#i have a post somewhere on my old blog but to Me it would be revolutionary for sasuke to separate himself from the idea that the

[ragnars-tooth]

One of my big compulsions is taking a fuck ton of screenshots Just In Case a piece of information is important in like 4 years and I can't remember it (sometimes the information is an instagram post that I might not remember later and of course needs to be recorded everywhere (I will Not be looking at that again)) so today is my transfer 16000 images off my phone admin day (woo)

Like yeah I never looked at any of them and they were completely irrelevant to my daily life, But what if I need them ✨️ later ✨️ (you'll see that the idea of Later is doing a lot of heavy lifting here) OR what if there's a vital piece of information in the mix somewhere that I'll lose forever if I delete them? So: onto the external hard drive they go

This is one of those cases where. Yeah. Ideally I wouldn't take 16000 screenshots in half a year. And YEAH ideally I'd just delete them and not transfer them somewhere else to never look at again. BUT at least I get a clean slate and I can maybe not mindlessly save everything for 2 seconds. It's like. Small wins? Progress. Yknow.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I’m always paranoid of my tumblr being deleted or malfunctioning or something like that someday, so here’s other places to find me/follow me, just in case lol

~ instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lucalicatte/

~ main youtube - https://www.youtube.com/c/LucaLiCatte

~ games/sims youtube - https://www.youtube.com/@cloudycatte

~ facebook page (I rarely use this because I hate facebook but.. it at least allows text posts better than instagram does, so idk maybe I’d use it more if tumblr went away? lol) - https://www.facebook.com/cloudycatteart/

~ Other Links (stuff I don’t use often/isn’t Main enough to list here, like twitter, neopets, other tumblr sideblogs, youtube channels, etc.) are here - http://icewindandboringhorror.tumblr.com/otherlinks )

[roobylavender]

you know what would automatically change my hatred to love for sasusaku? If their genders were reversed. Majority of the reason why I hate sasuke and sakura relationship is because the type of environment and the culture I grew up in where it's been fed to women since basically birth to always be faithful to her man no matter how terrible he treats her, even after marriage. The pharse, "Just be patient and he will change", infuriates me to another level. Seeing sakura chasing after sasuke throughout the series after numerous rejections and an attempted MURDER on her by him made me roll my eyes so hard like girl just move the fuck on omfg. And even after their "marriage" sasuke's treatment towards her doesn't get better lmao, leaving her alone with a whole ass child to take care by herself?? BYE sakura's patience for him is outmatch cus I would've divorced his ass for that. Though, the more I mature, little by little I begin to understand the complexity of their relationship after putting my gender issues aside for a second and look deep into them. And especially now, after reading your perspective on their whole relationship, it really did made half of my hatred go away and understand the relationship wholeheartedly. Like yeah, I absolutely love the trope of one person saying they don't deserve the other person's love but the other person keep loving them anyway, that stuff makes me giggle and swing my legs in the air and shit. It's just that the only way this trope would work for me if the person loving them has enough self-respect for themselves AND if it's a girl in the former & the guy in the latter. And honestly, I found naruto being borderline obsessed with sasuke annoying too but the reason why I can digest it more well is because naruto can go head to head with sasuke without backing down. Like, I wanted to see at least ONCE sakura having a heated argument with sasuke, or punch him in the face in the series. I feel like sasuke deserves a punch from her at the very least 🤷🏽‍♀️

Sigh, I really did wanna love their relationship and their journey to love (that scene of him catching her when she was about to fall and then having that iconic eye contact had me feeling butterflies ngl) since it has all the tropes I love but the execution is just so...

i mean if it helps any i absolutely hate post-canon and that's where my primary divide with most sasusaku fans lies 😭 i'm not sure if you read the blue-plums post i reblogged but it's a good dissection of why exactly it fails as a conclusion to both their individual arcs and their relationship arc generally. the post-canon we see is a direct answer to what sasuke's and sakura's dreams are at the start of the series, but the problem with this is that sasuke and sakura are nowhere near being the same people at the end of the series as they were at the start. generally, i don't think post-canon really takes the individual arc of any character into much account. its primary goal is maintaining the status quo with a slight veneer of friendship power draped over it for aesthetics. but nothing at the root is changed despite every traumatic development the characters were relentlessly subjected to. resultantly, you're left with a portrayal of sasuke as a neglectful father who glorifies the lone-wolf hero trope, which goes against everything he could possibly have learned from itachi; and you're left with a portrayal of sakura as someone content to keep house despite the bulk of her character arc being grounded in her ability and desire to take initiative not only at home, but abroad. it's not true to who either of them is by that point and, even more than that, it's a disservice to everything they've put themselves through for the sake of the love they were vying for. so while i love sasusaku as it progresses up through 699, i tend to wholeheartedly ignore whatever comes after and relegate that instead to either my own imagination or blue-plums's in her fics

what i will say about the naruto and sakura distinction is that a lot of people are more comfortable with how sasuke reacts to naruto bc they believe what naruto is doing is right. it's kind of like: if the only thing sasuke will realistically respond to is violence then obv naruto can resort to that violence without dwelling on it too much. but if you think about violence in the context of sasuke's entire life, it's not actually helpful at all beyond its ability to physically bring him to a grinding halt. even when naruto finally breaks through to sasuke, it's not the violence that makes things click for him. it's the words he says after, and it's the words he's always said before that that have stayed in sasuke's mind. violence, in contrast, is a poisonous thing for sasuke bc it's the only thing that has defined the parameters of his entire life. it robbed him of every person he cared about prior to his meeting team seven, and inevitably it intimidated him into seeking out more violence once he realized that he was incapable of saving the new people he'd come to care about as well. everything, at the root, was driven by sasuke's traumatically-exacerbated response to love and loss. the idea of losing naruto and sakura to the hands of anyone else was unbearable. so he decided that he'd rather have killed them himself. it was absolutely irrational. but a twelve year old child put through that kind of successive, relentless trauma was never going to think rationally, and certainly not after being exploited by people like orochimaru and obito (and to an extent itachi) in turn

all of this to say: there is of course a gendered aspect to the fact that sakura's response to sasuke is markedly not violence. but i also think people sort of refuse to dissect her response any further and esp in context of the narrative itself. despite being the hallmark of rationality within the team and perhaps even the series, sakura was inevitably always driven by the value she placed on humanity. it would've been so easy and rational and "right" to kill sasuke bc he was an insurgent, a terrorist, a danger to public safety, etc. but sakura knew it was more complicated than that. even without knowing about the intricacies of the uchiha massacre she'd been a witness to his suffering and struggle and helplessness. she was as much unable to kill him bc of her love for him as she was unable to kill him bc she knew it wouldn't be right. bc really, what would it solve. sasuke being written off or dying would accomplish nothing bc he would become one more person in the long line of victims to nationalism and the military-industrial complex. while naruto's desire to retrieve sasuke was driven by his love for him it was also driven by the fact that he was stubborn and relentless and refused to give up on people. if you won't believe in yourself i'll beat the belief into you. it's a very shounen-esque trait. in contrast, sakura's desire to retrieve sakura, while also driven by her love for him, was significantly driven by her ability to see that sasuke needed help. in fact, that's all she ever wanted him to get: help. and it would be one thing for this to be an isolated desire but when you read it in context of her own goals as a medic and a mental health professional, her unwavering belief in sasuke is a lot more striking. she was the only person in the entire narrative who never resorted to violence as a solution to sasuke's problems. and she was angry, to be sure. much as she loves him the struggle to bring him back and convince him that he was worthy of love and healing left her emotionally exhausted. but they're also children at the end of the day. she could've been angry at him, or naruto could've been angry him, and in the end none of it would've mattered in the face of knowing they'd finally gotten through to him. he had a smile on his face, he didn't have an arm anymore, and for the first time in his life he met a loss with utter peace and content. it was a thing of miracles after six years of relentless grief and sorrow, and nothing else could've been on their mind.

at the end of the day, team seven's love for sasuke isn't rational. the farthest thing from it, really. but that's what makes it so radical in context. if love in naruto was only ever meant to be rational then hardly anyone would survive. love was always written as an act of defiance and for however subtle the depiction sakura exemplified it

[neversetyoufree]

Heyo, I want you guys' feedback for something important!

Tumblr eating my post earlier got me thinking, and given the sheer amount of writing I've done on this blog, it would probably be a good idea to start backing up my meta somewhere that won't randomly make some posts (or even whole blogs) disappear out of nowhere. So:

I'm hypothetically down for any of these (or any combination thereof).

A few notes:

For those unfamiliar with Pillowfort, it does require either an invitation link or a $5 payment to join. I'm happy to send invite links, but this might be a limiter

If I start reposting (more) on Pillowfort, it'll probably be on my main grassbreads account. I already have a handful of VnC posts on there, including some that are reposts from this blog.

Please only vote for making my own website if you think you (or anyone else) would actually, like, visit it. It's a cool idea in theory, but I don't think it's worth the effort of making it if I'm the only one that ever goes there 😔.

[gongedtornado]

.

[kakusu-shipping]

4 for your Mario s/I, 6 for your Koro-Sensei s/i, and 7 for the Bear Polycule s/i please if you don’t mind and it isn’t too much trouble!! :D

No trouble at all I asked for the asks after all! Thankyou so much for asking!!!

4. How did your s/i feel when they first met your f/o(s)? How do they feel about them now?

I'll set this to be about the rest of the Royal Polycule, sense he's known Mario and Luigi his entire life.

Irl I don't have very strong opinions on anything, especially not new people, and that does transfer over to this S/I as well, so a lot of his first thoughts about everyone boils down to "That sure is a person" without much else fkgjfdkgjd Sorry I'm boring.

He thought Bowser was VERY handsome when he first saw him at the Star Festival, which was an immediate issue with Mario and Luigi, who like two months ago almost died gruesomely to that guy. Things change. Also after talking to him for a bit the "oh he's hot" wore off to more a "Oh he's kinda silly" which yes, can go hand in hand, but not this time.

Now a days despite not being with anyone but Mario Romantically he does love everyone in the Polycule a lot. It's hard to cut the opinions down to short blips, but just know they're all amazing!

6. Has your s/i undergone any design/story changes since they were first made?

Hm... Yes and no... Sense finishing Assassination Classroom my S/I for it has been practically the same other than a few story tweaks as I stepped out of the end of my Angst Era of Self Inserts and more into my Goofy here for a good time era.

However, before I finished AssClass my S/I WAS a student rather than the School Nurse, because when the show originally came out, I would have been the same age as the students in the program. I even knew about it back then, I just didn't watch it for whatever reason.

But after falling in love with Koro-Sensei and knowing in my heart of hearts he'd never date a student, I changed my S/I to my irl age at the time, 20, because the rejection scene between my 15 year old S/I and Koro-Sensei my brain came up with where he lets me down gently broke my entire heart and made me for real cry.

So other than that, no he hasn't really gone through any changes.

7. Give us 3 random facts about your s/i!

Bear polycule love I'm glad you guys enjoy this one okay!!

He is the last human being on the planet! (supposedly)

He accidentally made Jackpot while tinkering with a Slot Machine. The Bear Head was not included, Jackpot made that himself

He's probably the 2nd most oblivious S/I I have, he is completely unaware half his traveling companions want to kill eachother, at least two want to kill him specifically, and all of them want to kiss him passionately on the lips.

[1800-fight-me]

Old man Logan going through the five stages of grief when you tell him you're pregnant, and the kid is his

Five Stages

Old Man!Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, explicit oral sex (f receiving) and explicit PiV sex, daddy kink Word count: A little over 2.1k Synopsis: As Charles' caretaker and Logan's long term lover, life hasn't been the easiest and a possible pregnancy throws a wrench into things. (Set before the events of Logan) Author’s note: With all my talk, I cannot believe this is my first fic with old man Logan, he drives me insane - please enjoy and thank you for the request!! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

At first you thought it was the flu. You were nauseous, exhausted, and had constant headaches. 

Logan brought you some cold medicine, but it wasn’t like you could go to the doctor- living in hiding pretty much prevented that. 

It was Charles’ odd comments to you about a new mutant that made you decide to take a pregnancy test. At first you brushed off his comments as due to his dementia, but eventually the signs became too hard to ignore. 

You gave Logan the list of supplies you needed to care for Charles and at the bottom you’d written a pregnancy test. 

He’d stuffed the list into his pocket without reading it, pressed a brief kiss to your forehead, and said a gruff goodbye as he walked out the door. 

It was a two day wait before you saw him again. You puked both mornings he was gone. The food you made for Charles made you sick and you missed Logan something awful. Your emotions were all over the place, but the strongest one was panic. 

You’d always wanted a baby one day, but then the world went to shit and it was impossible to live safely as a mutant, and life everyday was a battle for survival as you cared for an aging Charles and Logan tried to scrounge up enough money to get the three of you somewhere safer. 

This was not the ideal situation for a baby. Though if you were being honest, a part of you was thrilled. If you were pregnant, you wanted this, you wanted to have Logan’s baby- to be his in an irreparable way. 

You just weren’t quite sure how he’d feel about it. 

You stood before the stove and stirred a pot of soup. You hummed as you made dinner for you and Charles. Logan had texted you that morning that he would be back tonight, so you hoped he’d be back in time for dinner but you didn’t count on it. 

You hummed quietly and the peace of the moment was interrupted by the clanging of the door. 

Logan shuffled in and you gasped at the blood on his shirt. 

“S’not mine, princess,” he grunted as he sat down heavily at the chair before the kitchen table. 

You sighed in relief and took a step towards him but he leveled a glare at you. 

He had a paper grocery bag, he’d sat it on the floor next to him. He reached inside and tossed a box towards you. 

It slid across the table and stopped just before it fell off. Right in front of you laid a pregnancy test- it was as if he’d thrown a grenade. The both of you just stared at one another. 

“You wanna explain this?” He asked. 

“I’ve been sick…” you whispered. 

‘Why did I have to find out from a fuckin’ grocery list babygirl?” He asked sharply. 

You gulped. 

“I-I could be wrong, maybe it’s just the flu, I don’t- I was worried you’d be upset with me and clearly you are so-“ 

“C’mere,” he grunted. 

You sighed, knew there was no arguing with him, and took the few steps towards him. As soon as you stood close enough to reach he pulled you onto his lap. 

“I could never be mad at you,” he said with a sigh as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck. He held you tight and ran one hand up and down your back. 

Your heart slowed its rapid pace. 

“Go take the test,” he said and you stood, prepared to do as he said. His hand slipped down your arm and held onto your hand. 

“You're not gonna give your daddy a kiss?” He said and his eyes twinkled as he teased you. 

You smiled for the first time in days and leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chapped lips. 

He smacked your ass gently as you walked out of the kitchen and you swiped the pregnancy test off the table as you left. 

Several excruciatingly long minutes later you walked back into the kitchen. 

He looked like he’d cleaned up a bit, at the very least changed his shirt into one that didn’t have dried blood all over it. 

You loved Logan, it didn’t matter to you that the metal inside him was slowly poisoning him and it didn’t matter that his body was aging and at this point he looked significantly older than you. He was still painfully handsome with his salt and pepper hair and rough beard. He was gruff, but only you knew of the gentleness within. You loved him more than anything, but you knew the stress he was under and worried that this would create even more. 

You slid the test across the table the same way he had, this time with tears in your eyes. 

He grabbed it with his large scarred hand and stared and stared and stared at it. 

He looked up and as his eyes met his, you swore the torrent of emotions within them mirrored the five stages of grief. 

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance- you watched him experience the full range within a few moments as he stared at you. 

This wasn’t the ideal situation for either of you to have a baby. But you knew Logan would be a good father, you knew you’d be able to figure it out as a team, you hoped it would be okay. 

He stood with a grunt and walked towards you. Your heart felt as if it were in your throat and you forgot how to breathe. 

You looked down at your feet unable to meet his heavy gaze. 

“Look at me, babygirl,” he murmured. With a gentle hand on your jaw and chin he lifted your head as he stood close enough that your chest brushed his. 

There were tears in both your eyes. 

“You want this?” he asked gently. 

You nodded, unable to form any words. 

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Do you?” you finally asked, your voice more timid than you’d ever heard it. 

He wrapped you in his arms and held you tight. 

“Of course,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You breathed out a shuddering sigh of relief and burrowed your face further into his chest. You sunk into his embrace and let a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Are you panicking as much as I am?” you asked after a few long moments of peace. 

He chuckled and said, “Probably, but we’ll figure it out.” 

You took a few more calming breaths. “Yeah, it’ll be okay.” 

He lifted you up and placed you on the kitchen counter behind you. A gentle hand caressed your stomach. 

“This isn’t the ideal situation to have a baby, but I don’t want you to worry, princess. Daddy’s got you. I’ll take care of you,” he said fervently. 

You curled your fingers into his gray hair and yanked his lips to yours. 

He huffed a laugh against your lips as he kissed you with the same passion. 

“S’your fault,” you murmured against his lips. 

He pulled back and glared at you, which caused you to giggle. 

“You forgot to pick up my birth control last month when you got Charles’ meds, remember? I went a few days without it,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, then down to his neck. 

His hand slid up to your throat, he gently gripped you - only enough to pull your lips from his throat and force you to look him in the eyes once more. 

“Really, you think that’s the reason- but who was beggin’ for my cock, huh? Who was beggin’ for me to come inside?” he said, his voice low in that dominant way that turned your brain fuzzy. 

“Me,” you breathed out. 

He smirked and pulled you to him again as he slotted his lips over yours. 

“You gonna do some more of that pretty begging?” he asked after several minutes of his lips on yours as he consumed you. 

You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Please, daddy, need you so bad,” you breathed out. 

He groaned and his knees cracked as he kneeled on the hard tile before you. Your breathing quickened as he spread your legs and slowly pushed his rough palms up your sensitive thighs. He pushed your dress up, up, up, until he could see your panties. 

You whimpered at the sight of him kneeling before you. 

“Gonna give you everything you need, princess. You’re giving your old man more than he ever could’ve dreamed,” he praised. 

Your breaths came quick and heavy and wiggled yourself closer to him. He chuckled at your eagerness and began to press gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh. 

His nose ran up and pressed against your needy pussy. He took in a deep breath and groaned at the smell of your arousal. 

“Gonna be my pretty little mama, huh? You gonna have my baby- be mine forever?” he practically growled as he yanked off your soaked panties. 

“Y-yes, yes, oh god, oh yes Lo,” you whimpered as his warm wet tongue licked you from your desperate hole to your clit. 

You gripped his silver hair as you clenched your thighs around his head. You squirmed where you sat on the kitchen counter, desperate for more of him. 

His expert tongue circled and flicked you at the center of your pleasure. 

Your spine began to tingle, your entire body filled with warmth, and your thighs trembled. You moaned wantonly as his lips surrounded your clit and he sucked. 

“Fuck, daddy, so good!,” you exclaimed. 

Just as you felt like the wave of pleasure you rode was about to crescendo, he pulled back. You gasped in dismay and almost came at the sight of him disheveled with your slick coating his beard. 

“Logan,” you whined and reached for him as he stood. 

He grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. 

“Patience, babygirl, need you to come on my cock,” he growled as he began to unbuckle his belt. You whimpered as you saw the evidence of his affection for you. 

Slowly, all too slowly, he unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and finally pulled out his huge cock. 

He batted your hand away and yanked you to the very edge of the counter. As his lips crashed against yours he lined his cock up and with no preamble thrust himself inside you. 

You gasped at the taste of yourself on his tongue and the sudden feeling of fullness. 

Your head fell back and almost hit the cabinet behind you if it weren’t for his quick reflexes as he slid his hand and cradled the back of your head. 

He huffed a laugh and kissed you deeper as he tangled his tongue with yours. You wrapped your thighs around his waist and linked your ankles in an attempt to pull him deeper inside you, to somehow feel closer to him. 

All of the clothes still remaining on both your bodies frustrated you, but you were too desperate for him to pull away and rid either of you of any clothing. He pulled your chest tighter to yours with a hand on your back as he ground himself deeper inside you. 

There were no words to say, to define the feeling of connection and closeness, as he continued to thrust inside you and your breaths mingled as his forehead rested against yours. 

He noticed the shift in your breathing and slipped a hand between the two of you and pressed his thumb against your clit. 

With a kiss to your forehead he murmured, “C’mon, give it to me princess, you’re fuckin’ perfect- I love you so much.” 

You whimpered and tears filled your eyes as you clenched down on his thick cock and came. 

From the stuttering of his hips you could tell he was close too, and you pressed your lips to his and murmured, “I love you, Logan, please come inside me, fill me up, please.” 

He groaned your name into your mouth as he thrust once more, deep inside you and came. You felt perfectly, exquisitely full and there was no better feeling in the world.  

You rested your head against his chest as you both came down from such intense heights. 

His hand rubbed up and down your back. 

“We’re having a baby, Lo,” you mumbled. 

His hand again rested against your lower stomach. 

“Yeah, we are,” he said and there was a lightness in his voice you hadn’t heard in a long time. 

[room-surprise]

Addendum to Dungeon Meshi Age Calculations, and Thistle's age estimate...

This is sort of a sequel to two posts of mine, How to Calculate Comparative Ages of DM Characters and How Old Is Thistle?

I've seen some people claim that the age scale between elves and tall-men where elves age 5 times slower than tall-men can't be used accurately for elves that are very young or very old. I've also seen people claim that the half-foot age modifier is wrong.

I'm not a mathematician, but so far I have not seen any actual evidence that the 5:1 scale doesn't work, and a good amount of proof that it does, and I think the confusion about half-foot aging is a translation issue.

Please keep in mind, information about Marcille's age does not apply to any of this, because [SPOILERS].

WHAT ABOUT VERY YOUNG ELVES?

Here's something we know about the babies from the different races, which comes from Ryoko Kui's blog:

1 year old elven, dwarven and gnomish babies can only lay on their backs. Tall-man and half-foot 1 year olds can both stand, though the tall-man is not as good at it as the half-foot.

This lines up with real-world development milestones, human children can usually stand on their own somewhere between 9 to 12 months. Half-foots age faster than tall-men, so it makes sense that the half-foot would look more balanced and steady while standing.

A 2 year old elven baby has just gained the ability to sit up, while the babies of other races are walking or running. Normal human babies can sit up with help at around 5 months.

2 divided by 5 equals 0.4, that's 40%, and 40% of one year equals 4.8666666 months. That's 5 months.

I think it's very likely Kui herself is using the 5:1 ratio in order to calculate her elven ages in order to get this very specific 5 month developmental milestone to line up this way. So we can confirm that any elf over the age of 2 years old should have an age that is calculable with the 5:1 ratio. I also think it's not crazy to assume Kui may be using the numbers I calculated in my age post to work out other character's ages as well, since she's clearly doing it for the elves.

LET'S TEST IT WITH HALF-FOOTS

Human children learn to run between 18 and 24 months, so around 2 years old, like the chart shows us. 2 years divided by the half-foot age ratio (1.1428571429) equals 175% because they grow faster than tall-men.

175% of 2 years is 1277.5 days... Which is 3.5 years. So a 2 year old half-foot has the maturity of a 3.5 years old human child. 3 years old is when human children are expected to run and jump easily, and climb stairs without help.

That sounds about right to me, since the half-foot child in the drawing looks like they can confidently run around without balance issues. One foot is off the ground, and their arms are pulled in closer to the body than the tall-man child's arms.

Meanwhile the tall-man child is more unsteady, both feet firmly planted, standing with their arms held out as far as they can go to help with balance.

DOESN'T 29=50 FOR HALF-FOOTS?

Kui says that Chilchuck would be about 50 if he were a modern day human (which he isn't, he's a medieval half-foot), and then she says that half-foots in the time of Dungeon Meshi only live to be about 50 years old on average.

I'm pretty sure she's telling us that if Chilchuck were a human in our world, he'd be past middle-aged, and then for contrast, she tells us that most half-foots in Chilchuck's world die by age 50. Not that Chilchuck's 29 years is equivalent to a 50 year old modern human.

Chilchuck is 29 years old, and he had his first child at age 13. The average age of death for half-foots is 50, then that means middle-aged for a half-foot is 25.

Chilchuck is 4 years older than that, which makes Chilchuck past middle-aged. It does not make him developmentally the same as a 50 year old modern human though.

Using the numbers I've worked out, a half-foot would be developmentally 50 years old when they're 44.

Kui says that although Chilchuck wants to retire from going into the dungeons, if he did, it would be premature... Just like it would be premature for a 33 year old to retire.

In the real world retirement ages are connected to the average age of death. As that number goes up, so does retirement age. Because modern humans live until around 72, as a global average, retirement age is somewhere in their 60s.

So since half-foots average lifespan is 50, a normal age for Chilchuck to retire would be in his 40s.

WHAT ABOUT OLD ELVES?

The average age of death for tall-men is 60, however we know that tall-men can live into their 80s because Marcille's father did.

The average age of death for elves is 400, but they can live up to 500 years.

There's no reason to think that DM tall-men aren't like real world humans, and can't live into their 100's if they are lucky and wealthy enough. Even in the real medieval period, some people lived into their early 100's.

The thing that makes average death ages low in real life is usually issues like high infant mortality, starvation, war, lack of medical care, and lack of sanitation.

In the real medieval period, the average age of death was 30 not because people dropped dead at 30, but because SO MANY children died young that it pulled down the average. In medieval times, if you managed to live to 25, you had an average of 23 more years of life ahead of you, which is 48 years old.

I think Kui raised the average death age to 60 for tall-men to account for the fact that even tall-men have access to more advanced medicine and healing magic in DM, so infant mortality isn't as high and the adults live more than a decade longer.

The elves naturally have a longer lifespan since they live 5 times slower than tall-men. However they also probably have a far more advanced society than any of the other races in Dungeon Meshi. Fleki calls the Eastern Continent a "primitive land", and it's mostly populated by dwarves, gnomes and tall-men.

If elven culture was developmentally the same as tall-man culture, I bet elves would only live to about 300, which would be 60 for them, maturity wise.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

80x5 is 400. That seems correct to me, a 400 year old elf would be considered elderly and getting close to the end of their life. An 80 year old tall-man would be considered VERY old, having lived past average expectations... But those expectations, as I said before, are based on poor living conditions, not biological certainty. 100x5 is 500, so the two maximum ages (100 and 500) also line up when you use the 5:1 ratio.

POSSIBLE MAXIMUM AGES FOR OTHER RACES

Using the same math, if gnomes and dwarves had the same culture as tall-men, they'd only live to be 150-ish instead of 240/200...

This is only a theory, but dwarvish and gnomish maximum possible ages should probably be around 250, if you multiply their age modifier (2.5) x100 like I did with the elves.

The current difference between their average age of death is probably attributable to lifestyle and cultural differences (gnomes use a lot more magic, and so they live longer).

Then, just to do the rest of the races:

Half-foots and orcs theoretical maximum age is 88. Ogres theoretical maximum age is 94. Kobold theoretical maximum age is 81.

Keep in mind, these numbers are based on the idea that "around 100 years old" is the oldest a human being can get. The oldest human to ever live survived until they were 122 years old... But obviously that is rare, and happened in the modern era.

Point is, there's wiggle room at the top end of the age limit, for some of the races that may be a matter of extra days or months, for others it could be an extra decade or two. But I'm using 100 for simplicity's sake.

Sorry for the long post! I hope this answers people's questions, and if I messed something up let me know!

[torawro]

WHEN BLADES CLASH, SO DO HEARTS. ( r. z. )

roronoa zoro & bounty hunter!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman who is on the thicker / curvier side but you do not have to imagine it that way ! you are free to imagine the reader how you wish. canon divergent au (lowkey implied post-timeskip -> zoro is still a bounty hunter and never became a pirate). bc it's canon divergent, zoro will have both eyes (i know, i know). mentions and descriptions of alcohol consumption. canon-typical violence (i.e., mentions of weapons). light(ish) descriptions of blood & injuries. so much [sexual] tension between reader and zoro that it's palpable. contains sexually explicit content including smut (descriptions of it from an omniscient pov). gets kinda poetic at the end but y’all already knew that was coming. somewhat proofread.

word count ━━ ! 4.8k

notes ━━ ! my first published one piece fic on my blog . . . you'd think the first one would be about law since my current theme revolves around him but alas, this swordsman was prominent in my mind…i did lose motivation at some point but i still pushed through. this fic was originally something i drafted up to serve as the prologue for a much longer fic i'm writing (no hints, sorry < 3). and i thought writing this purely for contextual purposes would help with that longer story, but in the process it just turned into something else all on its own skskkskks so this is a modified version of that blurb. obvs this is also my first time officially writing for zoro so i’m a little nervous and to be honest, i’m not sure if i even like how this turned out…..regardless, i hope i portrayed him well enough (pls be gentle with me) >< also wanna dedicate this fic to naj, a mutual of mine who became a friend, but unfortunately deactivated her blog some time ago. she's been helping me with this drabble and the longer story i plan to write and i really appreciate her. reblogs + commentary are GREATLY appreciated ♡!!!

SHAKING OFF THE GRAVELLY SAND that haphazardly clung to the fabric of your pants, with little effort and practiced precision, you swiftly returned a large metal rod back into a black carrying bag before swinging the straps over your right shoulder. Rolling your arms to relieve some of the tension that resided in them proved to be a little painful, leading you to conclude that you most likely pulled a muscle somewhere when fighting the unknown men who had just attacked you. 

Said men were now lying unconscious on the ground, hardly breathing and within an inch of their lives. 

You didn’t kill them ━no, of course not ━ that would be a fruitless endeavor. Besides, you were well aware that your energy would be well-spent elsewhere, like searching for the next poor soul that had a bounty looming over their head. You were like a hunting dog, the scent of your next target set in front of you by the wanted posters littered around in each city or island you traveled to. Much like how the grim reaper awaited in the shadow of someone who stood inches away from the gates of death, you too would bide your time until the right moment to strike.

You took pride in the fact that the glint of your weapon would be the last thing that reflected in the eyes of your target.

The end result of your fight, if you could even call it that, was as chilling as the evening breeze that was brought forth by the wading waves of the ocean. You have made your mark on the flesh of these men, reopening some old wounds and creating new ones that would certainly scar forever. On levels of the skin and of the spirit.

With a heavy sigh, you adjusted your bag again as you walked towards the cluster of little lights nestled beyond the trees, within them existed this main island’s largest town. Your facial muscles didn’t so much as twitch as the pointed heel of your boots dug into the skin of your unconscious assailants— thinking nothing of their drowsy, muffled grunts of pain or the stark contrast between stepping over doughy bodies versus stepping on the hard earth.

The waxing crescent moon only slightly illuminated the dirt road as you made your way to the populated village, occasionally swatting away a fly or two. Soon enough, the mouth of the semi-dense woods opened up to reveal a wide gravel road. Across the opening was a bridge that stood over a flowing stream, and beyond that was the town. It was a cluster of buildings of varying heights lined up neatly street by street.

Lamps hung on every corner, street pole and ledge that would allow it, bathing all that rested under them in a pale yellow glow. It was quite pretty at night if you were being honest; and judging by its looks and atmosphere, you were sure that they’d have a nice inn around somewhere.

But first, a drink. And some food, you added as an afterthought, but mostly a drink. Your body could use a bit of external help to unwind after spending the last few days at sea.

It didn’t take you all that long to find out where the town’s bar was located, and you wasted no time ascending the steps that led to the double swinging doors. The clacking of your boots against the wooden floors upon entering the establishment were more or less drowned out by the chatter of the rugged-looking individuals who more or less made themselves at home.

And yet, despite the dozens of conversations that bounced off the walls of the tavern, the stares of everyone whose line of vision you crossed seemed to be louder. Much louder than any fit of raucous laughter or profane shout that surrounded you.

Your ears were even able to pluck out a few conversations. Hushed inquiries of familiarity, musings of what could possibly be in that bag dangling on your back, how the pants you wore emphasized the fat of your ass just right━ all things you let roll off your back and pretended not to hear. 

If it weren’t for your more reserved nature, you would have slashed that the throat of the man who made that salacious comment the moment it left his dried lips.

You took a random seat at the bar, not really paying attention to who sat on either side of you. Placing the cowboy-style hat you wore next to you and your belongings at your feet, you patiently awaited for the bartender to make her way down to where you sat. 

As you waited, you crossed your legs, one fleshy thigh over the other, absentmindedly twirling one of the bulky silver rings that encased your middle finger as you wondered what drink you were in the mood for today.

It wasn’t until several moments later, when your body and mind stilled enough, that you’d take notice.

Something felt . . . weird. ‘Off’ was probably a better word for the strange weight that suspended itself over your muscles. Whatever it was, whatever feeling or presence you sensed, it had your fingers twitching towards your bag laying idly against the table. And it only continued to linger in the air as the minutes dragged by.

The sound of the barkeep’s voice pulled you back into the plane of reality and away from the realm of your overactive mind. “What’ll ya be having tonight, honey?” She was an older woman, probably around the age of fifty but looked much younger, had deeply tanned skin, and peppered black and white hair that was pulled into a bun and rested at the base of her neck. 

“Hmmm . . . whatever your best cocktail is, I’ll just have that.” 

With a nod and an amused smile at you allowing her to have free reign, the barkeep turned around, set a shaker aside, and got to work preparing a drink of her choice to serve to you.

Then, something flashed in your peripheral vision.

It was so fleeting that you could have easily dismissed it as nothing had you not been on somewhat high alert already. It flickered in the reflection of the metal canisters that sat along the back wall of the bar. And whatever it was managed to startle you enough to jump start the pulse in your chest into a panicked overdrive so fierce that you heard it in your ears.

The frantic beating of your heart  never showed on your face, however━ your expression remained neutral. It needed to be for a woman in your line of work. Perhaps especially because you were a woman in your line of work.

Without any warning or indication, the cold sensation of polished steel licked and nipped at the warmth residing in your neck. The sharpened end of a blade rested on the jugular of your throat, pressed firmly enough that if you moved forward even a little bit, a stain from your blood would surely blossom on the katana.

“You…” a deep male voice spoke, sounding rough and rugged all around its edges. The rest of the pub seemed to fall silent at the man’s utterance of that one word, rather than his blatant display of threatening you with a sword. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes were the only thing that moved. Slowly, with a frosty gleam underlining your gaze, your eyes landed on the sword’s master, his name immediately flashing in your mind. His reputation as a bounty hunter sent a chill down the spines of both marines and pirates alike. Residents all over the four seas feared his name, and his name alone could cause people to question if the threads of their lives would be severed by the piercing edge of his sword.

“Roronoa Zoro….” Your tone was leveled and held an air of disinterest as you talked. You spoke as if you were tasting the very syllables of his name, taking the time to roll each combination of letters against your tongue. They tumbled from your lips with a smoothness you weren’t entirely opposed to━ it was almost pleasant, if you were being honest with yourself.

A practice you didn't normally engage in.

Upon identifying the swordsman aloud, a short wave of hushed gasps from the customers surrounding you filled the air. With speeds that almost seemed abnormal, the long metal pole resting in your black bag suddenly ended up in your grasp, one end of it hovering several inches away from Roronoa's neck; such speeds even caught the mint-haired swordsman off guard. “Getting a drink, of course. Isn’t it obvious?”

Before he could even part his lips to reply, the piercing shing! of steely iron being brandished cut through the thick tension that settled in between you. A long and heavily curved blade abruptly emerged from the blackened rod in your right hand, and oh so conveniently arced around Roronoa's neck, momentarily silencing him. 

The weapon you carried was a scythe, one with a retractable blade meant to disarm your opponent’s perception and therefore hinder their judgment. A scythe that was reminiscent of the tool Death used to carry out his grisly duties of executing souls and dragging them to hell.

In this position with the scythe’s blade practically wrapped around his throat, if need be you could swiftly behead him, or at least mutilate him; judging by how quickly he unsheathed his katana, his reflexes were pretty sharp. Still, the potential ease of killing Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro— in addition to the mild bewilderment reflecting in his eyes and the patrons’ silent gasps once they pieced together who you were— caused your lips to tick upwards, but your countenance remained otherwise stoic.

“And I’m assuming you’re here for the same reason. That, or you just couldn’t get enough of me during our last battle, and you tracked me down for more.”

Your previously dry tone had somehow morphed into one with an airy lilt, followed by a quiet chuckle that bubbled in your chest when you saw Roronoa's brows twitch and deepen with ire at your subtly teasing words.

You were referring to the last time you saw the swordsman on some obscure island that took root in the Grand Line; an island whose name currently escaped your memory. With you being a bounty hunter as well, your job was the only reason why your paths have crossed so often, and why you have come to know Roronoa on a more personal level such as this. Each time your gazes clashed, it would always result in an inevitable battle, which indirectly fanned the flames of an unspoken competition between the two of you.

If his current expression was anything to go by, this bar may very well be your next battlefield. “You lost that fight, remember?” He emphasized his point by digging the sharp edge of his blade a little further into your neck, the increased pressure causing your eyebrow to all but twitch, “Or did I hit you too hard last time we fought, and now you’re suffering from long-term memory loss?”

The edges of an insufferable smirk curled at Roronoa's lips— one that conveyed his confidence in his abilities and matched the glint in his eyes that began to grow hungry for a brawl. And now, the corners of your own lips broke into a small, amused smile— or perhaps it would be more accurately referred to as a sneer— and you responded by mirroring his earlier movements.

Pressing the sharp end of your scythe into the back of his neck, the blade was met with the resistance of the corded muscle residing there, and your gaze eagerly drank in the brief glimmer of pain that was but a ripple across his arrogant expression.

“I didn’t lose that fight. It was a draw, at best. Seems like you must not remember the excessive blood loss on your end. But anyhow, tell me something pirate hunter…” You uncrossed your legs to stand up and took one step closer towards Roronoa, careful not to let his sword further nick your skin even though it was already dangerously close to you, “How many bounties have you collected since we last saw each other? Three? Two? One?”

Your voice descended further into a teasing whisper, and Roronoa's indignation only grew with each number you hurled at him.

The samurai didn’t take your tone lightly, and perceived your step forward as something of a  challenge, one that his nerves and heart and bones pleasantly vibrated to the sound of. So he too took a step forward, away from the piercing curve of your scythe that hung behind him like a shadow.

Roronoa was a little taller than you were, so meeting his gaze meant angling your neck upwards whilst he simultaneously moved his face an inch closer to yours.  “You think you’re hot shit, huh? Try five, sweetheart.”

Your nostrils flared involuntarily at his bold claim, and something . . . something warm prickled underneath your skin at his referral to you as sweetheart. For some reason, that word━ especially coming from his lips━ was a bit harder to ignore compared to other comments about you from this bar's patrons. And what they said was far more conflicting than a simple term of endearment; even if the 'endearment' in question was so obviously meant to be condescending.

“Is that right? You think you're such a badass, don't you?"

"That's 'cause I am."

Roronoa's mocking sneer was punctuated with a step forward into your space this time; any closer and the front of your clothes might graze each other. The swordsman pushed the boundaries once more by adding a little more force onto the grip of his katana, enough to finally break the bonds of your umber tinted skin.

A barely decipherable noise of amusement and veneration rumbled in his chest when your blood dripped on the length of his sword, but your reaction was nothing more than an involuntary clench in your facial muscles.

"Yeah?" You questioned him with a glare and a tilt of your head in the direction of his blade that uncomfortably sat at the opening of your skin. The tightness in your voice was meant to goad him, but it also contained the sparks of a challenge━ and of something else you didn't want to identify━ that ignited in the pit of your stomach with an increasing amount of fervor.

"Yeah." His voice descended a little lower into a place that killed the next sentence on the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes then narrowed as you held Roronoa's taupe gaze, his overconfident words floated in the silent air between you like a speck of smoldering ash, ready to burst into something more intense and fierce the moment it touched the ground.

Then you shifted your cold gaze elsewhere, opting to let it lazily roam around the room. Everyone was staring at the both of you with uneasy expressions and anxious stares. You could tell that even at the slightest movement from either you or the swordsman would cause the panic bubbling beneath their skin to flood forth in waves.

If there was one thing about you, you preferred to be to discreet. It made your job a whole lot easier, and more enjoyable in the long run.

A hummed vibrated behind your plump lips and your glare returned to his. "Let's take this outside, swordsman. I'd hate to ruin this nice lady's establishment with scuff marks and your blood."

Roronoa huffed a scoff, the amused smirk from before uncurled into something more animalistic. "That's funny. But sure, I'm down. When I defeat you and spill your blood on the ground, it'll make perfect fertilizer for those little plants I saw outside."

You huffed at his cocky attitude and accompanied it with a roll of your eyes. Your stare pierced him for a moment longer before you rescinding it, along with your scythe that was still outstretched towards him. The mint haired swordsman followed suit after another beat or so.

"That's about as likely as a fish growing legs and walking on land." Your voice was thick with sarcasm as you fished out a cotton pouch from your bag; it was small in size, but heavy with Berry. As you slipped out a couple of bills to pay for the drink that sat idly forgotten at your seat, another hand forcefully placed several bills down on the counter.

That hand belonged to Roronoa. You had to force yourself from letting your irises linger too long, or else you'd start thinking about how rugged, calloused, and veiny it looked.

With a newfound general annoyance at both him and yourself, you proceeded to present the bills to the bartender, who looked as if she was one muscle twitch away from ducking under the table behind the counter. You offered something similar to a sympathetic smile to assuage whatever she was feeling.

"Don't bother." Roronoa called out.

When you turned around to greet his voice, he was sheathing the sword that he previously drawn and made his way to the entrance of the pub.

"What are you talking about?" As you inquired, the swordsman still allowed his back to face you, hardly pausing to properly address you.

"I said, don't bother." he repeated in a stern tone, as if that was going to elucidate exactly what he meant, "Now come on. I'm itching to cut you down so I can go lay down."

And without adding anything further, Roronoa eventually exited the bar and disappeared behind the doors.

You were starting to lose count of how many times you narrowed your eyes at the green-haired man, but your stare━ both equal parts vexed and confused━ rested on the doors he had just walked through as if glaring at them long or hard enough would summon him again.

With a sigh, you turned back to the thin stack of Berry he left on the table, eyeing it suspiciously. You weren't sure what he ordered or how much of it, but it look like quite a bit of money he'd just randomly tossed next to you.

Was he insinuating . . . . that he paid for both of your drinks? Could this be what he meant when he told you not to bother, because he already covered it? Such a gratuitous act of kindness, something seemingly so simple caused that weird fluttering to bounce against the walls of your stomach again.

Picking up your bag, you continued to poke and dissect his actions in an attempt find meaning in them as you tipped the barkeep, once more ignoring the stares of nearly every person in that building as you left.

The moment your heeled boots dug themselves into the ground, your peripheral vision was bombarded with something being swung in your direction at high speeds. Before you could even process what it was, you instinctively leapt out of the way, your neck jerking backwards to further avoid the object.

A grunt filled your ears, already knowing the origin of the sound. "Nice reflexes."

You exhaled an exasperated breath of air, turning your gaze to meet that of the mint-haired swordsman who had begun to unsheathe a second sword out of the three scabbards hanging from his hip.

"Can I at least breathe first? Set my stuff down perhaps?" You asked wryly, almost unimpressed, but you didn't waste any time removing the straps of your bag to set it down on a nearby barrel, still cursing the pirate hunter under your breath all the same.

"Didn't know you were that eager to eat dirt." The familiar hiss of your scythe's blade erecting from the rod sent a pleasurable chill up your arms. You held your weapon tightly at your side, your grasp around its length tightening ever still when Roronoa began to square his stance. Even when you were several feet away from him, you could still clearly see the crease in his brows becoming more prominent; he began to resemble some kind of beast.

But that glimmer in his eyes held no real fire in them━ at least not the one that would lead to anger; one could even say it was one of wild excitement. The swordsman already knew his thirst for a worthwhile fight would be sufficiently quenched once more.

"Shut up." With a grunt, Roronoa pushed off the balls of his feet to launch himself into a powerful sprint towards you. It was clear he wanted to close as much distance between the two of you as quickly as possible. His movements were reminiscent of his brief display of swordplay earlier in the bar, where he was one swipe away from slitting your throat.

He was fast, but the gritty and often dangerous nature of your job honed your reflexes to be faster.

Your spine bended as you briskly leaned backwards to dodge the double swipe of Roronoa's katanas. The sound of the sharp blades cutting through the very air around you. With it only inches away from your nose, it was enough to replace the blood pumping through your veins with pure adrenaline.

Using the momentum from your quick dodge, you allowed your back to curve into a bridge and kicked upwards into a backflip to move out of the way━ the corners of your lips twitched into a satisfied grin when you felt your foot collide with his jaw and chin.

Once you were upright again, you wasted no time lunging forward in a sprint, you body much lower to the ground than Roronoa's was. Your plan was to slash his legs to throw him off balance, but that plan quickly evaporated like smoke due to his quick recovery and immediate realization of what you were doing.

"Tch." Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth in annoyance when the swordsman was able to leap in the air in time to avoid your attack. He was high enough that you had to crane your neck to see. With that much height, the next blow was sure to be one with quite a bit of force behind it.

"Two-Swords Style, Nigiri...." The swordsman's orotund voice descended far from where he was suspended in midair, and you braced yourself for his next attack, "....Tower Climb Return!"

The following clash of piercing steel against metallic iron was deafening, swallowing up any other noise that reverberated around you. The sheer impact of Roronoa's attack created a thin ring of dust that encircled both your figures and violently buzzed against the pole of your scythe.

You gritted your teeth to remain footed into the ground, but the force was too much, and that shit-eating grin nearly unfurling at his lips was too annoying. It shook the steadiness in your legs and caused you to tumble back by several yards. By steeling your thighs and calves you willed yourself not to fall, huffing with effort and frustration.

It hadn't even been that long since you've last fought Roronoa, could he really have made noticeable improvements in a short amount of time?

Regardless of the answer, you weren't about to allow him the chance to prove himself.

The both of you then darted at each other again, your motions a bit more cutthroat this time, and a newborn determination to strike down the pirate hunter further fed the burning adrenaline that coursed through your body.

Reaching your arm backwards, you performed a horizontal slash that Roronoa parried almost instantly. With effortless control and graceful dexterity, you reached both arms behind your back and twirled your scythe between your fingers, shifting the weapon from one hand to the other, and attempted to cut him again.

He blocked that attack as well, the tip of the blade just inches away from his left eye. You saw something moving fast in your peripheral vision, and immediately jumped backwards to avoid the katana that was about to release your intestines from the confines of your stomach.

It was always a pain fighting Roronoa because he wielded multiple swords at once, which means battles with him were more drawn out than they needed to be.

You lunged at him once more, and began to administer a barrage of horizontal, vertical and diagonal slashes in rapid succession. Your constant switching from one hand to the other, in addition to its length and the impressive control you exerted over your limbs, you were able to create a variety of fluid, long and short-range attack patterns, barely allowing Roronoa enough time to parry.

The moss-haired swordsman was keeping up with the relentless flurry of your attacks quite well━ for a short while at least. Roronoa lost himself in his own inner monologue of searching for an opening wide enough to immobilize you, and before long, a red cut blossomed on his semi-exposed chest, the injury lazily drooling blood.

The amount of cuts both deep and shallow began to increase, tearing his skin asunder under the weight of your blows. Your scythe repeatedly made contact with the elongated ha of his katana as well as his tanned flesh, but it wasn't enough to deter him completely.

It should have been though, but the many encounters you've had with Roronoa reminded you that he was no ordinary man.

Within that bombardment of the numerous slices and projectile slashes of your scythe Roronoa had found a millisecond of respite, and used that brief pause to leap backwards and put some distance in between you two.

You weren't able to hear the aching cry from the muscles in your arms until after you halted your attack, but the adrenaline flickering in your gaze still raced around your irises unceasingly. Roronoa's own gaze was hard and unyielding, glistening with something you couldn't discern from where you stood. But even so, your body somehow knew to feel like malleable putty under his stare; it's as if it was instinctual.

And again your blades clashed against one another, a steady rhythm rose from the cacophony of noises that were generated from your battle with the swordsman. Your laborious breaths became synchronized with each other, heavy and full of effort. The thin splatters of blood became homogeneous with each other as the both of you took turns cracking each other's skin open. Your limbs moved about and against his in a deft fashion and every nerve in your body reacted to his.

So much so, you didn't even realize when it happened.

Your duel with Roronoa had been in the forefront of your mind entirely that you hadn't actively processed the moment when your ragged breaths turned to breathy pants. Nor did you realize the moment it was no longer a scythe and katanas clashing, but wet lips and warm extremities instead. That same glint that shimmered in your eyes all evening never faded even then; it still twinkled through the murky mist of lust that clouded yours and Roronoa's vision.

Whenever your eyes collided with that of Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, an inescapable battle would always ensue━ it was tried and true, and it felt more like a promise. It was also true, although not externally expressed, that your fight with the mint-haired man was one that neither of you even wanted to evade.

With each brawl you learned something new about Roronoa, and you were repeatedly met with the reality and veracity of his skills, his reputation full-force. And when your brawl eventually led to the languid but hungry removal of each other's clothes, you learned more about Zoro, and the emotions hiding underneath his taut and rugged body. This learning curve was both all-consuming and tenderhearted, and you couldn't help but shiver at the fact you were the only one who could witness it.

And what good is a fight if he didn't learn from and about his opponent as well? Each new thing he unearthed about you was an incentive to further indulge your soft and fleshy curves, and observe how they seamlessly molded with firm, corded muscle. Completely unexpected, Zoro had become utterly fascinated with the warmth that resided under your icy, expressionless glare.

And when Zoro peeled back a new layer, when his lips hovered over an uncharted area of your skin━ hot, breathy, filled with groans of expletives intertwined with your name━ when the grip of his calloused fingers and his heavy cock simultaneously dug deeper into you, one leg dangling haphazardly off his shoulder, when your bodies meshed just like that, you moaned━ you knew you didn't want to stop fighting with him.

Again and again and again with each thrust, each roll of his hips, each sightless grope of your body, you knew you would gladly continue participating in this unspoken competition. You'd proudly don cuts and bruises if it meant you and you alone could have Roronoa Zoro like this. You'd keep at it with enthusiasm if it meant that your hearts would always collide so wholly with each other, not being able to tell where his ended and yours began.

( # ) @icy-spicy @godjo @tetzoro @triangularz @pookiesatoru

[thebibliosphere]

Hello (good morning?)

I have a question about your chronic illness. We are suspecting that my kid have a form of eds, and we're dealing with recurring presence of mold in our bathroom. Since you live in an Old House™️, I was wondering if you can tell something about wether mold can cause sudden (inexplicable) flare up's? My teen's doctor shrugged it off.

We're calling professionals about the mold regularly, it's not going to completely go away and moving is not an option, so i would need to know if i need to fight this fight more consistently.

Thank you and i hope your migraine is ending soon!

It's 12:30 am and I have post-migraine insomnia, so yea, good morning!

So, here’s where mold could be triggering an EDS flare up. Mast cell instability (there are several types, the type I have is Mast Cell Activation Syndrome or MCAS) has a high rate of comorbidity in EDS due to weird connective tissue issues and mast cells being present in every part of the body.

Mold is a huge mast cell destabalizer and can lead to degranulation, and when mast cells degranulate they dump an inflammatory cocktail into the surrounding tissue.

Closer to the skin this looks like hives or other typical allergic responses, but as previously stated, mast cells are in every part of the body including deep connective tissue and that's when mast cells flaring up can exacerbate the symptoms of EDS.

I know for me when I’m around mold, my joints become excruciating. Like it just feels like I’m grinding glass into the sockets and I’m either stiff as a board or like a puppet with my strings cut. I also become listless and more disposed to idiopathic anaphylaxis, but that's due to my mast cell dysfunction which, when we unknowingly had mold in our house, went from moderate to severe.

So your kid might not have a full-blown mast cell disorder, but if they’re having EDS flare-ups around mold that’s a red flag you need to be watchful for and fighting pretty regularly.

We ended up having to rip out our entire basement after we found black mold in the walls. (I could smell it. The mold remedial company said we had “a bit of damp, nothing to worry about” but my partner believed me and started cutting into the walls and what we found was a nightmare that spanned the entire finished basement 😱. There’s pics somewhere in my blog.) and a few weeks after we did my health began to stabilize.

So yeah, get on top of that as best you can. Mold is a bitch at the best of times, but it’s even worse when there’s weird health stuff already going on. Good luck, you’ve got my sympathy.

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy 

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

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Previous part here

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

May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait 

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much? 

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now? 

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance. 

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you. 

And he wanted to make it up to you. 

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier. 

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.” 

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you. 

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear. 

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife. 

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together. 

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him. 

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.” 

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.” 

He kissed your hand again. 

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.” 

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say. 

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke. 

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco. 

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man. 

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. 

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now. 

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now. 

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.” 

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you. 

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

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Next part Here

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

After a confrontation with Daemon, Valaena reveals details of her past with Aemond.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Confrontation, Reminicising, Memories, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Lactation Kink, Fingering, Oral Sex, Smut, P in V, Semi Public, Caught Having Sex.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4300 (Bit of short one).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena sat beneath the shade of a blossoming tree, the gentle sounds of her children’s laughter filling the garden as Rhaegar and Elaena chased one another in wide, happy circles.

Daenys sat beside Lirri, babbling loudly as she clapped her little hands, her laughter and copious amounts of drool bubbled up as Arro watched over them, a protective shadow nearby.

The hatchlings, Sapphyre, Hūra and Valerion, stretched out in the sun, their wings unfurled to catch the warm rays, with Sapphyre’s watchful eye never leaving Rhaegar.

Above, Valaena caught sight of a large shadow sweeping over the garden—the unmistakable form of Vhagar, gliding through the sky.

Behind her followed Sunfyre, Tessarion, and Dreamfyre, their scaled bodies glinting in the sunlight.

Valaena couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Aemond and his siblings soaring together through the sky, reconnecting in a way that only dragon riders could.

“You have mothers glow my lady” said Lirri softly.

“I-I do?” asked Valaena smiling as she gently rubbed her swollen stomach.

“Yes, I can see why my lord likes to plant seed”

“Lirri-” gasped Valaena blushing.

Rhaegar then trotted up to her, proudly holding out his hand. “Look, Mama. Look!” he exclaimed, a tiny red-and-black insect resting on his palm.

“Oh, how beautiful. Do you know what it is?” Valaena said, leaning towards her son.

“No mama. What is it?” said Rhaegar shaking his head.

“Its called a lady bird”

Rhaegar scrunched his face in confusion. “But birds have feathers,” he said, studying the little bug.

Valaena chuckled softly. “I know, sweetling. But this one isn’t a bird it’s a type of beetle, it’s just named a ladybird,” she explained.

Elaena skipped over; her violet eyes bright as she looked down at her brother’s discovery. “It’s pretty,” she said in awe, reaching out a small finger.

The ladybird crawled delicately over Rhaegar’s hand, and he giggled, his eyes shining. “It tickles, Mama!”

“Did you know that there are some people who say that if a ladybird lands on you, flies off and then lands on another, then that person will be your true love,” Valaena said, smiling as Rhaegar’s eyes grew round with wonder.

“Really?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Valaena nodded, watching the gentle creature as it crawled. “And you see those little spots on her back?” she continued. “People say that’s how old they are. Would you like to count them?”

Rhaegar and Elaena leaned in together, counting in hushed tones as Valaena pointed. “I count five,” she said.

Rhaegar’s face lit up with a delighted grin. “She’s the same age as me!”

“She is,” Valaena agreed.

Rhaegar looked down at the beetle with fondness. “I want to keep her,” he whispered.

Valaena smoothed a hand over his silver hair. “She’s a living creature, my darling, and she needs to be free. She might even have a family somewhere, waiting for her. You wouldn’t want to keep her from them, would you?”

Rhaegar shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No, Mama.”

Valaena placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “That’s my good boy.”

Together, they watched as the ladybird spread her wings and fluttered into the air, a small red-and-black dot vanishing into the blue.

Rhaegar and Elaena both waved after her, calling out little goodbyes.

But then Valaena felt a presence and looked up to find Daemon standing nearby, watching her.

His expression was unreadable as his gaze shifted from her to her children, lingering on each in turn before settling back on her.

After a few minutes of silent observation, Daemon approached, his gait slow and steady, but Sapphyre alerted by the presence of a stranger snarled loudly, his eyes narrowing with warning.

Rhaegar stepped in, his small voice calm but firm as he commanded, "Lykirī, Sapphyre." Sapphyre’s tail lashed the ground hard, and his teeth were bared but he quickly obeyed, moving to shield his rider. (Be Calm).

Hūra, too, positioned herself protectively in front of Elaena, who clutched her blankey, watching Daemon warily.

Valaena rose, brushing the grass from her skirts, her expression sharp as she turned to Lirri.

"Would you please take the children back to their chambers?"

"Yes, my lady," Lirri replied, scooping Daenys up and offering a hand to Elaena.

With a final scathing glare at Daemon, Rhaegar called, "Māzīs, Sapphyre-" (Come).

As the dragons followed the children, Sapphyre’s gaze locked onto Daemon, viciously snapping at him as he passed.

Only when they were gone did Valaena face Daemon fully, her arms crossing over her chest.

Daemon broke the silence first, his tone stiff. "That boy of yours has a strong bond with his dragon."

Valaena’s eyes were hard. "What do you want, Daemon?"

Daemon shifted, letting out a slow sigh. "I came to apologize for last night. I didn’t mean—"

"-Drunk words are sober thoughts," Valaena cut him off coldly. "You meant every fucking word."

Daemon’s jaw tightened. "Of all the men you could’ve fallen for, why did it have to be him?" he asked, his voice betraying an edge of frustration.

She scoffed. "Does your hatred of Otto Hightower run so deep that you would scorn Aemond without even giving him a chance?”

Daemon’s gaze darkened. “Otto Hightower was a fucking cunt,” he spat, the venom evident in his tone.

"And, I suppose, you believe Aemond to be the same," Valaena shot back.

“That one eyed cunt lured you away from your family” snapped Daemon.

“When are you going to get it through your head that we did what we did because there was no other way for us to be together, you made that perfectly clear when you opened your big mouth last night”

“You allowed yourself to be manipulated-”

“When will you realise that I’m not some weakling maiden who is so easily seduced by sweetened words whispered in my ear” said Valaena.

“He is a slithering green snake who saw an opportunity and he took it” exclaimed Daemon.

“-Why can’t you accept that I’m capable of making my own fucking choices?" snapped Valaena

Daemon sighed, his voice strained. "Valaena, I—"

But she raised a hand, silencing him.

“Arro” said Valaena firmly.

Arro appeared almost instantly, quickly stepping into the garden from the terrace. “Yes, Princess”

"Will you remove this loathsome cur from my sight."

Arro nodded. “Of course, my lady.” He turned to Daemon, his stance firm and unyielding. “This way, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon’s lips thinned, but he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

He had almost reached the edge of the garden when Valaena called, "-Oh and Daemon." He stopped, looking back with an unreadable expression.

"Stay away from my children." Her voice was unyielding, and her gaze unwavering.

Daemon held her gaze for a long, tense moment before he turned and disappeared from the garden without another word.

Valaena sat beside her mother, her fingers tracing absent patterns along her dress, a small ache in her chest as she spoke.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Mother," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the wall "But I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the only man I’ll ever love."

Rhaenyra took her daughter’s hand, her touch warm and gentle. "I know," she whispered, giving Valaena’s hand a small squeeze. Her eyes softened with grief held close. "But thinking I’d lost another daughter-it was a pain beyond anything I’ve ever known. Even when I was young, when I lost my own mother-it never hurt like that-"

Valaena’s gaze softened. "Mother-"

Rhaenyra’s voice wavered, just slightly. "For ten days, I searched for you. I needed to know-to see with my own eyes if you were truly gone, to see of any trace lingered-"

Valaena’s eyes softened. “My cloak-”

Rhaenyra nodded. “It washed up on the shore,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She reached into her sleeve and produced the broken silver dragon chain, placing it in Valaena’s palm. “I found this, too.”

Valaena’s fingers closed around it, the cool metal familiar in her hand. “You kept it.”

“I couldn’t part with it,” Rhaenyra admitted.

“Mother-”

“-I remember when I first gave it to you—right after you claimed Silverwing.” Her lips curved in a bittersweet smile. “You cried because it was too large for you, but you grew into it soon enough.”

Valaena laughed softly, the memory easing the ache in her chest.

Rhaenyra reached forward, tucking a loose strand of Valaena’s dark hair behind her ear with a tenderness that only a mother could have.

“I know Daemon’s words were harsh,” she continued. “But please, try to forgive him.”

Valaena shook her head. “But he—”

Rhaenyra interrupted, a sadness in her gaze. “In truth, your death hit Daemon harder than he’s ever let on. Having a favourite among one’s children isn’t something one should admit out loud, but you were his. He loved you fiercely, Valaena.”

Valaena’s face softened, though confusion lingered in her eyes. “Then why didn’t he just say that?”

Rhaenyra sighed. “You know how Daemon is. It’s easier for him to show anger than love, especially when he’s hurting.”

Valaena stared at the broken chain, brushing her fingers over the tarnished silver links.

“But why all the anger at Aemond?” Valaena asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together as she thought. “He needs someone to blame. And unfortunately, Aemond is his target.”

“But it’s not Aemond’s fault,” Valaena insisted, exasperated.

Rhaenyra squeezed her hand. “I know that, and so do you. But Daemon has convinced himself that Aemond manipulated you into faking your death.” She scoffed, giving her daughter a knowing smile. “But I know my girl, and there’s no way you would have fallen for such a thing. You are more dragon than most.”

Valaena smiled wryly. “It’s a pity Daemon doesn’t share that same sentiment.”

“I think he still sees you as that little girl who once begged him to teach her how to wield a sword or how to sneak extra helpings of pudding at dinner-"

Valaena smiles at the memory “But it still doesn’t absolve him of the horrible things he said about Aemond”

Rhaenyra shook her head, a bemused smile on her lips. "Oh, don’t you worry my girl there are many ways I can punish him for his slanders,

Valaena wrinkled her nose. "I’m not sure I want to know what that entails."

Rhaenyra laughed, giving her daughter a knowing look. "Oh, don’t be so coy, Valaena. You’re a mother now; you know the workings between a man and wife."

Valaena blushed, smiling in spite of herself. "In all fairness, Mother, I was doing those things with Aemond long before we became husband and wife."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, glancing around to make sure they were alone before she leaned in closer. "And how is it, between the two of you? Is he a giving lover?"

A deep blush crept over Valaena’s cheeks. "Are we really having this conversation?"

"Why not?" Rhaenyra grinned. "You’re my daughter; we can talk about anything. So, is he?"

A soft, shy smile played on Valaena’s lips. "Yes. Aemond is very giving."

Rhaenyra laughed, delighted. "It feels good to be desired does it not?”

Valaena nods “Yes, its certainly does”

Rhaenyra reached for a cup of wine and offered one to Valaena who politely declined, she then took a deep breath “So tell me about you and Aemond-”

Valaena’s eyes sparkled as she watched her mother lean in, her curiosity piqued. "What do you want to know, Mother?" she asked with a soft laugh.

Rhaenyra took a moment to consider. "When was your first kiss?"

Valaena’s gaze grew distant, a gentle smile appearing on her lips as she recalled the memory. “It was just before you took us to Dragonstone. We went to the weirwood tree, and he promised me that when we were grown, we’d get married” She paused, a light blush colouring her cheeks. “-And then we kissed. It was only a quick peck on the lips, but it was the first.”

Rhaenyra smiled, both tender and amused. "You were so young then.”

Valaena’s blush deepened. “Yes, but it meant everything at the time.”

Rhaenyra seemed to study her daughter’s face, taking in the depth of her emotions. “And after Driftmark?” she asked carefully. “How did your friendship survive?”

“Aemond knew I wasn’t to blame for what happened,” Valaena replied softly. “He knew I tried to help him. For a while, it was just letters—our way of staying close. I’d write to him, and he’d write back-”

“How did you manage to keep that quiet, surely I would have noticed your regular correspondence?”

“Oh, well I would send them under the guise of writing to Helaena, and it was Maester Gerardys who would send them for me, until I got a little older anyway and then I sent them myself and I may or may not have said if anyone found out then I’d feed them to Silverwing-”

“Maester Gerardys?” asked Rhaenyra her eyebrows raised.

“Yes. He’s a good man mother” replied Valaena.

“I know he is. So how did the relationship between you and Aemond progress?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

“When I was old enough to ride Silverwing on my own, we would arrange to meet in secret,” Valaena said, a wistful smile playing at her lips.

“So that’s where you would disappear too” said Rhaenyra wistfully.

“In the beginning we just spent time with each other, he struggled a lot after he lost his eye. Small things were harder for him, and there were times where I would just read to him, or he’d lie with his head in my lap while I stroked his hair.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened. “I never knew the extent of his suffering-”

Valaena met her mother’s eyes with a gentle but pointed look. “Because you didn’t want to.”

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, a faint regret shadowing her gaze. “And then?”

“One night, he came to me crying,” Valaena said, her voice a whisper. “Aegon had taken him to a brothel and paid the madame to lay with him.”

Rhaenyra gasped, covering her mouth. “He was only a boy-”

“Yes,” Valaena replied, her tone tinged with sadness. “He was so disgusted with himself, and he told me that he didn’t want to see me anymore. He was afraid that he’d taint me, that he was no longer worthy. But I refused to let him go”.

Rhaenyra reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

“All I wanted was for him to trust me and he did”

“You must have meant a great deal to him,” said Rhaenyra.

“I’d like to think so”

“When did things change between the two of you?” asked Rhaenyra.

“It started off with little things at first, like holding hands as we sat together or he would put his arm around me when I read to him, we would even spar with one another from time to time-wooden swords of course but the fact that he didn’t just see me as a girl, but a worthy opponent meant the world-”

“-Carry on” urged Rhaenyra, her chin resting upon her hand as she listened.

 “One day we were sparring and he tripped me, but I was determined that I wasn’t going to go down alone, so I grabbed him and pulled him down with me, we landed in a heap in the sand, we started laughing and then he kissed me” said Valaena fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

“And the first time between the two of you?”

“We first laid together just after I turned five and ten-”

Rhaenyra’s brows lifted slightly, concern mingling with curiosity. “And you were alright?”

“Yes. He was gentle, patient and nervous, but it was something that we both wanted”

“That’s good” whispered Rhaenyra.

“Yes, Mother-he took care of me” Valaena’s expression softened with the memory. “After that we learned about each other together, but we soon realized that we needed somewhere private to be-just us, and that’s how we found our place”

“Our place?” Rhaenyra repeated with a curious soft smile.

Valaena chuckled. “There was an old cabin near Wendwater. It wasn’t in the best shape, but we spent time fixing it up, making it something liveable” She paused. “-But It became our sanctuary—a place where we could just be ourselves, without the fear of discovery.”

Rhaenyra looked at her daughter, her smile tinged with admiration and sadness. “And when did you first know that you loved him?”

Valaena’s face softened. “I think I’ve always loved him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, a half-smile on her lips. “And what does he feel for you?”

Valaena smiled mischievously. “You’d have to ask him.”

“Oh, believe me,” Rhaenyra said with a wry grin. “I will.”

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over King’s Landing as Valaena stood on the balcony of her chambers, watching the evening bustle below.

She felt a familiar presence before she heard him, the soft creak of the door, the purposeful sound of boots across the stone floor, and then a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist.

Aemond’s lips found her neck, leaving a trail of warm, tender kisses.

“Did you enjoy spending time with your brothers and sister?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips as she leaned back against him.

Aemond nuzzled into her neck, sighing with satisfaction. “Yes. It felt good, all of us flying together. It made me realize how much I missed them.”

She laughed softly. “Even Aegon?”

Aemond gave a small, reluctant chuckle. “Yes, even him. But don’t you dare tell him.”

“I won’t,” she promised, grinning.

He tilted his head, looking at her curiously. “And what did you do today, my love?”

“I spent time with the children in the garden, had a bit of a disagreement with Daemon, and then a long talk with my mother.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “You argued with Daemon?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said, brushing it off lightly.

Aemond slid his hands over her rounded belly, resting them there as he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. “Gods, you smell divine.”

“I recently bathed,” she replied, smiling.

Gently, he turned her around to face him, cupping her face as he leaned in to kiss her, slow and tender.

Resting his forehead against hers, his gaze was intense and filled with a reverence that made her heart race.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” Aemond murmured, his voice rough. “Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha jorrāelagon.” (My wife, my love).

Valaena smiled, her fingers grazing his cheek. “Ñuha valzȳrys, ñuha zaldrīzes.” (My husband, my dragon).

With a quiet growl, he pulled her closer, his lips capturing hers with a passionate intensity. His hands travelled up her sides as he began to trail kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“I want you” he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear.

Valaena’s hands slid into his long silver hair, tangling in the strands as she pulled him close. “Pār emagon nyke” (Than have me).

Aemond guided Valaena backward toward their bed, his hands deftly slipping her nightdress from her shoulders, letting the fabric glide over her skin and pool softly around her feet.

Her gaze remained fixed on him as she sat down on the bed, watching as he unfastened his riding leathers, the dark material sliding off to reveal his lean, yet muscled frame.

Finally, he reached up, fingers lingering for a moment, and slipped off his eyepatch, leaving himself entirely bare before her.

Valaena reached forward, her hands settling on his hips, pulling him close. Her lips brushed softly against his stomach, trailing tender kisses along his skin.

She nuzzled into the faint line of hair that traced down from his navel, feeling him shiver at her touch.

Aemond’s hands gently cradled Valaena’s face, his gaze warm and intent as he guided her down onto the bed.

He settled her against the soft linens, his touch reverent as he brushed his fingers along her jawline, tracing a path down her shoulder and along her arm.

His eye never left hers, conveying a quiet depth of feeling that words couldn’t capture.

He leaned over her, supporting his weight on one arm, and lowered his face to cover her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond then moved down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between her wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Valaena as she flung her arms over her face, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

Aemond eagerly ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hmmm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suckle at her breasts, gorging himself on her milk, his hard cock pressed against her thigh.

His tongue swirling around her stiffened peaks, his teeth scraping against her skin, the sounds of him swallowing.

“Ohhh-A-Aemond” gasped Valaena.

“What is it my love?”.

“Don’t stop-please, oh gods-don’t stop” exclaimed Valaena as she arched her back, her cunny clenching around nothing as she unexpectedly climaxed.

“Did you just-peak?” asked Aemond smirking as he released her nipple with a soft pop.

“Yes” replied Valaena, her cheeks tinged pink.

“Well, that’s never happened before-” muttered Aemond he moved forward and kissed her passionately, his tongue invading her mouth.

“I-I don’t know what come over me-” replied Valaena softly.

“Don’t be embarrassed-I liked it” said Aemond as he began to move down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her swollen stomach and placed a series of gentle kisses upon the stretched skin, marvelling at the wonder that was his wife who had already birthed three of his children and was now expecting their fourth.

“That feels nice” whispered Valaena as she closed her eyes.

“Does this feel nice?" asked Aemond, spitting on her cunny before he ran the flat of his tongue up her soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, peak for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Valaena arched  her back and screamed as her climax washed over her.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at her centre as she squirted all over his face.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you-” begged Valaena.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth.

Aemond moved up Valaena’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Valaena, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

Aemond then manoeuvred her body on top of his.

“I want you to ride me-” exclaimed Aemond as he lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.

Valaena moaned as Aemond dug his fingers into her hips and helped her move on his cock.

"Please don't stop," cried out Valaena.

"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the bed to allow him to increase the pace of his thrusts.

Valaena braced her hands on his chest as she rolled her hips against his, oblivious to the sound of the door slowly opening.

A satisfied smile spread across Aemond’s face as he looked towards the door.

He quickly sat up, wrapping his mouth around one of Valaena’s rosy nipples. His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak, before he moved to the lavishing it with the same attention.

“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Valaena as she moved on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.

“That’s it-take all of me” growled Aemond laying back down as he moved Valaena’s hips in time with his own thrusts.

“Oh gods-” wailed Valaena.

“-FUCK Valaena” groaned Aemond, his gaze flickering to the door.

“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Valaena.

“Come for me-” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena as she exploded, her nails digging into his chest.

With a final hard thrust, Aemond’s eye rolled into the back of his head as he exploded spilling rope after rope of his seed.

But then-

“S-Sister?”

Valaena’s head whipped to the side, her heart plummeting as she caught sight of Jacaerys and Luke frozen in the doorway, mouths agape and their faces reddening.

Horror gripped her, and a loud, panicked shriek escaped her as she fumbled to cover herself, her hands flying to shield her exposed skin.

She stayed seated upon Aemond, who, unfazed, simply leaned back against the headboard, his expression calm, one arm folded behind his head.

“Nephews,” Aemond drawled, a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth.

TBC

[nhasablogg]

The end (again)

First of all I want to thank you all for following and engaging with me ever since I returned to this space. It's been, mostly, great. I've written some things I'm really proud of, and for that reason I'm reluctant to delete this blog like I did the last.

I think it's been obvious I've not been enjoying myself in a long time, except for the occasional few days when it's been fun to write and interact with people. Throughout this whole year I've been trying to convince myself that I can use this blog only when I want to and feel inspired to, and while it sometimes works it very often just leaves me frustrated as I try to make this space fun for myself again. I'm gonna try not to be too longwinded about this as I have the habit of being, so long story short, I'm going to leave this blog.

I won't be deleting anything, but I'll also not be using this blog anymore. I was debating just disappearing without saying anything, but I think that's rude when some of you have been so very kind. The one and only exception will be if I feel really inspired and write something I love and would like to share specifically on here (or maybe I'll just post them on AO3 if I feel like it). Since I won't feel pressured to use this blog I'm sure that experience will be authentic and beautiful and rare. I want to focus on writing outside of this space, as I keep putting my energy here and not where I'd like it to be. There are lots of things going on in my life right now and I'd like to try to regain some control by using my free time intentionally in order to become the version of myself I'm striving toward. This blog is, unfortunately, not part of that version.

I still have a few prompts I want to fill, and a few WIPs I want to finish/post anyway, so I'm not disappearing just yet. When I say disappear, I'm not sure if I mean that I won't ever be logged in. I'm not entirely sure yet how I'm going to go about it, if I'm going to answer messages or turn asks off or what. I think, in the long run, asks will be turned off just so that I won't feel the urge to log in for the off chance someone has given me some attention. That's why I deleted the old blog, to keep myself from having one foot in there still.

I want to thank you for the lovely lovely time being back here. It's not been perfect, but that's not what I'm deciding to take with me this time. I want to remember writing Criminal Minds fics and Stranger Things fics and Red White and Royal Blue fics and Heartstopper fics, and how lovely you were about those fics. Revisiting fandoms and finding new ones and completing tickletober and having plans and ambitions for projects (even though I didn't always follow through, it's always nice having ambitions). I don't regret deleting the old blog and I don't regret creating this one. I think I probably needed to return, on my own terms, just like I'm now leaving on my own terms. I don't think I did that last time.

I keep rewriting this and looking at it and wondering if I will regret posting it. If posting it will somehow flip the switch and I will find so much joy here again and look like a fool. And if that happens, so be it. But I need to post this. I can't keep procrastinating. I have, in a way, been working up the nerve to say goodbye for the past year.

If you've ever commissioned a fic, I urge you to save it somewhere because I can't promise I won't randomly delete one day in the future either, if I realize it will be for the better (I guess the same goes for if you enjoy a fic and would like to be able to revisit it - but please don't share it anywhere else).

N over and out (well, once I finish those fics I still want to finish)

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Is there a comprehensive list of actors GRRM cites as faceclaims or is it all in disparate blog posts?

Most of it isn't in blog posts at all, it's things GRRM's said at conventions or interviews. (Note for anyone going "Them, really?", check the dates and what the actor looked like at the time.)

So, a quick list:

Sandor Clegane: Ron Perlman

Cersei Lannister: Nicole Kidman

Jaime Lannister: Cary Elwes

Tyrion Lannister: Peter Dinklage

Tywin Lannister: Kurtwood Smith or Robert Duvall

Renly Baratheon: Adrian Paul (also for young Robert)

Arianne Martell: Apollonia Kotero

Nymeria Sand: Janina Gavankar

Daenerys Targaryen: Tamzin Merchant

And sources:

November 2000, fan con report: "Pearlman, from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, would be great for Sandor. Best guy for Tywin: the father on THAT 70s SHOW and who was the father of the kid, who shot himself, in THE DEAD POETS SOCIETY (I think I spelled it all right)."

December 2003: "...I have a few people in mind. I think Nicole Kidman would be good as Cersei. I always liked Ron Perlman, the actor I worked with on 'The Beauty and the Beast’. He would be great as Sandor Clegane. Ron is very good in heavy make-up and he’s also a big, strong kind of guy. He has a great voice that he can do all sorts of wonderful things with. I think he would be terrific as the Hound. For Jamie Lannister, a couple of years ago I would have said Cary Elwes but he might be too old now. I don’t know…"

c. 2006: "Myself, I'd love to see Tywin played by Kurtwood Smith (as in DEAD POET'S SOCIETY) or Robert Duvall (THE GREAT SANTINI)."

July 2006, fan con report: "On being asked about "the casting game" (picking actors to play the characters), he said the only one who he would definitely choose was Ron Perlman to play Sandor "The Hound" Clegane because of Perlman's aptitude for acting through prosthetics."

February 2007, fan con report: "When asked about ideal casting choices, he formally endorsed the idea of Nicole Kidman playing Cersei. He says she has the perfect look for her. But it would never work, because where are you going to find a guy that looks like her to play Jaime? I really got a kick out of that. He also said Ron Perelman would be perfect as the Hound -- but I am pretty sure I had hears or read that somewhere before."

date/source uncertain, but c. 2007: "Adrian Paul and I actually worked together once, long before the Dreamsongs audiobook. Wonder if he remembers. Back then he had a great look for Renly…but of course, that was twenty years ago."

February 2008: "Much as I *cough* admire Salma Hayek, I picture Arianne as looking more like Appollonia Kotero, as she was around the time of PURPLE RAIN."

November 2008, Elio Garcia: "George has said in the past that Adrian Paul is Baratheonish in looks (years ago he said he could see him for a young Robert or Renly)"

May 2009: "Playing Tyrion Lannister will be Peter Dinklage, who was almost everyone's "dream casting" for the role (he certainly was mine)."

August 2009: "I know my readers play the casting game. Well, confession time, so do I. Ever since I began A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE (way back in 1991, thought it wasn't until 1994 that I got writing in earnest), there was always a little part of me that would watch every television show and movie with one eye looking for actors and actresses who might work as my characters.

And so there I was, watching THE TUDORS (which I have VERY mixed feelings about, I confess), when Tamzin Merchant came on screen as the fifteen year old Katherine Howard, Henry VIII's fifth wife. I sat up at once, thinking, "Hmmm, she could be a good candidate for Dany.""

July 2011, Janina Gavankar: "George just told me I look like Lady Nymeria." (additional link 1) (link 2)

[heartfullofleeches]

ok but mono w stoner darling how would THAT go 😭

Funnily enough, I think these two could be quite happy together. How I imagine it is Mono first learns of Darling through the post they made while high out of their mind rambling about numerous topics from their life to whatever random shit their inebriated mind cooks up like how much it sucks food doesn't taste like it did when you bought it when you reheat it in the microwave. Mono finds their bizarre post cute, and it gives them some insight to the human world which is the excuse Mono uses to stalk their page.

Mono eventually reaches out to darling. They're on the fence about whether to reveal they are an alien royal or just pretending that they're a human liking Darling. Something tells them Darling wouldn't care too much either way, but they still aren't sure. It slips somewhere along the way, but as Mono first assumed Darling doesn't give a damn. Having an alien penpal is probably the coolest thing that ever happened to them. Mono keeps their distance for the most part, but one of Darling's post finally gives them the push to meet their starlight in person.

"The world feels so small sometimes... I look out at the stars some nights and I wonder if the universe is just as tiny. I'll probably never get to find out myself, but it's nice to dream that I could....."

"My ship is outside."

".....fr?"

Darling probably thinks they're joking around at first, but the second they step outside they see a big ass alien robot carrying a bouquet of their favorite flowers. Flowers they had told Mono about. Darling is glad to abandon their old life, but they don't think they have enough weed in their stash to last them for however long they're away. Mono's ten steps ahead of them on that front. Its always had a bit of a green thumb so adding a few herb plants to their horde was no sweat off their shoulders. Sectioned off an entire quarter of their garden/lab just to grown more for Darling. Dabbles around in edibles and oils as well - anything to make sure Darling is happy and feels like they never have to leave their ship beyond the trips they take to new worlds.

Mono would have Darling hooked up, but they'd also have Darling fucked up and high out of their mind playing around with different strains to ensure Darling gets the maximum high.

-

Mono: Starlight? You haven't given me an update on the last batch of edibles I brought to you. It has been roughly twelve hours since you digested them. Would you care for more?

Stoner Reader, cradling the ship ai's monitor they ripped out of a wall - staring at the ceiling as they whisper : I think.... I think I'm good for now

-

Mono is an amalgamation of flesh and metal so they probably could get stoned with Darling. They are a little hesitant about letting Darling update their blog due to still being in hiding from its family, but they cave everytime Darling asks them to join them for a picture flashing that adorable smile of theirs Mono can't help but fall more in love with whenever Darling blesses them with a glimpse of it.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Where have you been?

Uhhh, France?

(That’s a Hamilton reference, btw. I have never been to France.)

So! Another Hobbit Day is upon us. On this day last year, I’d promised you all that we would take another trek through LotR, with all new drawings and poems and fanfics. I fully expected to be finished with Book One by now, at least halfway through FotR. What actually happened is that the blog struggled through the first five and a half chapters of the book before suddenly going radio silent.

So what happened?

Well, as you might expect, real life happened. I won't go into the details here—since it has nothing to do with LotR—but I can explain in DMs if anyone is interested.

Basically, a change in my family led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about my family, which led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about myself, which kicked off an intense period of self-improvement.

Over the course of this past year, I began to unpack my family's abuse; I learned about boundaries; I started to unlearn my old people-pleasing tendencies; I reconnected relationships that were broken, reevaluated ones that were in the wrong place, and cut off ones that weren't good for me. I discovered there was a little kid in my head who's been waiting years and years for an adult to love her, and to take her needs seriously, and I finally have the chance to be that adult. And I'm happy to say that I've come to a place where I feel safer in my own head than I have ever been.

Probably very little of that is going to show through on this blog. It's all inward stuff; foundational stuff. But one thing that might affect you guys is that I left my (dreadfully overstimulating and stressful) part-time job, and I'm now working full time somewhere else. As much as I love what I do for a living now, working 40 hours a week does mean that I am become Boring Adult who does not have as much time for interneting. With my current schedule, there is no way I'd be able to sustain the intense schedule of "must post one drawing a day" that I had in the early days of this blog; and I don't expect myself to.

But! I would like to—slowly—get this train rolling again.

I find it hilariously apropos that the last piece of art I posted on this blog was of Frodo suddenly disappearing. From Merry's perspective, he completely vanished without explanation or warning. From your perspective, so did I.

But I find myself here again, on another September 22nd, and once again I'm beginning to feel that pull; that pull to read, and draw, and create, and share, and laugh with all of you. Life has calmed down enough for me that I once again have the mental space to think about pursuing my hobbies. There are so many things I want to do—so much to do with the time that is given to me. And I want this blog to be on that list.

My current goal is to post some new book art every other day. If that's too much, I'll adjust it. But if I find my groove and really get into it, who knows? We might return to your regularly scheduled Daily Dose of Frodo-With-Glasses. We shall have to see.

Anyway. If you've read this far, thank you! If you've stuck with this blog since the early days, thank you. And if you are one of that lovely core Fellowship that has had my back and prayed for me all along, I cannot thank you enough.

This past year has been an absolute ride. Not as difficult as a trek to Mordor, maybe, but not easy either. But no matter where I walked, I knew I didn't have to take the journey alone.

Anyway! Enough sappiness. Happy Hobbit Day! I'm excited to see what the next year has in store for us. 💚