, I guess," Virgil replied when the others looked towards him. He'd had such a good time with everyone, did it really have to end? "Of course it does, you idiot,” he thought, looking down at the table. "They have lives after all, and much better things to do than spend time with you. You slept in late, you challenged Roman to a stupid sword fight, you let the toast burn-"

    "Are you alright, Patton?" Logan sounded concerned. Virgil looked up to see Patton hastily trying to wipe a disappointed expression from his face.     "Yep, I'm fine. I guess I was hoping we could maybe all cuddle for a bit, but seeing as how you all have things to do..."     "Next month isn't for a while," Logan cut in, looking at Patton with an odd expression.     "Adventures can happen any day. Cuddling with the ones you hold dear... that is a rarity," Roman nodded. Virgil shrugged, and gave a half-smile. "I'm down for that."     Patton broke into a grin, a faint sheen of tears in his eyes. "I love you guys so much," he said in a choked tone. Virgil could've sworn he heard Logan mutter the word 'adorable' under his breath, and then Patton was pulling them all towards the couch.     Logan ended up by the arm of the couch, with Patton snuggled into his side. Patton's free arm was around Roman's shoulders, who was draped elegantly over the remainder of the sofa. Virgil stood awkwardly by the side of the couch, unsure of what to do. He'd never really cuddled before. Luckily Patton came to his rescue.    "Hey Roman, would you mind scooting over a bit?" The prince sighed dramatically, but smiled and pulled Virgil toward the couch in between himself and Patton. Roman was leaning against him, Patton's arm was around him, and Virgil felt safe. He could feel the others' love for him as they sat there together in content silence, connecting together as parts of a whole. He closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling, trying to soak in every sensation of the moment. He was not the villain. He was not a reject. And for the first time, Virgil felt like he'd found a family, found a home.

[rosybunnnny]

My first threesome

Written on November 25th, 2018.

I was 21 and starting to have a lot of (safe) casual sex. It took me a long time to learn that my plus sized body had worth. I was just beginning to realize that my big tummy and jiggly thighs were things that someone could actually enjoy about me. Just beginning to realize that these things about me, that I had always seen as faults, could be seen by someone else as assets. This new change in how I viewed myself lead to me being more outgoing and eager to share my confidence with others.

So, to the actual story. Well, a preface to the story.

It was the middle of summer. I met Adam on Tinder a month prior. He was 29 years old, was bigger but in a teddy bear type of way, and was growing a sexy scruffy beard. He had claimed to be a musician but in reality just played a lot of video games while a guitar stood in the corner of the room. I didn’t care. We got along great.

I would go over to his apartment almost every night. We got stoned off edibles he had brought back from a trip to Colorado. We had incredible conversations. He knew how to talk to me. He knew how to work my mind. Oh, and my body.

I have a thing for hands. I like to feel them, hold them, look at them. Strong hands are just so sexy. His sturdy, guitar-playing fingers were just what my body craved. They ran along my body while we kissed on his couch. They’d part my legs and sneak their way under my dress. They’d caress me from outside my underwear. They’d finger me at a perfect rhythm while I rubbed my clit until I orgasmed.

He would kiss me as he felt my vagina spasming around his fingers. He would kiss me until all of the lightning was done shooting through my body. Then I would push him back and lower my face towards his waist. It was time for my own hands - and mouth - to shine. I’d look up once in a while, as I stroked and sucked his cock, to see him with his eyes closed, mouth open, sighing over and over again.

We played this routine for a few weeks before he actually fucked me. We fucked on his sofa, on his ottoman, and on his bed. We’d take smoke breaks on the balcony. He’d stand behind me, hands on my hips, and I’d point out which stars and constellations we could see. He lived just far enough outside of the city that the night sky was clear, uninterrupted, beautiful. He pretended to make an attempt at remembering the constellations I showed him. It was cute.

One day I was at home relaxing in my bedroom when he texted me.

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Not much, just hanging out at home,” I replied.

“Come to my friend’s house. We’re drinking and playing games.”

“I don’t want to hang out with two drunk dudes all night...”

“It’s not a dude. Her name is Holly. I think the three of us could really have some fun.” He included some sort of provocative emoji. Probably the peach, or maybe the smirk. Who knows. It was something naughty-looking. Moving on.

So it would be Adam, the guy I had only known for a month, this girl whom I did not know at all, and myself? With dirty emoji things involved? My stomach felt weird at the thought of a threesome. I hadn’t really given it much consideration in the past. The idea of being pleasured by two people at once really excited me. It also made me incredibly nervous. I mean, on top of never having been with two people at once, I had never been with another girl! But I’m known for trying anything once. A Yes Woman**TM, if you will, (if you've indulged in any of my other stories, you will surely concur,) so I agreed to meet them at Holly’s house later that night.

I hopped into an Uber at 8 o’clock. I was wearing my go-to summer dress, sans underwear. I made nervous conversation with the driver as we drove across the city until we finally pulled up in front of Holly’s house. I slowly walked up to the front door and knocked three times. I could hear commotion inside and then the door opened. Holly was short, curvy, and had brown hair and glasses. It seemed Adam had a type. She welcomed me inside and I saw Adam standing in the next room.

“Hey!” he shouted, smiling, and waved me over. I turned to Holly and told her it was great to meet her, shook her hand, and asked for a drink. I needed alcohol in my system. She handed me a cold cider from the fridge and we joined Adam in the living room. It was weird, everyone knowing what was going to happen that night, but not talking about it yet. We played a few drinking games over the next two hours. I guess we also took a fair number of bong hits. Next thing I knew, Holly and I both had our tits out. We were giggling uncontrollably. Whatever game we were playing was the kind in which the losing players have to do something to the winner's desire. The results: Adam had to take off his shirt. Holly had to finish her drink. I had to kiss Holly.

After a while of innocent fun we found ourselves in Holly’s bed, the three of us lying naked, side by side, with Adam in the middle. Nothing had happened yet. We must have been watching Netflix or something. I’m not quite sure. Either way, I do remember feeling Adam’s hand on my calf, slowly moving its way to my knee, then my thigh. I could feel his hand doing this, but his face was turned away from me. That’s when I realized he was making out with Holly. They kissed and kissed while his hand ventured its way up my leg, over my hips, and up to my breasts. The room was too dark to see much of anything, but I could hear the sounds of their mouths together. It turned me on. And Adam knew it, because he could feel my nipples get hard as rocks in that very moment. He squeezed my tits with his hand as the three of us spooned each other, me grinding into Adam, and Adam grinding into Holly. Then the kissing noises stopped.

I overheard Adam tell Holly to play with my tits. Then I heard some shuffling, then I shuffled myself, and I was suddenly in between the two of them. On my left was Adam and on my right was Holly. I was naked as hell, drunk, high, and super fucking horny, lying in between two other people, who were also naked as hell, drunk, high, and almost certainly super fucking horny.

Adam’s body got closer to mine and he kissed me. I could taste the beer from earlier, as well as a flavor I had never tasted in his mouth before. Holly. I could taste Holly as I kissed him. And while thinking this, I could feel Holly’s hands on my breasts. Her fingers gently squeezed my nipples from time to time; her long nails occasionally tickled me. Still under the weight of Adam’s kiss, I could feel him reach over and slowly move one of Holly's hands off of my tits and down to my waist. He left her hand there, confident that she got the hint. She did indeed. Continuing the motion, she reached her hand further down, resting it on my inner thigh, then pushing my leg to the side.

Adam broke his lips off of mine. ”Do you want Holly to finger you?”

In response I made a noise - a combination of a mumbled “yes” and a moan. Adam spoke again, “Did you hear that, Holly?” He returned to kissing me and I wrapped my hands around his neck. I could feel Holly’s nails tracing over my inner thighs, then her hand was over my pussy, her palm nice and warm. She moved one finger up and down between my labia, slowly parting them. Then she rubbed my clit, ever so softly, not trying to make me orgasm already, but just massaging it tenderly, knowing it was making me wetter and wetter. It was lovely being fingered by a woman. She held the knowledge that only a few (God-like) men do: that a pussy deserves to be massaged, caressed, and taken time with. I tried to concentrate on kissing Adam but I couldn’t control the fact that my hips had just started grinding against Holly’s hand. I heard her giggle from underneath the sheets. I had no doubt she could feel how soaked I was. My entire lower half was just aching for something to be inside. She could read my body, and her fingers moved from my clit downwards before I felt them enter me. All of a sudden I was experiencing so many things at once. One of Holly's hands on my breasts, Adam’s tongue in my mouth, and Holly’s other hand in my pussy. I don't even know what emojis would be utilized to best describe it. Feel free to suggest some in a comment.

She fingered me for some time before she and Adam both decided they needed water. They got up and left the room, leaving me alone in the bed, naked and wanting more. Those two minutes were so lonely, as my body was not ready to rest. Once they returned, Holly climbed back onto the bed, and Adam climbed on top of her. He kissed her and then looked at me. “Do you want to watch me fuck Holly? And then fuck you?” I nodded in return. I instantly regretted agreeing to this plan, however, because as soon as he slid his cock into her pussy, I was jealous. My own pussy was throbbing from the entire situation. I knew I had to do something if I didn’t want to sit and stare at them making love. So I leaned over and started massaging Holly’s tits. She seemed to like it, judging by her moans, and the fact that she put her hands on top of mine, only making me grip her tits even harder. Without thinking I leaned even further over and started to kiss her. It was difficult for our lips to maintain contact due to the bed rocking back and forth, but it just motivated us to kiss each other with even greater force.

Adam stopped fucking Holly and instructed me to get on my back. Holly took this opportunity to take a break and she left the room. I obeyed him and laid back, still not able to see much in the darkness. Then I felt his beard between my thighs. Oh yes, I liked where this was going. He gripped my hips and ate my pussy. Soon my clit was so swollen and my pussy so wet. He raised his head up to mind and kissed me, giving me a taste. Then he repositioned himself before thrusting his cock into me. Oh fuck, he was so warm, and hard. So damn hard. He thrust into me fast and rough, over and over again. My head kept hitting the wall but I didn't care, let alone notice.

Just when I needed to catch my breath he pulled out of me and looked around the room. As if on cue, Holly opened the door and waltzed in. With the light from the hallway hitting her face, I could see she looked rehydrated and ready for more action. “Get up here,” Adam said to her. She smirked and joined us on the bed. He grabbed her ankles and spun her body around so her ass was in front of him. She was on her hands and knees and before you could even blink he was fucking her once again. Sweat was rolling down his face by now. I wondered if she could feel the same warmth and hardness of his cock that I had felt less than a minute before. She supported herself with one hand and rubbed her clit with the other. It was so interesting to hear another woman's moans. Is that weird of me? It was something that had never crossed my mind. Her moans were higher pitched than mine. Soon, Adam started to let out the slow, deep grunts that I'm sure Holly was also familiar with, before slowing down, pausing after each thrust. He sat back, away from Holly’s body, and she flipped over so she could face the room. Her face was flushed, and her pussy was engorged and overflowing with Adam's cum. I looked down and realized I had been fingering myself.

We each took a few minutes to return to reality. There were still shockwaves running through my legs every fifteen seconds - my body’s version of applause after a good fuck. After a while I stood up to get dressed. Adam was spending the night at Holly’s but I needed to get back home. It was already 1 AM. I gathered my things, chugged a glass of water, and thanked them for inviting me over. The twenty-five minute Uber ride was silent. I was afraid to even make small-talk, as if through my voice the driver would somehow know that I had been extra naughty that night. So for the entire drive I just stared up at the moon and stars through the window, noting the constellations I could recognize, thinking about my first threesome, and hoping the driver couldn’t see me blush.