#but I still want Keeper's space and blog to feel like a safe space for people's mind if that makes sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wildwoodcaretaker · 1 year ago

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Welcome to the Wildwood, young one.

My Wildwood is a place of comfort for all that need it; you are safe beneath these boughs. In this quiet space, you can relax. Breathe deeply and without fear.

I am the Caretaker, the Guardian, the Keeper of this Wood. You may refer to me in whatever non-parental way you wish. I am here to offer advice, compassion, and comfort to all who seek shelter in my home.

The Wildwood is governed by rules its occupants must follow. You will find them below. Anyone found to be breaking these rules will be permanently barred from the Wood.

Hello! I'm Lucky, and I'm the writer behind the Wildwood Caretaker. I'm the host of a professionally diagnosed DID system and am autistic.

This is a carer blog for anyone who needs it, but it's geared specifically towards age regressors and child alters!

A small warning: there will be some content here that people may find spooky, like dark forests, the unknown, and related things. I will tag accordingly!

This blog is open to asks, but I do have a few stipulations!

Please don't send asks if you are a minor! (I'm over 25 and don't feel comfortable directly interacting with minors. You can still like/reblog though!)

Keep asks positive and light as possible; though I am happy to try to offer advice and comfort, I want this blog to be a safe and comforting place for everyone (including my mental health). Overly negative or vent asks will be deleted.

Though I'm fine with some minimal text quirks, I have a terrible time understanding heavy baby talk and things like that. Please include a translation if you can, or tone it down in asks so I can understand.

Anons can feel free to use emoji tags!

Full DNI

NSFW/sexual blogs, ageplay/kink-derived "regression", MAPs/pedos, minors in kink or supporters

Bigots, LGBT+phobes, generally hateful blogs

Pro-SH/ED, yandere, fujoshi, vent blogs

Endogenic systems + supporters

FAQ

So what exactly is this blog?

I personally feel very safe in the woods and nature in general, and the idea that some greater being, a protector of nature, is watching over me is super comforting to me and child alters in my system. So I thought maybe other people would like that kind of thing too, a unique carer experience that lots of other blogs (I hope).

The Caretaker will make posts about self-care, in-character comfort posts, and reblogs with cozy, nature-related things. It will also answer asks from regressors/child alters/whoever else with advice, comfort, or positivity.

Is the Caretaker a real thing? Is it an alter?

No and no! The Caretaker is purely a fictional character I've created, so this is essentially a roleplay on my end; however, this is not a roleplay blog in itself, meaning I won't respond to other super "in character" posts or asks.

In character posts (so the Caretaker talking) will be in italics! Anything out of character (so me, the writer, talking) will not be in italics, and will usually be under a cut.

Do you accept asks? What about messages?

My private messages are closed, but asks are open! Please see above for ask rules!

What/who is the Caretaker?

That's up to the reader! I see it as a kind of nature spirit, a protector of the woods. I will say it's more creature than human, but what it looks like beyond that, it's gender/pronouns, and other details are totally open to interpretation.

Blog banner and icon are from Unsplash. Dividers and DNI banners are made by me and are not for public use!

I hope other people can find comfort in this sort of thing! Even if not, I'm having fun with it~

Thanks for visiting!

#about #pinned

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skruffie · 2 years ago

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connected and reconnecting

A few days ago I saw this frankly insufferable person here on tumblr that was trying to carve out their blog to be a safe space centering Indigenous people who are already connected in their communities and saying that those who are reconnecting need to be aware of that, and I’m just really very curious about what exactly that means and what purpose that is meant to serve?

Ages ago when I was still unwinding my own family history I saw a lot of perspectives on what it means to be reconnecting over on Native twitter and opinions vary: some people are tired of the mainstream narrative being people “discovering” their ancestral heritage and writing article after article about what they’re learning and all the trauma their family endured that buried their stories. Other people pointed out that because of colonization, everyone is still reconnecting to some degree even if you’re a pure rez kid. We’re all reconnecting because there is an overwhelming amount of information, culture, language, etc that has been lost. That second point gave me a feeling of like... not closure, but it helped put to ease some of the fear that I’ve felt in trying to reconnect in my own way. We’ve all suffered tremendously but to varying degrees.

But with this one blog phrasing it, it was done particular to sound like you’re taking up space because you don’t have The Connection. Like it’s your fault. Putting it out there like if you’re disconnected then you’re tainted or problematic is incredibly fucking harmful. Also, the other thing is how are you going to know when you’re fully reconnected and revitalized in your communities?

On Saturday I went down to Seattle for an MMIW march and there was a woman going through the crowd before we took to the streets who was smudging and praying over every single person who showed up. I watched and could start to see who was familiar with smudging based off of what they did. The white allies mostly held still, but the Indigenous people were cupping the smoke over their bodies as if pouring water over them. That second one is the protocol, from my understanding of what I’ve learned, is what you do and I had this little moment when she approached me where I realized a couple years ago I wouldn’t think to do that. I’m still thousands of miles from my ancestral communities but there’s community here. It’s intertribal, but this is another way to reconnect. You show up for the people around you even if you’re all different nations. Am I disconnected because I don’t speak Yurok or Michif or am I connected because I can march with the urban ndns in Seattle? What’s the limit there?

The other realization I had, which makes me feel incredibly sad, is that I’ve been wanting to travel to Montana to meet with cousins and learn more culture stuff but in light of the anti-trans movement picking up rapid speed I’m not sure if it’s actually safe for me to go there anymore. It’s not safe for Alice. I have no idea if my kin would actually be accepting if I go “by the way hope you’re cool with trans stuff”, so forget asking about like... how you determine if you’re two spirit, how to powwow dance, learning language, learning songs, being a drum keeper (something I am especially interested in).

#anyway the blog has been blocked because jesus fucking christ

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riddle-me-ri · 2 years ago

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My cat fell asleep on my arm and that got me thinking of you could write a fic about reader falling asleep on the various ozzies XD how would they react and what would they do?

(Btw I absolutely love your writing I check your blog everyday to see if you've written anything new and it's always such a treat when you do 💝)

A/N: first off I am absolutely here for the cats invading everyone’s personal space and claiming human limbs as beds, as well as the fact there were two similar themed requests (same anon? Maybe possibly?) I hope y’all don’t mind I sorta combined the two of your requests because…yeah they were really similar rip. I will link the backstory to Farrell!Penguin’s drabble in his section, and the other Ozzies will be original.

Penguins Reacting to Reader Falling Asleep on Them:

Arkhamverse Penguin:

Well, what was he to expect? That coat he wears is comfy inside and out.

You were sitting beside Oswald at the head of the long dining table.

You heard some parts of the conversation, but it didn’t take long between the dullness of the topic and the cacophony of voices to all sound one in the same. You barely make out what Ozzie’s saying as your eyelids eventually get too heavy to hold open any longer.

Oswald was in the middle of giving an order when he felt the slightest weight on his upper arm. Everyone grew silent when they notice you’ve actually nodded off. Some men stared in shock, if they were to fall asleep during a meeting…Oswald wouldn’t hesitate to knock them out for good.

They weren’t you though. You had him wrapped around your finger like a vine to a branch. He glanced over to you. The scowl on his face perking up to a soft endearing smile towards you. He immediately lowered his voice, but still delivered the order in a stern tone. If any of his men raised their voices even the slightest, he’d shush them.

“Keep your bloody voice down!” He hissed. “Can’t you see my love is sleepin?”

Reevesverse/Farrell Penguin:

Click on Farrell Oz's header for the full backstory on how the reader managed to pop a squat on Oz’s lap.

Needless to say, you got pretty comfortable in Ozzie’s lap. You reveled in the closeness, being wrapped up in his warmth and clean but not overbearing cologne. You even gained the courage in your newfound comfortability to put your hand over his that was cupped around your waist. Oz quirked an eyebrow at the gesture, but smiled and let you hold his hand.

Once his friends went off to go dancing with their dates for the night. You enjoyed the one on one time with Oz.

Between the stories shared and the drinks sipped. Time passed faster and it got really late. You don’t remember how or what, but your eyelids were slowly closing like the red curtains at the end of a play. Oswald was so soft, warm, inviting. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t resist.

Selina walked passed handing Oz a wad of cash but not before giggling softly. “Looks like your date’s decided to take a cat nap.”

Oz furrowed his eyes until he looked down. Sure enough, you were snoozing away. You hand on his chest, the hand on his hand slowly losing it’s grip on his. He couldn’t help but mimic the smile you had on your face. He moved his hand that was on your waist over your free hand, to keep holding it to your side. Oswald grew to like holding your hand.

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, it’d appear so.”

“You want me to clear a spot on the couch in your office, boss?” Selina offered.

Oz looked up at her and nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

Selina nodded back with a smile, but not before stealing a glance at you. “I think they’re a keeper. I’ve never seen you smile so much in one night.”

Oswald glanced back down at you. Your body completely lax against his, you’re breathing even. You must feel so content with him. He must make you feel safe…

He brushed a stray hair off your cheek and tightened his hold on you. “Yeah…I was just thinkin’ the same thing.”

Gotham Penguin:

“What I’m trying to say is…this war CANNOT and should NOT persist. Why must we shed MORE blood, WASTE away more lives!” Oswald was on another passionate rant, to no one in particular but it always helped his mind come up with the solutions.

“Ehh..boss…”

“What, Butch?”

Butch pointed to you on Oswald’s left side. He turned to you and almost jolted out of his skin.

Y-You were asleep. Gently resting along his shoulder. Your steady breathing caused the tiniest of hairs on Oswald’s pale skin stand up.

“H-How long was I talking?”

Butch glanced at his watch. “A little over 2 hours, boss.” He gave his employer a lopsided smile.

Oswald’s eyes widened. No wonder you dozed off, but he didn’t suspect…he never suspected. You would find him…cozy…inviting.

“O-Oh…that..that explains it..” Oswald whispered, worried that even the slightest hitch in his voice or twitch in his body will jostle you awake. He can’t say he’s quick to remove you away from him though.

Butch chuckled. Fully aware of the feelings you and Oswald had for each other but refused to act on. Whilst it was adorable, it was equally infuriating.

“Good night, boss.” Butch began making his way up the stairs to the spare bedrooms in the mansion.

“W-Wait! B-Butch..” He hissed. “W-What do I do about them?”

Butch shrugged, but continued to walk off.

Oswald was about to yell at Butch to come back and help him, but the slight tension in his body caused your head to squirm on his shoulder.

Well, this wasn’t one of the most uncomfortable places to fall asleep. He leaned back in the plush cushioned chair, your head still glued to his shoulder. Oswald reluctantly laid the side of his face on top of your head.

He couldn’t help but chuckle in warm delight.

Yeah, there were way worse conditions to take a nap in.

BTAS Penguin:

“Oh look, my dear! A gorgeous little dove–oh!”

He looks down to see you nestled into his chest, with one hand clinging to the lapels of his suit jacket.

You and Oswald were taking a small rest on a park bench. You enjoyed these special little moments with Oswald. Just the two of you taking a stroll through the park, talking about nothing, looking at all the birds that come your way.

It was still early in the evening, and it was fair to say you didn’t get the best sleep last night.

Oswald gulped at the close proximity. W-Why would you sleep on him? Surely he wasn’t the most..comfortable cushion. You had a better chance leaning your head over the bench, or resting on the bench’s armrest.

Yet, you didn’t do any of that.

You sought out for him, resting your body into his without so much as a second thought.

You…you really do like him.

Oswald couldn’t help but smile widely in glee. He could jump up in joy, but he will refrain so he won’t wake you up. He noticed the birds nearby chirping more than usual, as if they’re sharing in his delighted mood.

He wrapped his arm around you and gently squeezed you, so you were closer to him. His heart almost swelled when he saw you smile and snuggle your head closer to him.

Oswald kissed the top of your head before resting his chin on top of your head.

TNBA Penguin:

The night was electric. It was a special night at the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald was premiering a brand new performance act for the club. It took months of preparation and discussions, but it was finally happening.

The night couldn’t have had a better turn out.

Oswald was seated next to you in one of the half circle booths facing the stage. Once the act was over, Oz couldn’t help but notice you went rather quiet and his shoulder felt more heavy. He glanced down to see you snoozing away.

Any other time and if it’d been any other person he would be offended at such a rude display. However, he knew the cause, and how he was part of it. You put just as much hours into setting this up and getting this to work more than anyone.

Plus, he couldn’t help but enjoy the small palpations his heart was doing. He always enjoyed the idea of having you by his side. The idea of you being intimate enough with him to hold his hand, kiss his cheek, or…doze off on top of him.

This…this was a good start to making his idea…his dream of you two become a reality.

Oswald leaned up slightly off the back of the booth. As gently as he could, he readjusted himself so that he was laying back into the booth instead of sitting up straight. He grabbed your spare jacket that you rested on your lap and wrapped it around your upper body.

Oz gave you a small peck on your cheek.

“Thank you, my dear…for everything.” He whispered softly in your ear, silently hoping you heard him.

Telltale Batman:

You were so excited to see Oswald when he said he was coming back to Gotham City. Tossing and turning in your bed from excitement it was safe to say the rough three hours of sleep you got were finally catching up to you.

You and Ozzie were hanging out in his new apartment. After getting him settled in to his new digs. You guys ordered take out and grabbed a couple movies to watch on the couch. The food was long gone and you were in the middle of the second film.

Oz couldn’t help but notice you had gone uncharacteristically quiet. He glances down and sees you snuggled up against the pillow and his lower abdomen. Your breathing was even and your eyes were closed.

Always the one to mess with him, earlier you had rested a pillow on Oz’s lap and laid your head there to watch the films. Oz scoffed at you but didn’t make you budge. Now he was sort of regretting that decision. Only a little bit though.

One of your hands was gripping the edge of his black shirt and the other was wrapped around his waist.

God, you really were so adorable. Why the hell did you ever hang on to a low-life like him? No assets, no money, no estate…just a name that used to mean something…be worth something.

Even if he never quite understood you. He appreciated your presence in his life all the more. Oswald did not ever want to think about a life without you. He’s already lost Bruce, if he lost you too…he really wouldn’t have anybody else.

Oz leaned over you as best he could. Snatched the remote he turned the TV off and he gently slid his lap out from under you. He watched to make sure the sudden movement didn’t wake you. You ended up just nuzzling into the pillow. He chuckled.

Oz scooped his arms under your body and slowly lifted you off the couch. He carried you into the one bedroom with a king mattress. He recalls the small argument with you over his sheet and comforter colors matching the pillow cases. It makes him laugh internally to himself.

He pulls back the covers and sheets and laid you down gently into the mattress. Oz tucked you in, occasionally glancing at your eyes making sure you weren’t waking up. Before he left to crash on the couch, he took another glimpse of your sleeping face.

Oswald smiled, brushing your hair gently out of your face. He got up to his feet, but not before kissing your temple.

“Sweet dreams, love.”

One Bad Day Penguin:

The Iceberg Lounge had just closed after another successful night. You were helping Oz with his book keeping. Everyone talks about counting sheep to fall asleep…but what about counting and crunching numbers.

It had to have been about five in the morning, when Oswald all of a sudden felt a sudden weight on his back. You two were sitting back to back of each other, occasionally checking in on each other and making sure everything was in order and adding up.

However, he never expected you laying back and nestling in his back. Oswald couldn’t help but admit, you were warmer and more inviting than any blanket he’s ever owned.

“Hey, sweetie…you wanna call it a night?” He asked softly.

Your only response was some slight squirming and wordless murmuring.

“Ah..I see.” Oz responded sarcastically. In moments like these he wished he was more physically capable. He would carry you up to your room in the upper floors of the lounge.

But maybe I can make it to that couch…

There was a violet loveseat on the other side of your office. As quickly but seamless as he could, Oz spun around on his chair to catch you before your body fell from the lack of support from his back. Oswald jumped off from his seat, and slowly used the wheels of your chair to roll you over to the couch.

Once the wheels met the edge of the couch, Oz cupped his hands around your neck and lower waist. Using all his strength he moved you from the chair to the couch. Thankfully the transition didn’t disturb you.

Oswald took a deep exhale in relief. Now he got to take a good luck at your sleeping face.

It should be a crime to be this cute. It should be an even harsher offense to have someone so precious like you work for the likes of him. However he enjoyed your company too much, call him selfish but you made him happy. You made him feel like a human, deserving of happiness and love. Call him selfish if was ever going to give that up.

He didn’t even notice him crossing his arms on the couch. Slowly, he lowered his head to rest on top of his folded arms. Just watching you peacefully sleep.

You were able to peacefully doze off in his presence. Oswald began reminiscing on all his memories with you, and just how joyful and content he was in each one.

Oz slowly drifted off to sleep too, dreaming of the past with you and the future that has yet to make itself known. But if you were there with him, Oswald was more than ready for whatever the future holds.

#ri writes #ri almost added one more penguin into the mix but #I was worried these were getting repetitive rip #the penguin x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #arkhamverse penguin x reader #reevesverse penguin x reader #farrell penguin x reader #gotham penguin x reader #btas penguin x reader #batman the animated series penguin x reader #tnba penguin x reader #the new batman adventures penguin x reader #telltale penguin x reader #one bad day penguin x reader

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scarecrow-collective · 2 years ago

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🦊𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵🦊

Hi I'm Hyacinthus! (Hi-yuh-sin-thus) most call me Hya (hi-yuh) and I am a therian/otherkin! My therio types are dog, fox and possible wolf! I am also cryptidkin and possible ghost kin and here's a lovely bit about me!!

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SIMPLE INTRO

Name:Hyacinthus!

Age:not stating it out right but I'm older than 13 younger than 18

Pronouns: he/she/they (in that order) and any/all neos!

Sexuality: I am abrosexual pan-Romantic

Gender: genderfluid masc presenting

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Okay now that thats over with here is a bit about me/this blog!

•I am a disabled therian/otherkin who just honestly wants to make friends similar to me like in terms of being a therian/otherkin

•my special interests are horror movies, specifically slashers, and true crime!

•Like stated above I am a dog, specifically a husky, a fox specifically cross fox, and possible wolf. I'm also cryptidkin and possible ghostkin

•mm, let see i stole my name(s) (I have other names not stated you are more than welcome to ask them!) From various pieces of media, ie. Poems, legends ect.

•I'm polyam!

•I am an age regressor but i don't regress all that often but still

•I'm autistic with possible other disabilities (can't get checked yet due to personal reasons)

•pagan! I am a pagan!!

•I'm super nice so feel free to interact in any way!!

•this is a safe space for practically anyone, a bit of a mix of everything!

•if you ever need a tw for anything i post or reblog please don't hesitate to tell me

•I am a writer! And i will write pretty much most things except NSFW stuff

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Okay now! On to the DNI!

It's pretty simple you know

♤ basic DNI (transphobic ,racist, homophobic a bully in general MAPs ect)

♤anti therian/otherkin (please I am trying to keep it a safe space here)

♤anti age/pet regression (I will fight you over them)

♤NSFW in anyway (back off)

♤bit of a weird one but like people who simp for the grabber from the black phone

♤gate keepers (away from me)

♤anyone over 18/19

♤anti xeno Gender

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Okay so. Now people who I'd love to see interact !

♡Therian/otherkin (please i need more friends)

♡age/pet regressors (you guys are sweet and again want more friends)

♡stranger things fans (most you guys are chill so sure)

♡people who like slasher/horror movies (please, just please)

♡anyone who likes like, cryptozoology or cryptids in general (Ironic I know)

♡IT fans

Ah, thats all for now!

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Boundaries!!

Again pretty simple ish

◇don't ask my age right off, I'll tell you when I deem you nice

◇don't ask personal questions

◇don't make fun of an interest/hyperfixation of mine (plz but I am just a sensitive young lad)

◇no sexual stuff plz

◇no like, flirting please, well if you flirt make the tone very clear

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What I am okay with!!

♧ writing requests (no NSFW) I'll write anything really

♧flirting (tone is needed to be clear)

♧asking questions about certain things (ie. Special interests, genuine questions about my disabilities ((and possible ones)) asking about my theriotypes/kins)

♧infodumping! (Like yes! Infodump to me i like hearing it!)

♧and stuff similar!!

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Thats all for now, but if it changes I'll update it, but I do have other socials if you'd like them just message and yeah! But thats all about me! Have a wonderful day/evening/night what ever!

#cryptidkin #canine therian #fox therian #therian #cryptid #cryptozoology #otherkin

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skzss · 4 years ago

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To fulfill a wish

Member: Fae King!Hwang Hyunjin x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fantasy

Word count: 1130

Description: Do you understand the weight of a wish? Is that why you’ve come seeking a faerie’s blessing?

Author’s notes: Wow so many in one day? Actually it’s because I was supposed to post one per day but then I didn’t and built up the backlog and I wanted these out before Halloween cause yknow why not. Cross posted from another blog I run :)

There is a legend, passed down through the generations. Deep in the forest on the edges of the earth, you will find a tangle of trees. Deeper yet in this tangle of trees is a burrow, woven from the finest of vines. And if you delve deeper still, you will find the hollow of the fae, a space imbued with rich power. According to the words of legend, if you can convince the forest to bless you with a gift, you can grant any wish you want. Gold or glory, nothing is out of reach.

Many travelers have sought the hollow, most for their own personal greed. Records have indicated that most do not survive and those who do suffer a fate worse than death. Stranger yet, some records tell that they see the faces of old travelers in the bark of the trees, twisted almost to the point of unrecognition.

You hoped it was true, the legend. You needed it to be true. You’d invested months of your life, searching for this hollow, abandoning your old life for it. Hell you’d almost given your soul up to a demon for information, that’s just how desperate you were. And after all those months, you think maybe you’ve found it.

There’s something different about this place. It’s serene but still the hairs on the back of your neck raise. It’s the silence. Not once has it been so quiet on your journey. The forests are always teeming with life, the sounds of animals and insects and birds all combined with the wind rustled trees. The only sounds you hear now are your own breathing and the cracklings beneath your feet.

But you forge ahead. You must. And just as you feel like you’re about to collapse, you find the bent branches and vines of the burrow. It’s almost like a nest, circular and strong, built in layer upon layer. As you approach, you notice the leaves growing off the structure are a deeper green than those of the forest. They sparkle gently in the light despite not having any dew on them. You reach out to touch them but stop short, withdrawing your hand after a moment. Your fingertips tingle, already sensitive to the power imbued. Yes, you have at long last found it.

You don’t want to force yourself into the hollow. That’s a sure fire way to get yourself killed or kicked out and you can’t afford either. But you can’t sit here and wait either. There are people waiting for you. So you remove your knife from your belt and cut a lock of your hair, tying it off with a ribbon you kept from another time. A gift of the daughter of the seas after you had cut her loose from abandoned nets. You take a deep breath and set the bundle at the base what you think is the entrance and you wait.

You thankfully don’t need to wait very long. The forest rustles, branches creaking and clacking against each other as the draw apart and reveal a deep tunnel for you. You smile, standing on stiff knees and stumbling forward. It’s surprisingly light inside, illuminated by silvery glowing mushrooms and dangling golden flowers. You cut your hand multiple times keeping yourself steady but it matters not.

Eventually you tumble out the other end, braced against the soft grassy floor as you catch your breath.

“What do you want.”

You lift your head and your eyes widen. He’s… Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. His hair is braided back, the braids woven with flowers and gems, both of which sparkle. From above those braids are antlers, strong and dark and sharp on the ends. They are also wreathed with delicate gold chains and jewels, carefully placed. His amber eyes are cold as they regard you, bored even. You pull yourself up and step into the clearing more fully, kneeling when you think you’re close enough.

“I seek to fulfill a wish.” You try to speak as clearly as you can and it rings around the hollow, echoing like a guilty admission.

“Like many before you,” he replies, flicking his hand. The jewels on his wrist jingle. “And what makes you different from them?”

You swallow. Nothing really. You have come seeking something and have nothing to give but your life. You whisper, “Please. You’re the only hope I have left.”

“I did not ask for you to beg. I asked what makes you worthy of a wish used.” The trees begin to rustle and the ground beneath you rumbles as he growls softly. “You humans never understand. Wishes are born from desire and desire must be fulfilled with blessings. A blessing is a powerful thing, created from the death of faeries. From a life. And you come in here, ill-prepared to defend your wish to me?”

You shake in your spot, your chest tight. But you have to do this. For everyone. You take a deep breath and lift your head to look at him, at his rage. “I have a selfish wish,” you announce. The rumbling stops; he blinks. “I have a wish that will use the lives of your kin to save mine. I will pay any price for equivalent exchange.” You close your eyes for a moment, thinking on your family. Your friends. Everyone’s smile and everyone’s tears all entrusted to you. You open your eyes again and give him a determined stare. “I call upon the ancient keepers of the forest, bearers of light. Please, help me keep my village safe.”

He stares at you, face kept carefully blank. You on the other hand stare at him with desperation thinly veiled under courage. Slowly he stands, silken robes fluttering around him. He steps forward until he stands mere inches away from you, looking down while you look up. “Are you prepared to bear the weight of what you ask?”

You suck in another breath before letting it out with a shudder. “I am.”

He strokes along his sleeve, golden threads shimmering. Ah how ethereal he is, haloed in the light. Considers you, in your ragged clothes and bleeding palms. You start to waver, just a bit until he reaches up and plucks a crystal encased in molten gold and holds it flat in his palm, extending it to you. “Your wish is a kind one. Such innocence is rare.”

You reach up, hesitating just before you take the life. It will be heavy, you know. “I-is there a price?”

“Ah, little one, there always is.” Hyunjin smiles and you feel your heart race in terror. Those are the feral sharpened teeth of the Fae King, the one of myth and story. Except he’s very, very real. “But you were prepared for that, were you not?”

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, EMMA K! You’ve been accepted for the role of HERMIONE. Admin Rogue: There’s something about the warmth of your writing that gets me every time, Emma K. The quiet ache I felt throughout reading your portrayal of Harriet hurt my heart, but it was her strength that caught me, and how she uses it so differently from what someone in Verona might expect. She’s private without being closed off, warm without being weak, and there’s a spark she hides so carefully, tending it within her until she can cultivate something out of it. What I loved most of all were your headcanons; her interests, her goals, her dreams, they all felt so lived in to me. You’ve managed to take someone with no power and show us how she would build it for herself, and Harriet’s journey will be so beautiful to witness, I absolutely cannot wait! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma Kate

Age | 24

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I am normally online every second day to get replies out but constantly work to do better at it! I’m normally on discord every day for plotting and discussion.

Timezone | GMT +1

How did you find the rp? | I was recommended the RP from a friend who was a member at the time!

Current/Past RP Accounts | gertrudezhang.tumblr.com

IN CHARACTER

Character | Harriet “Hermione” D’Angelo

Harriet - “keeper of the hearth”

Mother. How ironic that her name reminds her about what could have been, the beautiful fleeting moment that was taken away as quickly as it was given to her.

Hermione - “messenger”

Potential. The name that had been given to her by the Witches, like a gift. It was another reminder, though this time from the ones who came before; a reminder of what she could be.

D’Angelo - “of the angels”

Angelic. That was often the word that came to mind when people spoke about Harriet D’Angelo, not only in the physical sense but in her attitude as well.

What drew you to this character? | Harriet offers a unique perspective when juxtaposed with other characters, someone who has been directly affected (in a really, really, brutal sense) by the mafia without having warranted it. Most who are punished by la famiglia deserved it, in one way or another, but her son had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and she had suffered as a result.

In spite of that, she seems to have found peace in the fact that she has picked herself up - not once but twice - and is something that she won’t let anyone take away from her. In Verona that small modicum of calmness must be protected but, like a fire in a rain shower, that will take effort and I adore that she is willing to give that effort!

It was the last couple of lines in her bio that made me fall in love with her, when, honestly, I had almost disregarded her; “Harriet has no cards of her own - and perhaps that is why Mona’s let her in as much as she has.” That’s the true beauty of her, making her special and memorable to boot, a woman with nothing left to lose and no front to hide behind.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. SAY MY NAME

Harriet has heard stories about them, how the people fear them. Odin Bello and Matthias Warren. They knew their faces, she just had their names. Names that lingered in her mind like an image from an old dream, yet, were it a dream she could escape them. Far harder a feat when they were living, breathing, people that walked among those who she often wouldn’t give a second glance to. The men are a band-aid slapped haphazardly over the wound of her son’s death, confronting them (and ripping that off) is inevitable, but she forgot the scab beneath is barely healed.

(Harriet does not intend to murder either man for what happened to her son, as made apparent in her bio, but she is not shy to make her feelings known. I feel their response could influence her current view on the mafia as a whole which I find particularly interesting considering one is Montague and one is Capulet, but the confrontation is something she needs for closure.)

ii. IN THE SHADOWS

Enviable, people watch as she stands at the side of the Dark Lady herself, head canted back in mutual laughter and a drink in hand. Harriet has been afforded certain clemency from Mona Chen that others have only dreamed of but one does not stand at the right hand of a goddess without garnering attention from her clientele. The question in the back of her mind; did she want the recognition?

(Harriet, as a neutral character, has the potential to be connected to the mafia through her connection with the Dark Lady. It is purposefully broad as I can imagine it going a number of directions - using information she has learned against someone who threatens her, someone seeking her out for the information they believe she knows, or even being used as leverage against Mona herself! Overall, I want to use the Dark Lady to draw her closer to the mob.)

iii. HEY THERE, DELILAH

Delilah; a woman who dared to step beyond the boundaries that the mafia had drawn for her and suffered the consequence, still offering Harriet the comfort that she was not alone. Their affliction was different but their diagnosis was the same; heartache. Their connection is particularly interesting given that Delilah was stabbed at the cathedral, a deathly reminder; that the mob will continue to tear those who try to better themselves down unless it fits their agenda.

(I think after what happened at the cathedral that it will be a reminder for Harriet about the cruelty of the mob, perhaps making her thankful that she isn’t directly connected to either camp. The fact that Delilah and Odin were a couple, that the woman she might grow to consider a friend danced with the devil and emerged unscathed, physically, at least, would make Harriet both respectful and fearful of her - did this woman know what happened to her son?)

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Once you turn her into a statue…

IN DEPTH

In-Character Interview:

Harriet had to grapple with reluctance until it seemed agreeable to host the interview at her home. Her space had been her own for so long that the thought of letting someone else in, however temporary, seemed alien to her. Hesitation, thankfully a yielding creature when faced with resolution and resolve, still manifested in the nervous tapping of her feet when positioned at her work station. The soft cadence of the doorbell soon echoes within the confines of the modest apartment, a soft smile lined her lips as she answered the door. The shock that greeted her in response turns her expression sheepish as she remembers the scalpel held loosely in hand. Great start, she thinks to herself, though what she says is a hushed apology.

“Please, come in,” attempting to rectify the damage she had managed to inflict, she stands back in what she hopes seems like a welcoming gesture. “Can I get you anything, signora? Tea? Coffee?” Harriet waits for their answer, nodding her comprehension as she busies herself with making a beverage for each of them, returning to take a seat opposite them at her table. Her home was modest, and she liked it that way, unburned by the expectations of a lavish lifestyle and unchained by memories that she would have rather forgotten in the large house she had once lived in. Nice might not have been the word for it, but she would have said it came close.

“What is your favourite place in Verona?”

“The Cathedral was one of my favourite places in Verona, before -,” her sentence trails off, it didn’t need to be finished; everyone knew what happened to the building that had once stood proud in the centre of the city. Harriet had gone there every day when she had been married, used to pray that she was somewhere - anywhere - else. Safe. Odd, that the girl who had been content with what she had, to have wished for something beyond her reach. There had been a moment - between the explosion and the acknowledgement of what had happened - where relief had surged through her.

“Now,” she lapses into a brief silence, consulting the softest part of herself that still beat beneath her ribs, “I’d have to say that the natural history museum has a special place in my heart.”

“What does your typical day look like?”

“Is anything typical in Verona?” Head cants in tandem with her question, the corners of her mouth quirking upward as she gradually relaxes into the situation. “Bene,” relenting, acknowledging that the woman in front of her was serious about the task at hand, “I’m afraid I’m rather dull. I spend the majority of my time at work and, when I’m not there, you’ll find me here.” Hands sweep outward, away from her body, motioning toward the explanation for her scalpel, her latest project cast to one side in favour of the mug of coffee she held between her hands. Harriet doesn’t mention the club where she spends the majority of her evenings, everyone in Verona knew the Lady and had formed their opinion on her, and her business was her own.

“What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

Breath sucked in between her teeth, pause ensuing, she is unsure how best to answer. “I want to say being too free with whom I give my heart to,” even as she says it aloud it sounds like she was answering one question with another, answering one of them, she continues, “but I don’t think of that as a mistake, a learning curve perhaps, but it is never a mistake to love.” Her heart aches, she can feel it in her chest, an assault against her ribcage in protest of her response. Harriet had been burnt by the flames of devotion before, again and again, yet she was willing to ignite that fire again and let it dance within her soul.

“What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

The sigh slips from her before she can stop it, “I’m not sure.” Instinct was a cunning thing, faster than the plethora of other options that formed from its dust, leaving her no time to reinforce her armour. “I think to live when the odds are stacked against you can be quite difficult at times.” Harriet forces a faint breath of laughter, half for her sake and half for her interviewer, self-deprecation lingering in the corners of her expression. “This interview will seem terribly sad, won’t it? I’m not so serious all the time, I promise.”

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

Harriet remembers the feeling of her fingers brushing across the small, neatly printed, card affixed to the wall of the gallery, mouth turned into a reflection of the contented guise she had donned in that moment. Her gaze had drank in the black ink on white, like iced tea on a summer day, and she had felt happy. In loving memory of Maximillian D’Angelo it read. The display had been one of the first that she curated in the Twelfth Night, and it had felt right, seeing the butterflies (in various artistic guises) peppered throughout the room; her old life and her new merged into one.

“It has been happening for as long as I can remember,” she muses, truthfully, “and so many have been injured as a result. Their war has cost me my son, I know that I don’t want to be involved with it.”

Extras:

Mock blog – https://mockhermione.tumblr.com/

Pinterest board – https://www.pinterest.ie/em_kl/misc-oc/

Playlist – https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Kdebdsmt4FI2KCbEHuVZx?si=yhdor2ObSiSXrbVM9sy4JQ

HEADCANON: (TW Death)

Harriet was born January 4th 1984, making her a Capricorn, the only child of Claudia and Gabriel D’Angelo.

Her mother had chosen to be a stay-at-home wife, abandoning her role as receptionist in a law firm once she had Harriet, her father worked as a lessor of real estate which turned a profit.

Harriet has a BSc in Biology and a MA in museum studies.

Uberto Regio had not lived up to the meaning of his name, yet she had married him, aged 22, in an effort to appease her parents. In making a long story short, it was not a pleasant marriage.

Maximillian Regio was born on December 27th 2006, a belated Christmas gift, becoming Maximillian D’Angelo when Harriet reclaimed her maiden name after her marriage ended in the New Year.

Harriet was offered a job in the Museo Civico di Storia Naturale, the Natural History Museum of Verona, transferring to the Twelfth Night & the Tempest after her son died.

Max was 7 years old, just shy of turning 8, when he was murdered.. [I’m going to purposefully leave the cause vague as while I imagine he was caught in the crossfire between opposing sides of the mob coming home from school I would like to discuss with admins and relevant writers as necessary]

Harriet keeps butterflies and releases them from a butterfly garden every year as it was something her and Max used to do.

Her personality type is the Defender: ISFJ. Kind, quiet and devoted. She is a natural protector of the weak and good-hearted once you get beyond her initial awkwardness.

One of her more unusual hobbies is taxidermy which she learned from her grandfather, and touched on in her degree.

#lsrpg #lsrp #literate rp #bio rp #rp #accepted #accepted: hermione

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chelsfic · 5 years ago

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*boop boop boop boop booop* Haunted Fic Watch!

Hello and welcome to a blog within a blog. This is *Haunted Fic Watch* where we take a look inside Chelsea’s Google Drive to find out what *the hell* she’s been working on lately...

900 followers - Bucky Barnes Angst requested by: @mrs-ari-tokoyami

First up is the unfinished Winter Soldier angst requested as part of my 900 Followers Clown Show Extravaganza. It’s causing a lot of strife AND confusion in the news room. Let’s take a peek!

He looks different. He’s wearing civilian clothing for one thing. And his eyes, though just as haunted as ever, are more lucid than you’ve ever seen them. He’s watching you with a doubtful expression, as if he’s not sure you’ll allow him inside. The Winter Soldier must have used your safe house dozens of times through the years and he’s never once seemed uncertain of his welcome. He’s always taken it for granted, in his cold, calculating way, that the house is here for his use and that you, too, will help him as a matter of course.

Today he shuffles his feet and fidgets with the straps of his backpack as you peer at him through the screen door.

“You’re back,” you remark unnecessarily. You’ve never had a name to call him by. And you won’t call him Soldier or the Asset; those are your father’s words for him, but they seem cruel and dehumanizing to you.

“Is this...umm...can I come in?” His voice is always raw from disuse. The Winter Soldier doesn’t have much use for words. In fact, this may be the most he’s ever said in your presence. The diffidence in his tone, in his stature, throws you off. But then again...the whole world’s come crashing down. Your father’s been arrested. This man has clearly been through it all as well.

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome,” you smile warmly, creaking open the screen door and beckoning him inside.

---

He doesn’t remember you, that much is clear. It’s not so unusual, although it hurts every time. Your father told you very little about the man when he first enlisted your help, but you’ve gathered that he’s been programmed somehow. So you try not to take it personally when he arrives on your doorstep seemingly without any memory of you, your name, your touch...your kiss.

He lumbers into your living room. Even without the tactical gear he’s a huge, intimidating figure and he looks so out of place in your tiny house with its kitschy decor. His eyes are huge and scanning the interior of your home non-stop. You notice the muscles in his shoulders standing out against his tight long sleeve t-shirt and, while you’re never above admiring his physique, you crease your brow in worry. He’s obviously tense and terrified.

“Hey, it’s alright. This is a safe place, remember? Do you want me to--I could read your safe words?”

You cross the living room and rummage through the drawer of an end table before returning with the small, black notebook you’d received when you first took on this task. The “safe words” are a series of short commands that soothe the Soldier. They don’t reset his memory or compel him to do anything other than relax...but you still feel strange using them. You’ve only used them a handful of times over the years and only after explicitly asking if he wanted them--but it still feels gross to you. You’d asked him once--on one of his good visits--as he held you in his arms, if it’s possible for him to consent. He had no answer for you on that day and the memory of his silence still haunts you.

You flip through the notebook as you walk back over to him, unaware of the dangerous flash in his eyes or the way his fists clench at his sides. It’s not until your wrist is suddenly caught in the vice-like grip of his metal hand that you realize anything is wrong.

He rips the notebook from your hands and slams you against the wall, switching his grip to your throat and letting his fingers squeeze menacingly.

“You. Can’t. Control. Me. Anymore!” he growls at you through clenched teeth. Stars appear in your vision and you claw uselessly at his hand, kicking your feet out and trying to shake your head. “You’re one of them?! Hydra….SHIELD…”

WOW! Where is this going????!???!??

Mine - sequel to Secret Keeper - Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Next we have a few paragraphs written yesterday for the much anticipated follow up to Secret Keeper. Will these paragraphs make it into the final draft?? Or will they be “erased from the narrative”? What do I look like, a fortune a teller?

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Horacio whispers as your alarm clock blares from the nightstand. “I’ll take care of you…”

You fumble, bleary-eyed, for the snooze button before collapsing back into the covers and nestling into your lover’s chest. You breathe in his warm, masculine scent and sigh with contentment as his strong arms wrap around you making you feel both safe and small at once. He presses kisses to the crown of your head. It’s tempting. It’s so damn tempting to stay here in this nest you’ve created with your reconciliation. Horacio would take care of everything for you. Your rent, your bills… You know the guilt tears at him from the inside. You can see it haunting his features at times when he stares into space or when his hands hesitate to touch you. You know he’d love to keep you safe from the world, himself included. And you want to let him.

“I know you’d take care of me, mi amor,” you sigh, nuzzling your face into his muscular chest. “But I don’t want to hide.”

But that’s exactly what you want to do when you step into the office that day and feel the heaviness of people’s eyes on you. Wondering why you’re still here. Wondering if you can even be trusted.

Fine? I guess?

Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader

And...finally, what everyone has been waiting for: Diego’s first meeting with Piglet.

You’re still breathless and clinging to each other when Piglet finally decides to make her grand entrance. You catch a blur of motion from the corner of your eye and suddenly Diego’s body is rigid above yours.

“What? The fuck? Is that?” he hisses and the wide-eyed panic on his face has you convulsing in giggles. He glares down at you balefully.

“It’s my cat, Pig,” you explain, reaching around his outrageously broad shoulders and trying to shoo the feline away, “Piglet, stop that!”

She hops onto the back of the couch and stares down at the two of you with clear judgment in her eyes. Her tail twitches and you’re not all together certain she’s not about to take a leap at Diego’s head.

Other stuff on my mind

Damn, girl, are you going to update that Mando fic, huh? Also do you remember what the plan was for that orrrrr..............??

Should you rewatch Logan and start writing Donald Pierce fic just so you can thirst after bad, bad boi Boyd Holbrook???

Hey, you know you have a ton of people following you for Dracula content, right? RIGHT????

Sincerely,

Me. Bye.

#haunted fic watch!#boop boop boop #it's haunted dollwatch meets munch squad meets a clown show #chelsfic #preview

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metastationadopts · 5 years ago

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Spirit companion request? :)

Hi! I am still relatively new to magick and witchcraft but I’ve been very sensitive to the spirit world and other energies my entire life. I’ve attended several psychic carnivals in which magickal workers have always picked up on my naturally sensitive energies. I’ve been reading up a lot on spirit companions and was wondering how exactly I go about meeting one and becoming a spirit keeper/companion. If you could give me any advice or help me find a spirit that would be greatly appreciated! Thankyou, have a blessed day ❤️

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

Hello!

Asking a conjurer for help with spirit stuff is the first step so you’re doing great 👍

If you’ve ever met some along your beginnings, or even before you got into magick, then you could possibly be inclined to work with spirit companions. There are many sellers out there that offer their services and all have varying levels of experience, but going with your gut is best.

To become a spirit keeper, you begin with taking in spirit/ entity companions. Where you go is up to you. On here, alone, there was many blogs that offer companions for adoption and for sale. If you wanted to buy from a website, you can do that as well. All sellers have a duty to give you, the customer, to make sure that what they offer are safe. When you’ve been in the community long enough, you hear conflicting information. Whether it’s all true or not, it’s always buyer beware. This goes for free adoptions as well. i will never doubt another person’s abilities to do this work, but I will on the experience and time that they take to do it.

Working with spirits, in general, is not easy work. Even the most experience can get fooled so just use your best judgement. If you feel that calling or attraction to go back to something (just like that item in a store you just can’t let go), then it has meaning. It can’t hurt to ask a seller for more information about a listing or for a visitation from that specific spirit to make sure they’re the right one. Just remember it’s at the discretion of the conjurer and what the spirit wants if they will honor your request. If they say no, that’s it, what’s listed is what you get and there are sellers like that. Just how they run their business.

And always remember that they’re like people. They got likes and dislikes and, if you’ve ever chatted with your ancestors, they can judge you indiscriminately. Boy, have I been judged for things like my choice in food and games (currently in mqlc hell). But, they also have great understanding that you’re not always to do things. You’ll have your shit days your fab days, your inbetweeny days, and that’s alright. They may not understand it all, but they know that that’s how you are and can be supportive or give you your space. If you need help with magick in any way, or even your daily studies, they can find ways to help with that, along with daily decisions. I’m working on the whole self care thing (which is a struggle) so, something like that can really be a wonderful thing.

Companions can never replace professional help, no matter how introverted we may be. The concept of modern medicine is more than likely not in their knowledge base and they can only help so much with your overall well being. They can be your mentors, your friends, your lovers, but they can never replace your healthcare.

I hope this helps. I might have gone a little overboard, but if you come on here long enough, it’s my thing XD Feel free to ask more questions if you got them. Always better to have your head swell with info than dive into a pool you don’t know has water in it or not. (someone made me write that last part btw).

~Admin Dori

#spirit communication #spirit work #spirit companions #spirit companionship #submission

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ifridiot · 6 years ago

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Now That I’m Flawless (fic)

Word Count: 1900 Fandom: DC Comics Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: No Major Warnings Apply Relationships: Thad Thawne/Ulf Alexeinovitch Characters: Thad Thawne, Ulf Alexeinovitch Additional Tags: Past Abuse, Angst, Comfort, Fluff Summary: Ulf thinks about all the wrongs he’s done.

Note: For those who are unfamiliar with Ulf, please read his write-up, found HERE. Written for @reluctant-reflection or @skittering-roach whichever blog actually gives you notifications <3

Ulf knew he was, as far as anyone else was concerned, a creature of rather grey morals.

If it came to pleasing his Keeper, he could justify murder, or worse. Willin’ to do pert near anythin’, that’s how Henry had said it, wondering and awed and a little afraid, as if the idea of holding that kind of power over another person frightened him.

Maybe it had. Henry had been a good man, kind and gentle and sweet, a better man than most who’d lent Ulf their warmth. Wonderful, in his own way, but he’d also been a weak man. Power, even just the power of a handgun, had never sat easy on his shoulders. Henry had wanted peace, and Ulf had given it to him as best as he could; Ulf had loved him as he’d never known he could love a person -- not like he loved Papochka, not like he loved the brush of heat that kept him sane, but heart to heart.

Henry had loved him as a person, taught him that he was allowed to just live. Memories of him were old now, the man over thirty-years dead, but he’d been the last to truly treat Ulf as a person, not a weapon or a pet.

The last, of course, before Thad.

Of course, things with Thad had been rocky at times. They’d fought, bickered and butted heads, and Thad had dragged his feet on anything that came close to feelings. An emotional anorexic, and yet there was a certain like calling to like in that, wasn’t there. Ulf himself often shut his feelings off, because feelings couldn’t always help him make his Keeper happy.

Thad hadn’t wanted to be his Keeper. Ulf had been able to tell that even as he’d started to slowly bond to him. Thad hadn’t wanted anything long term, and if Ulf had told him what was happening, to his mind and to their bond, he would have bolted.

It had been… difficult. Horrible and selfish and when Thad had left, Ulf had felt such a surge of grief, but under that misery hadn’t there been a thread of relief? A nod to his being free of the lie by omission, free of dancing around the bond he needed but didn’t dare cement. No more grudging late night confessions, no more traumas slowly revealed, no more sharing the weight of their pain.

No more kisses, no more sweet human warmth.

He doesn’t remember the months that followed very well. They are cold times, and the cold times blur together; he may as well have been running the tundra again, little more than a child, alone and lost and scared of what was happening to him. Ulyana told him that when she found him, he’d done horrible things to himself, but nothing his accelerated healing couldn’t fix, nothing she couldn’t help him repair.

But before she’d found him, after Thad had left? He knew people would have gotten hurt -- people always got hurt when he froze, because he didn’t understand his strength and all people read to him as a threat. Ulyana said, best not to think of that. Best to focus on the bright things, best to concern himself only with healing.

And she had fetched back Thad for him. She had found him, and he had returned to Ulf, the fragile threads of their bond still spooled out between them, not quite broken yet.

Thad, who remembered that Ulf loved Valentines Day, who knew he hated red wine but adored champagne on a special night, who convinced Ulyana to keep Ulf busy for a day so he could find them a room with a perfect view, a room that, if Ulf peered from the window down at the street, he could for a moment trick himself into feeling the joy of a free-fall.

Thad said he loved Ulf, and as the weather warmed, as Thad willingly spent more time simply being close to Ulf, calm and steady and grounding, Ulf started to understand that all along he’d meant it.

Sometimes in his head he hears the music box, the low rush of it flying through the air and the sad, bright sound of it breaking against the wall. Thad, with his speed and his level-headed cool demeanor, could have caught it. He simply leaned to the side and let it pass him, smashing against the wall, and in Ulf’s head, he’ll always be able to hear him so coldly say how he hated when Ulf got that way.

Ulf hated it too. To be angry with a Keeper was unthinkable. After the things he’d suffered with James Denegler; the neglect, the torment of being locked away and left alone to half-freeze, the pain, the murder -- through all of that, he’d done everything to please James when he was allowed to be at his side. Everything to win his approval, anything he’d asked and more. He’d hated the man, known him for a monster, but he was a Keeper and he’d been bound.

It was only Thad who thought him person enough to be treated like everyone else. Before the music box, before what Ulf thought of (only half joking) as their breakup, Thad had been willing enough to be physical with him, to touch and hold and kiss, but he hadn’t known what a need it was for Ulf, and Ulf had been so afraid of losing the first person to treat him as a true equal that he hadn’t told him.

Ulyana had gone and found him, Ulyana had explained as well as she could, and Thad had come for him anyway. Thad had understood enough to know that Ulf needed him, and he’d come for him. Who else in all the world would have risked their skin that way, dealing with him half-wild, frightened and freezing over.

“Stop that.”

Blinking, Ulf frowns and slowly tries to sit up, putting a little space between them without his hair tickling at Thad’s throat. He’s both surprised and comforted when Thad presses a hand against the back of his head, gently keeping him close, encouraging him to settle back to laying tucked up to the speedster’s side.

Only once Ulf has settled his head back on Thad’s shoulder does he speak again. “You’re thinking about something upsetting. I don’t need to be a mind-reader to know.”

Of course he doesn’t need to be. It’s not even the bond that translates it; it’s just Thad. He’s observant, and he cares enough to have learned all the quiet tells to Ulf’s mood. He treated him like a real person, one allowed to be more than something pretty and powerful. Thad, like Henry, gave Ulf agency and respect, but unlike Henry, Thad was not afraid of the bond, now that he knew about it. He wasn’t afraid of being the finger on the trigger of a weapon like Ulf, he wasn’t afraid of Ulf, he wasn’t --

“Ulf, come on,” he says, carding fingers through the silvery strands of his hair, soothing and warm. “Knock it off. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nichego, is fine, I’m fine.” Ulf says, and fumbles, pressing his lips together and drumming his fingers against Thad’s chest. “Only… do you. Would you be happier, had we not met?”

Thad hums in thought. He rarely mocks Ulf when he can tell that his worries are sincere. He can be a bastard, but in many ways, he is a good man, too. “I think, all things considered, I’m pretty much happier now than I’d have thought possible. So no.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek -- he can almost remember the feel of the scars that had been there when Ulyana had first found him -- Ulf pulls away again, sitting up so he can look at Thad properly. “You are sure? I have… been ugly, many times.”

“I think we’ve got two different definitions of ugly, then.”

Ulf huffs, moving smoothly to straddle Thad’s stomach, pinning him to the swaybacked motel bed. It creaks and complains every time either of them moves. “You were not happier to be back with your… You called it Cradle? Safe and quiet and… unbothered?"

A warm hand presses to his cheek, soothing where it might have been demanding. Thad is still under him, unmoving except for to rest his palm to the curve of his cheek, looking up at him with soft, golden eyes. “I thought about you every day. Safe and quiet and lonely is what I was.”

“So it would not have been… better… for us to have never… been us? You would not be happier not having known me?”

“Would I be happier never having met someone who loves me despite knowing me at my worst? I’m going to need some time to mull that over, I suppose, you’ll have to get off me so I can think.”

Ulf scowls, but he knows there’s no real venom to it from the way Thad chuckles, even after he slaps gently at his shoulder. “I am being serious! I lied to you, I took… advantage of ignorance, I kept you in the dark so you would stay. I was bad, I was deceitful, I tried to… sneak into your life. This is not joke to me!”

Thad’s fingers curl against his face, gentle pressure that Ulf couldn’t fight if he wanted. When he curls down close, Thad easily smooths his hair back, hand pressed to the nape of his neck now, leaving them only centimeters apart.

“You did.” Thad says, easy and gentle. “You withheld vital information that would have helped shape our relationship, knowing full well that any added variables or complications were liable to send me running. You saw me, as me, and you were honest enough with yourself to know that you could not trust all of yourself to me and keep me. Because when we met, I was a coward, and an idiot, and a jerk, as you often reminded me, when it came to anything involving emotions.”

“I have never called you coward.”

A grin, easy and sweet. “Perhaps I’m paraphrasing.”

“I am afraid you will come to resent this. My needing you. Loving you.”

Closing the distance between them, Ulf isn’t sure if Thad pulls him down or sits up, only that the mesh of their lips is the source of a perfect warmth in his chest, the closing of a circuit, the completion of a promise. It’s a good kiss, sincere and powerful.

“I would have to be a fool to resent any part of you.” Thad says softly, those bright eyes locked with Ulf’s. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

Ulf can’t quite help the soft laugh, relief and fondness seeping into the exhalation. “Well, a fool, perhaps not. An ass, on occasion…”

“But an ass you love?”

Cursing under his breath, he can’t help laughing again. And when Thad draws him down to kiss again, he goes easily, no struggle, no hesitation. Because they’ve both been idiots, and they’ve both suffered, and they’ve earned this, the sweetness, the laughter, the ease of being with just one other person who treats them like they are a person.

They are imperfect, they are a perfectly matched pair of fools. But the love is flawless, and it feels like the only thing in the world that matters for the moment.

#neoma writes #Ulf #ulf alexeinovitch #thad thawne

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notyourytocs-blog · 6 years ago

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I don’t know if you guys are still active (?), but I’ve just found this blog now and I’m upset I didn’t find you earlier. I’ve been feeling extremely discouraged because the DA fandom is insanely white and my OCs never get the love despite the love i put into them. I’m Filipina and all my OCs are also

I feel kinda silly submitting some of my stuff, but this feels like a safe space to do it and it’s the kind of blog I want to have my OCs in

This is from my sideblog btw!

https://amihanamell.tumblr.com/day/2017/08/23/

Amihan Amell from Dragon Age. the hero of ferelden and a circle mage

https://amihanamell.tumblr.com/post/165464040067/local-elf-smiles-despite-being-handed

Tala Lavellan from Dragon Age Inquisition. First to the keeper and the inquisitor ofc

I feel a little embarrassed sending this, but thank you so much for making this blog <3

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #Dragon Age: Inquisition #submission #elliecee

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timeagainreviews · 6 years ago

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The Eve of the Thirteenth

Recently I watched "An Unearthly Child," in preparation to write the first official article of Time and Time Again (TATA? Ok, I love that). But then it hit me that it’s a rather auspicious time to talk about the First Doctor’s first episode. With this being the eve of the first female Doctor’s first episode, it seems so appropriate. So I’m going to wait until after "The Woman Who Fell to Earth," drops. See what I did there?

I know this blog is meant to be about revisiting episodes, but the timing is just too good. Besides, it is my blog. However, this being said, I suppose I should share my hopes and expectations for series eleven.

Jodie Whittaker as "The Doctor"

Not since maybe Eccleston has anyone had as difficult a regeneration to overcome. While every actor new to the role feels a pressure to keep the show going, I’d say some feel it harder than others. Davison had to follow up an endearing seven-year run from Tom Baker. McGann had the pressure of trying to reestablish the show, as did Eccleston. Many people even said nobody could replace David Tennant. But the one I am reminded of the most is Patrick Troughton. Troughton was really one of those "make it or break it," Doctors. The concept of regeneration was far from established lore, it was rather a gamble.

Jodie Whittaker has a very similar weight on her shoulders. It’s another one of those "make it or break it" moments. The beauty is, I think she knows it. Everyone involved knows it. However, as much as I’ve emphasised on the pressures involved, I’m confident they chose the right woman for the job. She looks like a children’s show presenter in her costume, which is wonderfully coupled with her mad energy. For me, it’s never been about "We need a woman in the TARDIS," we need the right person in the role, and she’s perfect.

Doctor Who is the ideal show to change the gender or race of its lead. On a science fiction level, it makes total sense that the Doctor is able to change these things with ease. It’s almost laughable that it’s taken this long. It’s almost poetic. The Doctor- a man who has experienced thousands of years worth of exploration and change, still has something new to experience- womanhood. It is, as they say, about time.

The Companions

Honestly, I’m not that fussed over these companions. That’s not to say I’m disinterested or even upset with their casting. I feel confident they’ll all shine in their own ways, and live up to the show’s standard of companions. I think it’s cool that the Doctor’s friends this time around, are rather diverse. As a fan of older companions such as Wilf, or Evelyn Smythe, I am rather looking forward to Bradley Walsh as "Graham." Tamsin and Ryan both seem like they’re going to have some cute banter between the two of them. It seems pretty solid.

Many may say "That’s a pretty crowded TARDIS," but I like the bigger TARDIS crews at times, as they can be a nice way to add a new dynamic. The thing that would have actually excited me would have been a companion from the future, or past. Or even an alien companion. Not since Captain Jack, have we had anyone riding in the TARDIS who wasn’t from the present-day UK. We got teased with it in "Asylum of the Daleks," with Oswin, and again in "The Snowmen," but then we ended up with modern day Clara Oswald. I had even hoped for Bill to be from the 80’s or 90’s. Where are the highlander companions? The Keepers of Traken? I guess Nardol sort of counts, but come on.

Chris Chibnall

Mr Chibnall is probably my biggest worry for the series. As a writer, I’ve never been all that big a fan of his episodes. "The Power of Three," was one I found particularly dreadful. When the Doctor saved the day by pointing his sonic at a screen, I felt cheated. The little cubes amounted to nothing, really. It’s not that he’s a bad writer, he’s just a bit dull. He managed to make “Dinosaurs on a Spaceship,” less exciting than the name implies. That’s probably impressive on some planets.

Overall, I think he’ll do fine, I’m just worried he’ll be a bit boring. I hadn’t worried much until he said that no old baddies would return in series eleven. Which, is fine I guess, but why not? While the Daleks and Cybermen can be really overdone (especially the Cybermen as of late), there is a wealth of villains to draw from the Doctor’s rogues' gallery. One group I’d like to see her face off against are the Axons. Whittaker’s "Godspell" evoking threads call for retro baddies!

So long as Chibnall doesn’t get too dark like he did with Torchwood (which literally felt like a little boy excited over getting to say the F-word), I’d say he’ll do fine. Parts of Torchwood were a bit "lizard brain," to its credit. Doctor Who should always have a touch of the surreal. The first episode had it. An indestructible police box, bigger on the inside, that travels anywhere in time and space? It seems normal now, but even to this day, there’s nothing quite like it. Keep the energy up, and keep it weird, you’ll do fine, Chris. It’s not like you’ll get the series cancelled again.

The New Writing Staff and Production Crew

I’ll be honest, I don’t know much anything about the writers. I’ve looked them up and read about some of their stuff, but that’s about as far as I’ve taken it. I will say however, it’s nice to see so much new blood. Men, women, people of colour, many perspectives. Doctor Who thrives on being shaken up. I’m all for it.

As for the new production crew, it’s even more of the same- happy to see someone new. I know a few people were growing tired of the whimsical look of much of the Moffat era. And at times, I kind of miss the tacky trash TV look of the RTD era. From what I’ve seen of the series 11 trailer, we’re in for something a little more grounded in reality. The cinematography looks rather simple, the sets seem plausible, if not a little dull. I’m hoping they’re hiding the big knock you on your ass sets and cinematography for the actual episodes. I would not be averse to having a show that looked as colourful as the promotional artwork we’ve been seeing. It’s gorgeous. A feast for the eyes. If the leaked TARDIS console pictures are anything to go off, I’d say they’ve kept some rather exciting secrets from us.

Segun Akinola replacing Murray Gold

Music is such an important part of Doctor Who. The theme song is both haunting and exciting: portentous of the tale about to unfold. The Radiophonic Workshop, with geniuses of sound like Delia Derbyshire and Ron Grainer, pushed not only the atmosphere of the show to greater heights but music as well. In the same vein as musique concrète, they were pioneers of electronic sound.

Upon the reveal of Akinola’s appointment as music director, I promptly sought out his SoundCloud and spent an entire afternoon listening to his stuff. I was heartened to hear he was both melodic and ambient at different times. His music is minimalist, and percussive as well. One of my biggest criticisms of Murray Gold was that he was too safe a choice. For me, he never really felt strange enough for Doctor Who.

Perhaps I am an odd duck, but I miss the days of the Third Doctor driving his bizarre car to a soundtrack of muddy synthesisers that sounded as if they wanted to murder you. The closest Gold ever came to that level of greatness was the aforementioned "Asylum of the Daleks." The music matched the tone of the episode exquisitely. I had hoped to hear more of that experimentation from him, but he never really did. Akinola seems the kind of guy who just might take us to strange places.

As we all know though, the true test will be in his imagining of the theme tune. I was never a huge fan of the Capaldi era theme. It didn’t really, slap as they say. From what I’ve heard of Akinola’s work, I’m very curious how he’s going to approach it.

Well, friends, that’s it for now. We’ve got nowt to do at this moment but wait. The next time you hear from me, it will have already happened! I hope you’re just as excited as I am! Doctor Who series 11 premieres tomorrow, the 7th of October at 6:45 pm on BBC 1!

#doctor who #jodie whittaker #Segun Akinola #thirteenth doctor #bbc #tardis #tosin cole #mandip gill #bradley walsh #chris chibnall #series eleven

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hella-free-space · 7 years ago

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This one’s for you, Kahlia!

dope name btw (please let me know if you’d like your name removed from this post, tho!) note: words that are underlined are links! click them! :D

“When I first started DOZENS of people here told me the only way to cycle that didn't take months was to put already cycled filter media from a different tank into my filter. I finally have access to that so I did so, and now I have people telling me that doesn't make any difference and I'm wasting my time. I've also had people tell me conflicting info about using bottled bacteria - some say it's useless others swear by it.”

- Seeding a filter vs Instant-cycling: Using seeded media from another tank! On the bottled bacteria debate, this snippet from this post explains it pretty short and sweet:

“Bottled Products. Ok, more sorta complicated stuff ahead. Most bottled products do not contain nitrosoma and nitrobacter, but instead contain heterotrophic bacteria, which have a reasonable shelf life and much higher reproductive rate than true nitrifying bacteria which are autotrophic. Their drawback, however, is that they are not nearly as good as breaking down ammonia as true nitrifying bacteria so it takes much more of them to do the job. Many if not most of these products do not work. Either they do not contain the right kind of bacteria or it is dead.The only products that work to my knowledge are: Biospira (Now Dr. Tim’s One and Only and Tetra Safestart), SeaChem Stability, and FritzZyme TurboStart 700. Keep in mind that heterotrophs cannot truly cycle an aquarium and should only be used as an aid to deal with ammonia spikes.”

“Also water changes. Some have said take out 20% every day, others have said leave it because the tank won't cycle if I'm doing water changes.”

- What water changes are and why we do them Now that you know we perform water changes to remove excess nitrates from a *cycled* aquarium, you need to know when to do water changes during cycling and when not to do water changes during cycling. There are two types of cycling: fishless cycling and fish-in cycling. With a fishless cycle, you start out with a non-cycled tank, but then add the ammonia source manually. The ammonia source could be liquid/bottled ammonia or it can be a panty-hose stocking full of fish food! You have to keep manually adding ammonia and checking your tank’s parameters so that you can track where your tank is in it’s cycle. You don’t want to do water changes because you’ll be removing ammonia and nitrite. if you do that, you’re removing the things that your nitrifying bacteria eat, which may result in some of the bacteria colony dying off (if done regularly/frequently) and increasing your cycling time. - Fishless Cycling from Dr. Tims (i hear a lot of people use dr. tims ammonium chloride) - Fishless Cycling from Aquariumadvice.com - What is cycling? How to cycle your tank by @scalestails - How to fuckin do the thing by @lokittyofcatsguard - Cycle your tank! by @jayce-space With a fish-in cycle, you start out with a non-cycled tank, add fish, and the fish acts as your source of ammonia that feeds nitrifying bacteria (there are 2 kinds of nitrifying bacteria that help keep your tanks cycle going: one turns ammonia into nitrite, and the other turns nitrite into nitrate) as they colonize. Because ammonia (and nitrite) are toxic above 0ppm, you have to do toooons of water changes to keep the ammonia and nitrites as low as possible (usually .25ppm or below) until you start to see lots of nitrates but no ammonia or nitrite (a cycled tank has parameters of 0ppm ammonia, 0ppm nitrite, Xppm nitrate). - Fish-in cycling explained here!

People have told me to use Indian almond leaf for my fish's health. But then others have said the drop in pH caused by the leaves will inhibit bacteria growth.

Indian almond leaves produce tannins, which are great for bettas! The tannins do help to decrease the pH (great for someone who might live in an area where the tap is 7.8+) and they do have antibacterial properties. Alder cones and driftwood (especially malaysian driftwood holy frick) also produce tannins. There are different types of bacteria, and many people have “teawater” (i believe they’re also called blackwater? someone let me know if thats wrong) tanks where the water is so brown from all the tannins that it looks like tea! These tanks can still hold a stable cycle, tho, so I’d assume that the antibacterial properties of the tannins won’t harm the nitrifying bacteria that perform the nitrogen cycle in your tank! :D (if anyone has anything to add to this section, please do! i dont have time rn to look into which types of bacteria are affected by tannins or how much tannins have to be in the water for there to be any major antibacterial effect, etc.)

Some people have urged that I use Prime. Others are saying not to cause my tank won't cycle with all the "extra chemicals"

Why we all love prime: it lasts forever and its more than just a conditioner! it removes chlorine and chloramines (most dechlorinators remove chlorines and some heavy metals, but I’m not sure if all dechlorinators also remove chloramines) and neutralizes ammonia, nitrites, and nitrates for up to 48 hours! To those saying that prime will stall a tank’s cycle because of all the “extra chemicals”: they may believe that because prime neutralizes ammonia and nitrites, the nitrifying bacteria that are growing in your filter may not be able to “eat” any of that ammonia or nitrite...since its been neutralized (kind of like equating using prime during a fishless cycle to doing a water change during a fishless cycle). however, prime doesn’t break down these substances entirely, it just binds to them until the bacteria in your filter can “eat” them! Also, you have to use more than the recommended dose (prime is safe to dose up to 5x the recommended amount) to ensure that it binds to excess ammonia and nitrites in the tank. (this forum post and this forum post discuss this further)

I feel like everything I do, I'm being told I'm doing wrong despite it only being under the advice from the same groups telling me that in the first place.

Yeah, i feel that. big mood. it’s really hard being a beginner especially, or researching a new species because there will always be conflicting information out there from hobbyists and even between well-known websites. there are just sooo many fishkeepers out there with sooo many different experiences that don’t explain the advice they give out. what works for one person may not work for another because one person may be keeping cichlids and large tanks and another person may be keeping nano species in very small heavily planted tanks -- and even just between those two situations, their tanks will cycle differently (partially because extremely heavily planted jungle tanks may go through a “silent cycle” but that’s a whole other thing). they just give out advice on this or that without stepping back to consider what their personal fishkeeping background is, to consider what your fishkeeping background is, to ask for more details about your setup or your situation, etc. i think that a good rule of thumb is to ask questions to anyone who’s giving you advice. if they can’t tell you why they’re giving you a certain piece of advice, then they might not know exactly what they’re talking about. ask them for more information if they give a one word answer. bonus points to anyone who provides scientific evidence, articles, etc. to back up their claims!

SO WHAT IS THE TRUTH? because I've tried almost EVERYTHING people here and on other fish forums have told me and NOTHING has worked. I have spent hundreds of dollars buying countless products and 5 months of my time following confusing and conflicting info. And my tank is still not cycled and my fish is still dying. My next step is to just buy a whole new set up or give my fish away and forget about it

hopefully the links i gave and the things i explained above helped to clarify THE TRUTH for you somewhat~ if you EVER need ANYTHING, please don’t hesitate to message me, either through this tumblr blog (hella-free-space.tumblr.com) or through facebook!

Also, i definitely encourage you to make a tumblr and join #fishblr and/or #bettablr (tumblr communities involved in fishkeeping and betta-keeping!). Everyone here is pretty much on the same page about information and advice we give out to less knowledgeable keepers and share amongst ourselves. We’re big fans of providing “whys” to the advice we give and quite a few blogs here regularly cite scientific studies or research during discussions! We’re a community who cares deeply about animals (especially our fish!) and we do our best to put their needs first! Lots of people post regularly about their own fish / aquariums and get help from the community. Our community includes both hobbyists and professional aquarists (those who have experience with conducting research and/or working at an aquatic facility) and we all love to learn!

-- If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to leave a comment or reblog below! If I’ve made any mistakes or you feel that corrections should be made to any of the information give in this post, don’t hesitate to leave a comment/reblog or send me a message to discuss it! --

#fishblr #bettablr #kahlia #this one's for you!

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nieuwsuitdejungle · 7 years ago

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Blog Post Three

Sunday 26th of November

Statistics:

Number of layers of upper body clothing I wear on average: 6

Number of hot soy chocolate milks made for me this week: 4

Number of times I had to show my passport to cross the channel: 5

Number of things that passed the MOT but really shouldn’t have: countless

Number of nights that it hasn’t rained in the past week: 0

Now that we’ve got that first on the ground blog post over, I’ve settled down a bit more.

Let’s start with some domestic updates. A very generous and kind lady did a fundraiser for us last week to buy the team some treats. This means that we now have our cabin cupboards filled with pasta, biscuits, plant based milk and hazelnut flavoured instant coffee. On top of that we all got our own mugs! Which means we don’t have to share the two chipped ones we had left among the six of us anymore and we can all have hot soy chocolate milks at the same time instead of taking turns. Besides that update, my range of tasks and responsibilities has been expanded: I am now the car(s) and warehouse key keeper, and the official tea/sugar ziplocked-bag-maker. Lastly, I have adopted some steel-toed orphan hiking boots from the warehouse that we are unable to distribute since they are far too heavy. This means I won’t be needing a gym membership. It’s leg day every day for the upcoming weeks.

Over the past two weeks I’ve caught myself saying rather strange things. That would, in any other setting not make sense. For example, here it’s really normal to say “I just had the best shower, it was candle lit because the light didn’t work but the lock on the door actually did work and there was warm water!”. Or “Sure kitten, just come into the toilet with me, no problem, who needs personal space anyway”. Or “Let’s take part in this competition at the supermarket where you can win 100 Euros so we can buy more baby wipes”.

Back to the actual work though. This week I was part of team administration. We made schedules for food distribution, clothing distribution, and when and where the different medical organisations are on the ground. We made loads of phone calls to establish the current situation and arranged a meeting to discuss a new project we will be starting, about which I will tell you next time.

Monday I had a rough distribution day. It was my first time doing distribution in the jungle in Calais. This jungle is much bigger than the one in Grande-Synthe. Usually we distribute for the women in Calais two times a week, but now we are in a trial phase where we go three times a week. With the changing conditions in the camp (this week it has rained every single night and the temperatures have dropped even more) we want to check up on our women more often.

However, this meant that we were there on a day people were not expecting us plus we had to park in a different spot than usual. This meant that we weren’t fully able to create a safe and quiet space for our ladies in the jungle since a couple of men came over to our van to see what was going on and then shouted to the others that were standing in line for food that there was a clothing distribution going on. In no time our van was surrounded by men who were cold, wet and frustrated.

Usually when men come up to our van we kindly ask them to leave the safe space we try to create for women. Almost always this works perfectly fine and is respected. This time, however, the situation felt more grim, to the point where we decided to close our van and felt forced stop the distribution.

It is at times like this when I feel most helpless, unable to provide this vulnerable group of women who are living outside under harsh conditions a few moments in a safe space, a sliver of humanity. In the end we did manage to spend some time with the women whilst they were eating food, something they always insist on sharing with us, they literally feed us by spooning food into our mouths.

My days here are filled with extreme lows and extreme highs, something we often share in the evenings as I’ve previously mentioned. It’s a way of rewinding and making sure everyone is getting things off their chest. Since I’ve now heard more of them, I’m starting to see a pattern.

The lows usually have one thing in common: we all feel as if we are powerless and helpless. As a member of the team said this morning, you actually feel more helpless being here then when you were back at home. With the weather worsening every day, the camp conditions become more unbearable for the refugees. There is only so much we can do and we have to say no to so many people on a daily basis. There is increased pressure from the police as well as a lack of resources with numerous new refugees arriving in the jungle every day. The people we are trying to help are so vulnerable and we often feel as if we can’t do enough. I woke up last night because the wind was howling and rain was pouring down heavily. I quickly closed my window to prevent my sleeping bag from getting wet. It’s small things like this that make you realize that the refugees have no windows to close, no protection from the rain or the cold.

The highs on the other end also have something in common. They usually consist of unexpected moments of humanity or normality. Whether it is playing Kurdish music from our car and dancing together with the women or someone asking after getting inside the cabin from a long day on the ground “would any of you ladies like to have a hot beverage”, it’s the people around me who create the highs. It is this sense of community that keeps us going amongst all the despair and uncertainty. Every day I meet new heroes without capes. A Belgian women who drives up to the jungle every five days to hand out clean socks to the refugees and takes the dirty ones home to wash so that they can be reused. The numerous citizens of Calais who host one or two young refugees in their own homes to provide a sense of home. Amazing youngsters that work so hard at the warehouses every day to make the work on the ground possible. It is this sense of solidarity that touches everyone here and softens us.

After rough days like this Monday, it is so nice to go home, talk about it and munch on delicious food together. This day especially: we had delicious homemade falafel! Everyone helped making it by chopping onions, crushing the chickpeas by hand, making salad and other tasty toppings.

On Wednesday I went on a little one day across-the-border-adventure. Our trusty Henrietta needed to be MOT-ed. Yes that’s right, we are the proud owners of a fourth hand 1993 Honda Civic EJ1, a car featured in Fast and the Furious, a pretty badass ride. We had to go to Dover to get it checked since she is a British lady, and she did so well! The day started off a bit unlucky since we missed the boat and Henrietta was slightly suicidal at first with driving on the left hand side of the road (we nearly took her the wrong way round the roundabout). But from there everything went really smoothly. We left our baby at the garage and did some on-the-road administration. We carry around all your office essentials, including stamps, folders, laptops, a full size printer and most important: sweet potato crisps. When we returned at the garage it turned out there were only a few things that needed to be fixed, which could be done right on the spot. We were over the moon that they didn’t say anything about the wing mirror we carefully taped back into place that very morning, the fact that the tyres are worn or the rear spoiler that literally fell off five minutes after receiving the MOT certificate (don’t worry, I’ll super glue it back on, we clearly don’t want that to lose any of those aerodynamics).

We returned late in the evening at the cabin with sticky toffee pudding for the girls that had been on the ground all day. And let me tell you, surprising people with sticky toffee pudding is always a good idea. Especially when you heat it up in the microwave, simply hand everyone a spoon and eat it straight out of the tin.

Unlike Monday, the Friday distribution in Calais went really well. The atmosphere was really relaxed. This was partially because a group of Italian musicians came to the Jungle to play music for the refugees. Everyone gathered in a circle around the band and joined in with the music by singing, clapping and dancing. It is astonishing to see how music can bring people together, how it can lift the mood and take peoples' minds off of the misery they are in, if only for a moment. In this way we managed to keep the area around our van free from men (which is always a plus), drink tea and share meals.

On Saturday we all had a day off. Me and two other girls of the team went on a little sightseeing trip to Boulogne sur Mer. Which indeed does feel a bit odd, to spend a day being a tourist whilst you know there are people who need your help. But it is something that we consider as necessary to keep on doing this. In order to take care of other people, it is important to take care of yourself. So we drove up there, walked on the beach, ate crepes and of course the topic of all our chats was still the refugees. We drove back in the evening and I was once again reminded of the horrors of the situation here. As you drive down the highway in Northern France, you are very likely to come across a sign saying: ‘slow down; risk of pedestrians or obstacles on the road’. The more desperate people get, the bigger risks they will take, and this involves crossing the highway by foot. It scares me a bit how I am now at a point where I don’t find this an odd sign at all anymore. How this has become part of my reality now.

On Sunday we had four families returning from accommodation centres to the Jungle in Grande Synthe. They said that they had been told that their month in the accommodation centre was up and that they would have to apply for asylum in France if they wished to stay longer. Because applying for asylum in France was not an option for them, they returned to the Jungle where we tried to provide them with blankets, sleeping bags and tents to get through the night. In the afternoon we did some arts and crafts with their kids. Whilst we sat on cushions in one of the parking lots in the Jungle we made animals on paper plates out of glitter, feathers and stickers, whilst eating biscuits, drinking tea and giggling. Some of the moms joined us for some colouring, probably in an attempt to get their minds off of the situation their families are in.

At the end of the day one of the men helped us gather all our stuff and put it back in the car. In somewhat broken English he told us about his life back in Kurdistan, where he was a carpenter building houses and how in his free time he did gymnastics. He showed me videos of him doing backflips and challenged us to do push-ups with him. I managed to improve my Kurdish language skills by learning the words for ‘tall’ and ‘short’ (something he has quizzed me on every day ever since).

Getting to know people on a personal level and creating trust is a vital aspect of being in the Jungle every day; it is the least we can do. Not seeing the situation through the news that tells you about numbers and facts, but through the eyes of actual people, with their own personal stories; that is what this is about. It feels intimate and I feel honoured to be let in like that by the people here, by people who want to share their stories, that want to be heard, and trust me enough to do that.

You can’t ask me what it is like to volunteer here, what the situation is like, it’s too much to explain. Just as it is impossible for me to understand what it is like to actually live in the Jungle. But you can ask me to share my stories, their stories, to share moments and experiences.

My next post will be on men, treasure hunting in the warehouse, horrible evictions in the Jungle and a random stranger paying for my drink.

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rollcough9-blog · 6 years ago

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Concord Grape & Mint Sorbet

I’ve had a word document open on my desktop for the past month. The ticker at the footer reads 6,201 words. Oy. Everyday for the past week I’ve tried to sit down, stand up, walk around with the laptop getting things sorted out. Music, no music. Pants, no pants. Wine, more wine. You know when you throw out your back and you find yourself inventing new yoga poses to get that darn thing to pop back into place? Yeah, that’s how I feel about writing right now. Just. Can’t. Quite. Get. There. The stuff sorta hurts to get out and then ends up looking like a mess on the page.

Then I sat down with a friend. She’s a writer. She gets it. She also has a 13 month old daughter and pumps out about twice the content I can in a week and I think to myself: Jesus, Kels, SHE HAS TO TAKE CARE OF ANOTHER LIVING CREATURE AND YOU CAN’T GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Anyway, we had this great chat about vulnerability, where it fits with the business of writing (and sharing that writing online) and how the word and concept makes us recoil a bit when we hear it tossed around so casually over coffee and cocktails. She said this, which I love: some secrets are worth keeping. Sometimes none of the words and thoughts and feelings we wrestle with need to see the light, and that’s okay. It takes guts to get vulnerable, i.e. share parts of ourselves that we fear will result in rejection. But guts for the sake of guts feels totally… disingenuous? It shows security, confidence to pump the brakes a bit, and decide, on our own terms, how and when and for whom we’ll strip down for.

I worry, sometimes, that my generation falsely associates vulnerability with sharing every moment tasted, every hurt suffered, every little nugget of wisdom that comes to us while washing our hair or taking out the trash. I feel like we relinquish a bit of our agency in doing so. We give up sacredness for the rush of affirmation –– I divulge, therefore I exist. We don’t get a chance to ever really feel something in a totally pure state without those feelings being tampered by the onlookers we willingly, or unwillingly, called to table. There is enough of that look-at-me-see-me-feel-my-heart-beat-but-don’t-actually-judge-me-or-tell-me-something-I-don’t-want-to-hear sorta thing on the internet and in the “real” world that we have to deal with.

So instead of trying to contort the ever-living crap of that diabolical mess of thoughts, I’m going to bank on what I know for sure: loosening the grip reveals new truths, and that space and distance do help us heal and sort through the things that weigh heavy on our hearts. It’s okay to let some things just be our own to ponder and wrestle.

Instead! Life update:

We’re moving. To the mountains. It feels right. We’ve grappled quietly with getting out of dodge leaving Denver since late spring, and upon our return from Bali it felt like all lights were flashing GREEN GREEN GREEN to manifest on that tug for migration. Seattle and Portland, Maine made the shortlist, but we’re not quite ready to say sayonara to these Rocky Mountains yet. We’re under contract on a little place west of Boulder that backs up onto a bit of woods –– we’ll sign and get the keys on Shaun’s 26th birthday. Wish us luck.

Concord Grape & Mint Sorbet

I finagled a few shortcuts to this killer recipe from Kimberley Hasselbrink’s recent release, Vibrant Food. After watching the food blog community reproduce the summer chapter online when the book first came out, I felt like I should wait to share this number when the leaves started changing and remind you that the fall, winter, and spring chapters of this book are equally impressive. I had the huge honor of recipe testing for Kimberley as Vibrant Food came together and I’m telling you, she, and these recipes, are total keepers. Oh, and, the recipe for harissa, on page 97, needs to be bottled and sold around the world. It’s the best I’ve ever had.

You’ll need:

2 lbs fresh Concord grapes, stems removed

12 mint leaves

1/4 cup sugar

juice of 1 lime

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Remove stems from grapes. Rinse. In the basin of a blender or food processor, combine grapes, mint leaves, sugar, and the juice of 1 lime. Puree the the mixture until all but a few specks of grape skin remain visible. Kimberly suggests straining the mixture through a fine mesh sieve or strainer, but I’m into the pulp. It’s up to you.

Churn the blended grapes in an ice cream maker for 25-30 minutes, until slightly frozen. The sorbet will still be soft. Pour into a freezer-safe container and freeze for three more hours to solidify.

Source: http://happyolks.com/concord-grape-mint-sorbet/

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