#I have far too many feelings about these stoats

[easays]

In some ways, I wonder if Tula is Brennan's chance to revisit some of the feelings Caramelinda struggled with. Both are women who lost their partner and had to deal with the fallout in ways that asked them to de-prioritize their own feelings and well-being.

At some point for Caramelinda, pushing it down meant trying to love Jet and Ruby in ways that prepared them for the heartbreak and hardness she dealt with without letting them into the hurt yoked around her own neck.

Tula, I think, shows us how kind and gentle and loving that desire to protect can look like before it turns brittle and alienating between parent and child. Caramelinda kept her love for Lazuli buried; Tula is burying her kids in her love for Geoffrey. At the center of both, I think, is a simmering wound and anger.

Caramelinda's was dragged out of her by a greater grief; I can't help but wonder if Tula's, too, will only fully emerge after she loses something more precious than her husband. Or will Lila and Jaysohn lose her and inherit the way she holds her anger under wraps? Will their love of her turn into a memorial clouding the anger underneath until it's too late for them, too?

[robynator]

burrow's end spoilers!

i am not a huge fan of horror. as a rule, i avoid horror movies and books, because oftentimes the violence in them is just too graphic for me

that being said, burrow's end is shaping up to be my favourite dimension 20 season, namely because of the horror aspects of it. very few streamable dnd shows have been able to recreate the dread and anticipation that i feel while actually playing dnd, but burrow's end does it perfectly

there is, of course, violence and gore (notably the infamous bear scene) but that doesn't bother me as much as it does with other mediums, probably because it's dnd and im sort of used to it. and yet it's the more "psychological" aspects of it that draw me and from what ive seen, many other people in as well

at first it's the not knowing, the uncertainty that causes the unease and later it's putting the pieces together, realizing where the stoats are and what they're dealing with, while they themselves are still ignorant on the basis of just not having the background information we do

i can't not talk about the tapes and the chilling revelation that it was the first stoats that were behind everything. hearing dr wenabocker at first say that everything was under control (and it's likely that he was right), and then only a couple tapes later say that there were clear signs of sabotage, that the cables were chewed through

and, of course, the attack, which is so far probably my favourite part of the show. it's shocking, and downright horrifying to hear and i genuinely had to take a quick break after that, just to process it. carlos luna, you absolute madman, that was incredible

and then we were introduced to phoebe

phoebe, who was behind it all. phoebe, who suggested they sabotage the plant. phoebe, who ripped her sibling's jaw off, when they wouldn't listen to her. phoebe, who gleefully attacked dr wenabocker and may or may not be puppeteering him right now. phoebe, whose return even the first stoats feared (and awaited)

ive thought about the implications behind taking over someone's body to further your own goals long before burrow's end but this has reignited that train of thought (i made a post about it months ago, relating to lockwood & co.) so i know for a fact that i will be thinking about the horror of it for some more time now. especially if that gets confirmed — and im hoping it does

aabria iyengar is a brilliant dm and storyteller and this entire season i have been consistently in awe of the pure genius of the narration and symbolism and plot points, and how she's able to craft such a masterful story

[utilitycaster]

I know very little about radiation so it's probably easier for me to suspend disbelief for that element in Burrow's end than you are and I haven't been bothered by it. I wonder if you'd be willing to expand on how you think the radiation plot takes away from the good elements of the show (family/political) beyond the suspension of disbelief issue, or would you rather go into it after the season ends?

I'm holding off until the season ends because there were some developments in the most recent episode that made me wonder if the Blue/Light isn't radiation after all and if this is a red herring (which is its own problem; there's been far too many red herrings here for very little central mystery), but ultimately, I stand by my assertion that if you are strong on literary analysis, you don't need the addition of science literacy, though obviously that is what initially signaled to me that this was a mess.

The question really is "what does setting this in a nuclear power plant vs. some other human structure achieve, narratively and thematically?" The following are some discussion questions to consider that I don't think require any particular scientific knowledge.

What does the bear being controlled by chipmunks and full of the Blue achieve? What does this tell us about the world?

Do you think the stoats having magic powers requires an in-world explanation? Why or why not?

What do you think the stoats using radiation represents as a metaphor? Does this change with the reveal that the stoats were the ones to cause the radiation disaster?

The blue is stated to be behind the very different revenant statuses of both Tula and Ava, who died under very different circumstances. Does this feel consistent? Why or why not?

How is the Blue used in Last Bast? Is the Blue necessary to create the high control societies of Last Bast? Is the Blue-based cult run by Thorn Vale a high control society? Explain your reasoning.

[ecargmura]

A Sign Of Affection Episode 8 Review - Unrequited Love Sucks

I am praying to all the Gods in existence for this story to stray far away from drama. There’s already hints about a messy love triangle between Itsuomi, Emma and Shin and not to mention the ongoing conflict about Oushi’s feelings for Yuki. I just hope that nothing bad happens and that everything can be handled as maturely as possible; these characters are adults, so handle things like adults.

I wonder why some anime sites list Shin’s surname as Iyanagi when it’s actually Iryuu. Because of this, I have to change my tags! On the topic of Shin, I feel bad for him. I’ve been in his situation as well as being in Emma’s situation. Being in love with someone who will never love you back the same way really does suck. Shin loves Emma, but she loves Itsuomi, who is dating Yuki. The fact that he’s still friends with Itsuomi and not cut him off from his life shows how strong their friendship is. Heck, the first thing Itsuomi did was introduce Yuki to Shin in hopes that Emma can finally move on. I do like how much he trusts Shin to reveal these things to him. He trusts him as much as he trusts Kyouya, who’s his family. I was slightly frustrated when Shin didn’t tell Emma of the big news, but it makes sense as he doesn’t want to hurt her.

The Highschool flashback scene was interesting to see. It was nice seeing what Itsuomi was like back then. He was a mysterious transfer student, so he was easily the talk of the school with how handsome he was. Emma fell for him at first sight. It was also nice seeing insight on how the three became friends. The love triangle between them stems from Shin falling for Emma at first sight and Emma falling for Itsuomi at first sight. Despite that, they all got along as they kept hanging out at the rooftop. Shin had multiple girlfriends that he used as replacements to get over his feelings for Emma, but he never got over them, hence his constant breakups and rumors about him sleeping around a lot. He even had to self-sabotage himself by saying that Emma was someone he’d never fall in love with and even hoped Itsuomi and Emma would date just so he could have closure. His feelings are very complicated, but I hope for the best for him.

People might think that Emma falling for Itsuomi at first sight isn’t realistic, but love works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, you just fall for someone without knowing too much about them. I fell in love with a boy in my middle school class after seeing how different he was from the other boys I was friends with. I didn’t really talk to him much due to us being reserved, but I didn’t even realize I liked him romantically until a friend told me she had a crush on him and the thought of her liking him irked me. It just happens; I guarantee that. However, I do wonder if Emma’s feelings for him just stem from her liking his appearance. Like, even though he brushed her off so many times, she still clings onto him in hopes that he’ll like her back. I just hope she won’t bring unnecessary drama in the future.

I do like that time passes in this show as Yuki, Rin and Itsuomi have moved onto upper grades; Yuki is a second-year now. Rin and Itsuomi are third-years now. Yuki now has new note takers as Rin had to quit due to conflicting schedules. They’re still friends, however.

All the Yuki and Itsuomi scenes are adorable, which is why I didn’t talk much about them for this review. The Yuki and stoat comparison was the highlight to me; it’s nice to have a character be compared to an animal that’s not the traditional pets. However, I am interested in the sign language boot camp next episode. I can’t wait to see if Kyouya and Rin will get good progression and to see more Yuki and Itsuomi scenes. What are your thoughts?

[mariana-oconnor]

The Crooked Man pt 2

So far we have had no crooked men, miles, sixpences or stiles. I feel a little bereft.

We do however have a corpse, and like so many things, that's a lot more fun in fiction than it would be in real life.

We also have questions: Who else was in the room? Where is the key? Is David a character or a biblical reference? Was this all a swingers evening gone wrong? Why was the door locked? Why did Nancy ask for tea when she usually doesn't?

The paper was covered with the tracings of the foot-marks of some small animal. It had five well-marked foot-pads, an indication of long nails, and the whole print might be nearly as large as a dessert-spoon. “It's a dog,” said I.

Ah nuts, is Watson going to kill this one, too?

“Did you ever hear of a dog running up a curtain? I found distinct traces that this creature had done so.” “A monkey, then?” “But it is not the print of a monkey.”

Yeah, monkeys have tiny little hands. A cat? They sometimes climb curtains. I'm sure a dog could climb a curtain in the right circumstances.

“Neither dog nor cat nor monkey nor any creature that we are familiar with."

Ferret. I'm going with ferret, although I will accept an alternative mustelidae relative. Probably not a honey badger. Probably...

"You have an indication, you see, of a long body with very short legs attached to it."

Ferret!

Watson, please don't shoot the ferret. I will be very sad if you shoot the ferret.

"On the whole, it was probably some creature of the weasel and stoat tribe—and yet it is larger than any of these that I have seen.”

The honey badger can have a canary, as a treat.

(If it isn't a honey badger now, I'm gonna be so sad. It's a honey badger in my heart.)

"We know, also, that he ran across the lawn, entered the room, accompanied by a strange animal, and that he either struck the Colonel or, as is equally possible, that the Colonel fell down from sheer fright at the sight of him"

"Now, it was equally certain that, immediately on her return, she had gone to the room in which she was least likely to see her husband, had flown to tea as an agitated woman will..."

So the tea is because she was agitated? Okay, I guess I can allow that. It is the British way: crisis = tea. Fair.

"I saw a man coming towards us with is back very bent, and something like a box slung over one of his shoulders. He appeared to be deformed, for he carried his head low and walked with his knees bent."

One (1) 'Crooked' man, check.

Miss Morrison is a good friend, very supportive of her. She is being very rude about this man - Henry - though. 'dreadful looking creature'. He's just a man. Possibly a murderer, true, but there's no need to be quite so rude. Another to join the Watson Society of Judgemental Descriptions.

“‘“I thought you had been dead this thirty years, Henry,” said she, in a shaking voice.'"

So it is a past husband? Right? Right?

Also, I'd like to take a moment to appreciate the amount of nested inverted commas here. This is reported speech within reported speech within reported speech. Double in single in double. I don't think I've ever actually noticed someone doing that before. I know this has nothing really to do with the story, but it's kind of impressive, no?

"'He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his eyes that comes back to me in my dreams. His hair and whiskers were shot with gray, and his face was all crinkled and puckered like a withered apple.'"

Clearly we are meant to think of this man as a villain, but I don't want to. Guy's got wrinkles and some sort of disability, so far all he's done is recognise a lady. We've had far creepier people in these stories who everyone's gushed about. I'm on team Henry - for now. Maybe for always.

"The man is by trade a conjurer and performer, going round the canteens after nightfall, and giving a little entertainment at each."

Oh yeah, team Henry absolutely. He's a travelling conjurer of cheap magic tricks?

Although... he does keep a honey badger locked up in a box and brings it out to perform for money. Gosh darn it! This is why we can't have nice things.

Fine, Henry is guilty of animal cruelty and I hope the honey badger eats him. Are you happy ACD? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

"She showed it to me, Watson, and it was an Indian rupee."

I thought Indian when they said monkey earlier, because in part one they mentioned the Colonel being involved in the Mutiny - which I assume was one of the Indian Mutinies - but then we went onto mustelidae. And I'm pretty sure the honey badger is native to Africa... oh no, oh no, oh no, I am wrong. It is native to India. HONEY BADGER CONSPIRACY IS BACK IN BUSINESS.

Unless the guy is a were-honey badger. (I mean obviously not really, but that's going in the supernatural Holmes universe in my head as well).

Also it could be a type of marten, but while team Henry has been abandoned, team Honey Badger is going strong.

The man sat all twisted and huddled in his chair in a way which gave an indescribably impression of deformity; but the face which he turned towards us, though worn and swarthy, must at some time have been remarkable for its beauty.

So Watson thinks he's hot? Or he was hot? Coolcool. Not the description I was expecting here.

"There were two men that loved her, and one that she loved, and you'll smile when you look at this poor thing huddled before the fire, and hear me say that it was for my good looks that she loved me."

Well, Watson apparently won't. But it's definitely looking like it's an accidental bigamy situation. I hate it when that happens. Also... liking him for his looks is not the basis for a strong relationship. I hope she liked you for other things, too.

"But the real blow was to my heart and not to my head, for as I came to and listened to as much as I could understand of their talk, I heard enough to tell me that my comrade, the very man who had arranged the way that I was to take, had betrayed me by means of a native servant into the hands of the enemy."

Alas, Colonel Barclay, you were a dick. Congratulations on a truly terrible case of being a poor loser. She didn't want you, just fucking deal with it, my dude. Don't betray your own fucking men. Terrible plan. 0/10. Your death was utterly deserved.

So Henry was tortured and enslaved and permanently disabled, yeah. And also left with so much internalised ableism that he can't bear to go home and be seen like that. Henry, if you weren't super guilty of animal cruelty, I would be fully on your side. I mean I am on your side... just... why do you keep a honey badger in a box?

"But he was dead before he fell. I read death on his face as plain as I can read that text over the fire. The bare sight of me was like a bullet through his guilty heart.”

Good riddance.

I am amused by how things like this happen in victorian fiction, though. Just one look at the guy and he keels over dead.

“It's a mongoose,” I cried.

...

Fine... Honey badger conspiracy is out. But mongeese are pretty cool, too. I've always thought of them as being pretty small, though, but the internet tells me they can be anywhere from 9 inches to 23 inches long. So they are both small and larger, I guess. They're also not mustelids, so there's that.

Also, I should have guessed this, because it's one of my favourite Terry Pratchett quotations and this part is out on the Glorious 25th of May:

'...the trouble with small furry animals in a corner is that, just occasionally, one of them's a mongoose.'

Well it definitely was this time. GNU Terry Pratchett, I should always listen to you.

Honey badger was probably too big to climb up a curtain...

Still shouldn't keep a mongoose in a box and force it to perform, though.

“But if not, there is no object in raking up this scandal against a dead man, foully as he has acted."

I mean, on the one hand, sure, but on the other hand Drag his Ass.

“Yes; David strayed a little occasionally, you know, and on one occasion in the same direction as Sergeant James Barclay. You remember the small affair of Uriah and Bathsheba?"

I may have been wrong about the honey badger, but I was right about the biblical reference. Little wins, amirite?

Turns out Colonel Barclay was as big a dick as the 'violence and vindictiveness' indicated. Alas.

BUT, Watson didn't shoot any animals. Yay.

Although poor Teddy is still shut up in a box and Henry also has a cobra in there that he tortures for the amusement of people in bars.

The next one is another 4-parter, so plenty of time for me to make up harebrained theories about mustelidae.

[mings]

Chicken update:-

This "The Last of Us", avian version. These are the three surviving girls. Although they're not in good shape, at least all three are alert, even if only one is sufficiently mobile to venture out of the coop. (The purple is antibacterial and antimicrobial spray on their injuries.)

I found a vet who'll see them tomorrow. I'm dreading it in case they recommend euthanasia. I'm not sure how or even if I'll cope with that. The bird rescue had some good advice, but they come from an ethical position that says every life is worth saving. Their success rate is better than 75% with raptors that have been involved in collisions with cars. They can't take on domestic birds though, so I'm dependent on the vet.

The coops have both had security upgrades. I didn't realise weasels only need a 20mm gap (that's about the size of a US quarter if I recall correctly). So, I've temporarily blocked the ventilation holes (not entirely, of course) and there's no gap more than a few millimetres anywhere now.

That doesn't help during the day. The pens are fox-proof, but an emboldened weasel would have no trouble. There are stoats and pine martens about too, although they're much bigger and mostly abroad at night. We've seen foxes on our land, but no evidence (yet) of pine martens. I'm hoping we're too open for them to venture this far out of the forest.

I'm currently struggling with my feelings. I have no idea how or why I get so attached to animals; I just do. They're a huge part of what makes me who I am.

My instinct was to lash out and put down kill traps for the weasels. Today I'm more rational. The weasel was doing what weasels do. Why? To survive. Simple as. What's wrong with that? OK, the carnage is distressing, but that kill mode is survival too. As long as the hens are shrieking, the weasel is at risk. All mustelids (and foxes) will do the same. They kill until it goes quiet. Ironically, if the hens froze in silence, they'd probably only lose one per visit. How many of us would be able to not panic in the same circumstances?

Killing weasels for being weasels doesn't sit well with me. Heck, we have crows that plague the life out of us by attacking our windows every morning as it gets light. Local farmers say "shoot them". I disagree. I'd rather try to engage with them and give them something more interesting to do.

If I take revenge on the weasel population, it won't bring back my hens. Neither will it dent the weasel population because more will move into the vacant territory. It certainly won't make me feel better, and it will make me every bit as bad as the farmer who gives their animals "the best life" when they only have the express intention of killing them.

So I'll pick up the pieces and do a better job on the new generation's coops. We literally only just committed to a breeding program that will focus on rare and endangered breeds. That is paramount; it's not too dramatic to say that some breeds will simply die out otherwise. I have to do better for them.

Last night I sat on the floor in the room nearest the coops with Bailey snuggled against me. I couldn't sleep; the days events and images just replayed continually. Today, I've watched over the hens constantly. Now, they're secure in their upgraded coops and I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically a wreck. Tomorrow I have to be on my game early for the trip to the vet, so I have to try and rest tonight.

If you read this far you deserve a pat on the back. Thanks for bearing with me.

[unsleepingtales]

Burrow’s End 3!

Starting this at midnight, will likely pause at some point and finish tomorrow morning :)

Yayyy new party name

And new british thing! How did we get to #36 already?

Just now realizing that these people are the reason that ‘famously’ has entered my lexicon

Yeah they all leveled up A Lot

Character makeup!!

What’s going on with Viola. The makeup has me concerned.

YESSSSS Lila arcane trickster rogue my fucking BELOVED I’m not just saying that bc I’m currently playing an arcane trickster I’m not biased at all what are you talking about

Oh I was so caught up in the arcane trickster stuff that I forgot an important lore thing was happening lemme go back and watch it

God those tongues were horrible

Aabria’s hair looks really nice in this episode

The way we declare things like sidebar in my home game is by loudly saying PAUSE and it’s funny every time

Present tense???

“I’m not him, but I’m here” jesus man

I’m reading way too far into everything but the fact that Jasper’s scar makeup has moved is interesting to me. Why. Was this just artistic choice? Is this indicative of a character thing? Idk

Swifter than the sun faster than the hills oh babe

You’re trying to be good and make your uncle happy but also cult. Be careful babe.

Ooh Erika’s makeup and hair are really cool

Look, check it out :D

Full macbeth

YES I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THOUGHT THAT

Ohhh their colors. Everyone in earth tones except for Rashawn/Viola. Brennan/Tula and the kids in lighter colors, Erika/Ava in darker tones and shades of grey. Jasper/Thorn in dark tones but also blue. God this is why I love costuming. So cool.

Latin?? Dura Mater, Pia Mater

Children?? Prophetic vision??

“It always is what it is” cmon man

How does this cis man so deeply understand what being a daughter is and distill it so perfectly

Am I detecting some envy in having a husband who listens?

Oop

A mErRy BaNd

Ohhh the warning in saying that something she’s interested in is also one of their mother’s interests. That’s a family thing.

Custom background called stoat mom. Full long rest in short amount of time would be such a good feat and make so much sense for it.

Sometimer’s 😭

Funeral rite for the bear oh my god

Oh tears. Just tears.

TWENTY SEVEN INSIGHT

So many of your deeper thoughts must be put away for the sake of moving forward.

Oooooof

Familial duty is such a mindfuck

The FACE

Awww Ava backstory a bit <3

Thompson’s gonna make partner!

The white mascara is such a good touch it really makes the look

Ooh lore time

HAZMAT SUIT

Testing your power through blind fury? Super duper safe.

Let’s hear it for making bad rolls work within the plot!

Augh

Oh yeah this has all been ONE DAY

Healthy coping mechanism!

That was excellent

Speaking of their long rest. I’m gonna go to sleep. I’ll finish the ep in the morning! (Editor's note: I did not. I finished it the next evening. Such is life.)

Yes that is for real how sleep works and how I act when something insane happened in the middle of the night that I couldn’t deal with in the moment

Effective lessons in communication!

OOF

She wants to save her familyyyy

Siblings!

Those aren’t transferable 💀

No one should be mad at anyone, so if you’re ever feeling mad… don’t.

GOOD ONES

Ooh Jaysohn level of Rogue!

I love the overlapping conversations

Izzy and Siobhan are so good at embodying children’s randomness

Izzy WHAT

He’s a cool dude, he’s just being weird right now

Character choices :D

Ooooh the music being so heavily electronic is so interesting to me

Follow your instincts towards the Light?

Why would it have been bulgarian babe

Jesus

Oh that’s actually such a good way to explain that

Love a shenan!

Solid pigeon impression

Yeah a cult leader would have a +9 to performance wouldn’t he

I feel like this should be a wisdom save or smth to not go insane at what’s happening to him rn

W h a t

He is actually so cursed

WOOOOOOO

Oh that is HITTING

She’s so TIRED

Oooh okay next week looks Wild can't wait

[seeminglyseph]

Look, I wasn’t a Watership Down kid, I watched The Animals of Farthing Wood.

Which as I understand is a less fantastical and more like. “Yeah animals eat each other, what’re you going to do about it, small traumatized child?” With the story being “a whole bunch of different animals are displaced from their home and have to find some place safe to live, unfortunately not all of them can agree to not eat each other, and also everything wants to eat them.”

But it didn’t have a single Simon and Garfunkel song in any of it so that kinda diminishes the impact.

But if Burrow’s End has anything like the Shrike Scene I will fucking die because like 5-6 yr-old me has been forever scarred by shrike+baby mice+thorn bush+90s on screen cartoon violence and if anything harms Lila and Jaysohn in extremely genre likely ways I am going to be very upset.

I feel like Jaysohn is already being set up as being too pure for this world and I don’t know how far down the rabbit hole we’re going. How many backup characters have they made? Are these children going to be eaten? A weasel I know can be a dangerous small predator, so I assume a stoat would have similar stats in this situation? I admit they’re not an animal I’m extremely familiar with.

(Please don’t eat the babies, please please please don’t do it don’t eat ‘em 😭)

[your-stoat-stands-unopposed]

May we get some more gentleness between P03 and Leshy? Hurt/Comfort is my JAM and they both deserve some comfort methinks

The Ride Home.

Pairing: P03 x Leshy

Warnings: None. It's ex-partners who still love each other having a moment alone, with some tense feelings and guilt but a cute ending.

Summary: "...For the record, this does not mean I've forgiven you." "I know."

"...For the record, this does not mean I've forgiven you."

"I know."

Leshy's arms tighten around P03's form, drawing the bot that bit closer into his lap, that bit closer against his chest. His chin rests on his fellow Scrybe's shoulder, and he's close enough to hear the whirs and clicks of the other's systems.

The gentle lapping of the water against the boat almost drowns it out, but he's sure he sound is coming quicker than usual.

...Or perhaps that's just his own wishful thinking.

When P03 had come to his cabin earlier, Leshy couldn't deny the skip in his heartbeat, the yearning in his soul. There had been so much he'd wanted to say then and there that he couldn't, not in front of the challenger; so many apologies he'd wanted to make, so many thanks he'd wanted to give.

None of them had manifested, though. Instead, P03 had mocked him, blamed him, insulted him. And in the end, there was nothing Leshy could do about it: he could simply listen, stew in the knowledge that he had gone too far, resign himself to the fact that the one he loved would likely never speak to him willingly again.

...Or so he had thought, until he'd taken a walk outside by the dock and found the bot still there.

He thanks whatever force might be out there for the fact that P03's battery had been too low to make the whole journey back to his factory by floating, and he thanks it twice for the fact the bot didn't like the idea of using the boat alone. Were it not for those two situations colliding, that last conversation really could have been their last...

"...I should not have turned you into a beast," Leshy speaks, breaking the near-silence that had fallen over them. "I am sorry. I went too far, and it was wrong."

"I know."

P03 does not sound pleased, nor placated. The creature knows that his apologies will do little to sway the Scrybe of Technology's synthetic heart; not after so much suffering, so much pain.

...At least for the duration of this boat ride though, Leshy can pretend for a moment: pretend that things are as they once were, pretend that the one he loves does not rightly hate him.

"...Why a stoat, anyway?"

"Hm?" The creature's eyes blink, the bot's voice bringing him back to reality.

"I mean, I'm assuming you decided what we would all become, so... I'm just curious on what the thought process was that led you to make me a stoat."

Leshy's mouth opens, then closes. He realises that he could lie, if he wishes; tell P03 that he'd had no control over the result, spin a convincing yarn that would absolve him of some of the responsibility...

But he does not desire to. He is not a liar by nature, and he has done enough to his beloved one to last more than a lifetime.

The truth may not lead to any better outcomes, but... it is the very least that P03 deserves.

"I made you a stoat in an attempt to diminish you," he begins; and before the inevitable tirade comes, he holds up a hand. "Not in the way you are imagining. I did not desire to belittle you, nor to offend you, I..."

He breathes a sigh.

"...I was trying to convince myself that you meant less to me than you did. Than you do. I had hoped that if I did so, I could forget about you and become stronger for it."

"Pffffff. Yep, sounds like the kind of stupid thing you'd do." Surprisingly, the bot doesn't belittle him any further, and his tone doesn't sound quite as biting as Leshy had expected. "So... did it work?"

"No." The word escapes him in an instant; he doesn't need to think about it. "All that I succeeded in doing was pushing away the one I love. In the pursuit of greatness, I cast aside the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and now I have nothing."

It's not difficult for him to admit this. It is the truth, and he does not grudge speaking the truth... no matter how painful it may be.

"...You don't have nothing," the bot in his arms murmurs, his claw tapping idly against the boat. "You still have, uh... I don't know... your-- pet rat."

The creature huffs a chuckle. He's familiar enough with P03 to know when he's being sincere, so he appreciates the well-meaning behind those awkward words; he knows it's more than he deserves. "Indeed."

It's perhaps a good thing that this boat has no captain; silently, he is thankful for the illogical capacities of a world inside a video game. It is only in the absence of others that this tender moment could be had.

Idly, P03's claw brushes through the leaves that grow upon the creature's arm, his monitor displaying an ellipsis. "...Leshy."

"Yes?"

"All that... stuff you just said."

"Yes."

"...You mean it?"

His arms tighten slightly around the bot, his forehead resting against the top of his monitor. "Yes."

There's a silence as the boat docks behind the factory; and P03 moves, and Leshy feels the absence of his warmth as a weight on his heart.

"...If you really mean it," the bot speaks as he floats to the safety of dry land, "then... maybe you don't have nothing. Or you don't... have to."

Leshy's eyes widen slightly. For a second, he isn't sure he's heard correctly. "You mean..."

"Don't misunderstand," P03's eyes narrow as he stops and turns sharply to face him, "I still don't forgive you. I might never forgive you."

There's a pause, and his screen changes to an ellipsis, before he speaks once more.

"But... I guess it wouldn't be... too awful if you stopped by the factory someday. Maybe."

Before the creature can speak, the bot is floating away from him once more. The familiar whirs of his motors give away his embarrassment at the whole situation, and Leshy can't help but feel a warmth in his chest; P03 has many talents, but navigating emotional situations has never been one of them. Not back then, and not now.

"Would tomorrow be acceptable for you?" he calls after the retreating form of his beloved one.

"Yep sure whatever sounds fine do what you want I guess bye--"

The rush of words continues until P03 is out of sight and earshot; and once he is, and only then, Leshy allows himself to smile. A sigh of pure relief escapes him, and tears touch his eyes, and he allows them to fall.

Not even in his most wishful of thoughts had he dared to dream of a moment like this...

Even if he will never be forgiven, he will accept it.

But he swears, there and then: in all the lifetimes more he will share with P03 going forward in their eternal lives inside this illogical world... he will never diminish his love again.

[onbeinganangel]

writing bits and bobs ✨

oh i loooooove this!!! thank you @sweet-s0rr0w for starting this and for sharing yours! i feel like procrastinating via research is any writer’s favourite activity 😂 i have a fair few but here are some of my random shit I am an internet expert on now thanks to fanfic:

i did lots of research for Inevitable (From The Very Start), but the most relevant stuff was possible Animagus forms for Draco, for which i compiled a long list of several animals and their characteristics, which was really fun

for Rebirth (Coming Home), as well as animagus forms research (this time for Regulus, who ended up as a stoat), i did a fair bit of research on different woods for Harry’s wandmaking wee business! i also remember looking at geodes for a very long time for this fic, for what ended up being a mention of geodes in like one line

Aeternus Solem took a lot of research because I have never been to Brazil! that research was massively supported by irl brazilian friends as well as my darlings @sitp-recs and @teacup-tai, so that i was sufficiently convinced that nothing i wrote in that was too nonsensical, from food to weather, to christmas traditions

Out to Sea was half based on some vague notions i already had about fishing from growing up on the coast, but i did end up researching the day-to-day of a fisherman on a small fishing vessel and a lot of technical terms i — of course — never used in the end

i learned lots from the research i did for Juniper & Seawater! I got to look at so many non-christian (and non-religious at all) newborn blessing traditions and naming ceremonies around the world and, even though i ended up basing it mostly on pagan and wiccan practices, it was really cool to see beyond what's the "western norm"

however, by far, the most research i've done for a fic is for my current yet-to-be-titled WIP, my wolfstar road trip fic. mostly because it's set in 1979/1980, which is before I was born, so there's lots i have to be careful with so i don't write complete nonsense. i have gotten road maps of britain from my FIL for this fic, i've drawn my own map with all the stops Remus and Sirius make along the way, i've made a playlist (there's a cassette mixtape at one point because, as we all know, true love is stored in mixtapes), i have looked at cars that would commonly be seen on the road in britain around that time (Remus drives an extremely sexy ford cortina with green leather seats). and most recently i found myself wondering if penny presses were commonly seen at touristy places then like they are these days. all of this and this fic is not even a quarter of the way done so... i've got plenty of crazy rabbit holes to fall down yet still!

i am SO sorry if you've already been tagged or indeed already done this and i missed it but i'm passing this along to @slytherco @nv-md @pennygalleon @softlystarstruck @thesleepiesthufflepuff @xanthippe74 and @pineau-noir 💕

[a-storm-of-roses]

October Fics Day 3: Black Cat

Pairing: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard

Rating: G

Words: 1411

Summary: Rodney gets a pet. John and Rodney test their luck.

Read on AO3 or below!

“Maybe we should bring it back with us. You know, so the zoologists can examine it?”

“Since when do you pick up presents for the zoologists, Rodney?” John asked skeptically.

On the ground, Rodney didn’t answer, too busy scratching the belly of the fluffy, white animal in his lap. It was about the size of a young labrador, but looked like a cross between a fox and a cat. Rodney was clearly charmed by the creature, had been ever since it had wound its way around his legs and begun trilling in a way that was almost reminiscent of a purr.

“Aren’t you a beautiful… uh… whatever you are. Oh! And smart too!” The animal had managed to paw open one of the pockets of Rodney’s vest, and was currently using it’s small, sharp teeth to tear into a power bar. With its tail, it grabbed a chunk of the bar and dropped it into its mouth, trilling again as it gnawed on its new treat.

“Can’t take it back to Atlantis. It’s a white vreelt. They’re bad luck.” Ronon said, eyeing the creature suspiciously, his hand resting light on his stunner.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing. Look, it’s a small mammal, with a prehensile tail, and it’s clearly smart. The zoologists will have a field day.”

“The Athosians share the same belief. Vreelt were not native to Athos, but our stories still warned against the white ones. Misfortune follows those who cross paths with a white vreelt.”

“Huh. Like a black cat then,” John muttered.

“Exactly!” Rodney added. “And that’s pure hogwash, nothing but uneducated superstition.”

“Could there be anything behind it?” John asked. “Maybe something biological you didn’t know about? Something to do with the Wraith?”

Teyla shrugged.

“I do not believe so. We have many old folktales like this. But I admit, I have rarely come across a vreelt in my travels, and never a white one.”

“Well there you have it,” Rodney said, pulling the vreelt into his arms and standing. The creature went easily, nearly too easily for a wild animal, wriggling just a bit, before settling happily into the crook of Rodney’s arm.

And god help him, but Rodney looked so soft, so happy, so besotted with the little fleabag he was holding, that John just couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Fine, we’ll bring it back.”

“Bad idea,” Ronon grumbled as they made their way to the gate. Rodney harrumphed and the vreelt trilled, a bit deeper than before.

When John twisted his ankle on a stray root, just a click from the gate, Ronon said nothing, but his eyebrows definitely said I told you so.

---

For some godforsaken reason, Rodney named the vreelt Pearl. And to his credit, he did leave Pearl with the zoologists for about four days. But while her (and Pearl was a her, it turned out) tail was of general interest, not much else about her was. When Major Lorne brought back a small creature that looked like a cross between a mouse and frog, but turned out to asexually reproduce, the zoologists forgot all about Pearl and she moved back in with Rodney.

Rodney brought Pearl everywhere - to the labs, to the mess, to team movie nights, even though both Teyla and Ronon insisted on sitting as far from her as possible.

She was sweet and smart, and generally well behaved, especially given that Rodney spoiled her rotten, feeding her off of his plate and petting her absentmindedly, every time she begged for attention. And sprained ankle aside, John was sure Teyla and Ronon’s fears were unfounded.

Sure, Rodney spilled blue jello, all down the front of his newly cleaned shirt. And Teyla had lost her best pair of bantos, the ones her father had carved, and Ronon seemed to have developed a persistent stomach issue, which Carson thought might be a gluten intolerance, but none of those things had to do with Pearl.

And it wasn’t Pearl’s fault that the chemistry lab burned down, when there hadn’t even been any active experiments running. Or that the Daedulus somehow brought salt instead of sugar, and everyone was subjected to six weeks of bitter coffee and savory food.

But by the time the ZPM malfunctioned, and the shields failed, John was ready to reassess.

56 long hours, fuelled by adrenaline, bitter coffee and a judicious application of uppers, and John had reached his limit. Rodney was stumbling back to his quarters, crashing already, another crisis averted, when John waylaid him in the transporter.

“She has to go.”

“Who has to what? Sheppard, I’m too tired for this.”

“Pearl. Ronon’s right. She’s bad luck.”

Rodney’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, has your brain finally abandoned ship, let your hair take control of your body? Do you hear yourself? She’s an animal! A pet! There’s no such thing as bad luck.”

“You have to admit Rodney, things haven’t been going our way recently.”

“This is the Pegasus galaxy, Colonel, when do they ever go our way? I’m way too tired for this nonsense.” And with that Rodney hit the control panel and stalked out of the transporter, striding with purpose, even though John was sure they were nowhere near his quarters.

---

In the cold light of day, and after nearly 16 hours of straight sleep, John could admit he had perhaps been a little rash. He apologized to Rodney, brought Pearl a power bar and a leather chew toy, and glared right back at Ronon whenever he eyed Pearl a little too viciously.

But things kept happening.

They lost power in the central spire, for no apparent reason, faced a shortage of ammunition when the Daedalus was delayed. John caught the Pegasus equivalent of strep throat and lost his voice for a week, and Rodney burned his hands doing a standard rewire on a control panel.

But, bandaged hands aside, Rodney was happy. Softer, lighter somehow, as if having something to love, and something that would love him back, uncomplicatedly, was all he’d really been missing. Pearl adored him, spent her hours sprawled on his lap, or wrapped tightly around his feet, and Rodney doted on her in return, brushing her soft, white fur, and baby talking her when he thought no one else was around.

She was a sweet thing, trilled happily when she saw the rest of the team, even Ronon, who continued to glare suspiciously. John had to admit he’d grown fond of the little puffball, even he did sometimes feel a twinge of jealousy when Rodney stroked her fur and called her beautiful.

---

“What have you done to Pearl!”

“Nothing! It just happened naturally!” Zelenka was stood square in the lab, glaring Rodney down, as a cheerful, but notably darker Pearl, ran circles around Rodney’s feet, trilling in pleasure.

“When I left here, Pearl was very much white. Get it? White? Like a pearl? How the hell did she end up looking... sooty?”

“Pearls can be black too,” Zelenka shrugged.

“Maybe she’s like an ermine,” John suggested, just to watch Rodney splutter some more.

“Don’t be ridiculous- of all the stupid-”

---

As it turned out, Pearl was like an ermine, or a stoat as the zoologists kept calling them.

“She’ll probably turn white again in a few months time - it’s hard to know how the move to a new planet might have affected her rhythms,” Dr. Patel assured him.

“The name doesn’t make sense anymore,” Rodney lamented, even as he held Pearl close, his hands stroking through her darker, slightly rougher fur.

“I mean Zelenka wasn’t wrong.” Rodney fixed him with a blank stare. “Pearls can be black.”

Rodney sighed.

“Least she isn’t bad luck anymore,” Ronon offered.

And when they stumbled on a ZPM on a routine archaeological mission, well that had nothing to do with Pearl either. Nor did the discovery of a bean that tasted suspiciously similar to coffee, or the reappearance of Teyla’s bantos.

And John certainly wasn’t going to credit Pearl for Rodney kissing him, sweet and a bit shy, or the shining happiness in his eyes when John kissed him right back, revelling in the soft press of lips, the warm touch of skin. With a high trill, Pearl summarily interrupted them, head butting Rodney’s arm in annoyance at the lack of attention she was receiving.

As one hand stroked through warm dark fur, and another twined in short brown hair, maybe, John thought, their luck had finally turned around.

[abeautifuldayfortea]

Autumn Picnic

Summary: Two hobbits enjoy simple autumn morning in the woods, takes place before Frodo’s 33rd birthday and the events of The Lord of the Rings. Requested by @amessywritersmind. Hope you enjoy! 

Hello!! I came across your masterlist page and saw that you were interested in taking requests for Frodo and I am here to deliver because I love him and hardly anyone writes for him. Anyways! What about something sweet where the reader and frodo go out to the woods to read and relax and the reader draws all this wildlife to her and Frodo just watches her interact with them because it’s adorable and then he realize he loves her and maybe he confesses? Something cute and sweet and naturey!! You can obviously do with it what you will!! Thank you in advance 💛

A/N: Fluff >_<

Words: 1117

Arm in arm, the two cloaked figures walked beneath the high red gold leaves of slender birches. The rising frost from whispered conversation captured in thin autumnal sun. Despite the stillness of the wood, the sound of distant birdsong and the scuttling of small creatures beneath the thick carpet of golden leaves assured them that they were not alone.

“I think that’s quite far enough now, don’t you?” Frodo huffed breathlessly. “We’ve been walking for far too long than can be good for a hobbit my size,” he patted his growing belly fondly.

They snorted. “It’ll do you some good, Mr Baggins, or you’ll be so portly you shall have to challenge Mr Fredegar Bolger for his namesake!”

But despite their chiding, they made to stop at near the rocky tumble of what had once been – and once again would be - a rapid flowing stream, hurtling itself upon the pebbles down south. Come summertime, Frodo thought suddenly wistful as he recalled Bilbo’s legends. Now the leaves are clogging up its flow, but what a beautiful sound it must make when its free to run. Perhaps we would hear the voice of Ulmo who lives in all waters. But before he had the chance to say so to his companion, his stomach growled, preposterously loud, mind you, sending ripples through the pleasant calmness of a lovely autumn day.

“I daresay you’re sounding a little peckish there,” his friend chortled and without a moment to spare they both unpacked their picnic provender. And so they took their elevensies perched upon a small knoll in the woods, wrapped in a comfortable silence as they grazed upon dried fruits, nuts and the treat of hard cheese to warm them in the chill air.

Before long, seeing that the hobbits had not moved from their rock, a rather bold and curious hare cautiously drew itself near, drinking from the trickling waters by their feet. A surprising visit. But Frodo found his eyes drawn ever toward the young hobbit beside him as the corners of their mouth turned up slightly and generously, they laid down the remainder of their packed meal for the forest animal, moving slowly and graciously as to not frighten it away before stealthily taking out a small leatherbound book and pencil. The hare’s ears, stood tall at attention, as it lumbered toward their offering turning this way and that, lightly vibrating with its shallow breaths. And sensing little ill intent from them, began to eat.

Frodo found himself lulled by the sounds around him and sitting there in quiet company with both his palms flat upon the rough rock and the papery feel of leaves beneath his feet, he felt complete and whole again as he had not felt since Drogo and Primula had been lost to the Brandywine. The sniffling of the hare, the rustle of the meagre leaves still lingering upon the trees, the hum of insects. The blunt scratching of the pencil against the paper. Yes, it was a moment of peace that he wanted to inhabit forever. But just as it had come upon a daydream, it was lost again.

The hare started suddenly, ears pricked and bolted away into the richness of bare forest. In the distance, the two spotted a young stoat rooting through the foliage, and behind the pale bars of the trees...

A bated breath hung. The click of a branch. The stoat looked up, nose sniffling the air with ferocity. The lightning flash of red against red, the skidding of four dirty paws upon the forest floor. The chase had begun. For a moment there was no sound but the intense rustling foliage. The stoat was quicker, its claws desperately scrambled for purchase upon bark as it clambered ever higher up the tree to its thin branches, swaying precariously in the wind where no fox could reach.

The chase was over. Sneezing disgracefully over its missed luncheon, the fox spotted the hobbits, half sitting, half crouching, from between the pale spires of the birches. ‘Hobbits? Rare in these parts at this time of year…’, it seemed to be saying. Frodo nearly sputtered out of indignance as he saw the sly look it shot them before slinking away, prizeless, into the hunger of the deep autumn.

His companion hummed, “D’you suppose the world outside, the Shire I mean, is really that dangerous?”

“Well, I suppose there would be wolves, though that never stopped Uncle Bilbo from going on his adventure.”

“Maybe they’re the kin of the White Wolves from the Fell Winter all those years ago. I heard they’re mercilessly ravenous, tall as a man and stout as dwarves. I’m glad they aren’t around anymore. I bet they’d run us right back into our cosy little smials and keep us there until we starve! If they haven’t caught us by then that is.” They shivered and Frodo felt the urge to wrap his arm around them.

“Nonsense, dear! That would be a very grim end to our hopes of adventure! I’m glad to be a hobbit and not a stoat with a fox on my tail.”

“Maybe we are stoats, just living in a land without foxes to eat us.”

“If you could, would you leave?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I would like to think that I would, but there are other considerations too that are less easily predicted” they whispered. “In other words, depends on who’s asking and when” they finished playfully, fidgeting the charcoal pencil lightly between stained fingers.

A warmth bloomed within him and he guessed at the hidden meaning of those words. Frodo turned to meet their gaze, and in their eyes he saw reflected in them a hopeful future, one of many winding endlessly as roads do to an end he could not see. Family. And it was love, he was sure. It was a road that he only had to reach out and walk upon. His mouth dried.

“I’m asking. Would you walk with me?”

Silence. The tension was thick, and he feared for a moment the rejection, that he had taken the great leap only to never find purchase on solid ground. He wished then, that he had never said anything at all because he would rather hold his heart close and unfulfilled than be humiliated. His gaze lowered and he found his eyes tracing the rough lines of the sketch in the book upon their lap, curving and leaping into the very vision of a certain bold hare.

But he was reassured by a warm hand on his as his companion nestled closer into his side, closing the distance between them. He could hear the smile in their voice.

“I think I would.”

[cinnella]

Name: Libelle Abrams (chosen name); Varda Lesedi (birth name)

Age: 22 years old

Sex: Female

Sexuality: Demi-homosexual

Zodiac sign: Libra

Birthday: October 7th

Patron Arcana: Justice (Major); Queen of Swords (Minor)

Occupation: Magician, healer, painter and gardener

Height: 5'9" (1.76 m)

Weight: 194 lbs (88 kg)

Relatives:

Briella Lesedi - mother (deceased)

Abanus Lesedi - father (deceased)

Gushvin Basu - distant family friend

Origin: Born in the Catclaw Desert, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: African-American

Powers: White (purification) and healing magic, as well as telekinesis and precognitive dreaming

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, she's a strong 8.5

Backstory:

During the beautiful sunset of the Catclaw Desert, little Varda was born not far off from their home, where her parents had built their sculpture selling stand.

About 7 months later, while they were enjoying their time at home, their friend, Gushvin, hurried to tell them that an unexpected aggressive sand storm started heading their way.

They made sure to give Varda to him as he was faster and went ahead of them. They tragically got swept away by the storm and inhaled too much sand. They were found without breath or pulse hours later.

As selfish as it was of him, Gushvin didn't want to take care of a child, so he made sure to find someone willing enough to do that, soon running into a person who said they specifically searched for orphaned children that needed care.

After a couple of days of traveling, they arrived in sunny Vesuvia, where Varda was brought to the orphanage in the South End. There she was cared for and raised like promised.

She grew up to be one of the sweetest but most naive kids there. One day during lunch, she noticed a kid was sitting alone at his table, sulking and not eating. She approached him and offered to eat with him.

He had silverish eyes and ash-blond hair and the kindest smile she'd ever seen. She'd heard the adults call him Lucas and she knew he was kind of a troublemaker, but he seemed so lonely. They became best friends almost instantly, and always spent time together.

Some years later, when both of them were around 5 years old, they befriended three other kids, all significantly older than them. She learned that their names were Eris, Syro and Morana, and immediately became worried.

They were the biggest scoundrels in the entire orphanage, and quite honestly, all of South End. But Lucas insisted that they join their group. And she trusted him.

She didn't think that these four kids would become so important to her, that they'd become her family. But they did, and she couldn't be more thankful.

When it became clear enough to the adults that they couldn't raise nameless kids, the more capable ones took to teaching them the importance of knowing how to read and write and then they could choose a name for themselves, on their 7th birthday.

Soon enough, her sweet 7th rolled around and after months of searching, she found a name that would complete her.

And so, Varda Lesedi became Libelle Abrams.

Lucas, not much later, also changed his name, to Calyx. Libelle thought it was such a beautiful name for him.

Many years passed by with the four causing as much trouble as possible, to her unfortunate luck. But once she approached her preteens, devastating news came with them. When they'd reach the age of 17, they would need to leave, one by one, and search for a different home.

They discussed about it, made plans and set goals to find their homelands, their roots and possibly their families.

Obviously, Eris was first in line to leave as the eldest between them. Then Morana with Syro. It was only her and Calyx left. She made the promise to not abandon him there and take him with her when the time would come.

And she did. After celebrating her 17th birthday and talking with the one that had found her so many years ago, they set out to travel towards the Catclaw Desert. The journey was a couple of days long and it took them almost as much to find the one who knew about her parents.

Gushvin was sat on the bench in front of his home when they approached, and when Libelle called out to him, he recognized her immediately. There was some confusion with her name at first, but they quickly caught onto everything.

He told her everything that had happened the day she became an orphan and although he was hesitant, he confessed how selfish he'd been back then, something he regretted deeply and hadn't let him sleep properly since then.

All of the discoveries shocked her beyond belief, so much so that she wanted to go back to Vesuvia right away. After a while of mulling over everything she found out, she decided to focus on helping her best friend.

Luck had seemed to smile upon them, because Eris insisted on tagging along with them. After all, they had to travel across the sea all the way to the Macawi Port.

After even more shocking reveals about Calyx' parents, none of them wanted to know anything more, so at dawn they started back home.

Now, Libelle could focus on the things that she wanted to do most. She learned how to become a professional healer and magician, so she would help people in need. Around that time, her secret powers slowly surfaced as well.

She realized she could move objects with the will of her mind and at night, she would have visions and dreams of the future. After consulting with an expert in healing magic, she discovered that most people have these gifts and adviced her to learn to control them.

Everything was fine in her life until the Red Plague rained upon them and they each made the decision to leave Vesuvia. Well, all except for Eris. She wanted to help the doctors with the dead, confided to Libelle that she'd taught herself necromancy and wanted to reverse their deaths.

Eris had been too stubborn to listen to reason, so they had no choice but to leave her behind. Syro and Morana left for the Southern Spines, while Eris specifically told Libelle and Calyx to go to Venterre and find her brother, Sethos. He would shelter them until the nightmare would be over.

So they did, they took the first boat straight to the west coast of Venterre, where they ran into the young man in question.

When they finished explaining everything to him, he insisted they go back and get her too, but there would have been no use in doing so. His sister would have been way too stubborn to listen to anyone.

Days later, a letter arrived in their mailbox and all three were devastated to find out Eris died from the plague. Libelle and Calyx were sobbing messes and Sethos almost thrashed the room before collapsing too.

They informed the other two through a letter as well, but they figured there would be massive delays because of the distance, so they didn't expect an answer right away.

Suddenly, about 6 days later, Libelle had a dream, of Eris being alive. It had felt so real she woke up in a cold sweat and with tears in her eyes, she went to wake up the other two, shaking them hard.

She couldn't form clear words but Calyx caught onto it right away, and while with shaky hands, Libelle explained that she could sense Eris' aura and presence in the real world.

Although Sethos was very skeptical about it, he would have rather held onto the tiniest string of hope that she was indeed alive than live with the thought of losing his sister a second time.

So they wrote another letter to Syro and Morana and immediately packed their things and headed back to Vesuvia in plain midnight.

True to everything Libelle said and sensed, Eris was alive. How, they didn't know, until they spoke to Asra, one of her older friends and apparently, the one who brought her back. She was shocked to find it involved a deal with the Devil. She'd heard of the sacrifices needed to make such deals.

After about 3 years of total absence, Syro and Morana also arrived in Vesuvia and the shock cycle began again.

Not much later, when Eris got assigned to solve the mystery of Count Lucio's murder and catch his fugitive murderer, everyone offered to do something to help her out.

Though she was shy about it, she could sense that the Countess, Nadia, needed help as well. So Libelle suggested assisting her in whatever Nadia would need.

She didn't expect to catch feelings, but she didn't complain either.

Personality: shy, sensitive, kind-hearted, gentle, imaginitive, creative, generous, loyal, honest, trustworthy, observant, reliable, cheerful, too forgiving and sometimes naive

Interesting facts:

Although it isn't very noticeable, she does have a white lotus tattoo on her left middle finger.

Her wrists are littered with past self-harm scars, which the others love to kiss just to make her feel better about them.

She is very insecure about her body, but she has the others to lift her moods up when she's down.

Has an entire collection of earrings, but her favorites are the peacock feathers.

Even though she wakes up early in the morning, she usually takes a nap in the afternoon.

Her thighs and hips are full of stretch marks.

Has the biggest sweet tooth in the world.

Can play the clarinet, but you would have to really indulge her to get her to sing on it for you.

Appearance: Dark espresso skin tone, neck-length curly chestnut brown hair, dyed periwinkle blue halfway down, jade green eyes, chubby slight hourglass body shape, D cup breasts

Familiar: Lumi, a cute and sweet stoat but a sneaky little thief all the same

Voice claim: Dana Gourrier

Full sprite:

WOOOHOOOO I FINISHED ALL MY MCS' BIOS AND I'M SO HAPPY!!

My girl turned out so damn beautiful too and I'm just hhnnnnn- 😖💜

PLEASE SHOW HER SOME LOVE AS WELL!!! ✨

[supercalvin]

Hey! First I want to tell you how much I adore the things you write! You’re honestly so talented and I love your Merthur fics sooo much!! And now for the prompt thing, it’s kind of basic but if you could write something about merthur running away to live in a farm (On canon era)? Thank you! Stay safe

I had a bigger idea for this that I might expand into a longer fic one day. But who knows if that will ever happen. So here is this instead!

Prompts + Ficlets

Edit: now with a PART TWO

***

Merlin woke in a cold sweat, gasping as if he had been drowning. This was the third dream in as many days. First, he had dreamt of Gaius, sitting by a fire in a small house on the outskirts of the lower town. Merlin hadn’t thought much of it. Then next night he had dreamt of Lancelot, seeing him in Camelot’s red and gold, with Gwen by his side. The dream had made him sad, but nothing too worrisome. Tonight, Merlin had dreamt of Morgana. She was sitting on Camelot’s throne, Camelot’s knights at her feet, and Excalibur in her hand.

Gaius scolded Merlin for not telling him about the dreams sooner. Merlin defended himself, saying he hadn’t thought they were visions of the future. He wasn’t a Seer after all. Perhaps they were visions of a possible future.

“But Lancelot…” Merlin said, his voice trailing off and his heart sinking. “It must have been Gwen’s dream…”

Gaius shook his head, “I will try to find some explanation today. Now off you go before Arthur comes looking for you.”

Merlin thought about mentioning the dreams to Arthur. It had been a year since Merlin had told Arthur of his magic. Although Arthur had come to understand Merlin’s decisions, Merlin feared these visions would be too similar to Morgana’s nightmares for Arthur to trust them.

That night, Merlin went to sleep and almost as soon as he closed his eyes, he was opening them again. Except this time he wasn’t in his room, but in an open field. He blinked at the bright sky above him. Where was he? He wandered down the rows of wheat until he came across a small cottage. Merlin squinted and he could see a small village down the lane.

“There you are. Where have you been?”

Merlin turned around and was surprised to see Arthur. This far out in the country he had thought he might see Gwaine or Percival. He looked around, trying to see who Arthur was talking to, but no one else was around.

“What are you looking at? Close your mouth, you look like a startled stoat. Come on,” Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and tugged him along.

In his three previous dreams, no one had ever acknowledged him. He could walk around and speak, but it was like he wasn’t there at all. Merlin stumbled along, trying to piece together what was different. All his other visions were of places he had been before, but this place was completely unfamiliar. It must have been something of Arthur’s memories.

Arthur led Merlin to the cottage, but instead of going inside, Merlin was dragged around the side to where there were even rows of vegetables and herbs. Clucking and pecking between the plants was about a dozen chickens. Merlin blinked at the scene before him. It reminded him of Ealdor.

Arthur’s hand slipped to Merlin’s neck and playfully ran over Merlin’s hair.

“Look!” He said with the sort of smile Merlin so rarely saw. It wasn’t like the polite smile Arthur used with his counselors, or the comforting smile he used with while holding court, or even the roguish smile he used with his knights. It was a barely-there tilt of his lips with his eyes almost closed with mirth.

Merlin was so distracted that he didn’t see what Arthur was pointing at.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned Merlin’s head to the back of the cottage, towards a lavender bush. Only one or two of the flower bundles had popped open to reveal the light purple blooms, but Merlin could tell it would be in full bloom in a few days.

“Lavender?” Merlin asked, looking at the plant. It had obviously been well kept, trimmed and watered.

Arthur stared at him as if he had grown two heads. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Uh,” Merlin gave a wary smile, “It’s very nice…?”

“Nice? You’ve been yammering about your stupid bush for weeks, waiting for it to bloom so you can dry it and use it in poultices, and now that it is, it’s just nice?”

Merlin opened his mouth, about to say that this couldn’t possibly be a vision. Merlin must have eaten something off before falling asleep. This couldn’t be Arthur’s vision for the future.

“This is my lavender bush?”

“Yes, of course it is. Did you think I dug up yours and put in a new one?”

Merlin looked down at Arthur, just now taking in the fact that Arthur wasn’t in chainmail. He wasn’t in his usual well-crafted clothes either. He was in a loose-fitting white shirt that was unlaced at the chest, exposing tanned skin. His boots were scuffed and his hands were dirty, as if he had just been working in the garden behind the house.

“I was feeding the girls when I saw the new blooms. I’ve been trying to find you for ages. Were you off in the woods practicing your magic?”

There was too much in that sentence to digest. All Merlin said in response was, “The girls?”

Arthur gestured to the chickens, as if that was the sane thing to do.

“Are you alright? You seem... off.” Arthur asked, before shaking his head, “No matter. Let’s go inside and we can have some of that rabbit stew you promised me.”

Arthur walked into the cottage, which must have been Merlin’s. Merlin looked at the lavender bush and the small cottage. Did Arthur… Did Arthur want Merlin to leave Camelot? Was his dream for Merlin to practice his magic where Arthur didn’t have to see it?

Merlin stepped into the cottage cautiously. The first room was a large space with a large pot hanging over a fire. There were shelves of food with a table that was cluttered with bottles and dried herbs. There was another smaller table off to the side which was obviously meant for eating. So far, it looked like a nice home. Merlin wouldn’t mind living in, if the dreaded feeling that Arthur wanted him gone wasn’t overwhelming him.

While Arthur went to look at the stew, Merlin quickly took at glance at the only other room. There was a bed, larger than Merlin had ever had. In the corner was a wardrobe and what made Merlin pause was the chest in the corner. It looked identical to the chest that sat in Arthur’s chambers. Then his eye caught on the table next to the bed. Excalibur was leaning against the bedside table.

“Merlin?”

Merlin turned on his heel to see Arthur leaning in the doorway.

“Looking for something?” He was smiling, his brows raising, almost as if to imply…

Merlin blinked at Arthur, his mind connecting the clues but not wanting to allow himself to believe it.

“The food will get cold if you dawdle any longer,” Arthur said, but he didn’t seem in a rush. No, in fact he seemed happy to take his time.

Happy. That was the feeling Arthur seemed to be radiating. Not the pride of Morgana’s vision, the love of Gwen’s, or the peace of Gaius’. He was so inexplicably happy, and Merlin had never seen him like this before. So at ease in his own skin.

Merlin opened his mouth, his throat closing with emotion.

“What is it, love?”

Merlin closed his eyes at the endearment that rolled off Arthur’s tongue so easily. So natural that Merlin’ heart ached at the sound. Merlin could feel himself shake. He tried to calm himself, knowing that too much emotion would likely wake him. He couldn’t risk that, not when he was so close to understanding.

“Merlin,” Arthur stepped up in front of Merlin so that they were eye to eye. “Is something wrong? You seem upset.”

Merlin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Arthur’s dream was to be a farmer. A dirty farmer on the edge of some kingdom, with his knight’s armor piled in the corner, as if a forgotten past. Arthur’s impossible dream was to be here, in some unnamed village, with rabbit stew, and chickens, and…Merlin.

Merlin tried to keep an even expression, but he could feel his lips tremble, and Arthur began to blur as Merlin’s eyes watered.

A king could never be truly happy. It was a fact that both Merlin and Arthur had come to understand a long time ago. Merlin knew that Arthur would have to make choices that would weigh on him. Arthur had already lost so much through this war, and it was only the first step to a united Albion. They both had a weight on their shoulders that they could never escape.

Arthur reached out, his hand resting on Merlin’s neck, his fingers skimming into his hair. “Do you want to lie down?” Arthur asked, his voice so sweet that Merlin felt like he was about to choke on his own tears. “I’ll take the stew off the fire and we can lie down for a bit.”

Arthur turned to leave, but Merlin could not let him. He grabbed Arthur’s tunic, his fingers clenched in the thin white fabric, holding him in place.

“Don’t go,” Merlin whispered, ashamed at how desperate he sounded.

“Oh, love. What happened?” Then Merlin was being wrapped in Arthur’s arms. He could barely feel those strong arms wrap around him, his face being pressed to Arthur’s neck, before his eyes opened and he felt his own small bed underneath him.

He choked out and raised his hand to his face to find that he had started crying in his sleep.

“Merlin?” Gaius rushed into the room and when he saw Merlin, he sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed, “Oh, my boy.” Merlin let Gaius wrap an arm around him, feeling ashamed at his tears. Only the night before he had dreamt of Morgana taking the throne and that hadn’t thrown him into a fit. But a single lavender bush and an uninhibited smile from Arthur, and he was trying to keep himself from falling apart entirely.

“It’ll be alright, it was only a dream.”

If only Gaius knew that Merlin wished it wasn’t.

***

PART TWO

Prompts + Ficlets

[kalee60]

So @larkboyd this happened and I don’t think I have any excuse for it... apologies as I haven’t written for Merthur in quite some time - but your enthusiasm stoked mine - so... errr - enjoy?? 

Based on this Tumblr post here

No warnings except it gets a little spicy ;)

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“You look like a startled Stoat,” Arthur called out to Merlin, and Merlin couldn’t help the way his shoulders stiffened. For God’s sake he was trying his damndest to keep them alive - all while not letting a slip of magic out, and quite honestly Arthur was getting on his last nerve.

“Yeah, well at least I don’t look like a bone-idle toad,” Merlin snarked, enjoying the way Arthur straightened and seemed to startle, like Merlin was being inordinately rude, which he wasn’t - he always spoke to Arthur in that way. 

“You’re saying I look like a toad?” Arthur finally drawled like he couldn’t comprehend the thought, that it was an impossibility to look thus. Merlin was not going to pander to him and confirm that he actually was the most striking man he’d ever seen, and his chiselled features made Merlin’s insides quiver. He was a prat, a pillock and the most infuriating man, no, it was worse - Prince - in the known world. And Merlin wanted him desperately. Much to his disgust.

It made him feel off-balance, so with as much snideness in his tone that he could muster, he responded, “yeah, and maybe one day you’ll magically transform into a handsome prince.” 

Throwing his ruck-sack onto his back he tried and failed to notice the way Arthur touched his face as if to check for warts, then ran a hand through his hair, before gazing down at his body, which left Merlin able to look his fill without being caught. Damn it, he had to curb this - want, deep inside.

“Since magic’s outlawed that’ll probably never happen,” Merlin continued, trying to dampen his desires, it was almost impossible though. And he felt his attraction to Arthur was almost as hard to hide as his magic. “Come on let’s go.”

Arthur followed mulishly behind him. Looking after a Prince was more than a full-time job.

~~~

That evening, Merlin tried unsuccessfully to light a fire, as Arthur watched him too closely to use magic. It was getting cold and he was hungry and he needed to heat the stew else Arthur's royal pain in the behind would complain for hours.

“What’s taking so long?” Arthur whined, “usually it takes you two seconds.”

Merlin wanted to snap that things would go quicker if Arthur deigned himself low enough to help sort out their camp (allowing him a swift glimpse of gold to infuse his eyes and get the damn fire started), instead he ignored the prat.

“It’s cold,” Arthur pressed and Merlin looked up archly, his brow raised and he couldn’t help the utter look of annoyance that crossed his face. Arthur saw, if his small smirk was any indication. The clod-pole knew exactly what buttons he was pressing.

“Go get some more kindling,” Merlin demanded, and when a twig flew past his ear he looked up incredulously. “Did you just throw a stick at me?”

“I’m helping with kindling,” was the response, and Merlin couldn’t help the sharp bark of laughter, which turned into something a little more. Then Arthur joined in, and everything was just absolutely ridiculous. He also wished Arthur’s laugh didn’t make his stomach feel all jittery. The low cadence, deep and full of filthy promises, but not ever aimed at him. Never him.

Merlin was a servant, not a potential bed partner. More pity to Arthur, as Merlin had many, many interesting skills.

To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur actually stood up and began to gather wood, which in turn meant he could use magic to light the fire, and soon a warmth was flowing against the front of his body as he nurtured the small lick of flames into a steady blaze.

“There you go, that wasn’t hard. You could have managed that ten minutes ago, I can’t feel my fingers,” Arthur came up next to Merlin, very closely, and rubbed his hands together and held them out to the fire.

“You’re lucky you can still feel your arse, considering it’s the largest part of you,” Merlin said under his breath.

“What was that?” Arthur asked, not sounding at all very forgiving, and Merlin knew he’d pushed a little too far and gave a beaming smile instead and said he’d put the stew on, which interestingly made Arthur’s gaze soften and his eyes drop to Merlin’s mouth. And although it wasn’t intended to be read in any way other than general, it still sent a zing up Merlin’s spine.

Licking his lips he let out a small cough which startled Arthur into a scowl and a ‘hurry up, I’m starving’. Of course he was.

Dinner wasn’t a fancy affair and they both ate in silence, and as the light disappeared completely from their small part of the forest, sheltered by a rock face, Merlin knew it was going to be too cold overnight for him not to use magic in some way to keep them warm so as not to end up dead from the chills. But he couldn’t. It would be too reckless and an ongoing spell would tax him too much, and honestly he’d never performed such magic anyway. He looked between their two cloaks and swallowed all of his pride. He had to keep the future King safe at all costs. Even the cost to his dignity.

“I think we’re going to have to stay close tonight,” he tried at first.

Arthur’s flat look did not instil confidence, “excuse me?”

“Err, it’s too cold tonight, you can tell by the rings around the moon that the fire won’t give off enough warmth, and since we don’t have proper blankets, we’re going to have to…” Merlin trailed off at the look on Arthur’s face, one he couldn’t really decipher through the flickering flames, “... cuddle.”

“Merlin, are you suggesting the future King of Camelot, cuddle for warmth with his servant?”

What. A. Pillock.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, a dead Prince won’t become King. Even if he’s more frozen than you are now.”

Arthur blinked once, then scowled in such a familiar way it was almost endearing, then finally, much to Merlin’s utter shock, he created a space before him. Not behind. It seemed Arthur was going to allow Merlin to curl up in front of him, closest to the fire. And that was - unexpected.

Although when Merlin made his way over, he instead, lay down behind Arthur as close as he dared. At least behind him if he needed to use magic, he could keep it hidden, to a degree.

They laid awkwardly for about half an hour, when Merlin began to shiver, he couldn’t help it and soon he was wracked with them, trying not to jostle the surly prat before him. Sure he could use a spell to warm himself, but he just wasn’t confident in such close quarters, he’d wait until Arthur fell asleep but of course the dollop-head refused to do anything but stay on guard.

“For the love of Camelot,” Arthur finally huffed and his arm reached out behind him, groping at poor Merlin until completely baffled, his arm was yanked back across and over Arthur. What in hell was he doing? “Better?”

And surprisingly, yes it was, but did he admit that? Instead he took it for what it was, shared body warmth and snuggled in closer, feeling the sharp inhale from Arthur as his hips unintentionally ground into his backside. He swallowed his apology, not wanting to draw attention to it. Trouble was, all of Merlin’s attention was honed in on every breath, every noise, the way the firelight played over Arthur’s golden hair, making it appear ethereal, and he needed to rein in his galloping thoughts. Arthur was not someone he could lust after. Not someone he could have.

“Do you really think that of me?” Arthur said quietly and Merlin craned his neck to try and hear the soft words.

“Think what?”

“That I look like a toad,” was the response, and Merlin bit his lip to stop the laughter bubbling up.

Lord, Arthur was the vainest and most obtuse man in a thousand forests.

“Honestly?” he asked with only a hint of mirth in his voice.

The nod was so unlike Arthur, usually he was full of gust and bluster, but for some reason Merlin decided that the truth wouldn’t hurt. Well part of it.

“No, I don’t think you look like a toad,” he felt Arthur relax a little against him, “but you do look like a prat, not even in training anymore. I’m pleased to confirm you have entered the esteemed ranks of complete and utter fully fledged royal prat.”

“Oh…”

“You sound disappointed? I can still say you look like a toad. Magic, as discussed, won’t help you. But a kiss might...” And what the actual hell just slipped out of his mouth? He was going to blame his absolute lack of brain cells on the fact he had Arthur basically wrapped up in his arms, and the smell and very aura of the larger-than-life man had enraptured his senses until he didn’t even know what he was saying.

It didn’t mean he was lying though.

Arthur went still, very still and Merlin braced himself for a walloping - which didn’t come.

“That could…” Arthur stopped and coughed, his voice thick with something and Merlin held his breath, what was happening between them like an out of body experience. “...could be amenable.”

“Amenable,” Merlin couldn’t help chuckle.

“I mean, I don’t want to be a toad for the rest of my life, who does?”

“No, no of course you don’t.” Merlin barely whispered as Arthur tilted his head back, and suddenly Merlin had pouty lips made for kissing (among other activities he tried not to image too often) within his reach. The small uncertainty in Arthur’s eyes almost hidden by the darkness and Merlin had to school his own features, knowing Arthur could quite simply see his expression clearly in the firelight.

He didn’t wait for a second invitation, not sure if this was his only opportunity to kiss Arthur, other than in his fantasies, he wasn’t about to turn it down, and as he lowered his head, he heard the small inhale between Arthur’s lips, and then they were kissing.

It was everything and unlike anything Merlin had expected. Arthur’s lips were soft, so unbelievably plush under his own cold mouth and he couldn’t help dive deeper, taste further, take everything on offer. And just when Merlin thought his luck had run out, Arthur sighed into his mouth and opened himself more, pressed his body firmer against Merlin and his hand tangled up in Merlin’s hair and, god, it was good. It was perfect, actually.

Merlin couldn’t say how long they lay there, kissing, learning each other’s mouths, seeking to shock and make the other gasp, as when Merlin discovered that Arthur enjoyed having his hair pulled, delighting him to no end.

But it was when a hardness pressed insistently against Merlin’s leg, he realised they’d gone from a fairly innocent teasing to something much more.

“Arthur?” Merlin questioned, diving back in for another kiss, devastating the blonde, if his hazy wild eyes were any indication. “What do you want?”

Arthur didn’t answer for the longest moment, and Merlin was beginning to think he wouldn’t.

“What any good serv… friend would give, nothing more, nothing less.”

Merlin mulled on the words for only a second, making up his mind in less than that.

He rolled Arthur back so he was facing the fire again, Merlin pushing right up against his back, his own hardness tight against Arthur, and although he wanted friction, he had a different plan. The small huff of air, almost as if Arthur were trying to hurry him up, so very familiar and Merlin pressed himself tighter against him, enjoying the hitch of Arthur’s breath.

It was too cold to undress and they had been limited with bathing except the dip in the river earlier that morning, so Merlin had one or two options left to him. He decided quickly what he wanted.

He spared a kiss against the back of Arthur’s neck, and snaked his hand down into the soft folds of Arthur’s pants, grasping his dick firmly, and Arthur bucked against him roughly, and for a moment, Merlin thought he’d overstepped. 

But then the way Arthur went boneless and whispered ‘please’ into the night urged Merlin on with his movements.

Arthur was large in his hand, and so very hard, and as he stroked up firmly, his mouth watered, hoping at some stage he’d be able to wrap his lips around the girth, wanting it desperately. Arthur shook in his arms, so Merlin repeated the movement, up and down - slowly, glacially.

“Merlin…”Arthur tried to sass.

“Hmmm,” he replied cheekily, knowing exactly what was going through his mind.

“Move.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

Arthur husked in an uneven suck of air as Merlin’s fingers danced across the tip of his dick, finding wetness, enough to spread down his shaft to ease his movements.

“I’m your… oh, god that… bloody hell…” Arthur arched back as Merlin bagan to lazily step his fingers up then down. “I’m your crown prince and I demand you… you know.”

Merlin smirked against his shoulder, not able to stop the small press of his lips on Arthur’s ear, “I’m not sure I know at all, Arthur.”

Maybe it was Merlin saying his name out loud, making it more real, but Arthur moved his head to look back over at Merlin, pressing himself forward as if searching for - oh… Merlin kissed him hard, tongue pushing in and Arthur moaned around him, the vibration of it hitting him square in the gut.

Arthur was stunning.

Merlin began to stroke him hard, Arthur’s lips loosening over his until they were only sharing air, the punched out gasps leaving Arthur’s throat had Merlin puffing out sharp breaths, whispering words of encouragement that Arthur was gorgeous, that he could let go, let Merlin take care of him. He didn’t relent, his pace becoming brutal, with one goal in mind, to get his Prince off. To make him fall apart from only his hand.

“Let go for me,” Merlin rasped, lips pressed on Arthur’s.

It was all he needed, Arthur’s lips clung to his suddenly as he moaned deeply and began to release in Merlin’s hand, the stickiness and warmth pleasing Merlin to his toes. He did that, he made Arthur feel like that. Made him lose control. 

It was a heady and addictive feeling.

The kisses turned soft, Arthur still breathing heavily, and Merlin removed his hand, looking down at his soiled fingers and Arthur gave him a look.

“Don’t you dare wipe that on me.”

Merlin smirked, it was not his intent.

One finger disappeared into his mouth and Arthur made a strangled noise as Merlin sucked his second finger clean. Arthur tasted like nothing on earth, and Merlin wanted more. But was it his lot in life to be able to taste Arthur Pendragon from the source?

“You’re going to kill me, Merlin.” Arthur growled before pinning him to the ground shockingly easy. “Wait until I get you back to the palace and into a bed, you’ll not survive the night, especially after a bath - you smell like a boar.”

Merlin laughed, “I smell like you - so are you a toad or a boar.”

Arthur’s hand on his dick stopped the flow of teasing words.

~~~

If Merlin and Arthur were inseparable after their two night jaunt stuck in the woods, and if the other Knights happened to see Arthur’s hand slip into the breeches of his most loyal servant on the odd occasion. Well, it was just as easy to look the other way.

After all - it was their future king and consort they were in the company of.

[heartmeadows]

I’ve been starving all day oops... When I woke up I literally just rolled a cig, made coffee and enjoyed them at the backyard. It’s my routine, just smoking and quite too often drinking coffee while slav squating and watching the woods ahead. It’s calming, although every damn time I smoke I just keep thinking about quitting. It is my goal this year and I know I am capable of it. The issues isn’t “withdrawal” because the physical withdrawal ain’t much in reality, I’ve done my research lmao. The real issue is that I, like so many others, have turned smoking into a thing that “relieves stress or anxiety”. It’s a moment of peace, of either not thinking or thinking. For me it’s all that and a way to be outside, if even for a moment. Since my agoraphobia has gotten worse and it’s better to social distance anyway cause I been doing that since my teens thanks to mental illness. But anyway, I’m distracting myself again from going upstairs and eating and... making another brew tbh. And smoking that goddamn cig. Ugh. But the best thing about my routine is that I get to see our backyard forest’s wildlife. So far I’ve seen deer, pheasants, squirrels, all kinds of birds, a fox, rabbits and a tiny baby stoat that was mostly white but had a few patches of brown. IT WAS SO CUTE Y’ALL! It jumped all of a sudden from what seemed to me to be out thin air and it got pretty close to me, it looked up at me and then it just disappeared somewhere under the snow! Anyway, it’s amazing to see animals I wouldn’t see otherwise tbh. It always feels magical and I feel blessed to witness it. ANYWAY I’m gonna stop now, I really need to eat. Listen, I obviously still don’t know what’s up with my head but I can go for hours starving and ignoring my body and basically everything completely while I’m in the zone... It’s not completely dissociation, I just get hyperfocused. I literally only hyperfocus or am completely unable to focus. There is no inbetween tbh. BUT NOW FUCKING HELL LENA STOP! OK thanks for reading if you did and hey, I’m gonna be an adult and feed this stupid vessel I didn’t choose.