#i promise new followers my blog is far more usually like this rather than what it has been like today (threat)

[werewolfetone]

Anyway. do any of yous think henry grattan and henry flood ever explor-- [GUNSHOTS]

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP I love Jimin but the autotune is bad. 😔 I don't know how to feel about it. I wish Jimin did a song like Promise or Serendipity it wld be better for more people right? I hate how pdogg ruined Jimin's debut. We should admit it. Nobody is even streaming it on youtube. Armys are pretending it's a good song but kpop fans are right BPP, the song is bad.

*

Ask 2:

Hi BPP,

I hope you are well.

I have read and continue to read your blog. You seem to think so highly of the rap line which is wonderful. My post isn't about them but I do like them more than the vocal line. Please note I am not trying to be negative with my question below. I am more curious because this has been observation lately..

I am not trying to be negative but I was wondering if you could help me understand this. Being in K-pop for a while, I knew I would come across BTS at one stage in my life. I have always known they are popular. I would have to be living under the rock to think otherwise. But one thing I have always heard is a discourse around Jimins popularity. Even before I got into BTS, I would hear Jimins name thrown here and there. I knew BTS had a guy named Jimin but recently I have been thinking that perhaps he isn't as popular as I had assumed. I would have thought his music video would garner million and millions of views easily but it's not even at 15 mil. How could that be? Similarly, people aren't purchasing his songs on iTunes. I see people begging them to buy the songs on twitter. My understanding was that he is the most popular member of BTS but looking at his views compared to the rest of the members, I am thinking he is on the lower side of popularity. I am surprised to be honest. I know popularity doesn't mean everything but wouldn't he need that to be a successful artist outside of BTS?

I am also not sure if the new song is good. The autotune feels too jarring. The video is nice but the song in itself doesn't do it for me. I would have really liked to minimise autotune. It would have also been nicer if his song was more on the lines of lie. I feel there is too much focus on visual representation rather than the quality of the song. People will listen to the song more than watch the video so it's disappointing. It's also not doing that well. I mean Taylor's re-released songs are beating him already. I am worried his album won't be successful. I was hoping they would use this solo era to gather more fans but I don't see how Jimin could possibly garner more fans with a song thats so jarring to listen to.

***

Sigh, y'all should never say I didn't allow room for other perspectives in this space because I'm humoring this talking point far longer than I honestly care for. Not trying to be rude, just honest.

Hi Anon(s),

So... um, let's see. Please remember y'all are talking to someone who thinks UGH is the best song in BTS's discography. My playlist order for Set Me Free Pt 2 is:

Arson -> SMF Pt 2 -> UGH -> What Do You Think? -> SMF Pt 2

I mix it up with As I Am by JB and Khalid, Indigo, NewJeans, On The Street, and Smoke Sprite. For playlist switches I rotate between rock albums, hiphop, and lofi.

So, that's my taste. Usually.

What do you notice in all the songs in the first sequence? Think about it for a sec. With the exception of What Do You Think? to some degree, they all use autotune. A disgusting amount of it, and I love those songs so hard I would fuck them if I could.

I'm not sure if people understand what I mean when I say I'm a fan of BTS's music, that I'm an ARMY. I mean I actually love their sound and have reached this conclusion recently after following them since 2014. So PDogg's stylistic choices are ones I like most times.

Yoongi and Jimin are very similar. In my opinion. And there is no member who embraces autotune and pitch distortion more than Yoongi. He is also the only member who blatantly and unapologetically displays his alter-ego in his music - in Agust D - and that's not a coincidence. Jimin does the same thing or at least tries to create the same effect in SMF Pt 2 by using autotune. Pitch distortion is the easiest way to other yourself in a song, to create a secondary personality. Tyler Joseph does this a lot with a shadow personality within himself that he calls Blurryface in his music. Jimin in SMF Pt 2 is done playing games. That man has rage buried inside of him and somehow, he has transcended it. Yet he expresses that rage in his first song as a solo artist, through a secondary voice. The one that voices the animal in him. That Jimin is telling y'all to come correct or fuck off. And he calls out his opps. Yeah, his opps. It's Aave and yes it's sometimes unfortunate when k-pop idols use it, but sometimes it's not. Think of 'finna'. And none of the people up in arms about Jimin using that word give a rats ass that XG, a rookie group, have used it more often than Jimin to no issue, but yeah it's impossible for the idol so targeted by death threats the Texas police got involved, to say he's got opps. But I don't really care either way.

I digress. My point is the audacious and offensive use of autotune is the point in the song. It's aggressive. It's supposed to annoy you and if you happen to be a weirdo like me, it's supposed to tickle your brain. Like, this song seriously has me fucked up. I like it a lot and it's just a testament to years of discipline that I'm not looping it on Spotify.

Anon in ask 1, it's possible Jimin would reach a wider audience with a ballad, pop track like Promise/Serendipity, or a more conventional hiphop song. I'm sure he thinks so too, maybe. And yet that's not how he wanted to express himself. He chose the harsh autotune and I happen to think he sounds incredible with it.

Now Anon in ask 2, Jimin is one of the most popular members in BTS, and BTS is of course still popular. We both know that. But it's also true BTS has become less popular within k-pop spaces in general, but that's predictable given how the industry runs, and it's possible that was all you were experiencing Anon - an environment where BTS and by extension Jimin, just isn't that popular.

If that were even possible. Because like, this is Park Jimin we're talking about here.

For the people apparently begging others to buy the album, I guess they are simply people who strongly want Jimin to do well on the charts and are trying everything in their power to make it happen. I'm yet to see any of that personally though on my side of ARMY twt, what I'm seeing is organized and spontaneous purchases done out of love for the artist and his art.

*

You both mention YouTube views/streams so let me just say something on it. Personally, I don't care. I mean I care enough that we at least try to meet the goals and I genuinely love the video so I've watched it multiple times today, but not really beyond that. All this to express the extent of my interest in this matter. But even I know YouTube changed their view-counting algorithm in 2021 to increase a migration of users to their paid platform, YouTube Premium. Views today are harder to count and so one way k-pop agencies have worked around to gaining views, is to buy ads on YouTube. Perhaps it would be great if BigHit was as involved as other agencies in helping that way, but they haven't been so far except for the Pandemic English Trilogy (PET), and ARMY has more reason to stay engaged. All this to say, the views we currently have are one of the best records the fandom has ever achieved for BTS, no matter how it stacks up to the others because there are too many people who love SMF Pt 2, are talking about it, re-watching it, too many of them to not be significant enough. For YouTube we're doing fine and enjoying it at our pace.

Also I don't know what y'all want me to say about how a white American woman performs on US charts, relative to BTS members. I'm curious, did you check for their relative performance on Korean charts? Since you're so interested in the question.

You don't need to be worried about Jimin's album not being successful. It already is.

[iniziare]

Little Kafka™ Things (or a fair attempt at 'little'). I used to write lists with little random tidbits about my characters, which I came to realize tonight that I sorely missed making. So let's throw a little thing together for Kafka, as I've been hooked up to a salt IV about her, and I need some sanity. Some of these may be old news to oldie mutuals, but it's a new blog, so here we are. Time to start over, and start with basics. I'll elaborate on some in later posts.

The best way to describe Kafka, in my opinion, is a woman from a bygone era. While a beautiful mix of the olden days and the new, she very much oozes the former more than the latter. She is refined, sophisticated, cultured, and archaic in her tastes. Her fashion preferences (what she wears or what we know she has in her possession) include overcoats and velvet coats, both quite vintage, or rather "old-school". A shirt/blouse with ruffled cuffs? Quite an ode to an age long past (Victorian), even choosing to wear gloves outside of formal occasions/positions is quite the unusual choice. Outside of that, the katana is the samurai's blade, an ancient choice, it's not really utilized anymore, at least not in the same capacities, or with the same weight. The classical music? It's no longer really listened to. I once saw her referenced as foreign. Perfect.

Age-wise, she sits comfortably in the earlier half of the 30s, not a year younger.

Yes, it is noted (though mind you, by Silver Wolf) that she likes the occasional 'fabulous' thing, which hints at her having a bit of a refined palate, but that does not make her materialistic. It simply needs to fit in with #1. I mean look, a pearl earring, an ensemble of silver jewelry without a speck of gold (except on her default overcoat).

On that note, she's also very specific in perfumes, her signature would be Yves Saint Laurent's "Black Opium". Something that just like her, 'promises without unraveling, and tells without really telling, making it the perfect expression of femininity and grace.'

She is cleanly, and does not enjoy a mess, in her surroundings or on her person, but especially the latter. I will never budge on this, as her trailer empowers the thought and nothing has countered it since. Do we remember how she was fixing up her cuffs in the prologue after having engaged in combat? Yes, I know it's a little things, welcome, they arguably mean the most. A stain anywhere, blood? Absolutely not. As for her surroundings, please imagine her lifting an empty pizza box or whatever has been munched on from the sofa with a groan of "How many times will you leave these laying around, Silver Wolf?" Is it that much to ask that you clean up after yourself? And to return to the last point for one more moment, I swear, if anyone gets even a drop of blood on her coat or shirt, or sheets, she's not thrilled. Dry cleaning bill goes to you.

She gets bored incredibly easily. And while she has quite the manners to fit her overall 'essence', you might come across her attention having deviated a bit, granted, usually this will only be after you've been made aware of it. But this is to say, she will not get along with just about everyone. She's also not 'one of the young ones', she does not have the same interests, and though she'll find herself oddly enjoying a game of Origami Bird Clash, it's really because of Silver Wolf. All in all, if you can intrigue her, poke her curiosity, or you have a mind that interests her, then you're good. But you, and not what you can do, need to be interesting. Remember, the following quote is incredibly important for her character across the board: "She must have sought something extraordinary. everything she does comes at a great cost."

The order in which I believe she gets along with the Stellaron Hunters most, based on what canon has given and shown us so far, is as follows: Blade and Elio (in both vastly different ways), Silver Wolf, and then Firefly.

Kafka has an incredibly interesting view of destiny, and while this is something that warrants an entirely separate meta, I want to iterate the following so that no assumptions are made. As much as she speaks of 'The future is like a labyrinth: every divergence is merely an inducement. There is only one real path." And similar quotes, it is also incredibly important that (alongside another very interesting way of answering an earlier 'Is the future predetermined?', with specifically: "No, but what is predetermined is the future that has value.') this was a fundamental moment in her SQ that needed a great cost to obtain:

Trailblazer: Is destiny predetermined? Kafka: ... (If Kafka says the truth) Kafka: No (If Kafka says the lie) Kafka: Yes

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

Prescription: Murder

Yeah so here's something different. Very directly as a consequence of me mostly watching anime I don't enjoy recently, but then neither wanting to rewatch anything and being apprehensive about starting something new for a variety of reasons, I felt I needed a change of pace. Just launch myself into something completely different, that I could hopefully be invested in. And Columbo is what I ended up with. It's been implanted into my mind with its somewhat recent resurgance on tumblr, randomly getting recommended the blog Columbophile, seeing the very nice looking DVD boxset for sale in hmv, and the final nail in the coffin being some even more recent twitter memes regarding the series. "Let's watch Columbo" I decided. And here we are.

So, this is my first introduction to Columbo, with its pilot episode. And I liked it! Quite a bit! This is a very different type of media in general for me, so I don't know how much I'll have to say about any given episodes just because they're completely not what I'm used to, but certainly I like where we're at right now.

There's a lot of time well spent on merely setting up the murder - I believe this is what's famous about the series anyway but it's entirely not a whodunnit - we see exactly how the murder happens, exactly who does it, pretty much every part of why they did it, and even a lot of time spent on clean-up. Honestly at the beginning of the episode, Flemming is so meticulous that you begin to wonder how he's even gonna be caught. And throughout the episode they answer that very well, and very very gradually.

It turns into this clash of personalities really, two bright minds up against one another, one intentionally demeaning himself and the other so prideful that he basically admits to everything. But the pair have a read on one another as well - Columbo knows Flemming did it and Flemming basically explains Columbo's entire shtick to us anyway. Undermine himself, present as small, unkempt, distracting, downright annoying most of the time. Flemming gets the read on him but even then Columbo is so persistent and annoying that the man cracks.

Although per the episode's own calling attention to it, Joan was the real weak link in the entire ordeal - frankly she was just less invested than Flemming was, tripped him up because of it. I do think the final scene that plays out to get the confession was maybe a little contrived - wasn't really a conclusion to the bouncing pride and intelligence of Columbo and Flemming, rather just a scenario that came up to end the story, but like, eh. I appreciate that Joan... doesn't quite get off scot-free or anything but she could've had it worse, I think Flemming would rather she had it worse. This ending ends up working the best narratively for pretty much everyone involved. Like if she died it'd be unfair that she had the worst fate even though she was hesitant, you know? This was good.

That's pretty much the main things I've got to say about the episode. Fascinating as a more general statement to go back to a live action show from this long ago - honestly there are devices I don't even recognise, an aesthetic so far removed from my life but recent enough to feel real, or something. It's neat. I don't usually watch anything this old or anything live action to begin with, so like, yeah.

As two other quick little notes - I don't actually know if every episode has a neat title card like this one does, but I would like the format for these posts to be the episode title as the tumblr post title, followed by the episode title card. I hope the show lets me keep to that. Also, I've not got a schedule for this or anything. I've got 68 episodes still to watch which would be a lot even if they were 24 minutes long a la the anime I spend all my time watching. Instead, they're all 70-90 minutes long. I cannot even pretend to promise a consistent "yeah I'll watch it this week" or something. Next post on Columbo will be when I watch the next episode. I will watch the next episode whenever I watch it. You know how it is. But yeah, swag.

[thefanficmonster]

Interesting Encounters

Corpse Husband *& Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Paranoia and Fear of Invasion of Privacy

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse has an interesting run-in with his regular delivery girl, having the chance to talk to her for the first time despite her having been delivering to his door for months. It’s a big step in overcoming his anxiety and paranoia when talking to strangers.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! Hope you come across the final product of your request and give it a read and if so I hope you like it! Sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it though! Love, Vy ❤

It’s a regular Monday morning, close to 10AM and Corpse’s face is practically glued to the sound editing app he’s downloaded, playing around with some cool effects to add to his voice in the background of the new song he’s been working on. He hasn’t been able to sleep a wink thanks to the immense excitement, not that he would’ve been able to regardless, but the tune and the lines have been stuck in his head all throughout the weekend and he knows they’ll be bothering him until he turns them into something other people will be able to listen and give an opinion on as well. So far he’s done plenty of work but there’s plenty more to go until it’s done. He’s at that point he usually needs feedback and wants to ask for it but would rather not to avoid either too harsh judgement or fake praise.

He slides the headset off, deciding to take a break for the sake of his sanity before he drives himself to insanity with the intensity of his focus on this new piece. His brain just so conveniently sends him a reminder that his groceries are probably waiting for him outside the door. He has, as of the last half a year or so, had someone deliver his groceries to him to avoid trips to the grocery store with both the whole pandemic situation and the growth of following which translates to growth of the risk of him getting recognized. That’s the main reason - and maybe the only one - as to why he doesn’t interact with the people who deliver to him either. He always gives his delivery person the instruction to leave whatever he’s ordered at the doorstep and if it’s not takeout to not even ring the doorbell. 

That being said, the deliverer of his groceries doesn’t ring the doorbell to give him the kind reminder to be responsible, but luckily he hasn’t forgotten to collect them yet in the six months he’s been practicing this delivery technique.

Going to the front door and looking out of the peephole, he confirms there are several full plastic bags waiting to be picked up on the mat. With the person who brought them not in sight, Corpse unlocks the door and steps out to bring in the groceries for the week. Taking them to the kitchen, he unpacks the goods in the three bags. At first glance he would’ve been fooled, seeing as how it seems that all he has ordered is there. But, each Monday, he receives exactly four bags of groceries. One is missing. He rolls his eyes thinking he didn’t see it outside and left it there while he was hurriedly collecting the rest so he gets up to go grab it real quick.

While in the meantime...

Y/N looks through the remainder of bags in her minivan, making a route in her head for what roads and shortcuts she can take to deliver the last of the groceries to the respective homes they need to be taken to. Upon looking through them, however, she sees a bag labeled ‘MM’ that she uses short for ‘Mystery Man’, aka the guy who never opens the door to greet her whenever she delivers him anything. She works for several delivery services such as takeout, groceries, clothes even and has delivered to that apartment hundreds of times but has never met the resident, giving her the right to call him Mystery Man, aka ‘MM’.

“Ah, shit.“ She mumbles under her breath, realizing she failed to grab the fourth bag when on her way up to MM’s apartment.

Coming to terms with the fact that she’ll have to lose another five minutes going back up to his floor, she grabs the bag and takes off running back inside the building and up the stairs, deciding it would be quicker than taking the elevator.

Just as she arrives to the floor, heading straight for the door, it opens, freezing her in her tracks as her eyebrows shoot up.  At the doorstep stands a guy with an eye patch who looks more surprised and maybe even a little terrified than her. Taking in that Mystery Man is not such a mystery anymore, she returns to her professionalism, remaining at a distance and outstretching the hand holding the bag towards him.

“Sorry, forgot to drop this one off as well, I’m a bit all over the place today.“ She says in her most professional voice.

Corpse too regains his composure and takes the handed bag from Y/N gloved hand. Before he can think twice about it he says, “Thanks, uh...”

“Y/N.“ She says, “I’ve delivered to you countless times, it’s funny you don’t know my name but it’s to be expected since I’ve never seen you. This would be a good time to tell me your name so I don’t have to call you Mystery Man anymore.“ She laughs, cutting her own laughter off barely a second later when she realizes what she’s said, “Oh, fucking shit...”

Corpse chuckles, clear amusement in the sound, “Mystery Man? Interesting, interesting. If I ever become a superhero I’ll make sure to pick that name.” He fails to even pay mind to the fact that he’s spoken a lot more than he’d usually feel comfortable with.

Y/N laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise to come up with a better one if you’re not willing to tell me your real one. Like....Pirate, for example?” she suggests, raising her shoulders.

He can’t help but let out a laugh, “You’d be surprised, but my name is not so far from your mark. It’s, um....” He’s not looking forward to the judgmental look or the questions he might receive in response to his statement but he succumbs to the expected disappointment, “My name’s Corpse.”

Surprisingly, she just smiles - a smile he cannot see due to the surgical mask she’s wearing but the crinkle at the corners of her eyes gives it away. “Cool! Well, I better get going then.”

Just as she turns to head for the elevator this time, seeing as she’s still out of breath from the run up the stairs, Corpse gets an idea he’d probably not be too fond of if he gave himself time to think it over. Which is exactly why he didn’t.

“Hey!“ He calls after her, gaining her attention immediately, causing her to turn around, “You got a minute? I need a little help with something...“

Y/N’s eyebrows raise a little, a moment before she shrugs her shoulders, “Meh, I’m already behind schedule, what’s an extra minute gonna do?” And just like that, they strut their way back towards his apartment.

He can’t help but chuckle, taking the opportunity to crack a joke, “This is how people often get killed. You don’t just walk into a stranger’s apartment like that.”

She scoffs as she passes the threshold, “Believe it or not, you can learn a lot about a person based on the groceries they buy. And trust me buddy, you’re not a murderer.” Earning herself a laugh and a nod with that remark, she continues, “You do appear to be an artist with all the cheap food you’re buying though.”

Corpse laughs yet again, a hint of nervousness is sensed in his laugh this time around though, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re still gonna call me an artist when you hear this song I’ve been working on. Not even out of the box yet.”

Y/N stops in her tracks, “Well, well, well, aren’t I honored to be one of the lucky people hearing this before its release.”

“The first hearing it before its release.“ He corrects her with a pointed look, not missing the excitement that arose in her eyes.

“Let’s hear it then!“

Of all the friendship stories that exist, no one can say this ain’t a unique one.

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[jaskiersvalley]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing and your stories, I'm so glad I found your blog, now I always have something new to read!! ❤️❤️❤️

I remember watching you blitz through the blog, leaving likes on a lot of the stories. It really made my day! Now, who knows how many months late, I bring you some silly Witchers and their mutagens.

Kaer Morhen’s Open Door Policy

When Jaskier was invited to Kaer Morhen, he’d thought the open door policy that Geralt mentioned meant that anyone was welcome to stay for the winter. It warmed his heart that the Wolves were so welcoming and generous with their winter lodgings. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was that said open door policy was a literal thing. He arrived in Kaer Morhen with Geralt, they were stomping snow off their boots when someone rounded the corner at some speed. Slowing down, the man made a beeline for them.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted before he was veritably bowled over in a hug. If Jaskier squinted, he could have sworn Geralt was given a long sniff and maybe even a lick, perhaps over the lips. But surely he must have seen wrong because Jaskier himself wasn’t given such a greeting.

Two more figures appeared and introductions were made to Eskel and Vesemir. It was quite nice really, even if a lonely winter with just the five of them. However, if gave Jaskier a chance to get used to the ways of the keep. Mostly, it was learning to leave doors open a crack and how to keep the hinges well oiled at all times. If he didn’t, it was guaranteed someone would turn up.

At first Jaskier had thought it was because he wasn’t trusted, not an accepted member of the pack. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window, especially when he was dragged into the cuddle piles in front of fires. Those were rather nice, if a little too warm and sweaty for his liking. Yet, every single time he forgot about keeping a door open, whenever it snicked shut behind him or clicked open as he stepped through, within ten seconds one of the other residents appeared. Usually it was Lambert, rounding the corner at quite a pace even as he tried to make it look like he hadn’t dropped everything and run. It was rather offensive in a way, at least that was what Jaskier thought until he was sat quietly in the library, Lambert browsing for something when his head snapped up all of a sudden and he was off at full pelt. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier saw him running. On more than one occasion Lambert almost bowled him over in corridors as he rushed towards whatever he had heard.

“Doors,” Geralt had explained quietly one night. “If we hear a door open or close, there’s this overwhelming urge to go see who it is, what had happened.”

Now that Jaskier knew, he paid more attention. Any door had Lambert running. Much more sedately, Eskel would usually follow, lumbering towards the source of the noise and trying desperately to look like he wasn’t doing exactly like Lambert. However, he had a weakness, as Jaskier discovered. The cupboard doors in the kitchen. If Jaskier, or anyone else for that matter, happened to go and look in one, Eskel was bound to bumble into the kitchen within a short space of time, looking bashfully hopeful. It was cute, Jaskier even started indulging and giving Eskel snacks because the way he softened and smiled at the offering was far too endearing.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Vesemir grumbled as he watched Jaskier hand Eskel half a slice of honey coated bread. Rather than argue, Jaskier gave Vesemir the other half, not commenting on how the old Wolf appeared for seemingly no reason in the kitchen. The treat certainly silenced him.

For a first winter, it was a good one. Jaskier was satisfied when he left that he was getting the hang of the odd open doors policy. It was the next winter that proved to test his patience. As well as the Wolves, there was a Cat there too. Haughty and aloof, Aiden spent most of his time perched up high somewhere. He slowly warmed up to Jaskier though, cautious at first. However, Aiden seemed to be rather fond of the open door policy, only ever opening or closing a door when he wanted attention. And that was rather frequently. More than once a day Lambert would go running because Aiden slammed a door somewhere, wanting to play.

It was all very well until Jaskier had to use the privy. That was one door that the Wolves learned not to run to. Even though Lambert still twitched, head swivelling it its direction before grumbling and returning to what he was doing. Jaskier was trying to just have a peaceful moment to relieve himself, a considerate two stalls down from an occupied booth when he heard someone else come in.

“Lamb?” Aiden’s voice drifted through the air, a little plaintive and lost.

“What?” Not all that unusual for Lambert to sound irritated.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up at the question. What could Lambert be doing in the privy other than the obvious one of four things?

“I’m taking a shit.” Well, that answered which of the four it was but Jaskier could heard the sounds of a body leaning heavily against the door.

“Oh.” Aiden sounded almost disappointed. “I thought I heard some rustling like a snack being opened.”

“I promise I’m not fucking eating while taking a shit. Who eats in here anyway?” Grumbling, Lambert scoffed. “Don’t tell me, I bet it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Geralt most certainly does not eat in the privy.”

The sound of a body moving and Jaskier knew Aiden was stood outside the door to his cubicle. “Jaskier. You’re in there.”

“No I’m not.”

For a moment there was confused silence before Lambert growled. “I swear Aiden, if you don’t leave us alone-” his threat was lost as Aiden moved back to Lambert’s door and there was an odd scratching sound. “No. Aiden. Don’t you dare. You can’t sit on my lap here! Not again. We almost broke it last time. Get out. Get out!”

The sound of a door being kicked shut and a huff from Aiden gave Jaskier a good idea of what had jut happened and he was scared to go out. However, not a minute later another voice joined the fray.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier buried his face in his hands in despair. So much for a peaceful piss.

The whole door thing was becoming quite ridiculous. Especially with Aiden slamming them to get Lambert’s attention. And then being offended whenever he encountered a closed door. Those were all gently knocked on and a head poked through if there was no answer. It meant nothing was private and Vesemir had to use a broom to get Aiden off the top of his wardrobe one evening when the Cat had gone missing all afternoon. He seemed to have no respect or care for anything, not when it came to prime napping spots.

It got to the stage that the common areas had their doors removed and Vesemir started hanging heavy furs in their place. Which did actually make the rooms warmer and there was no more needless running around. Though Eskel still bumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of a shared snack. Jaskier had rapidly cottoned on to the fact Vesemir fought such an urge in a novel and simple way. He was almost always either in the kitchen or within sight of it. So he could see if there was an opportunity for a snack without having to move. The old Wolf was clever, Jaskier had to give him that.

Some days, Jaskier did crave a bit of silence and solitude. Those were rare and far between days but they did happen. When they came, he took to wandering through the crumbling corridors of Kaer Morhen, trying to imagine what it had been like in its glory days. Quite amazing, he should think. So lost was he in his musings, Jaskier didn’t notice until too late that the floor wasn’t solid below his feet. It gave way and he fell with a yelp, landing awkwardly on his ankle. The pain was quite blinding, rendering him into a whimpering mess, throat tight and unable to call for help. Even when he managed to gather himself up, it didn’t seem to help. His voice just didn’t carry and the Wolves probably couldn’t hear him. It was cold, dark and Jaskier was in pain which made it difficult to think. There was a door not far from him and, in a moment of sheer desperation, he pulled himself towards it on shaking arms. Near enough, he reached for it and, with all his might, slammed it shut. It bounced open from the force and echoed through the room. Mustering up a little more energy, Jaskier shoved it again and the crack of door hitting frame made him wince. That would have to do. Jaskier managed to lie down, pillowing his head on his arms, shivering.

His hopes were answered when he heard the steady stomp of running feet skidding to a halt.

“The fuck?” There was the sound of a deep inhale as the area was scented. “Where you got to bard?”

“Down here,” Jaskier called back and squinted towards the hole he had fallen through. “My ankle.”

“Why would you do that? Wait. Never mind.” Lambert turned away and, a hand cupped against his cheek and lips he let out what could only be called a howl before his attention was back on Jaskier. “What did we tell you about wandering off?”

More feet, more people and Jaskier teared up in relief. He watched as Aiden hopped down the hole and took stock of the damage. A soft cry of pain left Jaskier as he was picked up and his ankle was jostled. In a few, seemingly easy, jumps, Aiden was passing Jaskier over to Geralt who cradled him against his chest. There was a still body-warm jacket draped over Jaskier and he burrowed into it, finding Eskel’s scent mixing with Geralt a comfort.

In the infirmary he was patched up, fussed over and, in the end, bundled into a pile in front of a fire where the others snuggled protectively up against him. By the next morning all the doors were back in place and Vesemir ground his teeth when Aiden slammed the kitchen one for Lambert’s attention.

[caroldantops]

hey! im quite new here and i have seen a lot of talk about readers interactions and i was wondering what is the best way to support my favorite writers (like you) because i think i have been doing this wrong and i really want to support writers who do this<3 ps. sorry if that was confusing, english isnt my first language

not confusing at all babes! you're 100% clear.

also can i just say, i very much appreciate you asking this. i would much rather more people speak up and be like "hey, we dont know the best way to support our favorite writers so how can we?" other than just. Not Knowing and Not Doing Anything.

so, im going to speak from my own personal experience but also what ive seen many of my mutuals/writers i follow talk about. this might get a little long but i wanna answer as thoroughly as i can because people should know!

im putting it under a read more because it got hella long, but please i encourage everyone who reads fics but don't interact to read and consider these things.

fellow writers i encourage you to reblog and add any other commentary you think is helpful!

before anything else (this is absolutely not directed at you, anon, you're perfect), i just want to get this out of the way. never come to a writer's blog and get angry with them for complaining about lack of engagement. like jesus christ. writers are putting hours of work on tumblr for you for free. the least we ask is for comments and reblogs. that's it. if you go and act shitty towards writers who ask for more engagement, yet still follow and wait for the next fic, like what are you even doing bro. just stop.

anyway. now let's get to the actual question!

basically all writers on tumblr will agree, reblogs are vital. and i feel like that gets said a lot but maybe people dont actually understand how impactful it is so lemme give an example.

so let's say hypothetically i have 100 followers. that is 100 potential people who see a fic that i post (i say potential because timezones exist so you might not see it as it's posted)

and let's say one of my followers (Person A) reblogs it, and they have 50 followers. that's 50 more people that can read the fic.

and let's say Person B followers Person A and they also reblog it to their 50 followers.

with only two people reblogging a fic, that's already doubling the number of people who have read the fic.

now imagine Person C followers Person A and reblogs the fic, and Person C has like, 1,000 followers. that's so much more exposure for the writer.

and that's only from two followers of the writer. so imagine if all 100 that read the fic reblogged it? the numbers skyrocket at an exponential rate.

plus, more people reading means that the writer could get more people follow them. so they get a more consistent audience.

likes, on the other hand, do not guarantee this exposure. i would say that most people don't have their likes public on tumblr. and also, even if they do, i know that I'm not about to scroll through people's likes rather than scrolling thru their blogs. likes up the notes, and that's about it. of course i understand liking a fic so you can come back to it later, i do that all the time. but if I've liked a fic, i always reblog it once I've read it.

now, say you're reading hardcore smut that you might not want on your main blog for whatever reason, so that's why you don't reblog a fic. look, i get it. sometimes irl people follow your blog, or sometimes you just don't want people to know what you're getting up to. but that's why i made a sideblog specifically for fics.

this entire blog BEGAN as a way for me to reblog fics i liked. and then it grew and grew and grew into all this. not saying that you have to start writing if you do that of course, but i guarantee, i'd rather see a small sideblog blog with like 3 followers reblog my fic than a blog just like the fic and leave. because that's still 3 more people who will see my fic and possibly read it and reblog it. 3 is better than none.

comments. reblogs are important, but comments are really what keep writers writing. they inspire us with new ideas, help figure out what it is that people enjoy from us, help us improve our writing, and most importantly, they make us feel good. and like writing and posting is worth it.

now, i know that sometimes it can feel awkward reblogging with a comment directly on the post. i even usually don't do that unless it's with a friend. but here are some alternatives/tips!

send an ask or DM! if you're really intimidated, sending an anonymous message is by far the easiest way to bypass that awkwardness.

write in the tags!! i cannot express this enough. comment in the tags. ramble about the fic. just put three tags worth of screaming. literally ANY comments in the tags are my favorite thing. i promise you that writers will scroll thru like basically every tag.

also, if they post it on both tumblr and ao3, don't feel weird about giving a little comment on both! i do that all the time. you can even be like 'hey i read this on tumblr first but wanted to say again how much i enjoyed it' and that is like, heart burstingly nice to hear.

also, if you're having trouble coming up with something to say, my like top commenting tip as both a writer and a reader is point out something specific that you like about the fic. when i comment on a fic (this is moreso when i comment on ao3 bc my comments are always longer there) i try to point out a particular line i like. literally if you just copy and paste it and go 'wow i really really like this line especially' that is the number one way to a writer's heart. seriously. it's the simplest thing, but it makes SUCH an impact.

however, if your comments are only asking for more fics, then that's not a comment, that's a request (which not all writers take).

saying something like 'hey i loved this fic a lot! if you have more in store for this in the future, i'd be really excited to read it!' is a million times better than 'will you do a part 2'. i know they don't sound that different, but i promise you that the tone makes a big difference.

(i honestly have more thoughts about good ways to get over commenting fear/know what exactly to comment that doesn't feel generic, so if people would like me to make another post about it i'd do it.)

and last but not least, if the writer has a way to donate, like a ko-fi, that always is so appreciated. of course, take care of yourself first, but if you have a few bucks and wanna show some support to your faves, that's a great way to help :)

oh! also, if the writer ever reblogs those little ask game things, just send them something! engagement outside of writing is also so much appreciated.

i think that's about everything i can think of! i hope this is helpful and that my explanations weren't confusing (if i need to clarify anything let me know). and again, thank you so much for asking! even doing that shows that you're a reader who cares, and that means the world ❤

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

                                                                                                         [next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 5

Find my masterlist 

Part five y’all! Getting a bit more plotty. Things are happening. 

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of. 

Warnings: The kid being cute and trouble. Minor swearing. That’s it. 

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @tibbietibbs @fandom-blackhole @shoopidly @pedrocentric @Beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks​ 

 Chapter five: In which there are interruptions

Over the course of the rest of the day, you learned a few things.

First and foremost: Djarin didn’t talk much, but he wasn’t harsh. He was gentle with the kid, and when he did have to speak he was polite. 

Second: the kid was cute but he was trouble. He would attempt to get into everything if you didn’t keep a very close eye on him. Fortunately he didn’t try to climb into the fireplace, but everything else was fair game. Under your cot? Up the bookcase? Under the workbench? Attempting to climb the pantry shelves? All things the little one had done just that day. 

Third: while Peli was not forthcoming with information, she was at least talkative. Which is how you learned that the kid had joined Djarin months previous under mysterious circumstances. You also learned where the door opened.

The blue blob led to Kamino, a seaside city you’d never been to. This door seemed attached to a storefront, and didn’t move. The green blob led to the hills around Kalevala, where the castle was in fact roaming. The red blob led to the capitol, Mandalore. This door was also attached to a storefront, far enough from the center of the city to not be in the thick of things but still busy enough when you cautiously cracked open the door. 

But the black blob Peli would tell you nothing about. She clammed up and hid under her logs when you tried to get more information out of her. Huffing, you gave up on that avenue, for now. 

There were multiple other knocks at the door throughout the day, and every single time, Djarin got there before you could. Which did not stop you from snooping, not at all. You hovered behind him, out of sight of whoever was on the other side of the door, and listened. Which is how you learned that he was polite, at least. People came to him for all sorts of things - a charm for safe travels, something to help the garden, something to keep track of children. That last one caused the wizard to scoff. 

But still you found no clues, no hints, nothing useful. Peli would give you looks every so often but you had no idea what that meant. 

After Djarin had taken the kid upstairs for the night, you found yourself in the armchair, soaking in the warmth from the fire. That was one (of many) downside to being old - you got cold more easily. Fortunately, Peli didn’t seem to mind you sitting there, so long as you left a couple logs in easy reach for her. 

“How did you end up here?” you asked her, unable to contain your curiosity. Not that you tried all that hard. 

Peli paused at that, watching you. “Wizard stuff,” she answered at length. 

“Wizard stuff,” you repeated slowly, very dryly. 

“Yes.” 

You stared at Peli as you might Winta after you’d caught her sneaking cookies before lunch. (It had been very effective on your niece.) You needed information. You were not a mind reader, or a witch, or anything helpful. You were just a seamstress. 

Peli cracked first. "I can't just tell you," she grumbled, hunkering down into her logs. "It's wizard stuff. I can't say."

It dawned on you then that she really might not be able to say. It was like your curse - you couldn't talk about it. So you nodded slowly to show you'd heard her.

"What can you tell me?" You asked her, leaning forward in your chair. 

Peli crackled and grumbled, pushing her logs around to rearrange them. You could see ash under them, of course, and the base of the fire. It almost looked like there was something in the middle, there, something from which the fire started. 

“I can’t tell you much,” she finally said, logs sufficiently rearranged. “But I can’t leave this hearth. I run all the magic keeping the castle moving, and I maintain the doorway.”

“Maintain.” You latched onto that word, eyes narrowing a little. “But you didn’t create it?”

“No,” Peli said, sounding offended. “Not my job. Not my area of expertise, either. I’m best at maintaining things, keeping things going.”

So the wizard had likely done all the spellwork, and Peli maintained it. Interesting. Why, you weren’t quite sure yet, but at least you had a little more information now. 

“So basically you keep up the castle,” you said, watching her. 

“I’m a powerful fire demon,” Peli grumbled, hunkering down a bit and very clearly sulking. “I’m older than all of you combined. I didn’t used to be chained to this fireplace, you know. I used to be--” She stopped abruptly, and after a few moments of silence there was a series of hissing sounds. Cursing in fire demon, you presumed, based on the tone. “Well, let’s just say I used to be a lot more free than this.” Her tone had shifted to something wistful and aching. You felt an answering tug in your heart. 

“Is that why you want me to break your curse?” you asked, voice lowered a little, gentled. “So you can be free of this place?”

Peli managed a shrug, which was an interesting thing for a fire to do. “One reason, yeah,” she agreed in a mumble. 

You hummed, caught between sympathy and deep curiosity, and stood carefully. “I’m going to bed,” you told the fire.

“Before you go,” Peli started, shrinking down a bit. “Stack a couple more logs for me?”

You sighed but did as she asked, setting them in easy reach. Then you flapped a hand at her and went to lay down on the cot. It was more comfortable than the chair, and you groaned quietly as something (or several somethings) in your back popped. 

So you had a curse, a fire demon, and a wizard. Peli had implied that the curse on her had something to do with the wizard, but she never outright said the wizard had placed the curse on her.

But wouldn’t he have? A witch placed the curse on you, so the logic followed. Probably. Then again, what did you know about magic? Almost nothing. You groaned quietly again at that, well aware that you could go in circles for ages.

Okay, okay. Curse. Peli had promised you would get hints, but so far you hadn’t found any, or heard any. Unless you’d missed something? That was possible. But it wasn’t like you could just ask Peli to clarify for you, either. 

You sighed. How were you supposed to break the curse on Peli if you didn’t even know what the curse was? Surely there must be a way to figure this out. It would probably take more time, that was all. You just hadn’t given yourself enough time yet. 

You woke to two little hands patting your face. You blinked yourself awake carefully, peering blearily up at the child, who was on the cot with you and beaming at you as he tapped his little hands against your cheeks again.

“Good morning,” you muttered, cradling the child as you sat up. 

“Kid,” Djarin said gruffly from somewhere over by Peli. “I told you to let her sleep.” 

The kid just grinned at you and cooed.

“He’s fine,” you told the wizard, carefully twisting enough to crack your back. You stood carefully and made your way to the table with the child, looking at the simple breakfast already set out. The kid wasted no time, diving on the food as soon as he was set down. Choosing to pick your battles for the moment, you ignored the complete lack of table manners and instead watched as Djarin carried the kettle over to the tea pot, pouring the hot water in carefully. 

“Thank you,” you murmured to the wizard, spotting three plates and three mugs. He dipped his helmet to you wordlessly. Apparently in your new old age, your verbal filters had decayed, as you asked him, “Do you ever remove the helmet? It looks uncomfortable.”

The wizard froze for several long moments. Then he shrugged a bit. “I’m used to it,” he answered, carefully, almost testing the words for himself. “I don’t usually remove it around other people.”

“Why do you wear it?” you asked, giving him a quick once-over. You remembered seeing a helmet like his before, on the Witch, but she hadn’t been wearing hers. 

“Protects the face from spells gone wrong,” he answered. You couldn’t tell if he was being entirely serious or not. But you ceased questioning him, instead pouring out tea for the three of you. 

“Sugar?” you asked.

“You don’t have to--” the wizard started. 

You snorted and interrupted him. “Neither did you,” you pointed out, looking meaningfully at the table. 

His shoulders slumped and he seemed to accept your logic. “Two,” he told you, sounding vaguely grumpy under that helmet.

You hummed, pleased, and put two sugars in his tea. “I’d take the child off so you can eat in peace but I’m afraid he’ll make a mess,” you admitted.

“It’s fine,” Djarin assured you, picking up his plate and his tea. He took both upstairs with him. 

Breakfast and cleanup didn’t take long, and then you played with the child. Again. Djarin thumped his way back down the stairs at some point, looking at the two of you before heading for the door. Then he stopped and turned to look at you again. 

“I’ll be out the rest of the day,” he warned. “Don’t wait up for me.” He paused again, considering something. “Do you… need anything?”

“Thank you but no,” you told him. “The child could use a few toys, however. It would help keep him out of mischief.”

The wizard straightened at that and nodded. He looked rather like a man on a quest, or at least you presumed so from his body language seeing as you couldn’t see his expression. He turned with a flap of his cloak and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

[cosmiclatte28]

Just Friends (Jeno x you, Chenle)

a/nn : hey there, the ending looks rushed but its coz i wanna try and keep my promise of posting a story this week. I know it's super bad but I am trying to pick my writing nerves back. Pardon me for all stupid scenes but I am trying.. feels like i am back to learning crawling and walking.. but here it is!

warning: friend zone

characters : jeno, jaemin, renjun, chenle

He was always there when you needed him. No matter how sunny or windy it is outside, Jeno always finds his way to come and sit by your side. It’s amazing and wonderful how he always manages to ditch his works for you.

“I’m bored,” you send the short message to Jeno, your best friend. Usually it doesn’t take long before his message will come in with a reply like “Should I come over?” but not today. Lately, he has been acting differently. He doesn’t text you as often and he seems busy. You didn’t fuss over it at first. Thinking that finally Jeno is giving himself some time and is able to do stuff he wanted to do.

You waited for his text but nothing came in, you wanted to call but you’re afraid if he’s still sleeping. After all this is a Sunday morning, he might have played games too much last night and slept early in the morning.

“Were you guys playing last night?” you send another short message to his gaming friend, Taeyong.

Taeyong replied to you quickly “We did, but Jeno wasn’t playing with us. What’s the matter?” Taeyong doesn’t even need you to mention you’re looking for Jeno’s whereabouts.

“Oh, well I am not asking about Jeno, what makes you mention his name.”

Taeyong only replies with a laughing emoji and a “Everyone knows both of you are always together. He always mutes his mic whenever you call.”

You blush at that, something cool about him is that whenever you called to talk about some of your feelings, he could always pick your call up. Although you know he keeps on playing, at least he mutes the mic and he’s listening to you and you feel less lonely.

But you wonder if Jeno is just doing all of this because he is your bestfriend or he likes you. No bestfriend acts this far! They’ll reject your call instead.

Your brother has repeatedly remind you that you shouldn’t fall for his sweet charms. You always deny him and said you are just seeing Jenoa as your friend, but why does it feel different now whenever he picks your call or stops his game for you. He used to do that, but only now did you feel it as something special.

You finally decided to call him since its almost lunch time and he hasn’t replied your text.

You reach his voicemail and that’s something new.

“I’m coming over to your house. Is everything okay?” you send it and quickly dress up.

There’s just something unsettling in your heart to not get any news at all from Jeno.

You arrive at his apartment door right on time when his roommate, Renjun, is entering the building.

“Renjun ah!” you yell and the boy luckily hears you and holds the door open for you. You need access to get into the building, good thing Renjun is here.

“Oh (y/n), what are you doing?”

“Going to check on Jeno.”

“Oh when I left for the market earlier, he’s still asleep.”

You just nod and follow him to the unit. When both of you step in, you don’t see any signs of Jeno at all. So, you knock on his door and push it open only to find its locked.

“Hm weird, he locked the room.” you mutter.

Renjun saw you still in front of the room and asked “Oh it's locked? He never locks his door.” Renjun tries pushing the door but to no avail it's not swinging open.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait.” you knock on the door and finally hear a reply.

Jeno finally appears behind the locked door. His messy hair is still there and he lets you into the room.

“Hey, is everything good?” you ask after sitting on his bed and Jeno grabs a fresh pair of sweaters. He was just in his tank earlier.

He nods, his eyes still closed.

“Were you drinking?” you push his hair away when he leans to your shoulder.

He nods “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you but it was an all guys night.”

You nod “It’s okay, I was never mad you didn’t bring me. I don’t like parties that much after all.”

“My head hurts.” he whines.

You chuckle “Forgot to drink water right?” you push him your water bottle and he chugs it down.

“Have you eaten lunch?” he asks after gaining his soul completely

“Not yet, you want to eat somewhere?”

He stands up and picks his phone, fiddles with it for a while before finally answering “I have something to do tonight. Is it okay if we just eat somewhere nearby?”

Your brow raised in surprise, Jeno has never been this weird. He used to have his own events but he will definitely tell you what it is and not just vague news. But you don’t want to meddle too much with his schedule, so you just stand up and leave him to change.

“Oh hey Jaemin.” you greet the third roommate that lives with Jeno. He too, seems to just wake up from his wild night.

“Where are you from?” you ask the messy looking boy. Well his shirt is super messy.

He just smiles lazily and rubs his hair away “A stranger’s house. Was too drunk to remember.”

You just scoff “Getting laid again?”

The jock just smiles and washes his face with cold water. “Jeno has great self control.”

You just nod. Though Jeno said the party was all guys, you know there’s still chances of the guys bringing girls over and Jaemin is just one of the popular jocks here.

“You should come and join us next time. The drinks are amazing.” he shakes his head after washing his face.

You laugh “You know I don’t like parties, I’d rather watch movies with Renjun.” you plop yourself down on the sofa, admiring Renjun’s busy hands chopping onions as he prepares his lunch.

“Fine, but don’t be jealous if Jeno finds his lover.” Jaemin teases you. You’re used to the guys teasing you that if you don’t claim Jeno soon, he will get a girlfriend eventually and you will be pushed away. You used to think that Jeno won’t push you away if he gets a girl, but now you start to worry what if the girl wants Jeno to stay away from you? Now that is not Jeno’s fault but you will get hurt right?

“Kidding, don’t kill me. Jeno will be mad if he knows I tease you like this.” Jaemin gives you a quick side hug and you just roll your eyes.

“Come (y/n), let’s go.” Jeno appears with a fresh face, looks like he showered quickly before going with you.

“So, what did you do last night?” Jeno asks you when the two of you are already in his car and he’s driving downtown.

“Just in my room, checking on my blog and watching films. Not much fun, but I enjoy that.”

Jeno smiles “Sorry, I will accompany you next time.”

You shake your head “Why are you weird? It’s okay. I never force you to hang out with me because I know you don’t like to watch films.”

Jeno tosses a glance on you “But still, you’re lonely. Your friends are away on their vacation.”

You punch him “What’s wrong! This is so not you.”

He just smirks “Fine, you seem bored to have me around. I’ll go away so you miss me.”

You thought he was joking, so you play along. “Okay then, let’s see who misses who first.”

--

You stare at your phone and blink several times after seeing a text from Jeno saying that he couldn’t accompany you to the market because his girl wants him to accompany her shopping.

You were shocked at the news that he has a girlfriend and he didn’t tell you. And you’re surprised because Jeno never wanted to accompany you shopping, what makes him want to do that for his girl?

Now you understand why the other boys tease you, indeed it's you who is losing if Jeno gets a girl. Even if you get a boy, Jeno won’t bother too much because now you realize you are the one who loves him as someone more than friends, and to Jeno you are just his other best friend.

You grab your phone and begin dialing a number you remember by heart.

After five beeps the sweet voice on the other side greets you “Hello (y/n)! What’s the matter?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, the loud noise coming from the phone was pretty loud for eleven in the morning.

“You’re partying this early? Jaemin, it's not healthy.” you groan but the other guy only laughs “We’re not partying hard yet. Where are you now?”

You smile “Home, why?”

“Not doing anything?” he questions as he takes a look around his surroundings. No Jeno in sight

“Nope. I’m just in my house alone, why?” Jaemin’s breath hitches and he gulps “Oh that’s weird, Jeno is also not here.”

“Where are you at?” your curiosity peaks and the sweet guy replies “Go change, I am having a summer pool party at Jaehyun’s house. Come join us, we’re having barbecues and some afternoon fun and games. Renjun will pick you up in thirty minutes.”

You take a look at Jeno’s text and finally decide that you should just go have fun in the sun.

“Okay, just wait Renjun.Take care and see you!”

You glance at your phone one last time, still no text from Jeno at all. Maybe this is it, the sign and time to finally let go of the “more than friends” feeling that you have on your bestie.

After donning your summer dress and taking a piece of swimsuit, you put your sunglasses on while taking the stairs down to meet Renjun.

“Hello there hottie,” Renjun chuckles when you already sit down nicely beside him.

You roll your eyes “What? I’m here to have fun.” you snicker and Renjun just shakes his head before finally accelerating to Jaehyun's house.

The host greets you nicely and Jaemin greets you to a bone crushing hug. You just hug him back before checking around to see who is here. Some of the guys here are familiar but some of them are also strangers to you.

“Do you know everyone here?” you nudge Jaemin’s elbow and the guy nods while sipping from his red solo cup “Everyone’s my friend here. What? You have an eye on someone already? I thought you’re loyal to Jeno.”

You scoff and hit his back “Shut up. We’re only friends and he got a girl. Now I want to make more friends, who is that guy?” your eyes focus on the young lad who has a black shades on, his fluffy brown hair just flying with the wind and suddenly you know Renjun is talking to him and he bursts into a super loud high pitch laugh. Interesting.

“Oh, that is a student from China, his name is Chenle, come I can introduce you to him.”

Before you can shake your head, Jaemin already drags you to the guy and they seem close because the next thing you know Jaemin is already introducing you to the cute guy.

“I’m Chenle, nice to meet you.” he extends his arm and you grab his palm, shaking it “(y/n), pleased to meet you too. So, can I get to know you better?” you wink and make the guy in front of you smirk.

Behind Chenle you can see Jaemin and Renjun stifling a laugh. The two guys wink back at you and leave you alone with Chenle.

Deep inside your heart you know why Jaemin and Renjun sent you that wink. They know you are moving on to the hot stuff in your sight and slowly forget about the unrequited love you have for your best friend.

After all, the myth is 90% right. When a guy and a girl become good friends, one of them will fall in love and still the best way to keep the friendship going is to keep being just friends.

So, maybe this Chenle sweetheart will be your boyfriend, or maybe someone else. Whichever that is, you have to let Jeno go to his significant others.

end or maybe there will be a part where you get to know Chenle and Jeno is jealous

net @superm-net @multifandomnet

[bjy-on-ao3]

Hi, I really love your writing on Ao3! I was wondering if you could write an Adachi x reader where Adachi slips it in while reader is sleeping? Maybe halfway through being fucked reader wakes up but pretends to be asleep anyway because they are enjoying it? I imagine that they'd probably already have a preexisting sexual relationship and have talked about the sex that they are okay with (that could be a creative choice for you tho idc. manipulative adachi sexy). best wishes!

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page)

Here you are, anon! This one really struck a cord with me, and I knew I had to fill it, eventually.

Summary 

Adachi gives Reader a pleasant morning surprise to indulge a desire they previously confessed to him.

Tags/Warnings

Biting, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Hair-Pulling, Mildly Dubious Consent, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Somnophilia, Vaginal Sex

Rise & Shine (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

The early rays of morning scattered through the window blinds, bathing the otherwise dark bedroom in pale stripes of yellow and gold. The cloying spring heat had yet to creep in, some remnant of the coolness of night lingering, lending a refreshing feeling, rather than one hot and clinging. Tohru Adachi stirred on the bedsheets of the mattress next to the mostly shuttered window.

He started to disentangle himself lazily from the light sheets, but stopped. A look of confusion spread across his face when he noted sitting up wasn’t as easy as it should have been, the cause your prone form tucked so securely against him. He remembered falling asleep at your apartment after some drinks at Shiroku and a couple rounds of fun, but you had fallen asleep with ample distance between you. Adachi decided you must have unconsciously snugged up to him while the both of you slept.

Though he was confused, that didn’t mean Adachi wasn’t exactly displeased. Neither of you had bothered to re-dress at all before passing out the night before. That left you naked, pressed against him, at least before he tried to extricate himself from your grasp. His eyes roved unchastely over your bare skin, exposed where the sheets rode down past your hips. Lying flat on your stomach after he had escaped your cuddling, your arms splayed on the pillows, legs spread haphazardly. He eyed the swell of your chest pressing into the soft mattress and the tantalizing curve of your ass, his gaze lingering as his hunger was roused.

In that moment, Adachi recalled a conversation that had taken place between the two of you not long ago. You had opened up to him a little with your fantasies and wants, admitting with a thoroughly hot face and hushed tone how badly you wanted him to use you. You hadn’t described exactly how, though, only that your desire for him to use your body however he pleased existed. He remembered how excited the confession had made him, immediately diving into imaginations of how he planned to take you up on it. Somehow, though, the thought had slipped his mind until that instant.

The gears were turning in his head, and Adachi’s lips curled in a sinful, lecherous grin as he came to a decision. What better way to grant your wishes and use you only for his pleasure than to fuck you while you slept, when he had little reason to worry about your satisfaction or concerns. His cock jerked to life at the thought, and his mind was made up.

He drew the sheets the rest of the way off, flinging them to the side where they would remain unwanted and forgotten for some time. The full sight of your body laid out nude before him met him, and another punch of hunger seized him, his reacting in along with it. For a second, Adachi wondered if you would even notice. He couldn’t remember if you were a light sleeper who woke at even a hardly intrusive touch, or if you slept like the dead and would drowse through it all. But he was going to find out very soon. =============================================

It was the touch of something solid and cool between your legs that eased you from the warm, comfortable haze of sleep. It prodded at the soft pink of your cunt before slipping inside with little resistance. At first, you thought you were having some kind of vivid wet dream, but you recognized the strange dark line of half-consciousness, so it was no dream. Something had buried itself inside your cunt, wet and welcoming even while you dozed. The sensation of whatever it was wriggled and curled, easing in and out for a moment before withdrawing altogether.

The thick fog of sleep threatened to lure you back into its clutches with the retreat of whatever had been intruding; you had nearly convinced yourself even if it wasn’t a dream, you had  imagined it. Just a figment of your muddled, half-asleep mind. But whatever it was returned, clamping over your thighs and carefully prying them apart to spread your legs wider. The tip of something far more hot and hard poked at your slick lips, the sensation giving your growing consciousness a jolt. You froze, making yourself remain still despite coming further to, and the thick intrusion sank past your lips and your entrance.

A low, blissful groan caught your attention when the hardness filled you completely, and your cunt clenched reflexively around it. Several debauched noises longed to free themselves from your throat at the aching fullness, but you quashed them, forcing yourself to feign sleep. The groan no doubt belonged to the man you had fallen asleep beside the night before, there was no denying that. You were led to a conclusion even your hazy mind could make: Adachi was the one buried deep inside your cunt, basking in the tight embrace of your soft, wet flesh around his cock.

The realization didn’t alarm or upset you, though. In fact, it only made your cunt feel wetter, and your walls tightened around him again, eliciting another erotic, gravelly noise from Adachi, A wicked heat blossomed in your gut and made your heart drum in your chest, your pulse beginning to race. It almost embarrassed you how much being fucked while you ‘slept’ turned you on, and you wondered fleetingly if he noticed how readily your body responded to him. Would he think nothing of it and just assume you were still dreaming and none the wiser?

Any thoughts were drowned out, though, when Adachi’s hips pulled back and he thrust back into your heat, the start of a steady rhythm. He rocked his hips languidly against your backside, obviously in no rush. A series of small, carnal, and oh-so-arousing sounds drifted from his lips as he pumped his cock in and out of your core. Sounds quiet enough that if you had really been asleep, you doubted you would have noticed at all. You struggled not to react too noticeably to them or from the roll of his hips. But you couldn’t help squirming here and there, a muffled, sleepy whimper escaping every once in a while. You hoped Adachi chalked them up to simply unconscious and involuntary reactions.

Whatever the case, your wriggling and tiny, nearly incoherent gasps and murmurs spurred Adachi onward, and his pace increased, fucking you more thoroughly into the bed. Each deep thrust made you want to swoon and melt and moan. The weight of Adachi’s body pressed into your back, his skin already growing slick with beads of sweat, radiating heat against you.

“Y’know,” he growled casually in your ear, “you’re a really bad actor.” His pace didn’t stop, and he his came to tangle in the sheets beside your shoulders, giving him more leverage to pound into your cunt more roughly.

You ignored him, unsure if he knew you were awake and was telling the truth, of if he was searching for some kind of conscious reaction to find out. Things were too enjoyable though to let them end so easily. Until Adachi could prove you were awake, you were more than pleased to let him have his way with you.

A moment of silence punctuated only by the sounds of sex passed, and then a low, contemplative hum droned beside you. “Well, I guess if you’re really sleeping through this, I can do whatever I want,” he said coyly, and to some it might have sounded almost like a threat. Right then, to you, it was a sinful promise you silently bade him to fulfill.

His hips snapped harder against you, and it was even more of a struggle to fight back the noises that wanted to break free, each thrust so deep it provoked a guttural response. He adjusted himself, tilting his hips and pressing his body more firmly against yours. You didn’t know if it was out of mere convenience for him, or on purpose to overwhelm you and shatter your charade, but the new angle brought on a greater ordeal.

Each rough stroke of his cock, besides sinking so deep, brushed against a much more receptive spot that made your gut twist in a distinctly pleasant way. You tried to disguise the way you turned your head to push it into the pillows as an unconscious reaction, though you unsure how long Adachi would continue to buy your act, if he didn’t already know the truth.

Each time he drove back inside, you lost more resolve to keep pretending, and to disguise and smother your moans and the way your body so badly wanted to meet his thrusts. The molten feeling that had grown in your belly served only to weaken you further, welling up inside and proving more demanding and wild than the sounds of pleasure seeking escape.l

You pressed your face into the pillows more as a particularly stubborn moan bubbled up, much louder than any of the others, trying in vain to stifle it. Though as soon as the sound left your lips, smothered as it was, your little game of pretend was over. A rough hand tangled in your hair, grabbing tightly and jerking your head back and away from the pillows. Your new position left you no choice but to moan freely into the air, already hot and thick with sex and sweat. The stubborn moan seemed like the bursting of a dam, and there was no stopping the myriad cries that followed it.

“Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Adachi hissed in your ear, amused and breathless. “Pretending you had no idea what I was doing and getting off on being treated like the little cock sleeve you wanted to be?”

With your act revealed, you had no reason to try to fool Adachi any longer. You gave into the carnal heat swelling inside you, crying out and finally slamming your hips back to meet his. “Fuck, yes! Use me, please,” you begged, and Adachi’s stinging grip in your hair tightened reflexively. “I want to be your plaything; use me however you want!” your voice broke with your admission, shattered by a stroke that stole your breath away and made your made briefly go blank.

The words were a catalyst, stoking Adachi’s already boiling lust to even greater heights. He rutted harder against you, feeling the urgency of an orgasm dawning on him, your shameless enthusiasm speeding it along. He relished the outpouring of bawdy shouts and moans bubbling from your mouth now that he had called your bluff. His fingered remained snared in your hair, pulling your head back almost painfully and ensuring there was no chance to muffle a single sound more.

You could feel Adachi’s desperation mounting behind each thrust, even through the lingering haze of sleep clouding your awareness. You felt it in the tension of his body, pushing yours so forcefully into the bed, and in his fingers, both in your hair and on your skin. But you were already ahead of him. The sheer excitement of being fucked in such an obscene fashion made your body tense and burn white hot. Each time Adachi filled you up again, it forced another cry from your lips, and the liquid heat wound tighter and more intense.

Your breathing hitched, becoming quickly ragged and sharp, and Adachi’s was just as labored in your ear. You bucked back against him mindlessly, seeking the last little push you needed and thinking of nothing else. When you came, his named rolled off your tongue in waves, interrupted by moans that pitched more desperate and airy as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He bent his head, and his teeth scraped the nape of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could find to leave a colorful, stinging mark. The sharp sensations added to the ripples of pleasure dancing through you, and your voice cracked in your ecstasy. His tempo slowed, gaining force where it lost momentum, until the smack of his skin on yours was clear even through the chorus of groans and cries ringing out. When he finished, he bit down again, harder, so hard a moan turned into a brief yelp, even though he hadn’t broken the skin.

With each spurt of his cum that filled you, Adachi groaned, long and low, the noise feral and thick. The sounds made you shudder, and your cunt squeeze him tighter, even though your orgasm was wearing away and coming to an end. Finally, Adachi was spent, and you were left sweat-slicked and nearly panting, his grasp on your hair loosening. You couldn’t think beyond the feel of him still sheathed in your cunt, or the sound of his heavy breathing beside you. Even smothered beneath his weight, your mind had room only for the pleasures of the afterglow.

You rested limp and pliant against the bedsheets as Adachi released your hair, and when you lay your head on the pillows again, they felt blissfully cool. You were too tired and out-of-sorts to move when Adachi withdrew, vaguely noting the sensation of something warm and thick trickling down your thighs.Adachi didn’t bother laying back in bed, instead rolling to the side and getting to his feet. You summoned the energy to roll over and watch him as he went about getting cleaned up before searching for his clothes and re-dressing.

After several minutes, Adachi had sorted himself out and made himself presentable - or at least what counted as presentable for detective with his routinely messy hair, crumpled clothes, and crooked tie. By then, you had regained steady breathing, watching him lazily and propping yourself up on your elbow. He took one last glance over himself, patting the pockets of his slacks for his phone and keys and ensuring he hadn’t forgotten anything, Satisfied everything was accounted for, he walked to the beside, bending down and taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger before tipping your head to meet his gaze.

“I’ve gotta get going now, sweetheart. Be good while I’m gone and maybe I’ll indulge more of your sick little fantasies the next time I come over,” he promised, punctuating his words with a kiss. It was a gesture that might have seemed sweet or affectionate, were it not for the sharp, hungry bite he left on your bottom lip.

Then, he was gone without another word, leaving you with a burning face, an aching cunt oozing cum, and many angry marks that would soon turn various shades of blue and purple. Yet, you were left also with a bone-deep sense of satisfaction that outweighed everything else. You slid back down onto the bed, recounting what had just happened. Even just the memory sent your arousing spiralling out of control all over again.

It was going to be torture waiting for the next time you could get together.

[acourtofsnakes]

Aliit ori'shya tal'din - Rogue, Chapter 11| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Following on from the argument and the hot and heavy moment on Nevarro, you and Mando return to the ship, where you manage to have a conversation without ripping each others throats out. 

Warnings: 18+ because there are mentions of sex but nothing overly explicit or directly happening, weapons, swearing, Fllllluuuuffffyy times~

AN: Short and sweet for this chapter as the next one will be longer and have a lot more detail – things are really gonna start kicking off from here. Drama, powers, feels, it’ll aaallll be going on. 

Also, the next chapter might be uploaded a little later, as I’m waiting on a replacement charger for my laptop and Apple are taking forever.

Word count: 4k+

Rogue Taglist:

@snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome | 11: Aliit ori'shya tal'din| 

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ((my gif this time around))♥︎

Mando’a Translation: Aliit ori'shya tal'din – family is more than blood

He knew he had her from the moment she saw the sword. 

Curiosity had bloomed in her eyes, fighting with the wariness and in the end – winning. 

If he was honest, he hadn’t planned on telling her he knew about her powers yet. 

But she had been as hesitant and defensive as he expected, and the moment seemed to fit. 

Why else did he put the sword across the table?

They said she had no recollection of the powers – or rather blocked them out entirely. And again, they had been wrong. 

The symbols had called to her and she had recognised that pull, she just didn’t know why. 

And he was more than happy to aid her on her journey. 

The Mandalorian showing up did somewhat complicate things. He was a key player that would ultimately determine the path she chose. And if she was as headstrong and stubborn as he believed her to be, there was only so much he could do to edge her along and keep the Mandalorian from messing up his plans. 

But, she had instantly fired up, even going as far as to defend him to the shiny bodyguard. 

That’s why he sought the Marshal out afterwards, to ask Cara to pass along his comms code. 

If she didn’t use it straight away, that was more than fine. He would wait. And so would Gideon. 

All she needed was a little time, to process what he had told her. 

And then, when it had cleared through her mind, maybe when she realised she would never be able to tell the Mandalorian the truth… then she would come back to him, seeking out the help he had promised. 

And then he would have her…

Forever.

~~~~~

“So, how long?”

The Mandalorian looked at Cara as she sat back down at her desk, “How long what?” The frown of confusion he wore was evident in his voice. 

Cara raised an eyebrow at him, as she leant back in her chair, “How long are you two going to keep dancing around each other?” 

Mando scoffed, turning away and wandering across the room, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We are not dancing around each other.”

Cara laughed from behind him, “No? So that whole… whatever that was out there, that was nothing? If I hadn’t shown up, you’d probably still be going at it against a torn down building.”

Heat prickled along his skin, reminding him of the tightness of his trousers that hadn’t long since loosened. If he closed his eyes, he was back against that building with you, his hand over your mouth, to stop the utter filth you were spitting out at him. He’d wanted to deny it, but as always, you were right. 

Of course, he was terrified for your life but… He had been jealous. Completely jealous. 

And… maybe a small part of him did believe that Haran and you had… done those things. 

The images your words created in his mind were so vivid, so crystal clear that he was nearly on his knees before you. 

Only stubborn pride had kept him upright – pride and the urge to get you back, to see if you felt even an ounce of the same need that plagued him, that patrolled his sleeping and his waking hours. 

Part of him was terrified you were all talk, all vicious teasing but then he’d pressed into you and you’d made that soft, earth-shatteringly beautiful moan, and he thought he might explode. 

He saw it in the way your eyes clouded over and rolled back into your head. 

Maybe you did want him just as much, maybe that tension between you was as electric and hypnotic as he thought. 

If only you hadn’t been interrupted… What would have happened? 

Would you have done anything?

Would he have taken off his gloves and felt your skin again but this time, facing you so he could see just what his touch did. 

Maybe you would have shredded each other’s clothes off, and he would have lifted you up, wrapped your legs around his waist and sunk into you, like you had spoken about. 

Would the heat of you have felt like home? Just like he imagined in his darkest, guiltiest dreams? 

You would have ravaged each other against that wall, until you were clawing at his back and he was gripping you tightly as the galaxy crumbled around you, until you were the only two left. The beginning and the end of everything, joined together in both body and soul- 

Ping!

Something bouncing off his helmet brought him out of his lusting thoughts, along with Cara’s amused voice.  “Anyone in there? Do you want me to leave so you can continue with your little daydreams?” 

Mando cleared his throat, turning back to Cara and he shook his head, even if his voice did come out a little husky, “There’s nothing between us, really. We drive each other insane half the time. She never listens to me. And she’s reckless.” 

Cara crossed her arms, kicking her feet up onto her desk, “So are you.”

The Mandalorian rested a hand on his waist, “She runs headlong into danger before. Can even take one step and doesn’t think about the consequences, or the risk to her own life.” 

Cara raised both eyebrows this time, looking pointedly at Grogu and then back at him, “Do carry on.” 

He made a noise, “Look, I still don’t even know why she has such a high bounty on her head. I’ve never asked her, and she hasn’t ever brought it up.”

Cara examined her gloves, “Does it matter? Surely, if it did, you would have found out by now. You wouldn’t have let that one go so easily.” 

She had him there. 

“I… No. It doesn’t matter. Of course it doesn’t. If she doesn’t want to tell me then that’s understandable. And I wouldn’t force it out of her. She’s… She has a dark past. It troubles her… There were times when I would her hear her awake and screaming on the ship but…” He trailed off, thinking. 

Cara looked up and tilted her head, “But what?”

The Mandalorian leant against the wall, “Despite all of that, the fear and the nightmares… it doesn’t consume her. She still blazes through life and see’s the good in everything. Even if its hard, she still tries. We were talking about our favourite planets once… she was telling me about Hoth being one of hers.”

Cara looked surprised and amused, “Hoth? Really?” She shook her head, something affectionate about the gesture, “Why does that not surprise me.”

Mando couldn’t help the soft laugh, “I know.. but she was describing the snow and the ice in a way I’ve never heard before and… I just thought… She just looks at the world so differently. She wants to absorb it all, every little thing, Whether it’s this new fruit in a market or flying a certain way past a cluster of stars…” He looked off into the corner, staring absently through the visor. “There’s a word for it in Mando’a… Shereshoy. It means a lust for life. I thought that about her for a while now…”

“Would you take off your helmet for her?” 

Mando snapped his head back to look at her, his body going rigid with shock, “What?” 

Cara was watching him with an unreadable expression, “Would you take off your helmet?” Her voice was soft as she repeated the question, as if she knew what his response would be.

He blinked at her, even though she couldn’t see it, “What kind of question is that? You know I can’t take this off, not for anyone. Mandalorian’s only take their helmets off after saying their vows to each other. You don’t just.. I can’t-“ He was flushed, his heart pounding uncomfortably even at the mere mention of removing his helmet.

Cara shook her head slightly, “I don’t mean like that… But…” She seemed to be phrasing her words carefully, “If.. there were things you wanted to do.. there are ways round the Creed… no?” 

He said nothing. 

Again, she had hit it right on the head without even trying. The words she was saying were ridiculous but… 

He had already thought about it. 

In those quiet moments, where he granted himself a reprieve and let the thoughts wash over him, he had stared into the darkness and worked all the ways in which he could remove his helmet without breaking the Creed. 

You couldn’t see his true face… which was more than easy enough to work around. 

A blindfold, the lights off in the ship so it was pitch black, your back to his chest…

All he would need to do is trust you. Trust that you wouldn’t turn around or reach for the lights. 

Did he trust you? 

The answer to that question had plagued him as much as the dreams. 

Of course he trusted you. He left his life in your hands back in that alleyway. 

But that was before. Before this… tension between you. 

And now he was certain he could trust you, to an extent but… to give over a part of himself, even if it wasn’t fully him…

That opened him up to a lot of things. 

A lot of danger and a level of vulnerability he had never shared with anyone. 

Cara sat up slowly, perhaps somehow reading everything going on in his head, “Maybe you should think about how you feel about her. What she means to you…. And what your answer to that question might be.” She rose from her chair, looking at him with that same unreadable expression, “Don’t let it slip past, Mando… Don’t let her slip past.” 

~~~

You spent the next couple days in Nevarro, before bidding farewell to Greef and Cara. 

You promised to come back soon and that you’d all take care of yourselves. 

As you had walked up the ramp, you’d noticed Cara give Mando a certain look and mutter something to him, something you couldn’t hear or place. 

Upon seeing you eyeing her suspicious, she simply gave you an innocent smile and waved. 

You had a pretty good idea what it was about, and you didn’t – couldn’t – unpack that right now. So, you mentally tucked it away in that same box that the moment with Mando resided in and hurried up the ramp. 

That was a couple hours ago, and you spent that time mooching about the ship, avoiding the cockpit. You weren’t sure that a confined space was necessarily the best place to be after earlier. 

Especially since Mando had sought you out before you took off, informing you that you could have his sleeping quarters back if you’d like them. You had tried to refuse, but he’d simply taken your bag, placed it on the cot, and left. 

So that was another room to avoid, full of the scent of him – and the knowledge that he had laid in here and… thought about you at night?

Unfortunately, you could avoid it no longer. 

Walking to the ladder, you told yourself to grow up. It was just a bit of sexual tension from an argument. That’s all. It’s nothing different to what hung around you both all the time. 

Besides… you’d missed him and Grogu. 

There was little noise in the cockpit as you ascended the ladder. There was the usual soft beeping of the instruments, the dim whir of the engines and Grogu’s occasional coo. 

The familiar expanse of stars swept past lazily beyond the glass, a sight that you had been missing for weeks. 

The sight bought a smile to your lips as you walked across and took your usual seat, scooping Grogu into your lap. 

The seat creaked reassuringly under you as you settled, and you realised that these were all little things that had come to mean comfort to you. 

A chuckle escaped your lips when you saw Duru asleep on the panel in front of the Mandalorian, her tail swooping down over the buttons and occasionally getting his way. 

She was definitely the same as you – made her spot and stood her ground, no matter if it got in anyone’s way. She was comfy, and that was that. 

Mando startled just slightly at your chuckle, not turning round but you almost felt his attention rest on you, “Hey, settled back in?”

Stars, you had missed that too. The soft, easy rasp of his voice in the gentle quietness. It danced along your bones, soothing them and any anxiety you had about the mood between the pair of you. “Yeah, I am, thanks… It’ll be like I was never gone soon.” 

It was the Mandalorian’s turn to chuckle this time, “Oh believe me, I knew about it. Not just from how silent it was, but from the little womp rat’s temper tantrum for the entire afternoon after we dropped you off.” 

You raised your eyebrows, looking down at the happy green bundle on your lap, “Really? He threw a tantrum?” 

Mando nodded, flicking a few switches, “Yep. He kept throwing things at me for hours. I put him in his crib, but he kept crawling out of it. He was really sulking. He missed you.” 

Something rose in your chest, warmth and joy, maybe. You hadn’t quite grasped how much you meant to the little creature, “Well, I missed him too. I kept looking around for him, to see if he was getting into trouble and eating frogs again.” 

Grogu tilted his head backwards to look at you, innocence radiating from his glossy black eyes and he lifted his cheeks into a matching smile that had your heart melting. 

You grinned, tilting your head down and you pressed a kiss to his wrinkly forehead, between his eyes, “I’m here now, you tiny troublemaker.” 

He gurgled softly, holding your thumb in his three miniature fingers. 

The Mandalorian had turned to watch you, and he was silent for a few moments before saying even softer, “I missed you as well...” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, “A lot, actually.” 

You lifted your eyes to him, unaware that betrayed just how much those words meant to you, the way they made your heart melt and a wave of delight sweep through your belly. 

You felt a different kind of smile curl your lips, gentler and almost shy, “I missed you too… It was too quiet at night. No screaming or tantrums, no running up and down the ship after escaping their bed and having to be sung back to sleep...” You blinked, “Oh, and I missed Grogu too.” You laughed, leaning back in your chair and hugging Grogu closer. 

Mando shook his head, even if his breathing did turn a little funny at the way your eyes crinkled a little at the edges when you laughed, and joy burst in your eyes in such a way that was far more breath-taking than the stars that surrounded you. “Like we discussed before, I’m not the one who’s noisy in the middle of the night.” He remained looking at you, his head slightly tilted, and he sighed softly. 

Without realising, you mimicked his head tilt, an action that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Cara back on Nevarro, “What is it?”

He looked away and fiddled with the edge of his vambrace, the nervous gesture you had noticed when you first met. He seemed be toying with the words in his mind and for some reason, it made you a little nervous.  

You swallowed, a smile still on your lips and humour still in your voice though, “Credit for your thoughts?” 

It was still a few more seconds before he spoke again, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it through the helmet. “I shouldn’t have sent you away.”

You blinked. There was no way you heard that correctly. “What?”

He lifted his head to look at you, “I said, I shouldn’t have sent you away.” There was no mistaking it, his voice was stronger this time and full of conviction. 

Well, shit. What do you say to that?

You gazed back at him, words fumbling through your mind but none of them seeming right – or rather, none of them words you should say. So, instead, you opted for sarcasm and humour. 

A look of mock shock stretched your features and you gasped, “By the stars.” You looked down at Grogu with wide eyes, “Did you hear that?” 

Grogu cooed in similar astonishment, his ears pricking up. 

You nodded quickly, “I know! He just admitted he was wrong! I’m as shocked about it as you are.” 

Mando sighed again softly, but it wasn’t his usual playful exasperated sigh, “I’m being serious.”

The laughter died in your throat, and you carefully lifted your gaze back to him. You bit your lip for a moment, just reading the emotion in his posture, “I know… But… like you said, it wasn’t safe for me here. You did the right thing.”

He made a pained noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head and he leaned closer to you, “No, please don’t. Please don’t repeat my words back to me. It was a mistake. I… I was running from my own problems.” His hand twitched, like he was going to reach for yours but then he hesitated.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, this conversation one of those deep ones that the pair of you only seemed to have after a near death experience, or whilst you were at each other’s throats. You let go of Grogu, letting your hand rest on the edge of the armrest, a silent encouragement, a plea. “What do you mean…?”

The Mandalorian took a soft breath, reaching out and he slid his hand under yours, enclosing his fingers around your own. “I thought I could keep you safer, if you weren’t with me. The price on mine and the kids head was as much a siren call for hunters as yours was.” He shook his head, “No, that sounds like I’m blaming you.” He blew out a breath, pausing to reassemble his words, “On your own, you might stand a better chance of hiding. I mean, look how well you did before I came along. It took me a month to find you. You were a ghost.” Something like pride lined his voice. “Throw me and the kid into the mix, and we were broadcasting you to the entire galaxy.” 

You said nothing, holding your tongue for once. This was the most you’d ever heard him speak, topping the other day. This was… big. He was building up to something. 

He began to gently massage your palm, almost an absent motion like he didn’t realise he was doing it, “That night in the kitchen…” 

The delicious pressure of his hands and the friction of the leather simultaneously soothed you, even as your blood heated at the mere mention of that night.  

“That night in the kitchen, I began to realise. How much… I had come to value you being here. And not just because you help with the kid but the other things. When we go on hunts, you watch my back. You see things that I miss. It feels.. not fun but… something more, with you. I don’t often have anyone to watch my back. A partner, someone to rely on. And that terrified me. That I had come to look forward to our evenings, the drag of being in hyperspace. Both of us liked having you here… I liked to have you here, princess. You’re the first true friend I’ve had in years. The others are my friends of course but… with you, it’s different.” He didn’t lift his head, focused on your hand but you had the feeling he wanted to. 

“It terrified me because caring about something, about having a friend like that… it means it’ll get hurt. Or taken away. And I couldn’t beat the idea that I signed your death warrant. Not because of the guilt, but because you have such a joy, such a way of viewing the world that it would be devasting for that to be ripped away. So, I thought sending you to Nevarro, putting you under the protection of Greef and Cara… I thought it would make you safer. I thought… that I could handle it.” His hands stilled momentarily, before tracing over your knuckles. “And I couldn’t.” 

He seemed to be finished for the moment, so you jumped in softly, “I couldn’t stand it either. I haven’t slept properly since the last time I was here. Everything is too quiet. The bed was too soft… I missed looking out of the window and seeing the stars go past, or hearing you talk to Grogu.” You watched him trace down your fingers, “I was scared too. And I still am. Every single friend or companion I’ve had ends up being murdered. And it’s my fault.” There was no anguish in your voice this time. It was fact, after all. “And I still wake up screaming, seeing you and the kid on the floor and your blood on my hands. I taste it. “ You took a slow breath, “But… I want to stay. I want to stay here with you both, and we can hunt down whoever is after all of us.” 

Mando chuckled a little at something, merely a huff of breath, “You always know exactly what I’m thinking.” He straightened, gently letting go of your hand to rummage behind him for something. “Here…” He held out his hand, something resting in his palm. 

Heart in your mouth, you looked down at his hand. 

And nearly stopped breathing. 

Nestled against the leather, lay a necklace. A small charm, attached to a thin leather cord. But the charm itself… 

It was the sigil of Mythosaur, gleaming softly in dull metal. 

Your breath was still caught in your throat, and your fingers trembled as you carefully reached out lifting the charm, “Lori…” 

He watched you intently, drawing his hand back to his body. “It’s a Mythosaur… They are said to have run wild over the lands of Mandalore long ago… I was given one myself when I was a foundling..” 

Grogu made a soft noise from your lap, and he clumsily tugged something from his tunic. It was a matching necklace, and you surmised that this was the one the Mandalorian had received. 

You were at a loss for words. 

Truly. 

When the threads of your lives had entangled back on Sorgan, you never could have pictured this. You never would have pictured yourself now with… a family? 

The Mandalorian seemed to know what you were thinking, because he slid from his seat, kneeling down in front of you. He gently took the necklace from your hands and drew it down over your head, letting it rest just between your collarbones, “I know we had a rocky start… I mean, I did knock you out and you did try to kill me.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh, even it was a little choked, trembling a little as you beheld the sight of him kneeling before you. 

His voice sounded like he was smiling, but it too, was full of emotion as he gently pulled your hair free of the cord, “Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” The rich baritone of his voice melted into honey as he spoke.

The sound of the language in his voice was so beautiful, so oddly comforting that you could have listened to it forever. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your own voice hoarse, “What does that mean?”

The Mandalorian reached for something behind him in a pouch, “It means… family is more than blood.” His hand trembled as he held it out once more in front of him and this time, resting between his fingers was a pin. 

A pin representing the Mudhorn. 

The very same sigil that was embossed onto his pauldron. 

The symbol of his and Grogu’s clan. 

Mando watched you, his voice tender, hand still trembling, “Will you stay with me and the kid?” 

Tears shone in your eyes, blurring your vision slightly as you looked at the new pin in his hand, and everything it symbolised. 

Friendship, hope, a place to call home. No, people to call home. Lori and Grogu.. they were your home. Your new clan. And maybe, in time, you would be able to tell him your secret. Tell him about your powers that called to you stronger and stronger every single day. 

You reached out, carefully scooping up the pin, “Yes… It would be an honour.” A teary smile swept across your face, at the same time as Grogu’s happy cry.

The Mandalorian made a breathless noise, and if he had no helmet on, you would have seen the smile on his lips that made the edges of his eyes crinkle. You would have seen the tear that rolled down his cheek and the joy in his eyes, mixed with something else he hadn’t quite acknowledged yet. 

“We’ll be a clan of three.” 

Previous| Next

(Here is the necklace, and here is the pin)

[snapefiction]

Someone who appreciates me Pt. 1 - Snapefiction

A/N: Hey! Thank you to everyone who supports my writing. I just recently reached 200 Followers after not even full two Months of starting this Blog and I couldn't be happier that you enjoy my writing. In hopes that you'll like this one too! x

(I tried to use gender neutral Pronouns and Descriptions at first but sadly lost the track of it so it slipped back to a fem!Reader. I'm sorry, I am trying to learn and do better next time.)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Y/N, Severus Snape x fem!Reader

Setting: 3-4 Years after the Battle of Hogwarts

Warnings: Mentions of Insults

Word count: 2871

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your Last Name, Y/W/A - Your wished Age, Y/B/M -Your Birthday Month

Someone who appreciates me - Pt. 1

,,Dear Professor, As you may know Minerva can be very consistent of certain things. One of these Certain Things seem to be the fact that we both are (if all my given Informations are correct) not currently in a relationship. I do not want to pressure you to read my letter or even answer it but i´d be very thankful if you’d at least let Minerva know about what your intentions are. Since a long time now- to be exact 7 Months and 3 days - she started to play my personal Matchmaker and I’m very sorry that you seem to be chosen by this fate that she gave us as well. So by Merlins Sake I’m going with her wish in hope Minerva may be Satisfied by it.

My Name is Y/N Y/L/N. I´ m currently working for the Ministry but will be switching to the St. -Mungos Hospital soon to continue to work as a Healer. I am Y/W/A years old and will be turning Y/W/A on Y/B/M. I live near the Diagon Alley. I despite the idea of introducing myself to someone else like I just did. It feels like I am exposing myself.

In my free time -which has gotten very rare over the years - I enjoy reading, drinking tea and going on walks. It’s not very much, actually it’s nothing, but it makes me happy. I’m a simple Woman.

Since this is the most awkward Thing I have done in a while i will end this letter down here. In hopes that you’re well and have a great day.

Yours sincerely Y/N YL/N”

Sighing he turned the Letter to look at the sealing. It must’ve sent directly from their workplace as they even used the official seal from the ministry itself for this use. He had to admit that he was lonely. Very indeed but Minerva was taking it too far by now. She tried to set him up a few times yet but he never really went with it. But now that she persuaded another Person to send him a letter directly to his workplace he was fed up. Pity grew in his stomach as he imagined what Minerva must’ve said about him to the other Person. She was always exaggerating about him, his past life and everything from the present. She  mothered and did everything to fuss over him since he was a Student at Hogwarts himself and yes, he had to admit it, he liked it sometimes. Enjoying their annual Tea each Sunday it was alright having her as a Friend. Especially after the Dark Lord passed and he finally got rid of the pressure of hiding. But her well trained skill to brew a perfect tea won’t make up that she tried to play a constant matchmaker for him. 

A deep Sigh left his throat as he sorted his Thoughts. Whatever he’d try to say would lead to a discussion about why she wants him to meet that Person so dearly. It was always a repeating scheme. Getting up from the wooden Chair which could need a replacement he took the letter in his one hand before heading to her chambers.

The Parchment burned in his Hands. Deciding on how he’d like to drop the bomb that he’d prefer to stay alone he kept walking faster. To be honest, he would never admit that towards Minerva nor anyone else and not even himself, he loved the idea of founding a family. He always imagined it as a great Joy since his own family was rather a decent disaster. But he knew what the Newspaper wrote about him after he survived, he knew what rumours go around at the Ministry, he knew how People still degraded him and how everyone secretly was checking twice if he wasn’t secretly still a death eater. He knew, felt and saw it everyday. So it just wasn’t meant to be for him to become the man he dreamt about in private. Maybe i should go back to Cokeworth, get a dog and dedicate my life to the science.

Before he could continue his daydream of vanishing from his current world he reached the door leading to Minerva´s private rooms. Knocking he already knew she was there because the heat from inside and the smell of tea already reached his nose.

After a few seconds he heard her mumbling and finally opening the shrieking door.

,,Severus, my dear. What is it?“ A warm smile formed on her face. He just tried to keep his cold face as he hoped it’d get him further in the argument that he tried to start to prove his point. Silently holding up the Parchment he pointed the wax seal directly towards her.

,,Is it from Y/N?" Her eyes shined brightly and she was already asking him inside as her hands took the letter and she moved her tall figure aside to let him in.

,,Of course it is." He mumbled while making his way over to his usual seat. Watching her reaction as she read the Letter he wished to vanish. It was simply embarrassing.

,,Oh, she can't be serious. I told her to tell you something about herself."

,,She did!" He pleaded.

,,No she didn't! She just talked about me. Oh! The two of you match perfectly. You both are very self conscious about what you are and what you deserve or in general on how to communicate." She went to the kitchen to get kettle.

,,You're just mad that we don't want to play along with your plans." Mumbling Severus knew that she heard every whisper.

,,No you're just mad that I told her about you." Rolling his eyes he watched her setting down the kettle and filling him a cup of tea.

,,I don't need a Relationship." Stating his Fact he hoped it could bury the Topic finally.

,,I know. But it wouldn't harm you as well." Taking a sip from the still brewing water tea mixture he wondered how she wasn't burning herself.

,,Can you just stop setting those things up?" Now it was her who rolled their eyes. ,,Only if you give it one first and one last try. Y/N is very kind."

,,Kindness isn't everything. Her Letter wasn't very tempting."

,,Merlin, if you start judging people over their Kindness I'll lose my mind. You aren't very charming yourself, you twit."

,,You call me a Twit?"

,,You're clearly a Twit."

,,Stinky Witch." Shrugging her shoulder she hid her smile behind her cup of tea before downing it almost completely. ,,One date and I'll stop for good."

,,Do you promise?"

,,I solemnly swear. If this won't work out then you might be a helpless case." Ignoring her spur he gave in. Again.

,,Fine." And so it came that he drank his tea and they chatted about something else. Their Friendship had their own charm. But before Severus could leave to go back to his own Rooms Minerva put the Parchment in his Hands and told him with a warm smile to write back.

It didn't work out like he planned. Actually it was the opposite. He wanted to burn the Letter and forget that it had happened but if it was the only way to get rid of any unwanted dates, matches etc. he would actually give it a chance. Unbelievable. He'd really write Y/N back.

Since it was almost midnight he decided that it was time to continue his paperwork. He couldn't fall asleep until three A.M. anyways if he was able to fall asleep in general. After answering a lot of Letters, correcting some Works and finally writing down what he had to get from his next visit at Diagonal Alley he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to his new acquaintance living there. Wasn't she repelled by his ruined reputation?

Rereading her Letter he was wondering what a type of person she was. How did she look like? What made Minerva think that they'd be a great Match? In his Mind he was starting to puzzle a picture of someone he'd expect to write to. Of what he'd expect someone nice to be and act like. To his surprise it wasn't anything close to Lily. Not at all. It was almost the completely opposite. Bewildered he laid down his feather. He almost hasn't noticed how he started to mindlessly write all the attributes down that he was hoping to find in Y/N.

Nice but not foolish. Intelligence. A dry sense of humor. Challenging. Special. Complementary. Appreciative. Pretty Eyes. A soothing voice. Someone who appreciates work. Someone who appreciates me?

Eyeing the Clock he noticed that it was already past 4 am. Again he was completely loosing his track of time. Packed by the idea of finding something of those attributes in her he grabbed a paper and his feather.

His enthusiasm quickly faded. What was he supposed to say? What did she knew about him? His wide eyes and his raised eyebrows scaled down a bit. This grew to be more complicated than he anticipated.

,,Y/N, I'm sorry that Minerva grew this Mania about you as well. I have known her for a long time by now and can confirm to you that despite all her promises she won't stop setting things up. It seems like it became one of her dearest ways of passing time.

Not knowing of what she has told you about my person I will just start formally.

My Name is Severus Snape. Currently I am still preoccupied as the head of house of Slytherin at Hogwarts. And due to latest events I won't return to teaching soon or anytime again. Most of my time I look out to keep myself busy with science studies, working and reading.

To be completely honest, I promised Minerva to write back as she promised me in return to stop setting any acquaintance with me. Also I feel uncomfortable introducing myself as well. I prefer Meetings.

Yours faithfully Severus Snape"

After his eyes read the letter multiple times he finally got himself to seal it. Watching the wax cool down he noticed how much he hoped that she could at least fulfil on of the attributes he was looking for. Hope? Don't make a fool out of yourself. She will probably loose her interest soon.

But she didn't. He sent his Letter around 4:50 am and already at 8am after he slept 2 full hours she sent her response. Not truly believing his eyes that Y/N was answering and not someone who would want to mess with him he quickly opened it. This Time the Seal was a different one. One that contained her Initials.

,,Dear Severus, Taking it from your response I anticipate that we are on first name base now? If that's so completely fine with that.

Reading your Letter I had to laugh. Minerva is simply one of a Kind and somehow I feel very reliefed that you're as uncomfortable as I am.

Maybe that's a great opportunity to admit that I already know a lot about you. Minerva is very chatty and as you probably already are aware of your Name is very well known and greatly appreciated. And by that I don't mean that that's the Reason why I decided to write you but I mean that I'm impressed by you. I actually chose to follow Minerva's will to contact you because she introduced you as a very kind, intelligent and somewhat funny Man. And despite the fact that I am happy by being alone I can't deny that the idea of meeting someone like you was interesting me. Someone who Minerva introduced as a great Friend. This may sound cheesy but you deserved to get known to my intentions.

You mentioned that you prefer Meetings. What about a Meeting at the Three Broomsticks? I bet you know a lot funny stories about Minerva which I'm not aware of yet. Name a Time and Day and I'll be there. And if it makes you more comfortable- you can decide if it's as friends or if you want to call it a date. As I already said I'm mainly interested in getting known to you.

I hope you'll have a successful Morning and i'm expecting your Owl.

Yours sincerely Y/N YL/N"

That wasn't like anything he expected. She wasn't disgusted by everything he did? She wanted to meet him? He thought that she'd politely decline and he'd get rid of all the fuss but she actually sounded nice. Should he give in?

Some time has passed since he received her letter. To be exact four days and nights. Severus told himself that he had gotten busy in hopes this could ease his guilty Feelings. But Minervas Questions wouldn’t stop and he had to make the decision he was shoving back for too long. He just wanted to end that Matchmaking Service and now it had gotten him to the point where he was too nervous to answer a simple letter after the Person openly admitted their interest in him.

Hoping for someone to take the Decision which now laid heavy on his shoulders he wandered around the corridors. His duties for the day have been already done by now and he was just looking for a task to get his mind of the Woman’s Name. He was too nervous to answer, way to nervous. It was nice to get known to someone, yes. But it was too early for him. He hasn’t recovered yet and still felt hurt from his past. Who could blame him? No one. Right? Slowly he started to feel better. Like it was a great opportunity to back off and make this another awkward Memory he had in one of his many brain cells. He won’t answer her. That’s it.

Feeling some Weight flowing off his shoulders he reached his Chambers. He should at least answer Harry. Since he had graduated two and a half years ago he still checked up on him. It simply was his promised duty to do so. Thinking of Questions to ask Harry about his new Life as a Auror and about his Girlfriends Ginny Weaslys as a Professional Quidditch Player he grabbed some Parchment and took his Feather. Dipping it into the small ink Pot he had to notice it was empty. Annoyed he took the List he had put in his drawer in his hands. Diagon Alley, was written on it. Tea, Ink, a new Book and some Parchment.

,,Dunderhead.“ He called himself as he again rolled his eyes. He had forgot to get his supplies. That one Task had slipped off his mind. Annoyed and grumpy as always he gritted his teeth while grabbing his Coat and using his Cabin to reach named Diagon Alley. Slighty coughing he scrunched his nose. As Years have passed he grew to hate using Floo Power. 

Diagon Alley was shining. Lights from every Window invited Passengers into their Shops. But Severus wasn’t the Man to just go shopping and buying random Things. He was organised. So Organised that a simple Woman who showed slight interest in him could get him off his tracks. Ironic. He worked Years as a spy and now a simple Letter did this to him.

His Feet lead his set route to the Shop where he got the Parchment and some ink and afterwards to the Teashop. The last station was the Book Shop. It was the only stage where he was spending an unknown amount of time each time he got there. Words always had a big impact on him. Of course Actions were important too but it are words who seduce him easily.

That’s why he was carrying his now heavy bag through the huge aisles of Books trying to find a new object of Desire. He was very fond of almost every Herbalism, Potion and Healing Book so it had to be something new. His Position as Head of house was boring him. He needed something to do. So he decided to focus his energy on Books and as already mentioned Science.

Opening a smaragd green book he followed some lines about Muggles. Even though he never found himself very intertwined in this Topic he gave it a chance. The fact of how well written and even advanced it was was interesting him. Putting it in his little Basket he continued to decipher the Book Titles. Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming. Taking it in his Hands he way eyeing it closely.

,,I hope you aren’t expecting anything bad, Professor Snape. That's a dangerous Book.“ Caught he quickly looked to his side. A young Woman was smiling nervously at him. Confused he tried to remember her. Was she a Student? A former Death eater? Merlin, no. She was too young to be a death eater.

,,Y/N.“ Her cheeks blushed now and she lowered her glance shortly. ,,Y/N Y/L/N. I thought it might be not very polite if I wouldn’t even say hello since we somehow know each other.“ Getting lost in her eyes he quickly forgot his Plan on to stop thinking about her and not writing her back.  

to be continued. last update 30.jan.21

Taglist: @deepperplexity  , @monstreviolet , @wow-life-love4 , @lizlil , @once-upon-an-imagine , @darkthought15 , @elizabeth-baelish , @looseheartedlady , @ithinkweallsing , @simpforsnape

Let me know if you want to be added to my Taglist. :)

[thanatophobia-thoughts]

Moving on from Routine, let’s look at Emotional Self-Care. This is Self-Care that you use to improve your emotional stability. This is what Emotional Self-Care can take the form of (though I do not use all of these; I will talk more about the ones I use):

Comfort Food

Taking a “mental health day”

Napping and/or Sleeping In

Binge-Watching Comfort Shows/Reading a Comfort Book/Listening to a Comfort Podcast/Comfort Music/Comfort Video Games/Etc.

Long Baths

Venting

Reflecting on the Good

Meditation

Taking a Walk Outside or Hitting a Treadmill

Turning away from Social Media

Lighting a scented candle

Giving Gifts

Crying/Screaming/Emotional Outburst

Breaking Breakables

Playing with and/or Petting a Pet or Animal

Telling Other People You Don’t Want To Interact With Them (Right Now)/Boundary Setting

Taking care of Plants

Journaling

Cleaning

Treating Yourself (non-food)

Every time I googled “emotional self-care”, I got some things like “set boundaries”, “learn to say no”, and “create a support system” – all of which are very good things, but they don’t really fit the quick regulation criteria that I’m going for here.

So, which of these do I personally use? Comfort Food, Mental Health Days, Sleeping In, Comfort Media, Venting, Reflecting on the Good, Meditation, Hitting a Treadmill, Scented Candle, Giving Gifts, Crying, Animals, Boundary Setting, Cleaning, and Treating Myself.

I’d take care of plants but right now I don’t have a good space for plants.

I’ll look at comfort food last, because I have a list of food.

Mental Health Days, I usually try to schedule ahead of time, around days or times I know are going to be hectic. I know that after a convention, for example, I need “cooldown days”, so usually I will take the following Monday-Wednesday off from work to cooldown from the convention.

If I don’t know ahead of time, I do feel comfortable enough to call in sick, but I vastly prefer being able to plan it, simply because of who I am as a person. It is sometimes a necessity. Sometimes there is just too much going on, and I need to step away from everything. Usually on these days, I will sleep in, or sleep for most of the day, with the promise to go back to normal tomorrow – and that is how it should be.

These are tricks to put you back in line in caring for yourself! To get you back to normal!

Now, most weekends I do sleep in a little. I wake up every day at 6am, so on weekends, I will absolutely let myself sleep in to like, 9-11. It’s a good thing I have this blog on a schedule.

Binge-Consuming Comfort Media: I do not consider this the same as observing New Media, because often for me that is a Personal Self Care, and not necessarily Emotional Self Care. It can be, but more often than not, it gets my thinking fired up and engages me in a wholly different fashion. For example, I consider playing Final Fantasy XII to be a “comfort game”, but I will not consider playing Elden Ring for the first time to be “comfort”, so much as Personal, because the former I have already done, while the latter is something new and is creating new experiences for me. One regulates my emotions, the other does not do so in a foreseeable fashion. In new games, I do not know the experiences I will have, whereas with old games, I can predict them.

I will usually use Binge-Consuming Media in downtime that I have nothing else to fill, but do not have the energy to try something new right then (usually with the promise that I will return to new things in the near future, usually the following day when this happens on a weekend, or the next weekend if this happens on Sunday). Binge-Consuming Media also tends to occur normally on Weekday Evenings, as I tend to lack any desire for new media after work. It thus helps me to stay in a calm mood throughout the night, and prepares me for the next day of work by maintaining mood, rather than changing it.

Venting has to be done with care; I have friends I can vent to, but the vast majority of them only end up aggravating me more when I vent to them. Venting is something I tend to reserve for after I’ve figured out what I’m going to do, and I just need someone else to know my pain, because very rarely are people actually able to give me decent advice. Yet, venting is still useful because it lets me finally express it, and lets other people into my life, which is healing, and allows me to move forward without feeling like I’m keeping a secret.

Akin to that, reflecting on the good is a bit more of a solitary action, but it’s useful to remember that a “bad day” isn’t a bad life. To think of the people who love me, to think of the good things that did happen, even amidst the bad, and to remember there are more good things to come. After a particularly bad day at work, remembering good things, good phone calls with customers, and just good people, is always helpful, and can prepare me to continue through the rest of the day.

Meditation is something I try to do every day, and I do feel that it helps me focus on the moment, as well as helps me work through my thoughts when I’m not meditating.

Back when gyms were safe, hitting the treadmill was great for days I just couldn’t fucking convince myself to do my weight training. It still got me in the gym, it still got me exercising, and it helped me beat out the anger while listening to a podcast or music. I felt like I could breathe. I miss this, a lot, and I look forward to being able to return to this, or getting the “Just Dance” games for my home so I can do a similar thing, without going to the gym. I was then usually able to resume weight lifting the next day – and it kept me from breaking my streak of going to the gym, back in the day.

Aromatherapy is just a thing. I enjoy it, it helps me, and I love candles, haha.

Giving Gifts is also something I like to do. Making other people happy, makes me happy, and this is often a surefire way to do that. It can be as simple as a bit of chocolate, it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. Of course, I have to make sure I am financial stable enough to do that.

Crying – when I need to. Sometimes I will have to kind of force it, by putting on a movie I know will make me cry, because just bursting into tears from stress without additional stimuli can be hard, but once it’s done, it is so relieving, and it allows my brain to start to function again without feeling as much in a daze.

It’s true I do have pets, and they’re kind of around me everyday, so this is more of a routine one – the animals are a constant source of comfort, but if you don’t have pets, visiting a pet store may be beneficial to give their animals a bit of affection, or going to an animal shelter. Or perhaps watching cute animal videos if those aren’t options.

Boundary Setting is also important. While sometimes, it can be good to help others when you’re going through a thing – I find it helpful sometimes – at other times it is just too much. Being clear on that, and also giving your friend some idea of when to “check in”, is good. It also lets your friend know a bit of a time period, so they know it isn’t a permanent block on conversing. Being open and clear about your situation can only do you good when it comes to your friends – and checking in with them when you’re ready!

Cleaning is oddly enough something I do when I’m preparing for something that is Good. I feel like I must cleanse the area in preparation of the New Good Thing. I will do this when I buy a new gaming console, or a long-awaited game, for instance. It makes things feel fresh and rejuvenated. It lets me walk into the New Thing as if it is a New Thing, and it starts it off on good footing. Some of the anxiety and anticipation of it, is quelled.

Treating Myself, when it’s non-food items, is usually things like clothing for me, or new PJs lately. I will also invest in books I plan to read, one day, eventually, cute Star Wars things, shows and/or movies to watch that are new, or things that generally speaking bring joy into my life. Sometimes emotional regulation, is also about reward. If you’re doing good in your life, you absolutely SHOULD be rewarded for it! Otherwise, why bother with balance and moderation? Why not live a hedonistic lifestyle? That would be far more pleasant if balance and moderation don’t have rewards. Not all emotional regulation is just to stop being sad, it’s also to be vindicated and celebrate good events. Celebrating IS regulating, when it calls for it, obviously. So I’m not encouraging here spending your money on whims because you are sad, but spending it more when you’re happy, and doing good.

And then we get to Comfort Foods. What do I use for comfort foods?

Chipotle Gouda Pasta Salad

Lime-Chipotle Pasta Salad

“Chicken” Fried Steak (Scare quotes because I’m a vegetarian so it’s fake meat)

“Tuna” Salad

Cheesecake, particularly raspberry white chocolate, or turtle.

Ice cream, particularly from Cold Stone, but usually either Rocky Road or Raspberry with Chocolate Chunks. There’s also Love Potion #9 which I have to drive a significant distance for….

Extra Lattes (note the extra – I already have these planned in with my meal plans).

Hot Chocoalte

Potatoes O’Brien and Gravy

The idea behind Comfort Food: Eating tasty food often restores a mood, or at least puts us in a better mindset. They aren’t always the healthiest things, though they aren’t necessarily unhealthy. They have to be done in moderation, as you see I indicate with lattes it’s “extra” lattes that go on the comfort food side. I usually have two decaf lattes a week, one on Wednesday, and one on Friday.

Comfort Foods are for a “limited time”. An extra latte means I don’t get one the following day, or I don’t get one every single day of the week. I take the comfort it offers when it’s needed, and resume my usual drinking habits.

Things like Pasta Salad are for weeks when I need a bit of help, or when I’ve done good, because they’re multiple serving things. So like, my birthday week, eating a pasta is good. Or a week where everything went to hell, and I can’t focus on making something “new” and I just need to eat – but then it’s right back to normality after that week. This is not have pasta for an entire month, this is a way to set intentions, and work on orienting myself back to normal with food I love, and food I can make with my eyes closed.

Single-serving things, like cheesecake or hot chocolate, are usually Reward self-care. Like fuck yeah, I did great, I should give myself a little treat. It encourages my good behavior, and does not become an indulgence. It also ends up “planned”, and so the rest of the meals work around that indulgence so I don’t go overboard with it, either.

Knowing what foods, and what I use them for, helps me to use them when they will be most beneficial for me. Things like “extra lattes” also makes me think: Do I really want to do this now, or wait until the day I’m going to have it? Is there a reason I need it now? What will I do after I have it? How does this impact everything else in the balance?

So these are kind of the “quick trick” emotional self-care tools I use. Obviously, you should try to have a steady way of regulating your emotions, but shit happens. Cars break down, work days suck, friends are angry, people die…we need to have tools to get “back to normal”, or close enough to normal.

And you should also, absolutely, take time to treat yourself in self-care! If you don’t reward yourself, what’s the point in being “balanced”, and not just living a hedonistic lifestyle? That’s why comfort food as rewards is a thing! It’s why you can use these as rewards, if it helps, for doing good!

These are just what I do, and what I suggest. These are ideas to get you thinking about what you could put on a list, and how that could help you. If these same ideas work for you, great! If not, you just have to feel out yourself to determine what will help you! Brainstorm with your loved ones!

[tealin]

Cape Crozier: The Spiritual Journey

As usual, please check out http://twirlynoodle.com/blog to see this post and others in their original (functioning) formatting.

Since getting seriously into polar history, I kept hearing the same two things from polar veterans.  One was that I could not possibly understand the story properly, or be able to depict it truthfully, unless I visited Antarctica myself.  The other was that Antarctica changes people.  This was unanimous amongst scientists, historians, and even tourists: one cannot help but be profoundly affected by contact with Antarctica; that is just a fact of the place.

I have certainly been changed by Antarctica indirectly.  The inner kernel of “me” is the same in my earliest memories as now, but the Terra Nova men and their experiences have fundamentally shifted how that kernel views and relates to the world and the people around me.  I am a vastly better person for their influence, and that is a large part of why I have been so dogged in getting their story to a new audience: the hope that, through my work, even one other person might be changed in the same way.

When I finally got the chance to visit Antarctica in person, I had half an eye out for signs something had happened.  Two weeks into my visit, I had learned a lot and had some meaningful experiences, but I couldn't say I had changed at all.  Maybe that initial action-at-a-distance was the change I had been promised after all.

Then I went to Cape Crozier.

As we have spread around the planet, humans have noted certain places as being special in some way, places of some sort of power, or where the spirit world is a little more tangible.  The Celts called these 'thin places', where the fabric of reality is threadbare, and Something Else comes a little closer.  One can have a 'thin' experience anywhere, but certain places seem to encourage them.  They may remain completely unmarked, or may become loci for centuries of pilgrimage, or anything in between, but they exist in some form in every culture except, perhaps, the post-Enlightenment intellectual West.

Antarctica, generally, feels like where the edge of a painting dissolves into brushstrokes. There is a certain unreality baked-in: the sun wheels around the sky without setting, one can count on one hand the species of life regularly seen, and everything – the landscape, the weather, the distances – is so vastly out of proportion to puny humanity.  One could argue that this 'unfinished' feeling is because so much of it is white, but I have travelled through many snow-covered landscapes, and they feel like landscapes covered in snow, not fundamentally blank places with a few suggestive details dropped in by an artist whose main attention was elsewhere.

Cape Crozier was something else entirely, though.  It is, of course, hanging off the edge of Ross Island, but it felt more like it was hanging off the edge of reality itself.  It is a thin place par excellence.  And I had an experience there which I have been trying to process since landing back at McMurdo.  When I tried to discuss it with friends, my ability to speak quite simply stopped.  Then the pandemic, and the new house, and pushing through Vol.1, all rose up and drove it to the back of my mind.  In February I wasn't ready to talk about it; here in October, I worry it's too late.  But I feel compelled to share what happened there, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I ever will.

If this were a novel, at Cape Crozier I would have felt the thinness of time, and a closer connection to the dead men I had followed there – perhaps almost to believe they weren't dead at all!  In such a place, that didn't seem impossible.  But that is not what happened.  Nor did I have some sort of enlightenment beamed into my head from the heavens.  Even the word 'happened' is too suggestive of some sort of discrete external event.  If you had asked me, there, at the time, I'd have said I was just sitting there thinking. But I sit thinking a lot in life, and this was not the sort of thinking I am used to.  It was more like a revelation.  Not in the trumpets and angels sense, but in a literal one: layers of clutter and gloss were pulled back to reveal a simple underlying truth.  It was, in essence, a dose of perspective, a view from high and far enough away to see the big picture, and not the surface detail.  As I sat at the base of a boulder, gazing at the stone igloo and gawking at how completely insane were the men who dragged their sledges to this desolate nowhere to build it, I suddenly saw my life as it appeared in the Author's notes.

Ever since first getting the inkling that this story would make a good graphic novel, it has felt like a calling.  I said 'no' to the calling for years – some sort of cosmic wrong number – but when I finally said 'yes' everything started falling into place.  That is supposed to be a good sign, for a calling.  And I was happy following it, though it wasn't easy or comfortable.  As far as I could deduce, under my own power, it seemed like what I ought to be doing.  That is not to say there weren't doubts, especially in the grey light of a winter morning when I would lie in my rented bed, looking at my desk and wondering what on earth I was doing with my life.  And I was not untroubled by other concerns: Shouldn't I be more helpful to my family? Why have I been persistently unable to find a tribe, or a relationship?  Will I be allowed to stay in the UK?  Can I do this work and keep myself fed and housed?

Here, on a wind-scoured ridge on the edge of nowhere, reflecting on its history of unbelievable and, it could be argued, pointless hardship, one might expect to realise the folly of one's ways, and to swear off quixotic enterprises in favour of the hitherto unappreciated quotidian stuff that really matters.  But that is not what happened.  Instead, I got this dose of clarity:

I am here to tell this story.  Not here, at Cape Crozier, in this instant (although that too), but here, on this planet, as a human being.  This is what I am for.

Whatever I need to make it happen will be provided.  No less, and no more.

Everything else?  Tangential.  Not worth worrying about.  What needs to happen, will happen, and if it doesn't happen, it didn't need to.  And that's OK.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

When I was young, we had a puzzle of the United States of America.  It was made of Masonite, and the pieces were cut out in the shapes of the states, which would be assembled to fill the recessed outline of the country.  Because they were geographical shapes and not interlocking jigsaw pieces, they would slide and rattle around until the last one got wedged in and locked everything else in place.

Most of my life, I have felt like that rattly puzzle.  I didn't realise it because I had never known there was another way to be.  But there under the boulder it felt like that last piece had been dropped in, that secured all the loose ones.  It was not that Cape Crozier was my missing piece and now that I had it I was complete – that is far too literal.  The missing piece was a something that wasn't even a thing; rather, in that moment of clarity, I felt all the jangling bits come to rest, and a wholly unfamiliar solidity.  At last the clay wobbling around the potter's wheel had been centred, and I felt a metaphysical ground beneath my metaphysical feet that I had not known it was possible to feel.

Ironically, the rest of the day I felt like I wasn't touching the actual ground at all, perhaps because what I was anchored to was on another plane entirely.  The stumbling shamble through the wind back to the helicopter might as well have been happening to someone else.  We took off into the gale, and though the pilot acted as though it was perfectly ordinary, when we were rounding the ridge he said 'wow, that's the rotor all the way to the left' which I didn't understand but didn't sound great.  Nevertheless the sense of peace persisted, and I understood how, in his last letter to his wife, which he knew would be his last, Wilson could have kept insisting 'all is well.'  (I knew why he wrote that: he had read Julian of Norwich.  But now I understood why.)

The journey back was a transcendence all of its own, the beauty of which seemed to be a perfectly natural outward manifestation of that altered state.  We touched down in time for me to make it to the Galley just as it opened for dinner, so we couldn't have been gone two whole hours, and that seemed absurd to me – surely I had sat under that boulder for two hours at least?  Or had we only been at the igloo ten minutes?  It was impossible to tell.

What I wanted more than anything was to go up a mountain and ponder the whole thing, alone, until it sorted itself out and I was ready to come back down again.  I could have gone up Observation Hill, but the weather looked liable to turn into a proper blizzard at any moment.  So, lacking a better option, I went to go eat, and, after having a chuckle at the Cherry Turnovers, slunk to the back where I could usually count on having a small wallflower table to myself, especially this early.  But one of the larger tables was full of young dudes talking about bar fights they'd been involved in, and I just … couldn't.  So I wandered into the main area and discovered the One Strange Rock crew having an early dinner as well, begged a spot at their table, and ate swaddled in friendly natter instead of at one with the universe in a blizzard.  It amounted to much the same thing.

Eventually one of them said, 'You went to Cape Crozier today, didn't you? How was that?'

I made an exploding gesture around my head and said 'Pkhhhh.'

Cherry wrote that the Winter Journey 'had beggared our language'.  I am sure that my inarticulate gesture is not what he meant.  But at the same time, in fact at that very dinner, I realised something about his writing.  The Winter Journey chapter is unanimously regarded as the finest part of The Worst Journey in the World.  Some people question that this otherwise unremarkable country gent, who never produced another book, could have written with such profound and expressive talent, and they posit that his friend and neighbour George Bernard Shaw, who definitely did consult on the book, must have ghostwritten it.  I have read enough of Cherry's writing – in his own hand – to know this is bosh; the voice and the style are distinctly his.  What's more, I was surprised to discover, when going through his journals, that a large portion of the Winter Journey chapter was not written last, despite it being the last to join the manuscript of Worst Journey, but was in fact written in his bunk at Cape Evans while he was recuperating from the experience.  In the published book, he singles out some passages as being from 'my own diary' but great tracts of unattributed narration are more or less verbatim quotations as well.  The experience related therein feels so immediate because it was.

The rest of Worst Journey, while perfectly readable, is largely a narrative rewrite of Cherry's and others' diaries.  Sometimes he lets others carry the story for pages at a time.  His writing is undeniably good, but is often simply mortar, filling gaps and binding sources together to tell a history that no human invention could better.  The Winter Journey chapter, on the other hand, reads like a torrent of pure inspiration pouring through him onto the page.  That such vivid, timeless prose should have come from an exhausted 25-year-old in his bunk in a wooden hut is no less remarkable than from a jaded 35-year-old in the library of his country house.

Artists of all stripes will often say that their best work is not their own creation, but feels like it already existed and came through them from somewhere else. It's as if there's a great Beyond where things that need to come into the world – stories, images, performances – queue up for passage through artists' minds and bodies.  Sometimes one taps into it by luck; usually it's a combination of training and discipline that makes the link traversable, from time to time.  Perhaps artists' minds are their own thin places, in a way.  Sitting there at dinner with my friends, I felt as though I'd brushed against the fabric between this reality and that Beyond, and, like touching the wall of a tent in a rainstorm, broken the surface tension and allowed something through.  I felt like, if I just put pencil to paper, something could flow through me, if only I could narrow down a subject.  With the intensity of his experience, Cherry did not so much brush against the wet tent fabric as punch a hole through it; feeling just a small inkling of that myself, it was no wonder that the creative energy poured into his diary with such intuitive eloquence.

Had I sat down to write this that night, perhaps I could have tapped into that flow, but I didn't feel I was ready.  I can guarantee you that right now I am not tapped into anything but a vague and dwindling recollection.  As vast as the experience was, by putting a box of words around it, I cannot help but reduce it to the confines of the box.  But that is the best I can do under my own power.

Compared to the seismic transformation of character brought about by my first vicarious encounter with Antarctica, the insight at Cape Crozier was very small and personal, but once in place, the ramifications have been substantial.  When I arrived back home, just before Christmas, the world was still as it ever was, but I was different, and I noticed how differently I related to everything.  Things I loved about Cambridge, which previously made me desperate to stay, I appreciated no less, but valued instead as something I had the honour to enjoy for a while, and didn't need to hold on to.  A young-adults group which I'd hung around, formerly a precious simulacrum of a social life, now felt hollow, and I abandoned it in favour of time spent one-on-one with the handful of people who I really appreciated.  They all said I seemed different; one person said I seemed 'sad', but I think I had just taken the mask off the seriousness which tends to frighten people. I have never been afraid to be myself, but in recent years have tried to mitigate that self in relation to others; there seemed no point to that, now.  It was as if my inner gyroscope had finally started spinning, and I had a sense of balance and orientation that I hadn't before.

Holding on to the clarity of that moment, and the centredness it brought me, has not been easy.  It didn't keep me from panicking when my housemate excoriated me back in March.  It didn't focus my mind on my work as soon as I'd moved into the new place, or save me from getting angry and frustrated when battling my tax returns.  Sometimes it's very hard to remember at all.  But I know what happened, and I can remember remembering, even if I can't recapture the feeling itself.  Sometimes, when it's very windy, I seek out a high open place in the hope of feeling it again, but it hasn't worked.  Maybe it doesn't need to.  Having it once was all I really needed, and even if I succeeded in flicking those switches again, what good would it do that hasn't already been done?

I could not foresee, on that windswept ridge on the edge of reality, where the world would be in 2020.  In wry moments I think I was only a few months ahead of a large portion of humanity, who have been forced to sort things out when the pandemic stripped away their preoccupations and illusions.  Maybe you are one of them, and you recognise some of what I've described.  Maybe you feel like you've been running away from it.  Maybe you have been running towards it but have been unable to find it.  All I can tell you is: it's worth the seeking.

I wish everyone in the world could visit Antarctica, even just once, and see how it changes them.  The world would be such a better place.  I am so profoundly grateful that I had the chance, and am determined to pay it forward by bringing some shred of that experience to as many people as possible.  If my communication fails to bridge that gap for you, then take it upon yourself to find your own thin place.  They are all around.  It only requires that you be receptive, and undertake to look.

[makaias-trash-heap]

Soooooo lately ya girl here has been running into a lot of writing issues so I gave something a try...BACK TO BASICS FOR WHAT I ORIGINALLY MADE THIS BLOG FOR!!! First time I’ve written anything for my favorite Tsundere in a while. Enjoy!! Just more of my own self indulgent writing while I have no requests.

“Sooooo, guess who I just heard from.” 

Shin glanced up from his book with his usual blank expression, “Why not just tell me?”

Mira smiled and rolled her eyes slightly, “My parents. They called and asked me to come over for dinner for my sister's birthday this weekend.” She stated, plopping on the couch next to him.

Mirdorima raised an eyebrow giving her an intrigued look, “This is the first time they've wanted you over since we've been together nanodayo.” 

Mira hummed in agreement leaning into his side, naturally causing him to blush like always. 

“Are you going?” 

Mira shook her head, “Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Shin, my family and I haven't gotten along in years. I've tried going over a few times and it always ends in a fight.”

She ignored the look he gave her in favor of playing with his fingers, a habit she picked up on when he still tapped them.

“Mira, they're still your family nanodayo. We've been together for nearly 3 years and I don't recall you seeing them at all.”

“Not true, I've seen my brother.”

“Mira.”

“Look, I don't want to go because I don't want to fight and that's exactly what will happen. Especially going now.”

He gave Mira a slight confused look, “What does that mean?”

She sighs turning to face him, “We've been together for about 3 years and aren’t engaged, I'm perfectly with how things have been going but my parents are incredibly judgmental and will nag and question why. There's also the fact that I’m 2 years older than you. And even though it’s incredibly stupid, my parents will not agree with the fact that I'm with someone younger than me. And to top all of that off I'm pregnant out of wedlock, big no no to my parents. We also fight about my brother everytime I'm there. I guess they invited him too so this is going to be twice the chaos.” 

Midorima adjusted his glasses looking down at her, “I understand these situations can be uncomfortable, but they're still your family and you haven't seen them in years. For all you know they may have changed from the last time you saw them.” 

Mira halfheartedly glared at him and sighed realizing this wasn't going anywhere, “You aren't letting this go until I agree to go are you?”

“I don't intend to.”

“Fine. But if I have to deal with them you're coming with me.”

He turned his full attention to her, “What! Why am I involved in this?”

“You got involved when you bugged me into going. And besides, as you've said, we've been together for 3 years, and you've yet to meet my family.”

If looks could kill Mira would be dead right now, multiple times over. 

“You'll see why I don't get along with them and I promise you'll never end up going with them again and you won't bug me into it.”

Midorima lets out a sigh leaning back into his seat, “I suppose. When are we supposed to be there?”

“Saturday at 5.” 

(Skip to weekend)

“Remind me again why we're here?” Mira groaned as they pulled up in front of her parents house. She ignored the slightly surprised look that snuck his way to his face. She’d given him warning that her family was pretty well off. 

He recovered quickly enough, “Because they're your family nanodayo.”

Mira rolled her eyes trying to mentally prepare herself for the interaction tonight. They climbed out of the car and started making their way up to the house. Mira spotted her brother coming up the sidewalk and waved.

“So you decided to come too huh.” Kenjuro said, returning the gesture.

“Not really, Shin forced me into it. I'm kinda surprised you came though.” 

He shrugged, “Boyfriend forced me to. He offered to come for moral support but you and I both know that that would have been a really bad idea.”

“How’s Reo-chan doing?” Mira asked as they started walking up the sidewalk to the house.

“Good. I watched him play basketball with his old team from high school. So that was kinda exciting .”

They finally reached the door and stood awkwardly glancing at each other until Midorima gently nudged her forward.

“Ok ok sheesh.”

Mira knocked on the door secretly hoping that her parents would ignore them and not answer….sadly that did not happen. Much to her dismay her sister Aika answered the door. 

“Hey Kenjuro, Mira.” Aika greeted them with a fake sweet smile.

“Hey Aika, happy birthday.”

Mira slipped past her with Kenjuro and toed her my shoes off pulling Midorima in behind her. 

“Hello Mira, Kenjuro. We're glad you could make it.” Her parents appeared at the door to greet them

“Hey mom, hey dad.” Mira forced a smile. 

“Who is your guest Mira?”

“Oh, right, Um, mom dad, this is Midorima Shintarou, my boyfriend. Shin, these are my parents.” 

“It's nice to meet you Hashigawa-San.” Midorima politely greeted her parents. 

“The pleasure is ours. Please right this way. Dinner is almost ready.”

Everyone started filing into the dining room, Mira and Midorima following behind last. 

“I don't understand your concern. Your parents seem rather pleasant.” He mumbled quietly so only Mira could hear it. 

“Oh, just wait for dinner. That's usually when the show starts.”

They all took a seat at the table, Kenjuro sitting as far as possible from their parents. Which left Mira and her sister to sit by them. Midorima sat next to Mira starting to notice the awkward atmosphere.

“So Mira. It's been a while since we've last spoken. What have you been up to?” Her father asked after a few moments of silence.

Mira hesitated a second before preparing to answer, this most likely this wasn’t going to go well.

“Working mostly, I just finished up art school not that long ago so I've been working freelance for a while. Making films for tourist companies, helping design Billboards, things like that.” 

Her parents stayed quiet before turning their attention to Midorima.

“Midorima-San, may I ask what you do for a living?”

“I am going into the medical field. I'm currently working on my internship at the hospital.” Midorima straightened up answering.

Mira’s father nodded, “Then a man as logical as you, you can't support this crazy dream of hers.”

Midorima froze and glanced at Mira before answering, “It's her decision to make and if it's something that she feels strongly about then naturally she has my support.” 

Her father was about to say something when he was cut off, “Now now dear, we're trying to have a nice civilized dinner tonight. Ok, this is a discussion we can have another time.”

Mira quickly turned her attention back to her food to avoid more questions. It worked for a while. Although this point Midorima was very uncomfortable. Kenjuro followed Mira’s lead but he's usually safe from questions. Their parents hate the fact that he's gay so they usually don't even acknowledge that part of his life. 

“Mira.” 

Mira looked up from her plate to see her mom holding the wine bottle out to her.

“Oh no thank you mom. I'm good.”

Aika snorted across the table, “wow, you of all people are turning down alcohol?”

Mira rolled her eyes, “do you really want to go there Aika?”

She shrugged, “I'm just saying for a while here sobriety was not your strong suit,” Mira shot a glare at her across the table, “oops sorry, did your boyfriend not know about that?”

“Do mom and dad know you've been sneaking into the liquor cabinet since you were like 14?” Mira shot right back at her.

Of course he knows, he helped her get her act cleaned up. Still a rather sensitive topic right now.

“Ok that's enough you two.” 

Mira rolled her eyes at her dads warning, ready to leave. On top of the unpleasant conversation, the constant nausea from the morning sickness was rough on her today.

“Mira, you ok?” Kenjuro asked, starting to notice her discomfort.

She just nodded waiting for the nausea to subside, “Yeah, stomach is just a little upset.”

Naturally Aika didn't seem to miss a thing.

“Oh my god you're pregnant aren't you?”

Mira immediately tensed up, hoping to completely avoid this topic, “What are you talking about?”

“You aren’t drinking which is pretty out of the ordinary for you, you’re randomly sick and I’ve noticed the weight gain.” Aika quickly insinuated.

Mira didn't answer, deciding instead just to get up and get ready to leave. Midorima grabbed her hand to stop her, it seems like he has other plans.

“They were going to eventually find out Mira.” He said, looking up at her.

“Is that a confirmation?” Her father looked back and forth between them waiting for an answer.

Mira sighs, “Yeah dad, it is. I'm pregnant.” 

Neither of the parents said anything right away. The tension gathering in the air was enough to show that this news was about to be either very well accepted or very poorly.

“We had the perfect life laid out for you. All you had to do was do as you were told and follow it.” Her father started to lecture, “First you turn down one of the best universities in Japan, and then rather than going to any university at all for a real career, you start to follow this ridiculous idea at some art school, and now you're 23 and pregnant. You couldn't have at least been decent enough to get married before spreading your legs for the first guy to take interest in you?!” 

For the first time in an argument with them, Mira was speechless. Her father certainly had a tendency to be cruel, but that was low even for him. He continued yelling, Kenjuro and Aika eventually getting involved in the argument. Mira started to tune out the yelling. This whole night has done nothing but stress her out, and stress is not good for her right now. She felt a sharp pain rip through her abdomen and lower back which snapped her back to reality and the current argument at hand.

“I don't understand where I went wrong with the two of you. My son is a faggot and my daughter is a who-”

“That's enough,” Mirodrima said sternly, “I understand you don't agree with Mira’s life choices. But you cannot control her. She is an adult and it's still her decision to make. As for her being pregnant. No it's not ideal timing right now. My parents were rather disappointed as well. 

We’re not married, and I’m only 21 years old and in medical school while starting this family, but we’re doing it. And my parents have never once referred to myself or Mira in such a derogatory manner.”

“Shintarou.” Mira grabbed his hand and squeezed to get his attention. 

He crouched by her side, “What's wrong?”

“Can we go? I'm starting to cramp badly and I'm just ready to go home.” She whined starting to stand up.

“Yeah let's go, but I'm going to call your doctor to make sure that things are ok before we go home.” 

He helped her stand up and started walking with her to the front door. He occasionally glared back behind them to make sure their family got the hint to leave them alone. Kenjro followed behind them to the car. Midorima helped her into the passenger seat taking her keys to drive.

“Feel better sis, call me later so I know things are ok.” 

Kenjuro closed the door and then went around to talk to Midorima who was on the phone. Once he hung up he turned his attention to Kenjuro to talk to him before climbing into the car.

“How are you feeling? Are you still in pain?” 

She shook her head, “No, it stopped for now. I just feel really sick now.”

He nodded and started the car. The ride home was fairly silent as he focused on the road and Mira focused on not throwing up. He pulled up to their apartment and he quickly came around to her side in case she needed help getting inside. 

“Your doctor said that as long as you aren't bleeding and you don't continue to be in pain that you should be ok. Sometimes some cramping isn’t uncommon, especially in stressful situations. But if they start again she wants us to come immediately,” He explained while they were settling in the bedroom, “so if you're in pain like that again I don't care what time it is wake me up and we’ll go ok.” 

Mira nodded changing into one of his shirts to sleep.

“Why do you insist on stealing my clothes all the time, you have your own dresser full of them.” He grumbled and changed as well.

“Oh stop whining,” She teased looking back at him, “I only steal your shirts and it's only for bed. Besides you never wear these.” 

He grumbled under his breath again while he settled in bed. Mira crawled in next to him and curled up into his side. He's finally used to cuddling with her...it only took him forever to do so. He turned on the lamp on his side of the bed signaling that he planned on reading for a bit before bed.

“Don't fall asleep with your glasses on again.” Mira said rolling over to turn off the light.

He scoffed, “that was once.”

She chuckled, situating herself into a comfortable position to drift off. Mira was nearly asleep when Midorima poked her in her back to get her attention.

“Hmm? What's up?” She rolled over and looked at him. 

“What your parents said earlier, it's bothering me.”

She sighed and sat up, “Just ignore it. Don't ever let anything they say bother you. Like you saw they're a bunch of judgmental assholes.”

He shook his head, “Nothing like that. They aren't bothering me. It just has me thinking. Are you really ok with how things are going?”

She cocked an eyebrow at his question, “I told you earlier I was. I mean, so long as you aren't planning on taking off on me anytime soon I'm perfectly fine with how we're doing ok.” 

He nodded, setting his book aside, “we should go to sleep.”

Mira leaned over and kissed Midorima before laying back down, “Goodnight Shin.”

Midorima returned the kiss and put his book away before laying down and wrapping his arm around her, “Goodnight Mira.”