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fanaticsnail · 3 months

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Two More Times

Masterlist Here

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Word Count: 4,300+

Synopsis: A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, p in v, afab!reader, dom!shanks x brat!reader, overstimulation, Shanks begs a little bit, Shanks is a hypocrite, prolonged eye contact, inappropriate use of mirrors, has plot I swear.

Notes: This little fic was brought to you by Aussie shenanigans write night while nursing mutual hangovers. A gift for and beta-read by @sordidmusings.

Tag List: @writingmysanity, @feral-artistry, @gingernut1314

The searing burn of a scorched gaze had been fixed on your body all night long. The feel of the attention on your back as you departed, the focus pinpointed on your face as you entered; the gaze wanting so desperately to meet with your own searching within your eyes - eyes that you refused to return the longing expression to find purchase against his rust-coloured orbs.

No illusion, nor discrepancy, had you hold any disillusion that this man - the captain of the Red-Hair Pirates, was completely smitten with you. The way he was such a gentleman for you: ordering your drinks at the tavern, ensuring you were the first to cross the threshold into a room by holding the door ajar, his body always finding itself thrust between you and harm's way. He was a captain: a man of great myth and fierce legend. His legacy will live on forever by his works and deeds alone. And he wanted you, he desired you.

He was with you.

You desired to be by his side fingertips granting warmth to one another through presence in proximity, the almost brush of your lips meeting as your eyes glazed over. Your bodies almost always found each other in one form or another, but tonight, you were yet to clasp the final link in the heavy chains binding you physically to one another.

The small, insignificant thing holding you back from committing to the bit; returning his gaze and advances, was the pang clashing harshly against your ribcage and desire rolling off your body in waves. This meeting with a potential Nakama for the Red-Hair Pirates; a captain as beautiful in appearance as she was in nature had you feeling inadequate and unworthy of harboring the affections of a man such as Shanks. He was yours, and you were his through and through - but she?

Oh, she? She was spectacular.

Instead of being Shanks’ loyal partner by his side, you engaged with your crew ensuring their drinks always remained topped up while lying idle in conversing with the new allied crew. Making polite conversation with the Nakama crew came incredibly naturally to you. You had a knack for making all those around feel special and cared for, a skillset Shanks greatly appreciated in you.

As you maneuvered your way around Lucky Roux and Lime-Juice to meet your interlaced hands at the bar top counter, those eyes you were avoiding burned you with the same intensity you had been feeling all night. Eyes you knew should hold their intense focus in the meeting with the potential Nakama captain in front of him. You flicked your hair over your shoulder, checking on your crew while sparing a fleeting glance at your redheaded captain through your peripherals.

His rust-coloured orbs sat unblinking and hyperfocused on your body; exactly where they shouldn’t be to ensure the meeting went smoothly. Regardless of how desperately you desired to saunter over to Shanks, quietly reprimand him in his ear with a small kiss on his cheekbone, and flee without another word: you held back to allow him space to discuss the intricacies of the meeting space with the foreign captain.

Shanks was incredibly upset about your absence at his side. He wanted his pretty girl to sit on his knee whispering praises and playful jests into his ear. He wanted to look up into your face, smiling his broad dopey grin as his pretty girl was on display for all to see.

Instead he sat, cradling his chin in his hand and ignoring this captain he knew he should be paying his undivided attention to. But his attention did remain divided, held completely transfixed by your surliness and the subtle swing of your hips as you leant against the bar. His every sense swelled with desire to have, hold and showcase his pretty girl in front of this captain - her own attention fleeting as she held her undivided gaze on a member of her own crew.

“Something on your mind, Red-Hair?” she asked him, watching intently as her first mate approached the bar beside you. Shanks was finally roused from his hold of contact on your back, to float to the man the captain beside him held her attention against.

“Have you ever been in love?” Shanks uttered, smiling as he elevated his tankard to his lips. The woman beside him chuckled, looking down to her own drink and swirling her index finger over the rim.

“I am in love, Captain,” she confessed, claiming her glass in her hands with her fingertips gripping the rim; her index finger gesturing to the man beside you at the bar, “My first-mate and I have been in a relationship for quite some time. He continuously thinks himself unworthy of my affection, which is completely and utterly ridiculous.”

“I completely understand,” Shanks said, his smile stretching over his lips and up to the peaks of his eyes, “My pretty girl is at the bar next to who I assume your first-mate be.” The captains both take a moment to watch their spouses ignore them, both engaging in polite conversation and clinking cups against one anothers.

“They’ve been awfully quiet while we’re in our meeting, wouldn’t you say Shanks?” her brow quirked at her question. Shanks grunted out a small ‘aye’ in response, holding his eyes once more over you as you began to sway to the music swelling from the band in the corner. After a few moments of silence, both captains began to turn their smiles up into smirks as their eyes darkened.

“A small amount of reminding them of their importance to us would be in order, do you agree?” her tone quirked at the corner alongside the elevation of her lips. Shanks huffed a laugh into the rim of his tankard, the playfulness returning to swirl with the darkness within his twinkling eyes.

“Aye, that I can agree on,” he admitted with a small nod. The foreign captain’s first-mate glanced over his shoulder and their eyes finally met. The first-mate visibly shuddered beneath the woman’s gaze, anticipation wracking through his body at the promise of what’s to come.

“It seems we have far more in common than we initially thought, Captain,” she nodded, rising to her feet and placing her empty glass on the table. “I shall see you in future, Red-Hair. May our newfound Nakama flourish.” Shanks nodded politely, watching the aura this captain seemed to hold over her crew. With a simple brush of her fingertips on the back of her first mate, his brows upturned and he obediently followed her exit through the threshold of the tavern door.

And there you were: finally alone, isolated and waiting for him.

You felt a firm hand clasp the back of your neck, tugging at the flesh and turning your head to face the presence behind you. Squeaking out a small whimper of shock, your lips met with your red-haired captain as he pressed a bruising kiss against your startled mouth.

His lips moved expertly, the hum of his voice pressed its rumbled vibration into your mouth. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose sucking in an elongated breath. Rolling his tongue over his lips, he sought yours out and brushed the organ against it slowly and deliberately.

Whistles, hollers, cheers and snickers from the Red-Hair pirates had Shanks smiling into the shameless kiss; the firm grip of his hand on the scruff of your neck rendering you helpless to do nothing but take the affection he was pressing against you. A sign of the promised punishment your present surliness held for you in your future.

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The rough slaps and quickened snaps of your hips meeting with his echoed within the small room. You tried to halt your soft sobs and whimpers from overstimulation, eyes tightly shut and tears pricking at the corners as you rode him.

"No," his voice commanded you softly. You felt his hand travel up from your thigh to rest on your face, thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek.

Regardless of his verbal command, you continued your quickened pace: the heat of your walls sucking in his shaft at the same elevated rhythm you set earlier.

He was yet to climax, and you had been at this for hours. He had your peak rise and fall for the upteenth time by his lips, tongue, thigh and fingers: each time, the lights dancing behind your eyes and the soft call of his name cried from your lips.

You were desperate for him to cum. You wanted to have him share in the same bliss he had offered you so many times earlier today, the shoots of his seed buried deep within you with your name spilled as recklessly from his lips as yours did his.

"No," he commanded once more, your relentless pace you set continued ceaselessly. You continued bouncing your body and sheathing yourself fully on his cock, feeling the twitch hitting against the top of your cervix.

You knew he would cum like this, and you wanted him to feel his release just as he had you reach yours. You continued hastily riding him, him granting you a shuddered groan growling from between his clenched teeth. You felt him close, the small quiver of his cock depicting truly how thoroughly he was enjoying your hasty pace. Just as you felt him near his release, you expected him to fuck up into you, burying himself deeper and writhing beneath you as he came.

Instead, his arm trailed down from your cheek, shoulder and hips: hooking around your body and holding you fully sheathed on his cock, halting your movement entirely.

"P-Please," you whimpered, your pace fully halted by his firm arm. The twitch of his cock at your plea had you continue, "I-I-’s too much. W-Want you to feel good. P-Please Captain."

The twitch of his cock granted you the telltale sign that he halted his orgasm from shooting up into you. He lazily rolled his hips into yours, the grind of his pelvis meeting your clit and caused another cry from fleeing your lips.

"You can take it," he whispered, rolling his hips against yours; his buried cock twitching once more, and stretching you deliciously. Your arousal coated his pubic hair and tops of his thighs, the wrap of his arm halting your every movement with the incredible strength he held you with.

"Captain I-I-," you tried, Shanks halting your cry by sitting up while remaining still within you. You snapped your eyes open to meet his, the warm rust of his irises held a foreign emotion depicted behind them. One you had not seen for some time: overall unreadable, but not an unwelcome flavor painted on his face.

You knew you had been a tease to him earlier today. The swing of your hips, the twitch of your smirk and the looks you shot him over your shoulder were enough to warrant him clawing out climax after climax from you as punishment. Your surliness was his undoing: your refusal to acknowledge his eyes by meeting yours against them.

As his eyes met yours now, and this new position held his cock buried deeper; his gaze no longer held that punishing brutality mixed playfulness he offered you earlier. This foreign expression you had yet seen depicted in his gaze, his words not speaking its unconfirmed intention. It was no longer the aggressive, lustful look he always threw at you during the bedroom hours, mixing with his boyish charm and humor.

His eyes were dark, a hue of pink flushing his cheeks with a dusting of heat. Lips parted, eyes searching between yours as his breath caught in his throat. The closest you could place this expression was compared to ‘awe,’ but that was still not entirely correct.

He began rocking you atop his lap, slow grinds of his pelvis and throbbing pulses from his cock bringing another pleasured whimper from your throat. He continued to hold your gaze, his lips parting as a slow groan fled his lips. The quiver of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelashes, and blown pupils darting its focus on your eyes held more emotion than you were used to seeing.

"You can take it," he gasped again, "I know you can, pretty girl." You whimpered once more, feeling the slow rake of his cock pull itself out before burying it again deep within you.

"Jus' want you to feel good. P-Please let me make you feel good," you cried once more, the swell of your exhausted tears within your eyes spurred Shanks' smile to rise against his lips.

He halted his rocking all together, his forehead falling forward to meet against your collar bone. You cried out at his halt, desperately attempted to start your pace once more - his arm halting you by the sheer strength he held alone.

"Just want you to cum. I’ll be so good. Please, Shanks. Please, please, please. Need it-... N-Need you-," your cries were answered by the surge of his hips and thighs propelling themselves forward, throwing your back to hit against the plush mattress.

This small resurgence of his playfulness returning had your prior desperation for him morph into a laugh of joy - a sound mirrored by his own soft laugh.

He propped himself up by his hand lying beside your head. As his cock slowly buried itself once more within you; mutual groans, mixed with laughter and sighs, joined together harmoniously. He sunk his weight onto your hips, his full weight halted it's descent by him angling down onto elbow beside your head. His hand began brushing your hair from your face, his playful smile never leaving his lips.

He lunged forward, sheathing his cock completely within you and holding himself firmly there.

His smile approached you, capturing your lips within his and brushing his tongue over your parted lips to brush against your own - his smile never leaving his lips. Pulling away his claim on your lips, he began slowly rocking his hips against yours, gasping at the feeling of your walls sucking him in further.

"You're so desperate to feel me cum, love?" He asked you, the uptick of his voice and soft huff of laugh colliding with a sinful groan fleeing him, "You should've thought of that before behaving like a brat."

You whimpered out a cry of bliss as his sheathed cock brushed with your g-spot, the slow, rhythmic slap of his hips colliding deeply with yours slowly echoing once more within the room.

"No, love," he growled into your ear, successfully caging you beneath him with the hover of his body, "No. You don't get to feel me cum until I bring out another two from you. No cry of mercy or relentless fucking up into me will have me cum in you-."

You cried as a particularly harsh snap of his hips had his weight topple down onto you. His pace quickened, the wind of the coil within your stomach began its tightening once more.

The feel of being completely trapped beneath the weight of his body, the only movement breaking your entrapment away from his body was the small rise and fall of his hips harshly fucking into you slowly and deliberately.

You groaned, arching your back and writhing as you felt your toes and fingertips begin to quiver at the approach of your climax. Shanks chuckled into your shoulder, his teeth slowly clamping down on the tender flesh and soothing over the bite with his tongue.

"That's it, pretty girl," he complimented you, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusting, "You've finally realized, huh?" You whimpered, the depth of his cock brushing up against you and the pick up of his pace held your mind fuzzy and jaw slack.

"You're stuck," he growled against you, "And you're going to remain helpless and stuck through two more before I cum in you. Make no mistake, love-..." he continued to elevate his pace, the depth of his cock sinking into you brutally.

"I will cum for you, pretty girl," his promise felt hot in your ear, scorching you as his gaze did earlier in the evening, "But not until I make you scream for me two more times."

You whimpered, the slow and deep pace he set now deliberately scraping against the tender spot within you. This new set of rhythm had your lips parting and walls condensing and squeezing against his cock. He huffed a small grunt against your ear, eyes rolling at the feeling. Wrapping your legs over his hips, you keened into his shoulder at the slow intwine of another elevation of your approaching climax.

“There you go. Atta girl. I can feel how close you are,” He struck you with his cock, repetitively hitting the sensitive part by hooking his cock expertly within you, “C’mon now, pretty little thing. Let me hear you cry out for me.” You scrunch your eyes tightly shut, feeling the familiar buzz starting within your toes behind his back.

Slowly pulling away his hips from your own, resheathing his cock back into you deliberately had your walls shifting and quivering for him as you cried his name through your bliss. He claimed another orgasm from you, the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes by how tightly you clenched them shut. He pulled his face away from your shoulder, huffing in your ear before glancing at your face contorted in pleasure.

“No, no, no, pretty girl. Open your eyes,” he slumped on his elbow, soothing over forehead and removing the hair stuck to your brow. You shook your head, physically unable to open your eyes as he shepherded you through your bliss. “Hey, hey. Open. Now.” You arched your back, your head falling away from his as you kept your eyes shut.

“Alright then,” he uttered, feeling your high fall as you regained some semblance of your consciousness back through panting and deeply sighing. Your momentary calm was seized by the storm raging within Shanks, him unsheathing his cock from you and throwing you over his right shoulder and walking towards the tall mirror. The bob of his hard cock from each step he took had a proud smile on his face and a chuckle fleeing from his lips.

Unceremoniously, he placed your feet back onto the ground, facing the mirror and lined his cock back up with your quivering and overstimulated hole.

“This is what you get for being a brat and not listening, pretty girl,” he laughed into your shoulder, immediately surging forward and plunging his cock deep within you, “Keep your eyes open and watch.”

He hooked his arm around your right hip, claiming your left hip bone beneath his palm and anchoring himself against you. Kicking your feet to part further, you had no choice but to watch his face contort within the metallic, silvery reflection as he fucked into you. The cries of your voice muffled as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“No. You let me hear you,” Shanks’ breathy voice whispered against your skin as he pressed his cheek against your shoulder blade. He scrunched his eyes closed and focussed on your gasps, cries and moans. You obediently unclenched your teeth from your lip, brows knitting as you whined his name repeatedly and ceaselessly.

He groaned into your skin, baring his teeth down on your flesh to silence his own whimpered growls. The quiver of your walls sucking his cock within them had Shanks opening his eyes only to roll them back into his skull at the sensation. The grip on your hip bone held on firmer, his rhythmic thrusts and grinds becoming slopier, heavier and staggered. He was so close, closer than he would ever admit to you at this moment.

Your abdomen began to burn beneath his bruising grip, the sensation of being trapped and helpless to him using your body in this way stoked the fires into a blaze of passionate release as he chased your climax. He held your body against his, the pick up of his rhythmic thrusting within the security of his arm had your lips parting. Your overstimulated and fucked-out expression within the mirror had Shanks chasing the spots that had you crying for him the loudest.

“Good job keeping your eyes open, pretty girl,” he praised you, his tone prompting a high whimper to pass from your parted lips. The slaps of slickened thighs and hips became louder and heavier; Shanks now opting to no longer pull all the way out of you while chasing his own high. His knob brushed its shined tip against the back of your quivering and tingling walls, your cervix being kissed with each deep thrust. You cried out for him, standing on the tops of your toes and arching your back for him to get a better angle with his cock sheathed within you.

“You better c-cum,” He stuttered against your shoulder. The hitch in his breath and the whimper within his tone alerted you that he was once again so close to his climax. He continued to chase your release, but was unable to fully tip you over the edge just like this.

“Play with your clit,” he ordered you, watching you over your shoulder as your dominant hand sought your firm, leaking bud. “Th-That’s it-... nghm-... That’s my girl. Play with yourself while you take my cock. Little circles, pretty girl. Little circles while I fuck you through it.” You had no choice but to listen, your fingertips brushing with your aching clit while exhaustion overtook you.

“Good girl,” he whined into your ear, his eyes meeting with yours while he watched you obediently play with your clit while he stuffed you roughly with his cock. Just his expression alone would’ve made you cum: his brows tilted up, pupils blown with list as his jaw hung slack. But the overstimulation was too much for you to continue. You whined, unable to push yourself over the edge for him as he requested you.

“Don’t you dare stop,” he growled, watching as your hand began to halt its ministrations against your aching clit. “Make me proud, little thing. Cum on my cock and I’ll let you have mine. C’mon pretty girl. Cum on my cock again. J-Just like you did before. Cum for me, cum for me-.”

“A-Ah, Shanks!” you cried in bliss, his voice falling from your open mouth like a scream. Your arousal gushed around his cock as you came for him, your walls attempting to milk his cock of the precum he began to paint you with.

“G-Good girl. Such a good girl,” he praised you, continuing his bruising pace while you watched him huff out his own cries of bliss, “Now you’ll get my cum. I-I’m-...mmff-... O-Oh, I’m cumming. I’m cumming for you. F-Fuck.” Ropes of his long withheld load splashed within you, the sheer force and amount prompting your shiny juices to pool down your legs as you both cried for one another. He roared your name, biting your shoulder with the clamp of his teeth over your flesh.

As he rode you through your highs, tears began to pool down your cheeks at the sheer relief of earning his orgasm. You sobbed, body falling limp as he carried you back to the bed. He unsheathed his cock from you and caged you beneath his body, searching your face for any issue that ignited this release of emotion.

“Are you okay, love? Did I hurt you? What did I do?” he asked, wiping a tear with his thumb as you met his eyes with your own. You shook your head, angling your chin away from the brush of his thumb and pressing a small kiss against the pad of the shorter digit. He gasped, his boyish smile returning to his face while his eyes held that unfamiliar expression within them. He huffed out a breath, soothing over your hair as he whispered into your face.

“I am so in love with you, pretty girl. My pretty girl,” he confessed, closing his eyes and nudging your chin with his forehead. Your lips parted in shock, this being the first time either of you uttered the words remaining unspoken between you. You attempted to find the words to speak back to him, your voice cracking harshly from the amount of cries he pulled from you in your bliss.

“You don’t have to say it, love. I know, I know,” he confessed further, leaning up to press a firm kiss against your forehead. “You just lay back and relax while I clean up our mess, alright?”

You weakly nodded, laying back completely against the mattress as exhaustion overcame your body. Sleep claimed you, soft and deep breaths propelling each moment for more rest to find you.

As Shanks returned to your place on the bed, he sighed at the beautiful picture you made painted against his sheets. His pretty girl was all tired from the amount of times he made you cum, exhausted with the softest rise of heat within your cheeks.

The next time you felt inadequate and undeserving of such treatment and attention, he would be so glad to provide you with the reminder of your importance in his life. He began to look forward to a longer and more worshipful way of showing you how much he truly loved you, and only you.

He began cleaning up the mess he made of your bodies, maneuvering a warm cloth over every mark and splash of fluids and hungry kisses. He dried your body with a plush towel before tucking you into the bedsheets, crawling in them behind you and lacing his right arm over your hip and pulling you closer.

“I love you,” he whispered against your neck, you stirring slightly within your slumber, “And I’ll happily remind you of how much I do any time you think I don’t.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks smut #shanks x reader smut #red hair shanks x reader #op shanks #one piece shanks #op smut #one piece smut

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myfandomlikesandstories · 9 months

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Need You Now

Marc Spector x GN reader

Genre: fluff, hurt comfort

Summary: Need You Now by Lady Antebellum songfic. You and Marc have been thinking about each other late at night, and you decide to phone him.

Warnings: Marc drinking

Word count: 1437

It was late at night, and you were half sitting half lying on your couch with your phone. You were scrolling through pictures of a guy you were seeing, Marc Spector.

It was an on and off thing, no hard feelings, but you two just... Saw each other. On occasion. You would go on a date, have a wonderful time, and not find any time to meet again for a few weeks.

After a particularly long time, about 5 weeks in which you didn't meet and barely spoke, a date was finally scheduled. Marc showed up looking tired, sad and guilty. He apologized for not being able to meet up, and for not calling.

He said he didn't understand why you wouldn't just ghost him, and why you even agreed to see him now. If he were any other person, things would have been different. You wouldn't just "talk" to someone with no commitment for so long, you had standards.

But there was just something about him. There was something relentless about this Marc guy, you felt as if your life would be totally different if you just left. That was silly, just a weird gut feeling but you didn't dismiss it. No harm no foul, right?

You thought of calling him. Obviously you shouldn't, it was 1 AM, but honestly? You missed him. It was stupid. He wouldn't pick up. He'd think you're weird. Clingy. He'd brush you off and ghost you for good.

Did he think of you as much as you thought of him? Nah, can't be. He would have made a move by now, or at least try to talk to you more. You never even cross his mind, that's why he doesn't call. Shame that for you, it happened all the time.

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Marc Spector poured yet another shot of whiskey into a glass and swallowed it immediately. He wondered why wouldn't he drink straight from the bottle, no reason bothering with a glass. He wondered many things that night, like why couldn't he take his eyes off the door? He felt the urge to just rip it open and run into the night.

"Shouldn't be drinking anyway," he grumbled as he poured another shot. Steven would nag him for it all day. Marc had agreed to work something out with Steven over his drinking problem. He said he'd only drink if he was feeling absolutely miserable... Which was most of the time. But tonight was truly spectacular in that field.

He couldn't get you off his mind. Did he really wish to disappear in the cold night air, or did he just want to hear a knock? He wished with all his might to see a text from you pop up on his phone. You texted him, once, when he was having a particularly bad day. He never felt relief like that in his life. It was like a ray of warm sunshine burst through the cloud over his head. It made him feel special, honestly. That YOU chose to talk to HIM. He reaaaally wanted you to just sweep in and save him from himself. In a back corner of his mind, he realized he wanted you to love him.

"It's weird to think that about someone," he dismissed himself. No way you thought about him, certainly not like that, certainly not at 1:15 in the morning! "I need to get a grip." He sighed. "And to stop talking to yourself." Marc thought, and rested his head on the table.

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You sighed anxiously, finger hovering over the call button. You were thinking too much and too little at the same time. Your head was flooded with the impossible possibility of Marc returning your affection, and so you managed to completely forsake the idea to text him first. Never mind. "It's now or never," you told yourself and called.

The ring roused Marc from his drunken half sleep on his kitchen table, and he sprang to his feet, stumbling and falling as he tried to reach his phone on the counter. He would have felt insanely ridiculous if it were anyone else calling, and would berate himself endlessly. Luckily, it was you.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Marc! Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, don't worry, you didn't. Um, how are you?"

"I'm alright, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, sorry, I didn't expect you to actually pick up."

"Well, I'm here. Why'd you call?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you're free sometime this week? Maybe tomorrow?"

Marc was a little surprised, both by the whole situation of his damn wish coming true, and by you asking to see him again.

"Yes, yeah, I am. Is 7 PM okay?"

"Yeah! Perfect, thank you. I'm sorry I called this late," you apologized, but the triumph was present in your voice. "See you then!"

"Yeah, goodnight." He said.

"Goodnight."

None of you hung up, and a few moments passed. Just before you ended the call, you heard Marc's voice again.

"Wait!" He pleaded, louder than he meant. He would have never done this sober.

"Yeah?"

"Could you please stay on the line?" He asked timidly. It was really unlike him, but he couldn't let you go.

"Of course." You reassured. He sounded a bit panicked. "Are you okay, though?"

"Uhh," he hesitated. He obviously couldn't tell you he was sad and drunk and thinking about you and praying that you'd call, right? That'd be creepy. Why was he even talking to you? He tried to stop himself before, saying that you don't need him in your life. He's bad for you, he's a burden, you shouldn't be near him. He felt guilty for being with you and felt guilty for leaving. Without you, he felt his heart was so empty it could stop. He'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all, he guessed.

"Marc? You there?"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright, everything is okay." You registered something was really wrong. "I'm here. You can tell me. I'm worried about you."

Marc was shocked. Did he hear you right? You were worried about him? He gulped. He didn't want you to worry. You told him once you liked it when people are open about their emotions. Here goes nothing.

"Um, yeah, no, uh, I'm... Not doing so great. I'm sorry. I'm pretty drunk. Hehe, I actually kinda faceplanted while running to pick up the phone," he said and ran a hand over his face. His voice sounded very sad suddenly. "I don't want to be alone."

You heard him take a sharp, shaky breath.

"I need you."

You breathed deeply. "I'm sorry, Marc."

Here it comes, he braces himself for impact.

You decided taking risks was working for you tonight. "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes?"

Marc was stunned. "Really?"

"I just need to throw together a bag, I'll stay the night with you, yeah?"

"Thank you," he said, shocked and grateful.

"Just hang in there." You said and ended the call, going to pack yourself an overnight bag and drive over to his place.

Marc's head was spinning now, and he sat down.

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

15 minutes later, you knocked on his door. Marc went to open it and was greeted by the sight of you in your pajamas, holding a small backpack. You dropped it on the floor inside the apartment and when the door was closed behind you, you engulfed Marc in your arms.

He rested his head on your shoulder, breathing you in and holding you close. You tightened your grip around him and rubbed his back.

"Thank you for coming." He said quietly. "I'm sorry."

You let go of him, and a wave of pain washed through his bones. Instead of walking away, you took his face in your hands.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear. Thank you for letting me help you."

He looked at you with his now wet, puppy dog brown eyes, grateful and utterly confused by your kindness, and pulled you into a hug again.

You stayed that way for a minute or two, and broke apart only to get into his bed together and cuddle. You pulled his head to your chest, and he snuggled happily into the crook of your neck as he wrapped his heavy arms (and a leg) around your body. You held him close, kissed his forehead and his hairline, and he planted a few soft kisses on your neck and chest. You didn't know what you would do without one another. Tomorrow would be good, you knew so.

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Just tagging some mutuals:

MASTERLIST

@luke-o-lophus @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @romanarose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @writingforcurrentobsessions2

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bluewonderer · 2 months

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Status: Complete Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters/Pairings: Dazai Osamu, Nakajima Atsushi; Dazai/Atsushi Tags: Alternate First Meeting; Atsushi doesn't meet Dazai at the river; Meet-Cute with Crime and Shenanigans; Dazai-Typical Suicide Attempts/Discussion; Fluff with a touch of angst; Human Disaster Dazai Osamu; Nakajima Atsushi Needs a Hug; Happy Ending Summary:

Dazai finds an angel dressed in a Sailor Venus outfit on a high-rise rooftop in Yokohama. “You’re beautiful,” he says to the boy lying face-up in a thick bed of snow. The freezing night air has leeched color from his skin except for the strawberry-red splotching the underside of his exposed limbs and the purple-blue staining his fingertips. “Would you do me the honor of committing suicide with me?” Spectacular heterochromia saturates Dazai’s world, and all he can think is, burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars. His angel with firework eyes shrugs thin shoulders, all bone white and blue like a bruised moon, and wearily sighs, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Dazai and Atsushi meet, dance, rob a department store, and jump off the bridge together. Not necessarily in that order.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #dazatsu #dazai x atsushi #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #bsd fanfic #blue writes

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livingmybestfakelife · 2 months

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“Son, don’t hog the baby, let us have a turn” Sir James complained, he only gotten to hold his granddaughter once and then it was back to Felix’s arms, you were busy resting while everyone was in sunroom giving all of their attention to the new heir of Saltburn and title holder of The Countess of Braybrook.

“Just one more minute dad…hi there, those eyes are opening again, yeah? Can you see me? Because papa can see you, yes I can my love” he cooed at the chubby rosey cheeked angel, she was wrapped comfortably in a thick warm merino wool blanket, a gift from Venetia.

He leaned down to kiss her little nose and she grunted and cooed from the ticklish feeling, she let out a big yawn that made him chuckle.

“You’re my bestest girl you know that? Right after your mummy, I love you Genevieve…my Gigi, my pretty girl”

He finally passed her over to his waiting father who cuddled her close to his chest.

“Genevieve, did you know you’re named after my mummy, yes you are sweet girl”

He walks her around the sun room and a little around the rest of the house explaining to her that this will all be hers one day, officially and legally.

“Lady Genevieve Venetia Rose Catton, and what a spectacular young lady you will be one day, I just know it”

Meanwhile Felix went to go check on you to see that you were still asleep, he gently played with your right hand, kissing your palm in the process, he was so proud of you to withstand the long and painful process, it brought you both a healthy baby girl, the family of your own you’ve talked about for a long time.

“Don’t make fun of my dad fit like Farleigh did when you wake up doll, I really want to commit haha” you moved a little in your sleep before lying still again, softly snoring, he grinned and rested his head on your thighs, all while Farleigh was back in the sunroom holding his new cousin and telling her wild party stories about her dad, earning a warning look from his uncle.

“What? I’m leaving out the naughty parts”

#felix catton imagine #felix catton #saltburn #saltburn imagine

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notmuchtoconceal · 5 months

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The wind rolled over the sea, dragging the sea against the land. In mountain mists rose the mudflats to the cliffside, where all around was the grey of probability, for the murk of that sea obscured all which glittered from the ripples of its surface, silken as the translucence of a spiderweb through a beam faint in the dark. The seas which roared, their many miles below framed by the oak contouring of these jagged rocks, the attic window of a home through which you no longer looked.

Cpt. Schreibermachen -- your brother Joseph, who we knew as Joey -- craned the axal column of his vertebrae the full facsimile of a three-sixty degree turn which the stabilities of his anatomy would allow -- craning the long and exquisitely tense musculature of his neck, inviting what tuggings they would allow to what sparse growth sprouted there -- some scraggling and beckoning from the spots and scabs which shone as gold veining the granite jetsam of a cavewall -- staring up into the winding cloudwell which was as a sea itself pouring out. A sea itself pouring out and around, peering through the looming densities, always peering where the sun still blistered brightest, for it bleached and acidified all which it could only relentlessly and unendurably hammer upon.

-- It's here, it's here!

Joey bellowed ahead. Brux screeched from behind.

-- Why, why, why? Why would it be here, Joey? It confounds all matter of public record and therefore common-sense, that it should be here! You are a lunatic! You are excitable, irritable, and contemptuous of the facts before you and all around you! You slumber lazily in a silence which is deafening for it is tragic, that your bountiful young intellect, all your talents and potential, should be squandered on such hysterical and meaningless fancies! My poor brother! My poor Joey! Nobody can help you! You're lost and alone in this world, with adversaries all around and no safe haven to shelter you! For who you are and what you are able, you have been marked -- doomed to wander, now and forever, spurned by all you may help and all who may help you! My poor brother! My poor Joey! Why don't you ever call? We used to be so close? Would you like to talk about it? You know you'll always be my special lil guy, Joey...

From the first of the free asymmetrical zippers on his uniform jacket -- the clanging color and metal latticework which composed a public garden of pins, medals, ribbons & cokecaps blushing lushly from his lapel -- he propelled with great rapidity a violet cloak of embossed and threaded fleur di lys glittering in spun gold, and with it obscured the chatter.

-- Continue to ignore him at all costs! My revelations were revealed to me verily in a session late first this morning before last, then early this evening before this! My unconventional methods -- the methods of which remain still too unconventional to explain this present moment, and perhaps still too many future ones at length! -- was arrived upon for my frustrations with the hole always cleaved away by the cookie-cutter upon the sheet left me at last a ball of dough which was in its sum now entirety the residuals of the previous frames off which the gingerbread men did march ;-- bunched up and rerolled anew, until there was only one but none! I was odds and sods, an oddity out committing sodomy and I wondered truly if I was as inverse as it was said, feeling this emptiness so persistently, for I knew once what spectacular shines burst forth within!

Brux was shouting. Shouting into the roaring wind.

-- The more I talk over him, the more his scrawny lil book boy spinal nerves open to new possibility and influence will be confounded and disrupted --forced to talk in my same dilating and contracting rhythms, so all he attempts to exposit becomes as me; a yawning void, suffocating and expanding, crushing you inward, stupidly and glassily, as the puckering lips of a depthless carnival hare more orange'n gold!

Brux was shouting. Shouting as he rolled his cloak across the mud.

-- They were revealed to me in a moment of meditation come trance come transcendent ecstasy as I lay pressed once more grinding against my brother in the dark night of our shared compartment, where I longed only to be one and deathless with him eternally ;-- knowing myself as I could never be! Torn from the wrong side-in, always back out!

Cpt. Drottin strode forward. On his head, the marble idol flecked with streamers of freshly-oiled copper wire, the anemone-eyes of a harness and visor distended from the notched circuitry of its flexors.

-- Bro, I can't see shit with this shit on, bro.

To the sun, his eyes were pressed. To the horizons, his fingers reached, and some distant ether mist rose to take him in hand. His feet, firm and pressed against the ground, felt in the sutures of their bones what currents flowed beneath the earth, and from his love-nut -- tight, swollen, puckering as his balls still fat and swollen with the seawalls he held back ; uncummed, uneaten, the fire in his guts and balls ;-- eyes alit with leaky cock, hungering for potentials unearthly and obscure.

-- All of this I know. No dissent may take into account what I know, when it refuses to see, refuses to hear -- it is not good-faith criticism to call me a lunatic not for what I believe, but only for I can no longer believe not even in you, but what you think you need to obscure yourself!

From Brux's lips emanated forth raspberries as he leapt into the protracted and violent syncopations of the worm.

-- You're approaching JRPG text-dump levels of unnecessary verbiage, Joey! I have no emotional connection to anything you say, for nobody talks like that, nobody thinks like that, nobody really thinks two dickless nerd boys getting it on (not offense to my good friend, Cpt. Drottin. I would gladly rub my dick bulge against yours were it not already too excruciatingly tender to merely hold your hand. Though I confess also ... I see not the need to work up the strength to perform an action which I have fundamental contempt for, and I (full-disclosure) sometimes worry about you. Nevertheless, I hope impromptu public confessions are something you can live with, and like... things don't have to get too weird between us, for you remain my brother and my heart's most secretive longing and any dream of a life without you is but living death) ... but um, no. Dickless nerd boys can rub their cute lil bumps together anytime, Joey! That's why boys being into other boys is for losers! That's why you deserve a wedgie! Fuck pussy, loser! Pussy, pussy, pussy! You talk too much! You're the annoying one! You're overplayed and nobody likes you!

The salt breeze through his hair, Cpt. Psychorrhax allowed his heart to flutter. The weight upon his chest poured fourth its waters as a goblet overflowing and all throughout the channels of him came the calm which rendered as a warm mist the ice which clotted in his veins.

An elbow to his brothers shoulder -- the limitations of the framing did not reveal the cube on which he stood to gain elevation.

-- He grows more enchanting by the day, Cpt. Schreibermachen.

He looked upon Cpt. Haruspex, and found him magnificent.

Joey looked away -- rightfully, manfully -- at more important things.

-- Well, he'll always be all around. Let's never be tempted not to take him for granted. Smack me and remind me what I'm supposed to be doing. Now that you're here with me, I can admit my cognitive faculties have abruptly halted for you are literally holding my hand.

Their fingers encoiled in the other's. The serpent encoiled their wrists.

-- Your buddy Cpt. Drottin lit a fire in the many fine herbs and splinters I've let line the nests of your aviary, and now through the smoke, you see the signals, rising pitiless off the shouldering earth. Why would you ever feel guilt that you humiliate yourself so shamelessly with that idiot when the man you love is a verifiable beast-tamer fit to open a zoo?

It came first upside the head, then down against the jaw.

-- Man I love. Remind me of evident truths with no need of evidence. I trust in you, now and always. Not once have you done me wrong.

Laika met Joey's eyes.

In them, Joey saw no cause for contradiction.

Joey met Laika's eyes.

Through them, Laika endured. Now and always.

-- You believe for real, Joe?

-- I'll make a believer of you, Laik.

-- I believe in you.

-- I believe in you and me.

They drew closer. Their dicks squirmed in their breachers. Proximate. Needful, yet mindful. In perfect synchronization, now with their hearts.

-- It must be now!

As Joey enunciated -- Brux squawked as a rum-beaten parrot.

-- MUST BE NOW MUST BE NOW ! ! !

Cpt. Hlaford strode forth from the mist, weightless and illusory, though a man of heft he remained, and his palm quite persuasive when deployed.

From his body -- every inch of his heaving muscular pec shelf and abdominal ridges and horselike distended glutes rippling in the sheer linen which clung to his scrubbed and wood-oiled body, gleaming as bronze where the heavier canvas obscured naught but woodlands gone sparse, stitched with gold and of a more natural cream clinging only to depths and seams of his body, drawing eyes by conspiracies stitched into the weave towards things he let dangle, things he let reveal by omission.

To him, Joey fell. To him, Joey looked up.

-- Brother, for I am unclean, and may not be clean at this time, I will endure your chastisement and your chastisement alone, for this is the penance I bare in lieu of the purification I cannot yet truly make!

Wally snorted. What assailed forth from his lips smacked Brother Joey across the face phlegmy and inevitable as the cloudburst of a storm which battered at a dingy ill-stocked at sea, remaining upright only for it wobbled as a top in perpetual motion, knowing only its awkwardness alone with the intricacy well enough to keep itself spinning upright. -- Good enough for me, Joe. What matters is ya got outta bed this mornin and yer makin somethin meaningful of your day by fuckin tryin fer more than once. It don't gotta be perfect. Just show up. Make the effort. Learn what differences lie between an apology and an excuse; what marks a timesink from a sacrifice. Tell me what you have made of yourself, Joe. Tell me what you will make of these coming years. - I am scraps of many things, discarded and piled, and though my choices appear arbitrary, I see in them the pieces of a thing they never were in themselves, but collectively may reveal something of what once was, and though what that may may never be again, I see in these shapes the beams of the scaffolding we may erect to raise ourselves once more high as the golden and glittering frescos which bedazzled our eyes! To us all, we are the inheritors... To those who understand, it will be given, for we make available to all what only... finer eyes have sight to see.

Wally breathed the salt air. In his lungs, it lined like crystal mist.

Behind him, stood men six in number, as his number was six, and six was the sum of three multiplied by two, and the addition of three to itself.

As you have said, so it will be so.

Joey knelt to him. By the roots of his hair, he gripped. The water would come first over his eyes, not from his eyes, though in time they too would flow -- for forth from his urn, the water flowed ice and lemon.

Behind him, his men too stood six in number, for his number was three multiplied against itself was nine, subtracted by itself was six, in keeping with the specific dictate of the requirement that each guardian should have present no less than six and no more than eight men, to keep within what he surmised to himself to be the equivalence of a frequency range.

-- As you have given, so I will now be begotten.

They opened their books and rounded their mouths, Joey's men -- they who were not his duplicates, for when you peered at them with the probing discrimination necessary to parse their overflowing Germanic spirit, you could see all the ways -- in which they were not precise replicas, but some were mirrored inversely, some perfectly, one or two visibly malformed and dragging either one foot or the other.

Far from what I have given, you will inevitably now become.

Cpt. Hlaford's men -- their genitals sectioned off by the underside of a felt harness which flared as a cross to compose the bulk of their garments, left only their sturdy and wool-coated legs freely flowing with the clingy taffeta-chintz spun to ribbons and rose petals of metal and pin -- rose strings within the gildings of their frames, for as they held, thee bones of their fingers were one and welded in oscillation to the structure of the handles of their harps, and all which whistled was silver in their jaws.

Whistle while I work.

Cpt. Psychorrhax spun to face the assembly. His numbered numbered eight for that was four and four and four multiplied by itself and divided back into itself would beget once more itself, and so here he found himself halved within the dictates of maximum allotted allowance.

The spheres aligned. The music came.

As their voices rose, fingers wrung down to pluck the strings.

[mancandy cane my ass the sequential ;-- a quartet of slavs]

Brother Jacek stood facing them.

His eyeline yielded to no one and nothing.

Before him, his men stood eight in number, for eight was the addition of three to five, for five was his number and Laika's was four, which was three with the addition of one, or two with one taken away from three.

Cpt. Psychorrhax's men stood tall in taller hats, meeting Brother Jacek's eyes, and they who came with Jacek threw to one another the bejewel'd handles of broadswords and pressed them to the earth. By hand and half, the cruciforms rose in bloom. Dawnlight strode around them despite the grey of the day and the salt of the sea, for the suns shone off their blades and an array of them they would make as their ankles hopped between the blades ;-- not one point, nor edge ever drawing blood.

I>O>

I. O.

I? O!

I< O<

As pillars of fire, their chants roared forth from their throats. Below the earth, Joey cast his sight.

Look to me, Laika. He said without saying, I will show you once.

Above the sky, Joey rose his awareness.

When he looked and thought, there was the sun -- at some arbitrary point and place; a point only seeming arbitrary for they knew not what he knew now, and to say so would be to say too much, for it was not enough to say things that could not be said when they could be more easily shown; easy sometimes necessitating the manufacture of miracles, tawdry things they are that have words to describe them!

Joey's dick squirmed. The fire roared between his bulge.

Laika pressed his back to Joey.

Joey's men pressed themselves to one another.

A chorus-line mid-collision. Their packages ground into their brothers. Their brothers moaned without relent, stupid for they had been surrendered and were now giving of themselves their sight.

Jacek, by his left and by his right, lifted two coils of wire.

Jacek's men, by the bands of their hammers, beat their blades into the earth :-- drove them deep that any stray light of studs or their handles -- would draw not down the malign influence of her grace.

Jacek, around his neck, hung a chain of iron.

Jacek's men, spinning with swords in hand --

stopping at the edge of their brother's arteries,

drawing still by blade-light to trachea,

plunge themselves in pledge

to recite the vows they themselves make real

by the precision of their moment of utterance.

Jacek, in his left he clutched a coil of silver.

In his right, he clutched a coil of gold.

His men, pressing their prostates to the handles of their swords.

Jacek pressed the coils, cross-axial, to his nips.

Joey pressed to Laika. Laika pressed to Joey.

Their eyes met. What secrecies they knew broiled and conjoined and what they remembered only were the tenderensses which drew them once together, for their's were oppositions to which they mutually drove themselves away, not daring to look, not daring to dream -- of they knew all along was the grandeur to which they were well-entitled.

-- I don't understand. I don't think... I need to.

Laika looked to him.

Laika had no words.

The words would never come.

Not if you gave him a million years.

The words would never come.

His teeth grit. His brow quivered. Beneath his leathers, he stewed in a broil of his own making, he needing always excuse to be roasted alive.

Couldn't think. Only focus.

Dick was so hard.

By his eyes, Joey saw the fields.

By his vision, Joey knew the forms.

The earth did not tremble.

Around it, the air was alive with remembrance.

Laika pressed to Joey. Joey gripped Laika and choked.

Beating. Beading.

Churning. Chewing.

Laika remembered. Laika remembered.

Laika remembered.

The earth bore neither pinecones, nor rolling wheat, but stones. The barren earth yielded only its own desolation. The earth bore not plenty, for the earth was beaten and polluted. The earth knew not beauty for she was scarred and dead, crusted inside with the tar of life.

What sprouted was only rubble, only roots in some dead brush, choking some dead facade as his brother's treacherous fingers grasped along his trachea which the ease at which they caressed him, by chin and behind the ear(th), inviting sweetness and protection to contrast that sociopathy he made so exquisite, so charming with his smile.

None by him could bloom. None but him could water. What he brought forth was only death, as you brought forth only plagues, and all who cowered before you were puppets and corpses, fit to be harnessed by strings and fate, cuffed and muzzled as spotty bandits and mutts.

For from his bag, Cpt. Haruspex at last flung himself free, and with a great wind cursed the horizon he saw now shifting; saw with his own eyes growing vast in their breakages the cleaving from the earth as though the first panes of a fractal beginning to unfurl.

-- I bury you forever, Joey! You and all your works! You ...

His eyes went wide in wandering.

The perspective approached him, and he could begin to piece together -- by what he saw, and what he knew --the truth of what now lay before him, and it mattered not -- the matter of public record, which was his comfort and his cudgel, was doomed now to be revealed as naught but fuel for the fire, idle driftwood it was to flank us from the splendid reality we could see by our own eyes how we now and always lived!

For from this rubble, he could see the shape of cornices, the shape of spires, the fortifications of roofing, the symmetry of archways, all those things which spoke not only to the manmade, but the formal categories of the greatest of that last great pretension -- civilization itself.

-- Though it was written in the scriptures, the last great Laurentian plate was demolished at the time of its reinstallation, how can I not help but see -- my voice remaining now with me -- An Apple Lodging to the east, and those umbering Stallones to the west? This land -- tell it like it was ours! Tell me you won't take it from me. Take her from me again?

Rising, the walls revealed themselves.

On them, the frescoes stood.

Joey pulled forth as he saw. By the stylings he traced their shape from the mold of obscurity and dredged them one step closer to his eyes.

-- It's here, its here! A treasure all around and beneath our feet!

FIVE INLAND SEAS RIGHT HERE OUT FRONT

The wind roared. Around them, hurricane beatings of beneficence blew forth abundance no falsity could desecrate, for this was the truth, the last of all great truths, and through them would Joey right the world.

-- No exaggerations could ruin this day, oh this blessed day! It was true, it was true! It was here, it was here! Oh, this blessed day, it's ours! Before him, it rose. Before him, it stood.

Before it, he bowed, and the marshlands he kissed.

-- As a sire's armpit, I savor. I savor you as only the finest, I would!

To the setting sun, now brass in the falling sky, he kissed the earth where it met those walls, and by them he too stood upright.

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lorillee · 2 years

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ok while i'm waiting for 1026 to be uploaded im going to go ahead and rate all the one piece movies

One Piece: The Movie: like... 6.5/10. wasn't particularly engaging or interesting but it did give us like half of the one piece soundtrack so its gotta earn points for that

Clockwork Island Adventure: 5/10. it was decidedly mediocre. not terribly offensive and some of the worldbuilding was cool even if entirely unexplained, but not terribly interesting either. negative points for damseling nami

Chopper's Kingdom on the Island of Strange Animals: 6.7/10. another decidedly mediocre, but was funny at points

Dead End Adventure: 9/10. i really enjoyed this movie honestly it was funny and engaging and had a few really good character moments which is more than we usually get. terribly underrated

The Cursed Holy Sword: 3/10. bad zoro interpretation and was terribly boring outside of like one or two funny luffy gags.

Baron Omatsuri and the Secret Island: 10/10 its baron omatsuri what else can you say. absolutely NOT the tone of one piece but thats what makes it so so very cool. and horrific. and also the animation is gorgeous

The Giant Mechanical Soldier of Karakuri Castle: 9/10. the plot isnt terribly interesting but there are so many spectacular strawhat interactions and also the island actually being a giant turtle is very epic. another terribly underrated film

Episode of Arabasta: The Desert Princess and the Pirates: ?/10 havent watched it yet but i'm under the impression its just a condense and reanimated version of alabasta

Episode of Chopper Plus: Bloom in Winter, Miracle Sakura: 8/10 i mean its drum island except with a handful of minor differences. i liked the animation and some of the backgrounds were really pretty. but yeah i mean its drum island

One Piece Film: Strong World: 3/10. i hate shiki. i hate that dumb clown. negative points for damselling nami. the only things going for this movie are the straw hats with guns (and garp & sengoku appearing for .2 seconds in the beginning). anybody who tells you this is a good movie is LYING theyre LYING

One Piece 3D: Straw Hat Chase: ?/10 i havent actually seen this? maybe ill watch it this week. kind of put off by virtue of it being 3d but who knows

One Piece Film: Z: 2/10. anybody who tells you this one is a good movie is ALSO a dirty dirty liar. aside from the fact that the plot was a mess and it was literally just a series of loosely connected events until the climax and also sanji's worst scene ever in anything of all time, zephyr couldve been an actually interesting and compelling villain but his backstory SUCKED and like ok boo hoo youve decided to say the marines suck not because of any the atrocities theyve committed or lives theyve ruined you only quit when it started having a bad impact on you specifically. boo hoo cry me a river. "ohhh the marines suck and the pirates suck so im going to kill EVERYBODY!!!" despite the fact that 90% of your victims will be innocent civilians. shut up and die. the only things redeeming this movie are 1) chopper's cow outfit 2) aokiji fanservice 3) admiral & old people trio marine rookie pics. thats it. see the most infuriating part is that zephyr COULD HAVE BEEN GOOD. he COULD HAVE BEEN. you couldve made him somebody who saw the terrible awful corruption in the marines and decided that they sucked, not because it was starting to impact him specifically poorly, but because its impacting pretty much everybody in this world poorly. but god forbid we actually try to have a DECENT one piece film villain. can you tell i hate this movie

One Piece Film: Gold: 10/10 straw hat heist movie with zoro as the damsel and robin in a suit for like 5 minutes. what else could you ask for, honestly

One Piece: Stampede: like. 5/10. the plot for this one was mostly just an excuse to shove every single character the series has ever had into it and as a result was kind of a total mess and yet they still didnt have the heart pirates appear like at all because they hate me specifically but i'll survive. anwyays its was like. okay. its fine, i guess. its not offensive but its not terribly interesting either.

#one piece #lorillee.txt #was this just an excuse for me to talk about how much i hate film z? ....maybe

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outeremissary · 1 year

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9, 19 for Balthazar, and 4, 14 for Marcus!

My mobile browser invented new and exciting bugs to have while I was attempting to get the text of the answer into this post so it went from there being a joke about double checking the post Just In Case to true terror about what I am attempting to put in the post getting all messed up. Anyway. From this list, thanks for the ask :')

Balthazar

9. How would you describe your oc’s personality? How would they describe their personality?

How Balthazar describes himself depends on large part on who's asking the question. With most people, it tends to have a lot of what he gauges to be what they want to see built in. If he were to give an honest answer though... He'd describe himself as free-spirited and ambitious, someone who never gives up on his goals. An excellent planner, he'd call himself (lies), and a cautious, thoughtful person (lies). He'd call himself clever, charming, and socially savvy. He takes pride in the distance he puts between himself and others and would say that he's not interested in other people behind their capacity to be useful or entertaining. He's cold and rational, of course! A cunning, manipulative tactician.

Personally, I'd describe him as a bit of a bastard. A two-faced person who always tries to come off to people as what they want or expect to see, but underneath is conniving and mean. Despite a talent for empathy he has little compassion for others and is most interested in what they can do for him. He enjoys seeing people fail, especially in spectacular or interesting ways, and hates helping with... pretty much anything. He has a mischievous streak which easily runs into cruelty given opportunity and left unchecked. He's very confident, but paradoxically considers himself generally less competent and able than other people. His certainty in his own cautiousness and social savvy make him gullible with anyone he believes he has figured out- condescension coming back to bite. He's not so cautious either: he might hedge his bets most of the time, but he's brimming with ambition and leaps at risks someone less daring would give wide berth (such as, say, becoming the leader of an adventuring party when one has never done any significant fighting or wilderness travel). His emotions run high (even if it frustrates him) and he tends to make snap decisions based on instinct or feeling. When it matters most, he's heart over head. A sharp wit and that passionate nature do make him vivacious and charming. He's also very hard working if he's invested in a task. He doesn't /like/ to do it, but he /can/ grit his teeth through dull, frustrating, or difficult tasks if he decides to. It makes him a good self-directed learner- useful for someone whose teacher hated putting up with an apprentice. Persistence might be called one of his greatest strengths: when he sets his mind to something, he doesn't give up chasing it easily. Self-reflection and adversity have made him a very self-certain person- although he's quite blind to some aspects of himself, like a desire to be understood as who he is and to achieve genuine connection with others. He's also in denial about a tendency to be invested in others he perceives as having struggles in some way akin to his own. For those he's chosen to care for despite his mistrustful nature, he's fiercely protective. Despite his fickleness he can be a surprisingly committed friend.

19. Does your oc have any defining skills? How did they acquire/learn these skills?

Balthazar's defining non-magical skill is lying. He's socially savvy in general, but he excels in lies. It's something so simple it's almost hard to trace the origins of. He's always lied in some way or other with his father- he was a meek but unhappy child when he was very young, and that's an existence that involves a lot of white lies. As he got older he became more aware that people tended to assume the best of him, assuming until proven otherwise that he was trustworthy because of his celestial heritage, and he began to take advantage of that, slowly seeking the limits of what he could coax out of others for his own benefit. After moving in with the master he was studying under for his apprenticeship he took more audacious risks and refined those skills further, building a whole social identity for himself to conceal his origins and allow him to make influential friends (and of course to cover up the quotidian realities of being the apprentice of a pathetic, unreputable, washed out con man of a wizard). As he sees it, his life has always been built on deceit and performance. He's been a good child for his father, an acceptably obedient student to his master, a vibrant and fascinating friend to his old social circle, and now a benevolent and wise ruler. He perceives himself as weak and dependent on others: deception protects him and allows him to compel others to carry him where he struggles.

Marcus

4. Does your oc have a defining physical trait? What makes this feature unique?

The thing about Marcus is that he is supposed to be aggressively, boringly normal. Marcus is a character with a secret identity, but his facade is being a rich brat and his secret identity is being a broke accountant. He's bland, he's milquetoast, he's an absolute party killer, and he doesn't stand out all that much in a crowd. Our gunslinger, the lovely @bearvanhelsing's Aria, once referred to him as "the dullest man in all of Absalom." So his appearance? Similarly... uncompelling. He's got somewhat sharp features, but not in a handsome way. He's a little taller than the average human man. But mostly he doesn't stand out. I think his most notable physical trait would be the dark circles under his eyes. He's in a near permanent state of exhaustion from the stress of work, maintaining appearances to please his family, the wild adventures he has with the rest of the SEKS club (while lying to them about his home life), and the constant drain of his oracular curse (which is quite literally bleeding him dry).

14. Does your oc have any hobbies? How did they get involved in these?

Ah, this is something that's in a larger post still in a draft state because I got hung up trying to polish a Kingmaker question on it. Starting to feel like a definitive Marcus post with how many times I've gone "this Marcus lore... it's coming soon..." The short version is that Marcus doesn't really have a lot of hobbies because he just doesn't have the free time for them. His one notable interest he clings to is a fascination with occultism, particularly tales of the unexplained and odd pseudoscience. He has a collection of dubious periodicals on these topics and his single social club, the Society of Esoteric Knowledge and Secrets (or SEKS), is dedicated to discussion of the topic.

#for real these things posting wrong or me misreading a part of the ask is one of my Great Fears #especially since there tend to be uhh #formatting struggles when I use mobile browser for them #ask game #ask me emithing #balthazar lucienne #marcus de luca #mountainashfae #I linked one or two past asks that seemed especially relevant

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goodqueenaly · 2 years

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I wonder if Aegon IV felt himself hoist with his own petard, so to speak, when he discovered the sexual affair between Bethany Bracken and Terrence Toyne.

After all, while we don’t know exactly when the Morghil Hastwyck accusations happened, I tend to think this even occurred around 174 AC: Yandel mentions that the “accusations came at the same time as Aegon and Prince Daeron were quarreling over the king’s plans to launch an unprovoked war against Dorne”, and later mentions “the king’s plans to invade Dorne in 174 AC”, so it’s not a far leap to suggest that this “unprovoked war” was the same “complete failure” of an invasion.

In any event, Aegon certainly seems to have seen this as a clever means of not only ridding himself of his hated sister-wife, brother, and son in one go, but humiliating them in so spectacular a fashion that their characters could never be redeemed. What would be a worse accusation against so pious a queen as Naerys than that she had committed adultery, betraying (so Aegon would have presented it) her lord husband for the sake of her lust for her brother? What would be a worse accusation against so (outwardly, at least) sterling a knight of the Kingsguard as Prince Aemon than that he had carried out not just a forbidden sexual affair, but a forbidden sexual affair with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? Who would dare support the claims of a bastard born of the incestuous affair of a queen and a knight of the Kingsguard? Unfortunately for Aegon’s attempts at petty revenge, however, his accusation scheme was an utter failure. In defending Naerys in a trial by combat, Aemon had vindicated the both of them in the courtroom of the gods. By defeating Morghil, Aemon had proven in the sight of the Seven (and consequently Westerosi legal custom) that the accusations were false and unjust. There could be no court of appeal, no higher power to review the outcome; the gods had given strength to the arm of the just man, so the king had had to publicly acknowledge both their innocence and his son’s legitimacy.

So presuming the Morghil Hastwyck accusations happened a few years before the Bethany Bracken affair, imagine how furious Aegon must have been to face this ironic situation. The woman who had sexually betrayed him (so Aegon would have seen it, anyway) was not the sister-wife he loathed but the young mistress he had doted upon. The Kingsguard who had abetted this sexual betrayal was not the brother he hated but another entirely (perhaps one the king had even liked and trusted), a man whose darkly handsome good looks could not but contrast against the king’s much-deteriorated physical state. Any child Bethany might have borne (if conceived with Toyne) might well have appeared so obviously not fathered by the king so as to make the sexual affair all too apparent (especially compared to Daeron, whose Targaryen looks could neither prove nor disprove accusations about his parentage).

I wonder, then, if Aegon refused any suggestion of a trial, much less a trial by combat, for Bethany and Terrence specifically to avoid any comparison with the Morghil Hastwyck affair. Even if Terrence, as a highborn knight, might have technically had a right to such a request, I could see where Aegon might have refused it out of spite; it would be all too easy for courtiers to draw comparisons between the two events, either to mock Aegon (something like, perhaps, “the gods are punishing him for his false accusations against Naerys by having Bethany and Terrence play them out”) or to question the legitimacy of the new accusation itself (something like, say, “the king made this sort of accusation before through Hastwyck, who’s to say he’s not lying again because he’s tired of Bethany?”). Even worse (in Aegon’s mind), the most obvious choice to defend the king might have been Aemon himself, probably the most physically talented Kingsguard at that time; the last addition Aegon needed on what he might have seen as his personal humiliation was the hated brother he had previously (if indirectly) accused of a similar act defending the crown against a Kingsguard who had actually committed this act.

So I could see where Aegon might have had Terrence quickly tortured and Bethany and her father equally quickly executed. Maybe he would have given out that as the king, the ultimate arbiter of justice in the realm, had witnessed the event happen, there was no question of accusation; the king had, perhaps, effectively condemned the pair as soon as he had caught them abed, passing judgment almost automatically because the evidence was so blatantly before his own eyes. (At least for Terrence and Bethany, though I could see where Aegon would have had the torture of Terrence produce “evidence” that, say, Lord Bracken had conspired with his daughter to help her abet the breaking of Terrence’s Kingsguard vows.)

#asoiaf meta #aegon iv targaryen #bethany bracken #terrence toyne

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kramlabs · 6 months

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Repost of Nick Hudson’s speech to the Actuarial Society

youtube

#nick Hudson #spectacular commitment to lying #Youtube #3 tablets

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ahappybeginning · 2 years

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It’s happening. Less than 12 hours from now, I’ll be arriving at the hospital and praying that everything will work out the way I want it to in order for me to have this gastric sleeve surgery.

This is something that I’ve been thinking about for several years. I did try to do a complete overhaul of my diet a few years ago, and I managed to lose 120 lbs in one year. And it felt amazing. But what didn’t feel amazing was when I realized that my main motivation for losing that weight wasn’t what I had spent a year very cleverly convincing myself it was. I had told myself I was doing it for my own health, but I wasn’t. My motivation was purely external and I was fantastic at lying to myself about it. And so when that source of motivation exploded in my face in a rather spectacular way, not only did I feel like complete shit and gain every pound I had lost back, but I added an extra 80 for good measure.

That was the darkest period of my life, the time I got closest to simply not caring if I just ceased to exist. Thankfully, I was able to pull myself out of that darkness, but it took a long time and a lot of hard work to unravel the trauma of what happened to put me in that dark place.

And now, just shy of 3 years later, I’m light years ahead of where I was then. At the beginning of this year, I found myself in a similar kind of dark place to the one I’d experienced a few years ago. But the biggest and most important difference was…this time it was almost entirely self-inflicted. I came to realize that I’d allowed myself to be a victim of other people’s bullshit for so long that I forgot how to fight for myself in the ways that really counted, my own mental and physical health. And through some other traumatic circumstances, I forced myself to take action, because I realized the consequences of doing nothing would ensure my death before age 40, and that was just not ok with me. It’s the first time in my life that I decided for myself, and myself alone, that I was worth more than that, and that I wanted to fight to keep myself alive and as healthy as possible to reach an age that in the past I figured I wouldn’t be likely to get to.

So here I am, after 5 months of working my ass off to get my mind and body in the best shape I can before going through with this surgery, and having lost 93 lbs in that time and dipping just below the weight I was at when I started my first diet years ago. It’s something I will be incredibly proud of for the rest of my life, no matter what happens going forward. I’ve committed to this journey, to this new life, to myself.

And now the rest of my life can begin. 💗

#bariatric sleeve #bariatric surgery #pray for me tomorrow

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khaleesiofalicante · 2 years

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Hello. How are you feeling? I hope you're doing well and keeping safe. And not working too hard. I hope you had an excellent and spectacular day. You of all people deserve it sooo much. Now that the very important questions are asked,I would like to say some things which randomly come in my brain and because I'm incapable of keeping my thoughts to myself. I have to make it everybody's business. Now, since you love lists and a list would make this simpler, here goes:

Have you ever wondered about Magnus's birth name? Like, do you want it to be revealed,or should it remain a mystery. I personally want it to be revealed.

2. Now, talking about TEC, what do you think about a Clockwork Princess style epilogue for Tbvotd? Like, we'll get that closure about Malec's relationship ( And cry buckets of tears). How Alec died, when he died,about the extended family etc. (Although the Lbaf gang is canon for me. You have made it so perfectly. That was a compliment btw. You should take it,and not be a Modest Magnus™)

3. Note: This one is not me asking your opinion, it's stating mine. I think one underrated Malec phase is the post Cohf malec. Like it wasn't explored upon. And it could have been really great if we did get content on it. Like,their first date after the break up,how both of them would have been nervous as hell. Alec wants it to go perfectly because he doesn't want Magnus to second guess the decision of getting back together. Magnus because he doesn't want Alec to think he made a mistake by accepting him and his past. Then,their first time after. Then the discussion of Alec moving in. Then being softly hesitant and then slowly becoming absolutely sure about their relationship and each other's feelings about them. There was just so much lost potential. CC should have given us something.

4. An AU that came in my mind. Malec are high school sweethearts. They actually knew each other from childhood. They were best friends before dating. Tmi gang is like the elite group in high school. They are very popular. Now,the angsty part. Alec's parents are politicians. They accepted him being gay but they were against him dating Magnus because he has a background (like him killing his stepfather and his mom committing suicide. And his birth father being MIA) which will not be good for someone who's going to be a politician. So, Alec's parents try to dissuade him from dating him,but Alec is adamant. So,Parents and Alec make a deal. Alec gets to date Magnus until graduation. After graduation,he can't date him anymore. Alec agrees, thinking his parents will see reason when they see him happy with Magnus. he doesn't tell Magnus about it. Izzy and Jace know about it and tell him to tell Magnus but he doesn't listen. Comes graduation day. Happiest day of Magnus's life. Because he's proud of how far he's come. Alec arrives late at graduation,and seems very miserable. Magnus asks him what's wrong. Alec tells him he has to break up with him. Magnus doesn't believe him and asks for the reason. Alec tells him about the deal. Magnus feels very betrayed and says Alec has been lying to him the entire time. Alec tries to explain and say his feelings were real and he wasn't playing around with Magnus. Magnus is heartbroken so he doesn't listen. Izzy and Jace come in. So do Simon and Clary. Magnus finds out all of them knew about the deal.(since Iz&J told Si& Clary). magnus thinks everyone betrayed him. he leaves with one parting line to Alec-. THANK you Alexander. Thank you for making what was supposed to be one of my happiest days into one of the saddest. He leaves. They try to track Magnus but he's off the grid. Alec accepts that he's gone. After 5 Years. Alec is a politician. Clace and Dizzy are thriving at life. They travel to LA (or any other place which is not NY) they see Magnus there. He has a new friend group. He's a hotshot lawyer. they're shock because he always wanted to be a photographer.

I can't think anymore.you add your details

I have wondered! I actually mention it one of my ongoing fics hehe. But I like mysteries so I don't want to know what it is. I like the name Magnus way too much 🥺

Thank you for the compliment, bebe. I think we're very unlikely o get that kind of closure for malec or any of the characters. There is a popular theory that TWP might end with clace wedding and since TBVOTD is released before that (IF I AM NOT WRONG) i think cassie won't write anything that will spoil the rest of the books.

I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH. And yes! So true! Getting back together after a break up is to tricky and I too would have loved to know how they navigated it. I really liked your ideas about it! Maybe you should write a one shot about it ;)

OKAY BUT YOU DEFINITELY HAVE TO WRITE THIS? HIGH SCHOOL ANGST HITS DIFFERENT I NEED THIS FIC SO BAD DO IT BRO WRITE IT PLEASE!!!!

ps - but seriously though these ideas are so fucking good i would love to read snippets or even MULTI CHAPTER FICS if you want to explore these ideas 💚

#malec

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astronomyforastrologers · 21 days

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About These Auroras ~ 12 May 2024

About These Auroras ~ 12 May 2024, Philip Sedgwick

Should you live in a relatively northern latitude on the planet, hopefully you’ve had a chance to take in the spectacular light show provided by Aurora Borealis. The lights are the result of excitation of the Earth’s magnetic field while bombarded by the energy spewed from solar coronal mass ejections. While this recent sky show may seem extra superlative, potentially a day of equally dazzling lights could occur tomorrow, according to forecasts by those who catalog such things.

While lesser brilliant aurora lights may appear tonight, tomorrow an extremely strong solar blast reaches the Earth and excites the sky. This is not at all unprecedented. In fact, is more or less normal and certainly expected as the Sun now moves toward its solar maximum (the apex of solar energetic activity) predicted to be July 2025. Every 11.08 years or so, a solar maximum occurs. If you’d like to keep apprised of solar activity, check out www.spaceweather.com. There’s also important tracking of potentially hazardous objects to the Earth catalogued on the website.

Here’s another factor in the solar eruption thing. Back in 1947, RCA researchers set up shop on top of a Manhattan skyscraper to monitor solar activity and its potential effect on short wave radio propagation. Astonishingly, one of the researchers concluded that solar eruptions are a function of where the heliocentric planets in the solar system transit relative to the closest point of approach that any planet makes to the Sun, as well as the heliocentric nodes of the planets. Any planet to any other planet counts. A configuration that stood out in the data: Any planetary contacts to the perihelion of Mars drastically inflame solar activity.

Back on 8 May, heliocentric Mars in Pisces aligned with the degree of the perihelion of Mars. So, all these dazzling lights in the northern sky falls in the category of absolutely expected.

What does a person need to do? If you’re in a region where the auroras shimmer, do check it out. Listen to the sizzle. Take in the patterns of light with the revelation of the normally invisible field around Earth that buffers us from the energy of the Sun now works overtime. Experience the awe!

Second, when your electronic devices go unstable, no need to throw them in the bin. Satellites often fritz during such coronal blasts. As such, cell phone signals, the internet, power grids and anything satellite dependent may drop offline. Electronic communication transmission during the arrival of such high energy, is subject to failure.

The third thing a person needs to do during these solar blasts is recognize that their entire physical energetic system from the chakras to the aura are subsequently titillated to tantamount levels by the solar energies. This tends to result in one of two manifestations: One is mental over activity, accompanied by bodily sluggishness; the other is physical hyperactivity while the brain lags behind in cogent processing. Should one need to travel by air, day or night, during solar activity, the effects are amplified.

The antidote is actually relatively simple. Find a quiet spot, as distant from personal electronic devices as possible, preferably in nature and commit to a total reset of your energy. Plopping on a stump, lying on the grass, leading against a tree, wading in a brook all suffice for purposes of grounding. Take time to envision your own energy shield and shake off any excess stimulation, whether impacting the body or mind. Engage in whatever grounding exercises you regularly apply and hang out with them longer than usual. Work to calm your mind repeating the mantra: Remain in the moment. Recognize that mental knee jerk reactions may fly asunder and prompt emotional responses out of context with reality. Realize that motivation and energy return when the shock field of incoming solar activity wanes. Reset alertness, restore willingness and when the power’s back, carry on with renewed vigor.

In short, chill and reclaim your wholeness. It’s extra intense out there because of the solar blasts. Transits feel more impactful. Likely this will stick around a while. If the conditions of life seem supercharged without events that typically cause hyper responsiveness, realize you feel and react to the blasts from the stellar center of our solar system, precisely as everyone else on the planet simultaneously does.

Should the solar blasts toss you out of synch, conduct a reboot of your soul’s software that processes life and soothes reactions. When reset and up and running, revisit the conditions at hand. Likely decisions that suit the purposes of spirit reappear and with greater clarity.

More soon.

The links below will lead you to my ordering pages so you can schedule a consultation, ask a question, order a cool report (that includes heliocentric influences) or get insight to support the solar stimulation of these times. Restore your sense of progress and ensure your creativity is positively impacted by the vibes of the times! Click away!

One Stop Shopping Order Form Astrological Texts

#heliocentric #philip sedgwick

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careeralley · 3 months

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Propel Your Real Estate Career: 5 Crucial Tips

Every new realtor enters the market with a drive for success. What's the ultimate dream of every real estate agent or broker? Precisely, they aim to ascend the ladder in the real estate franchise industry, hoping for a spectacular debut. However, a few weeks in, they often find that the path to success isn't as straightforward as they anticipated. The journey is fraught with obstacles and challenges that demand resilience. For those new to the field, each step forward is a lesson in itself. This succinct guide will serve as your mentor, helping propel your real estate business toward success. All realtors who are new in the game enter the market with a success-driven mindset. There are numerous hurdles and challenges on the path to success that need to be overcome. And remember, if you are new to the game, you will learn a lot on the way upwardsClick To Tweet 1. Don’t act like a Salesperson! The last thing your clients would want is to get sold. As a basic principle, keep in mind that your job is to educate, facilitate, and mentor the clients rather than sell the property. Don’t gather resentment from clients by acting like a salesperson. Instead, help them focus on their goals regarding what they are looking for and help them obtain that goal. In this way, you will put the client’s plan before your personal needs, which is vital to success in the real estate world. 2. Gain Trust by creating value! This is one of the most remarkable pieces of advice for newbies. The essential way to gain your client's trust is by creating value for them. If you were to peep into the most outstanding real estate agents' portfolios, you would see trust as one of their greatest assets. Building and maintaining trust with clients is also an effective way to foster great relationships and make your real estate company stand out in the market. Happy clients are more likely to spread the word about your company's reliability and excellent services which will generate new customers in response. 3. Provide Multiple Options and make the Client Choose! By offering multiple options to your clients, you score high as a trusted adviser in the clients' eyes. This aspect will also enable you to strategically guide them to the best option instead of forcing your opinion onto them, fostering a collaborative approach, especially when considering impactful financial choices like impact investments. Instead of focusing on successful individual sales, well-reputed realtors provide their clients with ample choices and tell them that their company might lose a deal if none of the options is a right fit for the client’s needs. By building a moral stance, the realtors maintain long-term value, which leads to their ultimate success. 4. Honesty and Hard Work go Hand in Hand! As a newbie, you ought to remember that hard work and honesty always pay off for the better in the long run. Your best asset in the world of real estate is your company's reputation. Therefore, it is okay not to know all the answers you will learn with time as your real estate empire will grow with time. As a realtor, your goal should be to provide your clients with the right answers by taking honest actions and never lying to them. In real estate, each one of your clients is gold for you. That said, never forgo one client while focusing on another one. Your clients are your assets, and you can win them over with honesty and hard work. 5. Never Settle-Be Obsessed with Success! For putting your dreams into reality, get obsessed with what you want. It demands you and your team always give your best and perform at the highest level of their capacity. Get obsessed with solving your client's problems and providing them with the best services. Remember that the process of building a successful real estate empire demands obsession and commitment. Other Resources - Before You Are Licensed: 13 Actions To Jump Start Your Future Real Estate Career $5.95 If however you aren't sitting on a pile of cash, you have no choice but to hit the ground running the minute you are licensed. This short and simple guide will teach you how. Right now, with Before You Are Licensed Learn more on Amazon We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 02/19/2024 04:32 pm GMT - How To Become a Power Agent in Real Estate $40.00 $19.51 How to Become a Power Agent in Real Estate gives real estate agents both the powerful sales techniques and the practical management tips they need to double their income by closing more transactions. Buy on Amazon Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 02/19/2024 04:34 pm GMT - Your First Year in Real Estate, 2nd Ed. $23.00 $17.69 Real estate expert Dirk Zeller has compiled the industry’s proven secrets and strategies that will enable novice agents to hit the ground running and excel from day one. You’ll get the insider’s guide to:• Selecting the right company• Developing valuable mentor and client relationships• Using the Internet and social networking to stay ahead of the competition (NEW!)• Setting—and reaching— essential career goals Buy on Amazon.com Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 02/19/2024 04:36 pm GMT - How to Become a Real Estate Superstar: The Seven Secrets of Real Estate Stars $9.95 Jim has helped hundreds of new, and experienced, real estate agents reach their career goals, using easy, but powerful, selling strategies and techniques. You will learn from realistic case stories how superstar agents break away from being ordinary, and rise to extraordinary. Buy on Amazon.com Buy on Walmart.com We earn a commission if you click this link and make a purchase at no additional cost to you. 02/19/2024 04:39 pm GMT Read the full article

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born-to-hustle · 8 months

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The Hustle's Transformative Impact

Your Path to Greatness:

Hello there, my hustlers, I wanted to have a genuine conversation with you today about something that can give a big impact on your life: the transformational power of the hustle. When you immerse yourself in the tireless pursuit of your goals, something truly spectacular happens. It's a trip that changes not only your surroundings, but also you as a person.

The Beginnings of Resilience:

One of the first things I realized on this frantic path was that it fosters resilience. It trains you to recover from setbacks and hardships with renewed vigor. Remember those late hours when you wanted to give up but kept going? Each of those experiences was like a micro forging of your character, increasing your commitment.

I've had my fair share of challenges, and each one has taught me something essential. The hustle is about more than simply getting to your objective; it's about the lessons you learn along the way. These teachings constitute the foundation of your resilience, boosting your soul to face whatever life throws at you.

The Mindset of Growth:

The hustle is a never-ending classroom for personal development. It forces you to learn, adapt, and progress by pushing you beyond of your comfort zone. You'll be continually learning new skills, broadening your knowledge, and broadening your perspectives.

I recall the first time I attempted a project that appeared much beyond my capabilities. I had no idea how to get around, so I jumped in headfirst. Everyone that has meet me in person knows that I am lying when I say I just do it. Along the way, I uncovered an untapped reserve of ability within myself. That's the beauty of the hustle: it shows aspects of your personality and ability that you might not have realized otherwise.

Creativity Unleashed:

The hustle has an amazing way of releasing creativity. When you're pushed by ambition and hard effort, you're compelled to think outside the box, come up with novel solutions, and examine challenges from several perspectives. Your mind transforms into an idea playground, and you learn to turn hardship into an opportunity for creativity.

Some of my most brilliant ideas occurred to me while I was hustling, when I was confronted with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. These flashes of creative inspiration not only assisted me in overcoming challenges, but also catapulted my projects to new heights.

How to Develop Unshakeable Confidence:

One of the most transformational effects of the hustle is the increase to your confidence. It's like an injection of confidence when you establish big goals and then see yourself making progress toward them. You begin to believe in your ability to accomplish anything you set your mind to.

I can't tell you how many times I've amazed myself with what I can do while I'm working hard. That sensation of accomplishment, no matter how minor, accumulates over time and strengthens your self-esteem.

Overall Picture:

So, my friend, while you continue on your path of ambition and hard work, keep in mind that it's not just about getting there. It is about the transforming power of hustle on your character, perspective, and abilities. Accept the obstacles, rejoice in the setbacks, and savor the moments of creative brilliance.

The hustle is more than just a means to an end; it's a way of life that shapes you into your greatest self. It's a voyage of personal development, resilience, creativity, and self-assurance. So, keep going, keep hustling, and watch the transforming power of your trip unfold.

Continue to be ambitious, determined, and tenacious - your change awaits. Once again, I appreciate the time of you guys reading the article. Subscribe to the newsletter and Born to Hustle Podcast! its published-on Apple, Spotify, Pandora, Amazon and many other podcast platforms for you guys listen and learn about leaders that ignited their hustle, what kept them into the hustle and if they could give their younger selves advice, what would it be?

#business #entrepreneur #founder #mindset #microblog #motivation #leadership

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mari-beau · 10 months

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When the Bough Breaks: Chapter Four

(A Brokenwood Mysteries fanfic)

FANDOM: The Brokenwood Mysteries PAIRING: Simmers (Kristin Sims/Daniel Chalmers) CHARACTERS: Mike Shepherd, Kristin Sims, Daniel Chalmers, Gina Kadinsky, Random OCs RATING: Teen+ (for now; later parts may become higher) WARNINGS: Dead bodies/death (and other such associated with Murder Mysteries) STORY SUMMARY: When a woman is found lying dead outside a treehouse motel, it hits close to home for one of the detectives. Meanwhile, Brokenwood is facing a spree of seemingly random petty crimes committed by random persons. And Kristin and Daniel's personal relationship faces challenges. CHAPTER SUMMARY: (Kristin POV) Kristin tries to get some more information about the deceased woman, but her personal connection may be a distraction she can't avoid.

READ ON AO3

READ CHAPTER ONE

READ CHAPTER TWO

READ CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

Kristin Sims took a deep breath, let it out slowly, tried to employ the technique of going to her happy place, which failed entirely, since she’d learned it from the people she was about to inform their friend was dead, not to mention her happy place was cuddling up with Daniel on the sofa (or in bed) but thinking of him was also currently a source of stress.

So, this was probably going to be a spectacular failure.

Just like that morning. Throwing up on the job. Like some kind of rookie.

But Veronica’s death had taken her by surprise. It still felt surreal, that someone she’d just talked to, what two days ago, texted the previous day, was dead. Gone. She’d never see her again. Hear her voice again. Talk to her, small chat or important shit, nothing. No one would. Ever again. She was just… gone.

Life could certainly take a hard left turn sometimes. A U-turn. Crash entirely. Give a person whiplash.

Kristin felt like she was suffering from emotional whiplash.

But she was good at her job. A professional. She had this.

Kristin pulled the door to the tea shop open and walked into the parlor of the faithfully restored Victorian house, making her way straight to the settees and chairs in the corner where the women’s group usually met. There were only three of them, one whom Kristin had never met. Less attended the Tuesday Lunch meetings, and she was rarely free to show up. Apparently, had almost missed them today.

“Ah, Kristin.” Sally effused. She was the effusing type. Kristin was not. And generally was suspicious of those who were. But, weirdly, it had been what she’d needed at the time, when Veronica had introduced Kristin to the group. And so she let Sally pull her into a hug. Even returned it a little. And the effusive woman knew to keep it brief.

“We were just leaving,” she said, pulling away but keeping her hands on Kristin’s arms as she looked her over with her gentle blue-grey gaze. The retired nurse was a genuinely kind and caring person, even when challenging you to ask yourself the hard questions. “Will we see you at the Friday Evening Meet-Up?”

“Uh, I’m not sure…” Kristin cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m here in a semi-official capacity. Can I steal a few minutes to talk to you all?”

It was likely some, if not all, the other women had to get back to work.

Sally’s expression sobered as she read Kristin’s face, body language and tone. She resumed her seat, as did the other women, giving Kristin curious looks.

“Kristin, I don’t think you’ve met Elaine,” Sally gestured to the unfamiliar brunette. She nodded and smiled at Kristin.

“You’re a member of the group?” She phrased it politely, but her eyes asked the implicit, unspoken question.

“Yes,” Kristin said. “But I don’t go around announcing it to the general public. My partner doesn’t even know.”

Elaine nodded. Message received. They all shared some pretty private and personal things at their meet-ups. Discretion was just an unspoken agreed upon rule.

Kristin sat up straighter in the tufted chair.

“I’m not sure if any of you are aware, aside from Sally, that I’m a detective sergeant with Brokenwood CIB.” Elaine’s eyes went big, but Cynthia and Kay nodded. “I have some bad news.”

Sally frowned, something Kristin had only seen twice in the three months since they’d met.

“Veronica Howell was found dead this morning.” She winced, not just in anticipation of the shocked responses of the women, but because it felt inherently wrong to be talking about the deceased before informing their family.

But one couldn’t notify the family if they couldn’t identify the next of kin. And these women might know, might help Veronica be returned to her loved ones.

Well, maybe not that much help. The shock was blatant on their faces. And it could be hours or days before they processed it properly. Kristin hoped it would only be seconds or minutes until they could function, listen to her questions, provide some answers.

“You must be mistaken, Kristin,” Cynthia said. “I saw her just yesterday. She seemed fine.”

“A sudden death can be confusing and difficult to understand,” Kristin said. One thing the women’s group had done was improve her ability to provide comfort and consolation, even if she often didn’t feel comforted by the meet-ups herself. Okay, she did. They helped. Had been helping. But now this happened. “I’ve seen her. I’m certain it’s her.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell us what happened?” Sally asked.

“No. It’s still under investigation.”

“Investigation?!” Elaine’s big eyes widened to cartoon-character levels. When she spoke again, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you mean like… murder?”

“I mean like, ‘there’s no official cause of death yet.’ But we’re having trouble identifying her next of kin. So I was hoping maybe Veronica mentioned something about her family…?” Blank looks met Kristin’s gaze as she made eye contact with the women each in turn. “Parents? Siblings? A partner?”

They seemed to snap out of the shock somewhat, processing her question, brows furrowing, lips pursing, little shakes of their heads.

“Did she mention the father of her baby to anyone?”

Sally was studying Kristin as intently as she was studying the other women, and met her gaze straight on.

“It seemed like Veronica was closest to you, Kristin,” Sally said. “She didn’t talk about any of those things with you?”

Kristin cleared her throat. It was easy to detach herself from the death in ‘detective mode’ but she wouldn’t be able to entirely avoid her hastily smothered shock and grief, not when she had a personal connection to the case she was in the midst of investigating.

“No,” she said. Veronica hadn’t talked about those things with Kristin. And Kristin hadn’t asked. “I know she was doing remote work. That’s why she moved to Brokenwood, to be off the beaten path. Does anyone know anything about her employer?”

Kristin held back the company name Daniel had come across, just to see if she could get independent verification.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. That she was doing remote work,” Cynthia said, looking to Kay, who nodded.

“She was staying at that treehouse place,” Kay said. “A little bit of a weird choice, if you ask me. But to each their own.”

Kristin nodded, scribbled down the information, even though it was nothing new. Veronica hadn’t seemed the mysterious type, but she was proving to be an enigma now that Kristin was actually trying to figure out who she was. Maybe she hadn’t been a very good friend at all. Veronica had always been there to listen to Kristin’s worries, fears, regrets over the past few months. But had she not provided the same level of confidant to the now-deceased woman?

If her death hadn’t been an accident, could Kristin have done something to prevent it? Would she have known Veronica was in some sort of trouble? If only she were a bit more of an accessible person, could she have saved her friend?

“Are you alright?” Sally asked, her hand settling lightly on Kristin’s arm.

“I’m fine.” She shook off the distracting thoughts she couldn’t afford to have, professionally, or personally. And gave the women her ‘everything is fine’ smile, which Sally could see right through, she could tell, but the retired nurse said nothing.

“Thank you for your help,” Kristin said. Although there hadn’t been anything helpful offered up. She passed out her card, although she knew Sally already had her phone number. And Cynthia and Kay, probably, too. “If any of you think of anything else. Anything at all. Please call me.”

The women got up and went back to their lives, perhaps a little less content than if Kristin hadn’t injected sad news into their day. Sally stopped her before she, too, could resume her work day.

“You should really try to make it to the Friday Evening,” she said. “Especially after what’s happened with Veronica. It would be good for you.”

Kristin just nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

#The Brokenwood Mysteries #fanfic #fanfiction #murder mystery #casefic #Simmers #Sims/Chalmers #Mike Shepherd #Kristin Sims #Daniel Chalmers #Gina Kadinsky #I guess I started posting full chapters here so I will continue... But it's also on AO3

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