#it was created like three years ago i know its bad ok

[raphaelsrightarm]

Could we get a little something on the spicy side, maybe Raph just taking care of himself during a particularly annoying mating season, hes yearling after reader (who’s his bestie) and he’s feels all types of wrong but the more he does it, the worse (all too real) his desires get for him.

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Ok so like usual this one got away from me, I played a bit further into the "all too real" than I had intended, I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1362

Warning: NSWF 18+, implied attraction between characters

Three weeks. 

The pulsing ache that burrowed inside of him would leave after three weeks. The tension in his muscles would slip away, his irritability would return to its normal state, and life would resume as normal. Or as normal as it ever was. 

Raphael usually stuck to his weight set for hours at a time before returning to his room to attempt to ease the stiffness that built up after a single day. That had become his routine whenever this time of year came around, and though he knew it was going to be a reoccurring thing, he dreaded it every time the weather started to warm. 

Yet something new has happened since last year. Something that had brought a new complication into this tortuous few weeks. You.

They had met you by accident, and you remaining so close to them hadn’t been part of the plan either. Some days Raph felt so grateful that such a thing happened to them that it overwhelmed him, and he usually had to distract himself for a bit until the fullness inside his chest slipped away.

Other days, he cursed the world for it. You had opened a door inside him that he had locked for years. The feelings that he never thought he would have to deal with in his lifetime, now being something that trailed behind him closer than his own shadow.

He liked to believe he might be haunting you the same way. There were moments between the two of you that he labeled as your close calls. Times when you had brushed against him, times when you grabbed his arm while laughing and your hand lingered on his skin, thumb brushing briefly before leaving. Times that left him wondering if this was something more or if he was creating something new entirely. 

Now, when he felt the beginning signs of springtime, he knew it was going to be worse. The thoughts that floated back to you used to be mostly harmless, now they dug into him like blades. 

A few weeks ago, he had told you some bullshit excuse to keep you out of the lair while they were able to push through the weeks of unbearable horniness. He felt bad lying to you, but he felt it might be easier than to remind you of just how unhuman he was. 

On one of the first days, he abused his punching bag until the chain broke. He lifted weights until his limbs burned, waiting until just before the sun set to touch himself. 

When that time came around, he shut himself in his room. He slowly undressed, then lounged back on his bed. With his eyes shut, he slipped into the easy motions he had gone on many times before. 

His cock was already hard just by the thought of what he was about to do. He wrapped his hand around it, his head falling back just from the feeling that provided. 

He stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing his hand around the head to use his precum as lube. 

That was when his mind strayed to you, and though he feared it would be unavoidable, it still made him feel like he was crossing a line he could never come back across. He had imagined being with you, of course, he craved to know what your legs would feel like slung over his shoulders. He wanted to know what you sounded like when you came, what you tasted like.

But something felt different about this. His hand moved faster as he imagined being inside of you. Your face buried in a pillow, muffling your cries for him to fuck you harder. He imagined cumming inside of you. How it would spill out of you when he pulled out, how full you would be of him. 

He thought of your voice, smooth and beautiful. Your moans would be just as sweet, full of lust and pleads. He thought of your smell, something that managed to remain anywhere you touched just to taunt him. He could imagine it now, the silky aroma that drifted off of your skin. It felt so vivid to him now, so close to him it drove him crazy. 

He was so close now it was nearly unbearable. His stomach had tightened, a cord stretching further and further. He heard your voice saying his name, and he pushed himself further into the fantasy of you touching him, of you yearning to see him cum, and he whispered your name in return. 

Through his closed eyes, he noticed the room brighten a bit. When he lifted his head, his first sight was you. At first he thought he had imagined you there, eyes wide as you watched him. Reality sank in shortly after, and he jerked to sit up.  

He blurted your name out in a panic.“What are you doing here?” He grabbed his pants off the floor and brought them over his lap. His blood roared in his ears as he waited for you to respond, to do anything but stand there. It was horrible of him, but the sight of you made his cock twitch beneath his clothes, reminding him of the visions he’d seen, how close he was just moments ago.   

You were silent for a moment, before stepping inside his room, and, to his complete shock, closing the door behind you, pressing your back against it. 

“What are you…” His words trailed off, breaths heaving. You clasped your hands together, but not before he noticed a slight tremor.

“You said my name. I heard you.” Your voice was quiet, and though you tried hiding it, he could tell you were nervous. “Were you thinking about me?” 

 Raph was silent, eyes wide. But you looked at him, waiting. After a moment, he nodded, still unsure if he had imagined you there at all. 

“Can I watch?” 

His heart nearly stopped, his body felt like it turned into clouds. He answered you by slowly taking the pants from his lap. You moved carefully, not taking your eyes off of him, and sat in the beanbag chair against the wall across from him. 

He began stroking himself again, moving slow until he felt himself fall back into the motions. He found the rhythm he enjoyed, squeezing his fist at the head. At first he avoided looking at you, but he could feel you watching him. 

He opened his eyes to see you leaning further back, your legs spread slightly, hands gripping your knees. He desperately wished he could know what you were thinking, but the rich smell of your arousal reached him from across the room, answering most of his questions for him. 

It pushed him further, the fact that he could get you like this without even touching you. That just seeing him like this had gotten you wet. His hand began moving faster, he could hear you lean forward. 

“Were you thinking about me touching you like that?” 

A chuckle escaped him. “‘Was thinking about a lot more than that.”

“What else?”

“Fuck,” He put more pressure around his cock, feeling flares shoot down his legs. He saw the muscles in your legs clench, hands tightening into fists. “Thought about having you any way I want. Makin’ you say my name while I fuck you. Makin’ you cum.” He let out a sharp breath. He was almost there, the cord nearly snapping inside him. “I’d have you all to myself. Nobody else would ever fuckin’ touch you. 

You slid your hand up your thigh, your voice a dreamy whisper. “Raph,” 

Fuck.

His head fell back as he came. Ropes of cum landing across the back of his hand. The quickened rise and fall of his chest slowly began to settle

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after today, but at the moment, with his brain clouded by the mix of his  afterglow and his own instincts, as well as the undeniable need radiating off of you, he couldn’t care less. 

“Come here,” His voice was low, eyes so intensely focused on you. 

Without hesitation, you obediently stood, taking a step toward him.

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

[kaylapocalypse]

Hello!! This may be a bit of a long-shot, but you're a published and fairly successful author that I know how to contact, and I love The Wicker King..

You can respond to this via this ask or direct messages (or not at all!) Whatever you're comfortable with.

I'm in a position where I really need to start seriously thinking about my future career, and the one I'm leaning towards the most at the moment is a creative writer. I love it, and it's one of my strong suits... but the field is not known for being easy to navigate.

You clearly have experience, so I was wondering if you could shed some light on what I would need to do if I decide to be serious about pursuing this?

What does the publication process look like, how do you support yourself financially (is it substantial?), what courses did you take in college (if at all), and how did you get your name out there?

Being an author is a plan/dream I had years ago and had since given up on, but after two years of chasing a different passion, I'm starting to waver again on what I should do...

So, I was wondering if you could tell me about your experience in the writing/book industry; if you're comfortable of course!

Thank you for your time and I hope you have a nice day!

My apologies for taking so long to answer this, I had to think very hard about what I wanted to say.

I think the most important thing for you to know is that it takes about 10 years before most creative writers--novelists especially--are able to live off their craft. And that's not even factoring in the metrics of chance.

I don't mean this as a dissuasion of any kind. Its just very important to me that you enter this field with this understanding. Most authors have a second job, in particular, most authors are either teachers or attorneys for some reason (especially romance novelists, chock full of attorneys) quite a few authors also work at call centers (low effort job that allows for tons of energy for personal time) and another subset are just RICH PEOPLE.

I myself started out as a call center author and then I married someone kind of Well Off. Without them I might not be able to do nearly as much writing as I do.

The biggest thing I want you to be doing right now is picking a secondary "job" that will allow you to write for long enough that you are able to get to that 10 year time when you can retire your first job and get into your writing career. I know 10 years sounds like a long time, but I graduated at 22 and only now as a 32 year old are things starting to fall into place. Think of it like becoming a doctor. Those 10 years are med school and residency.

The next thing that I think is important is that you develop a strong relationship with constructive criticism and stamina.

Here are the three things that kill potential authors early and stop their potential careers on the spot

Being too scared to share their work with as many people as possible. Especially people they do not know. Getting opinions on your work (notably bad ones) lets you learn much quicker how to fix issues. You'll grow much faster as a writer if you're open to harsh opinions and open to sharing your work.

Thinking that because someone doesn't like your book, they don't like YOU. Art is so personal and its really difficult for a huge amount of people to jump this emotional hurdle. What helps is thinking about your favorite artists and authors and whether you like every single thing they ever created. Chances are, you just like /most/ of it. What you really like is THEM. I know of at least 4 people I'm online friends with on twitter who have hated every single book I ever wrote but think my twitter is absolutely hilarious. And people who love my books to pieces but think I'm so extremely annoying and have me blocked on twitter lmao. Its just product, its just a macaroni necklace. Its ok.

Thinking because they aren't having a Wunderkind Experience that they're a failure and give up too early. I recently met a guy who sent out 20 query letters and didn't hear back from all of them and got so bitter he threw an online tantrum (that likely got him blacklisted) and swore not to try trad publishing ever again. 20 queries is nothing. I personally sent out 80 and queried for about 7 months and I absolutely had what people describe as "a Cinderella experience." A lot of other people are like...., 27 and are like "ohhh im too old to be an author... there are so many young authors" meanwhile, if you go to any major conference, all the authors there are like 45-65 years old and there's like 10 people in their 20s-early 30s and everyone treats you like an interesting baby. Getting bitter and insecure about this is the quickest way to lose hope and squash your OWN dreams for literally no reason.

As for the publication process, I have a few links for you:

This last link will be very important to you later, so please save it to your computer. The first two are just informative stuff about the process.

If you have any more questions or want me to talk more about anything I've mentioned here, feel free to send them my way!

[wanda-little-baby]

Rainy Run - Wanda x Readear

Summary: Retrace the path that led you to this point, starting at the lowest point.

Warnings: angst, a lot of angst also on the next chapter but it will be better

A/N: Please going easy with me its my first work ❤️!

Words: 1.654

This morning started like all the others, I woke up at 5 and after a cold shower I got dressed and left the compound to go running.

The temperature was still quite low, perfect for anything but not for running, typical of full spring here in New York. I decided to take a path to the nearby woods, just to change my routine, as I ran I noticed the rapid change of the already multi-colored leaves, almost ready to fall. Running, I began to remember all the times that for some reason, if only to disconnect the tension, I would take refuge there protected by the branches of the forest.

The first time was two years ago shortly after the Avengers rescued me from under the rubble of the building where I lived with my parents. At the time I was only sixteen and I still didn't know how to control my powers well, it often happened that when I felt very strong emotions I let them take the lead and bad things happened, like that time...

Immediately after I realized what I had done everything became dark and I thought I was going to die, at least I would stop suffering, hurting others and myself, but the universe had more in store for me. Suddenly a strong glow blinded my sight and prevented me from looking at the person who had raised the concrete slab above me, ending breaking the magical barrier that had self-created during the collapse, it took me a while to readjust to the light ... before realizing that the man in front of me was none other than Captain America!

——————————————————————

It all started with a simple quarrel, one of those things that mother and daughter have, but usually it does not end with a collapsing building, many victims and the Avengers walking in search of survivors or rather looking for you above the remains of that which until half an hour ago was your home.

With many wounds and unable to utter any meaningful words the only sounds were various moans accompanied by tears caused by both anger and sadness, offset by an excellent process of fainting. "Nat prepares the Quinjet, I found someone," Steve said as he pressed a finger into the earphone.

The slight moments between fainting caused by the huge blood loss were hardly enough to understand three things: the first was that Captain America was picking you up and carrying you somewhere, you were on a sort of plane headed for who knows what place, and in conclusion you were terribly ill ... for everything.

When I woke up I was in a kind of hospital bed with a nasal tube and an IV in my arm; it was like waking up from a nightmare one of those who make a "cold sweat" only this was true, it was all true. I carefully tried, even if still a little dazed, to look around me without picking up any clues as to where I was except perhaps that it was very expensive; trying to make a brief summary of all the memories suddenly, the emotions came back to the surface trapping my heart in an excruciating grip, instinctively I tried to get up by triggering a kind of strangely calm voice that warned me to stay calm because the "Mr. Stark" would have arrived soon, at those words it is as if a world had opened up to me "Mr. Stark, did you say? Iron Man? Where am I? Why am I here and especially where are my parents?" behind me suddenly a voice came up "Whoa, calm down, it's okay, how many questions, do you need something?".

Already the one in front of me was Tony Stark, until a few seconds ago I had only seen him on the news, but now he was right here and he asked me a question "No, I'm fine ..." were the only words that came out almost like a whisper "Ok it doesn't seem but ok for now I accept it" he said reducing the space "Let's start with order, what's your name?" "Y/n!" I almost shouted trying to escape from that situation "So, JARVIS made sure to get your clothes back, I don't think you want to stay in that shirt much longer," he said pointing to a chair in the corner with the clothes "Yeah, it's not very comfortable" I said quickly putting on my old clothes. "Ok Y/n, remember what happened, the reason for your injuries" without answering I lowered my eyes full of tears at the thought, it was enough. "Then I guess from the questions you know who I'm, right ?" without answering, I nodded slightly, "Well come with me I'll help you distract yourself, let's go talk to the others".

That was the first time I met the Avengers, but definitely not the last. At this point in the boulevard of memories the thing that brought me back to reality was a drop of water on my nose followed by others very quickly and in no time I became a walking puddle that ran quickly back to the compound.

Once I arrived, in a heartbeat I sneaked back into my room without wanting to wake anyone, and straight into the bathroom for a nice hot shower eliminating all the accumulated cold. The warmth of the shower allowed my mind to prepare to take another leap into the maze of my traumas.

I've always never liked introductions, all this embarrassment as if talking was the most humiliating thing in the world, it certainly didn't improve in this situation. Coming out of the room that "Tony" had said was some kind of infirmary he led me somewhere looking at me as if I were a broken vase about to split into many small pieces, he was right ... I had just killed my parents and it was all my fault.

"You know Y/N you can call me Tony if you like" "you're very quiet eh" "don't press too hard, you'll like them" I continued to follow him without however countering his constant attempts to open a conversation because it wasn't the most important thing, I had to knowing where my parents were, why I was there, what Earth's mightiest heroes wanted from a simple girl unfortunate enough to have powers she can't handle.

At the end of the one-sided chat he motioned me to enter a "conference room", I don't have time to take the first step that all the eyes of the four people inside were turned to me, their looks were filled with sorrow mixed with fear ...

... if I had known, I would have too

"Where are my parents !? Are they okay?" Were the first words I said to break the awkward silence, words that only later would I regret having uttered; Bruce, who at that time did not yet know sayed "Your parents .... your parents died under the rubble".

At those words it was as if everything collapsed but at the same time clear, it was my fault, from that belief my body collapsed to the ground bent in an excruciating spiral of pain all around, pain that became anger to be the cause of everything that, anger at being too weak to handle these powers, anger at not dying with them and surviving, all of this pain almost exploded inside me, almost.

All this happened in a few seconds, making only a glimpse of what was inside me on the outside, immediately Steve, as usual, rushed to "save" the same girl for the second time in the same day "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you, we heard about the explosion and came to check its source, we didn't know it was you but we're not here to question you "he said with a rather sorry tone looking at the rest of the team; "For the moment you can stay here if you want. Tony, we have a room for her right?" "Yes, of course we have Steve, when there are only 5 of us and most of us are never there" "is it my fault that I have a life?" with my eyes barely open I caught a glimpse of a man laughing together with a redhead "no Clint, it's just that we are very busy no matter how but we are" said the redhead, moderating her laughter, looking back at me.

Seeing that scene, uncommon people laughing and joking as if they were old friends brought out a faint smile flickering enough for Steve to break away and try to compose himself. "I think I'll accept, I have nowhere else to go" I stammered trying to get up trying not to sink in shame for having collapsed in front of people who don't even know me, "you don't have to be ashamed, the pain will pass over time, you just have to find it, for now it is understandable that you want to let off steam "I looked up just to see the other woman smiling at me "by the way, I'm Natasha "she said approaching" I would like to go to this hypothetical room now, if only I knew where" with a still scared look I answered trying to stop all these people getting closer and closer; "Yes, of course, this way," said Tony, picking up the subject again and pointing to the exit.

He led me through a quiet corridor filled with rooms to what I understood was going to be where I was staying. Before I took refuge inside ready to cry he said in a worried tone "If you need something, anything, just a nod, for the moment we should all stay here" nodding I said a miserable "Thank you" before letting go of the handle and to be alone again at the mercy of silence, in pain as it should be after what I had done.

[carcass-confessions]

I've realized that it's kinda hard to write in a setting of a fictional world when you know nothing about said world so here's some haphazardly put together notes at 4 am about some fucken magic fantasy world that's like a second version of earth

[Insert World Name]

Around 400 years ago (or more, can't decide) some odd supernatural force nearly ended the world by stopping its rotation as a means of preventing three of the strongest, and maybe the first, witches from ever being able to work together at their full power. They were the star witch, moon witch, and sun witch.

Due to the stopped rotation, it meant a full day was 365 days long. Winter was entirely in the dark, where the stars were bright and the moon was almost always visible, and the summer was entirely in the sun, with the stars and moon invisible. During the spring, it was sunrise, and the moon was visible with the sun, and during autumn was sunset, with the stars and sun visible, but all 3 were never visible at the same time.

That's most of the dramatically vague history stuff out of the way.

There are clocks EVERYWHERE. Usually at least two; one is a yearly clock to keep track of seasons and another is similar to a 24 hour clock

The 24 hour clock isn't for work days and stuff!!! It's just a convenience thing, since everyone has a totally different sleep schedule due to the lack of regular days and nights. This makes the world seem a lot less dense in public because like half the population in a small area is asleep at any given time. Imagine a busy city in our world but at night it's pretty much totally empty, then imagine half of the population during the day was only busy as night, which made existing in public a lot less crowded

Over centuries, pretty much every plant has now adapted to be bioluminescent during the winter, which makes autumn through winter the Prettiest time of the year (

There is a massive body of freshwater that completely freezes over during the winter. I can't decide if a huge festival takes place on the ice for months or if it's more of a giant merchant trading hub that moves in during winter, but either way it becomes a sort of temporary city that gets a new name and layout every winter. Throughout winter it gets developed every single "day" until what would on earth be the winter solstice, which would be a period of time where development stops and its a time of relaxation before the rest of the winter is spent slowly taking everything down. Since it thaws in the middle and goes outwards, those who get there first also leave first, and those who get there last leave last, so it's not like you have to hurry up and set up your stalls and stuff as soon as possible.

There is a big region that is covered by a perpetual storm that almost completely blocks out the sun. As a result, it is icy all year round, and it's just generally a bad time to be there at any point. Plants can't survive there, and a personal light doesn't break through the storm, so during the winter, it's completely dark, but during the summer, what small amount of sunlight reaches the ice melts it just slightly on the surface, making the entire landscape much more slippery and full of sharp points.

Magic that can create portals is not common, but it's also not exceedingly rare. This world's version of Uber is basically paying a graduated witch to let you use their portals.

There is a sort of hub area that graduated witches can access to apply to have their physical symbol added, which basically gives them free access to the hub whenever they want. Since most witches' symbols are plants, it resembles a large, VERY neatly organized underground greenhouse. Ok yes I took aesthetic inspiration from the ministry of magics use as a sort of teleportation hub, sue me, I'm struggling and it's already almost 5 am now

During the apocalypse (as in the giant FightTM that it resulted from) it was speculated that a hole was formed that goes down into the underworld. Of course, no one has actually found it, but the very few people who have somehow found themselves in the underworld and managed to come back out described there being a dark lake, the ripples in the water illuminated only by a crater in the ceiling letting light reflect off the water like moonlight

Earth and the other world share an underworld. It's a whole Thing, they all exist like. In the same space but through some fourth or fifth dimensional bullshit don't interact directly with one another

Despite magic not being used by a majority of the population, it is still highly respected and is an integral aspect to how the world stays Not Dead. However, with it having an unfathomable amount of potential, i wouldn't say it's "heavily regulated" because with magic being an incredibly creative procedure it makes it sound dystopian, but I will say it is almost required to go to school for it. As a result, the school the story mainly takes place in is basically the capital of the world, which means all the teachers and especially the principal have MASSIVE amounts of power and respect. It's also the only school for magic (it's a big school and a small world ok).

While the principal has the most political and social power, the teachers easily overpower them because they actually use their magic on the job. The principal, on the other hand, typically is more or less exhausted of their power because they use it entirely to help students get to the school via portals, including ones that cross dimensions into earth.

Necromancy and astrology are seen as the same type of magic; they're both considered a kind of "necromancy" in that they poke into worlds inhabited by souls without bodies, where there's the underworld of post-life and what they call the over-overworld (the sky/stars) of pre-life. Both of these practices are used as means of insight, divination, healing, and communication

Everyone is born with a symbol tied to their soul. When someone dies, their soul takes time to disconnect from the symbol. Even after a soul departs from the current plane and forcefully enters the underworld, a symbol takes much longer to be reconnected to another soul. Because of this, there are several superstitions and legends about what are referred to as vampires; those who have stolen a symbol from one's soul, typically depicted as stealing a symbol after someone has already died as if stealing it from the next soul it is to be transferred to. Despite real definitive proof as to whether vampires exist in this aspect, a few people have been ostracized from society for being accused of vampirism.

While the average person may enter the underworld in as little as a few days to a week, their symbol may take a month to be reborn. people who use magic frequently but in relatively simple ways (typically professional reasons), may continue existing as a spirit on the material plane for a month or two, while the symbol takes a decade to reappear. VERY successful witches who are incredibly in tune with their symbol and intuit new ways to use magic on the fly tend to remain spirits for 3 or 4 years, with their symbols taking upwards of 150 years to reincarnate, on top of having a very long lifespan of up to 300-500 years (((This is part of the reason why a sun, star, and moon witch have not been alive together in 400 years. When one or two are alive at the same time, the other is dead, and the symbol has yet to reincarnate)))

[80sgaytrashgoblin]

Headcanon #3: Blind Keith and Jealous Lion

[star-anise]

Ok, I'll bite. What *is* the difference between Bridgerton and Jane Austen in relationship to their skirts?

Oh! Not in their costuming, just in their general *waves hands* everything. It's a comment I see a lot about Bridgerton: "Well, it's not much like Austen, is it?"

That's because there are 200 years of literary history between the two, and they have not been empty!

This ended up being 1.5k words, but when I put stuff under a readmore, people don't actually read it and then just yell at me because of a misread of the 1/10th of the post they did read. Press j to skip or get ready to do a lot of scrolling (It takes four generous flicks to get past on my iPhone).

First I'll say my perspective on this is hugely shaped by Sherwood Smith, who has done a lot of research on silver fork novels and the way the Regency has been remembered in the romance genre.

The Regency and Napoleonic eras stretch from basically the 1790s to 1820, and after that, it was hard to ignore the amount of social change happening in Britain and Europe. The real watershed moment is the 1819 Peterloo Massacre, where 60,000 working-class people protesting for political change were attacked by a militia. The issues of poverty, class, industrialization, and social change are inescapable, and we end up with things like the 1832 Reform Act and 1834 Poor Law.

This is why later novelists, like Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell, are so concerned with the experiences of the urban poor. Gaskell's North and South has been accurately described as "Pride and Prejudice for socialists."

So almost as soon as it ended, people started to look back and mythologize the Regency as a halcyon era, back when rich people could just live their rich lives and fret about "only" having three hundred pounds a year to live on. Back when London society was the domain of hereditary landowners, when you weren't constantly meeting with jumped-up industrialists and colonials.

Jane Austen is kind of perfect for this because she comes at the very end of the long eighteenth century, and her novels show hints of the tremors that are about to completely reshape England, but still comfortably sit in the old world. ("The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration, perhaps of improvement. The father and mother were in the old English style, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrove were a very good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated, and not at all elegant. Their children had more modern minds and manners.")

Sherwood Smith covers the writers who birthed the Silver Fork genre in detail, but there's one name that stands out in its history more than any other: Georgette Heyer.

Georgette Heyer basically single-handedly established the Regency Romance as we know it today. Between 1935 and 1972, she published 26 novels set in a meticulously researched version of London of the late 18th and early 19th century. She took Silver Fork settings and characters and turned them into a highly recognizable set of tropes, conventions, and types. (As Sherwood points out, her fictional Regency England isn't actually very similar to the period as it really happened; it's like Arthurian Camelot, a mythical confection with a dash of truth for zest.)

Regency Romance is an escapist genre in which a happy, prosperous married life is an attainable prize that will solve everything for you. Georgette Heyer's novels are bright, sparkling, delightful romps through a beautiful and exotic world. Her female characters have spirit and vivacity, and are allowed to have flaws and make mistakes without being puritanically punished for them. Her romances have real unique sparks to them. She's able to write a formula over and over without it becoming dull.

And.... well. The essay that introduced me to Heyer still, in my opinion, says it best:

Here's the thing about Georgette Heyer: she hates you. Or, okay, she doesn't hate you, exactly. It's just that unless you are white, English, and upper class (and hale, and hearty, and straight, and and and), she thinks you are a lesser being. [...W]ith Heyer, I knew where I stood: somewhere way below the bottom rung of humanity. Along with everyone else in the world except Prince William and four of his friends from Eton, which really took away the sting. But my point is: if you are not that white British upper-class person of good stock and hearty bluffness and a large country estate, the only question for you is which book will contain a grimly bigoted caricature of you featuring every single stereotyped trait ever associated with your particular group. (You have to decide for yourself if really wonderful female characters and great writing are worth the rest of it.)

So Heyer created the genre, but she exacerbated the flaw that was always at the heart of fiction about the Regency, was that its appeal was not having to deal with the inherent rot of the British aristocracy. I think part of why it's such a popular genre in North America specifically is that we often don't know much British history, so we can focus more on the perfume and less on the dank odor it's hiding.

And like, escapism is not a bad thing. Romance writers as a community have sat down and said: We are an escapist genre. The Romance Writers of America, one of the biggest author associations out there, back when they were good, have foundationally said: "Two basic elements comprise every romance novel: a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending." A strong part of the community argue that publishing in the genre is a "contract" between author and reader: If it's marketed as a romance book, there's a Happily Ever After. If there's no Happily Ever After, it's not romance.

It's important for people to be able to take a break from the stresses of their lives and do things that are enjoyable. But the big question the romance genre in particular has to deal with is, who should be allowed to escape? Is it really "escapist" if only white, straight, upper class, able-bodied thin cis people get to escape into it? In historical romance, this is especially an issue for POC and LGBTQ+ people. It's taken a lot of work, in a genre dominated by the Georgette Heyers of the world, to try to hew out the space for optimistic romances for people of colour or LGBTQ+ people. These are minority groups that deal with a literally damaging amount of stress in real lives; they are in especial need of sources of comfort, refuge, community, and encouragement. For brief introductions to the issue, I can give you Talia Hibbert on race, and KJ Charles on LGBTQ+ issues.

Up until the 1990s, the romance genre evolved slowly. It did evolve; Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan's Beyond Heaving Bosoms charts the demise of the "bodice-ripper" genre as it became more acceptable for women to have and enjoy sex. The historical romance genre became more accommodating to non-aristocratic heroines, or ones that weren't thin or conventionally pretty. The first Bridgerton book, The Duke and I, was published in 2000, and has that kind of vibe: Its characters are all white but not all of them are aristocrats, its heroines are frequently not conventionally beautiful and occasionally plump, and its cultivation to modern sensibility is reflected in its titles, which reference popular media of today.

This is just my impression, but I think that while traditional mainstream publishing was beginning to diversify in the 1990s, the Internet was what really made diverse romance take off. Readers, reviewers, and authors could talk more freely on the internet, which allowed books to become unlikely successes even if their publishers didn't promote them very much. Then e-publishing meant that authors could market directly to their readers without the filter of a publishing house, and things exploded. Indie ebooks proved that there was a huge untapped market.

One of my favourite books, Zen Cho's Sorcerer to the Crown, is an example of what historical romance is like today; it's a direct callback and reclamation of Georgette Heyer, with a dash of "Fuck you and all your prejudices" on top of it. It fearlessly weaves magic into a classic Heyer plot, maintaining the essential structure while putting power into the hands of people of colour and non-Western cultures, enjoying the delights of London society while pointing out and dodging around the rot. It doesn't erase the ugliness, but imagines a Britain that is made better because its poor, its immigrants, its people of colour, and the foreign countries it interacts with have more power to make their voices heard and to enforce their wills. Another book I've loved that does the same thing is Courtney Milan's The Duke Who Didn't.

So then... Bridgerton the TV show is trying to take a book series with a very middle-of-the-road approach to diversity, differing from Heyer but not really critiquing her, and giving it a facelift to bring it up to date.

So to be honest, although it's set in the same time period as Austen, it's not in the least her literary successor. It's infinitely more "about" the past 30 years of conversation and art in the romance genre than it is about books written 200 years ago.

[lwt28brave]

LT2 masterpost

If it was up to me, we would get an autumn or winter EP. Since it’s not up to me at all, here, enjoy this post with everything we know so far of LT2, which is to say, not much at all. Everything here is hypothetical. I’ll be updating every time I see something relevant. A little disclaimer that while this is a masterpost (kinda), it could be read as discourse (duh, it’s also a theory), AND it’s also by me, and you shouldn’t expect me to be serious at this point.

Due to me restraining myself, there’s no reference to any of the times he’s mentioned his guitar skills and him improving but I hope you know I cried every single time.

I’m also linking my old pinned here. It was written before AFHF and around the free merch thing that didn’t lead to much, but I still think I made some good points.

Possible tracks:

Copy of a Copy of a Copy

Change

Faith in the future??

369??

Possible names:

369

Faith in the future

When is the album coming out?

Your guess is as good as mine

Friday 28th of January 2022. Almost two years after Walls. It’s a Friday. It’s a 28th. What else can I say?

Here you can find @want-to-be-loved timelines for every month.

Here you can find @berlinini’s timeline of what Louis has been up to this year (2021).

The rest is under the cut. And here you can find a PDF version where Tumblr can't tell me how many pictures I can add.

2020

He said back on May 2th 2020 he wasn’t writing anything new yet.

(x)(x)(x)

Interestingly enough, he’s said many times after that that the album’s not ready cause he has no new experiences to drawn from. I won’t call him out because he does it himself.

May 4th. He liked a tweet from DMA’s Johnny Took saying they had to go write together again. Louis has been credited as an influence for them and (kind of) participated in their previous record, so I’m assuming he meant for their music and not his, but you never know.

Nothing(literally nothing??? how did we survive) until 11th of July. We all know what happened that day. We all celebrated it. Nonetheless, that’s not what I’m talking about here.

(x) So, by the beginning of July 2020 he was working on concepts and ideas for the new album. That was fifteen months ago. I know perfection takes time but…

Brief summary of important things that happened from then until the next mention of new music:

Louis left Syco!!!! 10 days later he rescheduled the tour for the first time. He followed Matt Vines on Twitter, probably so we could publicly shame him into doing something. Also, the 10thanniversary. He followed more people I wish he hadn’t.

Then more nothing until September. Not even a single tweet. The first merch drop was on the 28th of August but he just RT’ed the tweet. He first mentioned Free my Meal on the 25th of September. Then on October 1st Walls hit #1 on a lot of countries and Louis was incredibly happy and excited about it ^^

And then, that same day, October 1st, 2020, he dropped this bomb:

(x)

He also said it was too soon to be sharing new lyrics with us (x)

And, obviously, this tweet which is actually what made me start this whole post. I would hope you know mate.

(x)

He also told us he was cooking "banger after banger" and that he was incorporating more social themes into his music (x)(x) (I believe any social issue is a political issue but that’s not the point rn).

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY?!?!

These next paragraphs are brought to you by my mind not remembering things and me not having any links. I’m assuming COACOAC came from those writing sessions that supposedly happened in October. Or in LA but I have no idea if he actually was in LA at any point other than a Daily Mail article putting him there on December which would have been too late, but I do remember that someone said he was in the studio in LA last autumn???? A rumor. Maybe. IDK. Did I mention already all of this is very hypothetical?? Well, this is it. I can’t even remember if this was October or November or what. So, take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also… taking the liberty to assume, if you must, that Copy wasn’t meant to be a Walls reject because it sounds more mature and darker and it has a vastly different tone that Walls songs. I know he’s said that song probably isn’t getting into the album, but I want to have faith (in the future) that I’m getting a studio version. (But also, Louis, if you’re reading this, first of all GET OUT OF MY BLOG second of all, please don’t ever feel pressured again to add a song to the album because we have already heard it before. It’s your art and it should always be under your own terms).

So yeah, I believe that Copy is either one of those four songs (then imagine the other three??!!) or was written around the 1st of October date.

---End of the Intermission---

Then not much important (other than sharing more about Marcus Rashford fight against food poverty and the 2nd merch drop) until he announced the livestream on the 24th of November. (x)

It wasn’t until a few days before the livestream date we even thought again about new music (jk, I know we’re always thinking about new Louis’ music). So, December 9th/10th, 2020. Nine months ago. We got our first taste of new music!

He made sure we knew Copy of a Copy of a Copy isn't a cover! (x) (x)

(x)

Ok, so that’s it for 2020. (I feel like I’m missing something from September 17th because tweet was deleted but maybe he was still talking about cucumbers. We might never know. Unless I understand how Tumblr tags work). Expected, cause Walls was released in 2020. We needed to let it sit for a while.

2021

Another Summary: Louis third tweet of the year was telling the UK government off. So was the fifth. What a good beginning. On the 26th of January, he said he prefers pancakes over waffles. I hope he meant pancakes other than his own. More importantly, he tweeted the infamous “you lot read into things too much”. Don’t get me started, Tomlinson. Don’t. Then the 31st came around and Walls was one. He tweeted this. How wise. And Project Defenceless happened!!

15th of February!! Who cares about Valentine Day when the next day we got this? ♥

(x)

(x)

So…AN EP?? AN EP?? PLEASE RELEASE AN EP.

“I’m sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album”. Unlikely but not impossible. Also. A single would be good. This is the second time he mentions releasing something in 2021 and he sounds surer about it than the first time around.

He also said that he isn’t sure we will get a studio version of Copy. And that the best bridges from Walls to LT2 are Walls, OTB, KMM and Copy. Can’t wait!

Then we jump to March 6th when he announced he was going to create his own management company. “Sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief”. As we can tell he was already manifesting some stuff which will lead us to the numerology stuff/Tesla… kidding. Or not. We might never know.

On the 22nd of March he answered some questions:

He told us music was still his main focus ♥ mwha. (x) I included this tweet to guilt-trip him into giving us music in case he’s reading this even after I told him to leave. ILY.

(x) I’d love to get a visual EP this autumn. Just saying. It sounds like a lovely concept.

(x)

…next (I will get into it, I promise. I’m just mad).

On the 25th he left for Mexico until April 10th. You could assume it was just for the documentary where we got ten seconds of footage or admit the obvious: LT2 its a Mexican baby!!

On the 26th (so, not so far apart from that first 369) we got the first Faith in the Future mention: (x)

Back then we were innocent people who had no idea what was coming upon us. We still have no idea because what the fuck does he mean with these. Please explain. I have one braincell and I don’t use it enough for this. I’m linking some theories.

On the 30th of March he confirmed he was already working on the documentary. So AFHF was already on the works. Will it take this long for us to get the Veeps numbers? We also got this tweet: "Got a decent chorus idea down" (x).

Same person that got the “something out this year” exclusive. If you know something share with the class. Also. Is this Change? I feel like this could be Change but I also assume he wrote Change after hanging out with his friends or being in Doncaster. But who knows.

(x) And the second mention to 369.

(x) 15th of April. The second "Faith in the future".

On the 19th of April he announced that he had something BIG for us later on the year which turned out to be the Away From Home Festival ♥♥ (x) I love him so much.

Then on the 28th he announced the 369 merch drop (which it’s probably the Walls drop? Except that the TOU and KMM ones were “drop 1 and drop 2” and this was drop 369 which, again, makes no sense) but we still don’t know what 369 means.

Into May’ 21 we go.

He rescheduled tour again. And dropped another bomb (x).

He announced he has signed with BMG as an independent artist by RTing this tweet on May 10th. The article also says that he’s already working on writing and recording LT2. The timing… we don’t know. What this deal involves… we don’t know either. Bear with me here because I have a lot to say about this.

I think the deal is only a distribution one, but that BMG are interested in Louis and what he (us) could bring to the table. They were either present at the festival or watching it, but officially they had no involvement at all with it (everything is credited either to Louis own company, 78 Productions, or Charlie Lightening’s company). That’s the case for both giveaways too; the vinyl one and the tickets for the festival.

I think it would be an unbelievably bad move not to test the waters with BMG now or soon-ish. At least a single, to see how it performs. Due to the circumstances, it’s obvious there’re certain limitations on place but I want to see how they push it, whether the radio play exist this time around and if the song is playlisted and promoted and all that… I would also love to know, since it says he signed with BMG UK, but it also states it’s a global deal, how things are going to go on the US and other countries.

Yes, yes. I know those are all questions and no answers. But I know the same as you, sadly. If any of you know more than you’re letting on… again, share with the class.

Where was I? Yes, on the 25th of May Louis had a great day writing (x). Since the first time he had mentioned he was officially writing to this date there’s almost eight months. And I believe he was writing before October’ 20.

He followed Robert Harvey that day and, on the 28th of May (why is it always the 28th???) he was spotted at the studio for the first time.

June was an interesting month for the fandom ♥. Lots of LHL content which I will love and cherish for the rest of times. On June 4th, June 9th, and June 10th he was spotted at the studio, but I believe he was there more days.

(x)

This was posted on June 6th and captioned Studio. Charlie also shared it with “Mega tunes being put down, can’t wait for this @louist91 #louistomlinson #LT2” as the caption. This gives me 2019 (Elton-Joint) vibes. I like it. Feels like we’re getting closer to something.

He added the Milano date on the 9th too which I’m mentioning because I’m going alone. Anyone wanna go with me please? I’m nice and I never eat anything before a concert so you can have my food. On other news. It didn’t come home.

During July he was at the studio at least three days too. Probably more. Feels like more with all the fan pictures we got. Or was that June? Anyway, July 1st and 9th we got some videos from Robert Harvey and wearesuperhi, which is who Louis has been working with the most, that we know of. I don’t know for sure they’re from that day. And on July 5th we got an article and lots of pictures of Louis looking really good outside the studio.

On the 12th of July the first fans started getting the free, 369 bucket hat and print. We still don’t know what the purpose was other than to thanks fans. Maybe that was it. I want answers and I still think it relates to a future project (see theories above), but it could also just be a bridge with the Walls breaking.

He didn’t tweet about anything interesting for a while, mostly because he lost his phone (he either throwed it in the air or smashed it who knows). Then on the 29th of July he announced the festival!

I’m glossing over it because there’s already been a lot of talk about it (rightfully) and while it was a wonderful thing, it doesn’t have much to do with LT2.

Let’s talk Change!

On August 3rd he tweeted this about the setlist.

(x)

And this (x) on the 28th! I can’t stand him.

We didn’t get it, obviously. Because who was going to get that. But we read too much into things. Alright.

On the 16thof August Dave Gibson shared this post tagged #LT2 with the eyes emojis 👀👀👀. I believe this has to do both with Change but also with whatever else came out of that Mexico trip.

(x) Last relevant tweet related to LT2 is this one.

So, on the 30th of August we got Change and we cried, and we know that Change is going in the new album. He said it. With those exact words. He also said he was “getting a feeling for it”. This has to meant he already has a general idea of the vibe of the new album and what’s going in it!!!!!! (Right? RIGHT?).

Anyway, let’s go back a few weeks because some other things happened on August. He was at the studio a few more times. Or it was suggested that he was there. On the 17th and the 18th. (Why was it so time-pressing to be at the studio instead of rehearsing for the festival? There was no studio at all on the documentary. Which makes sense, but again, then why?).

On the day of the festival we got another mention of Faith in The Future that made me feel part of a cult ngl. The words were flashing on the screen for less than a second. Okay.

And then he tweeted those words again after watching the livestream/documentary on the 4th of September (x). This is what makes me suspect it's either the name of the album or of the single.

On the same day, we got some interesting quotes about LT2 on the documentary.

“Soon I’ll have to think about me second album, which in my head I’ll get the tour out of the way and then I’ll address that. So, I hadn’t really given it much thought, to be honest”.

“When every day is the same is hard to feel creative and it’s hard to have any kind of proper inspiration”.

“As season started to come back, I started writing again and it was great and some of these songs turned out alright”.

And I think this is it. I might be overlooking some important details but that’s what we know and what we don’t know.

So. Conclusions. That’s what you missed on Glee. I do believe the album is, if not mostly done, partially there. And yes, this post is pointless and never-ending but it’s all in here if you need to tell Louis “Hey, you said this, mate”.

[nyasiaaaaa]

The Little things

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: established relationship, shooting, angst, Smut (18+), spanking, Dom/Sub, oral sex ( m and f receiving) P in V, fingering ( f receiving), spitting, use of good girl ( once), breeding kink if you squint, Fluff, helmet-less Din ( he only wears it when he’s outside), tw eating

A/N: First time writing smut and first time writing for a Pedro character. For @its--fandom--darling 1k follower celebration!!! Thank you @absurdthirst for all your help. Thank you @aripariii for looking over this.


You throw your head back in frustration as you contemplate giving up feeding the kid. You had been trying to feed him vegetables for the past week. Every time you wanted to feed him some smashed peas with a spoon, he would use the force to push it into your mouth. You lift your head as you take a deep breath, ready to try again when Din walks in and throws jerky on the table for the kid. You look at Din in disbelief before getting up to clean the mess while you let the kid eat.

“I’ll be back in a few; this shouldn’t take long,” Din announced as he stood in place, scanning the room for his blaster.

“You missing something,” you asked, hopping on one of the crates looking over at him with a mischievous smile 

“Give it,” he grumbled out, walking up to you holding his hand out

“Give what,” you questioned as you tilted your head. “Give this,” you smiled, pulling out his blaster.

Din tried to reach for it as you pulled back “nope, let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t have time for games, cyar’ika,” he replied trying to convince you to give it up.

“Then let’s not play any. I’ll give you your blaster if you quit giving the kid what he wants when I’m trying to give him a balanced diet, ok.” 

“Ok,” he agrees to take the blaster from your hand. 

“Also, you don’t have to rush back for lunch; just make sure you are here for dinner” he gave you a nod in response as he fished, packing up his things.

You pick the kid up and dust him over, carrying him over to Din so he could say bye. Din looked down at his son and ruffled his head before looking at you. He bent down, placing his cold beskar helmet against your head. He didn’t need to say anything you already knew and vise versa. Din straightened up and walked towards the ramp before typing in buttons and letting it down. 

As Din was walking away, he stopped to remind you for the millionth time, “cyar’ika, don’t leave the ship, this is one of the most dangerous plants and-“

“I know you’ve told me all this before. I won’t leave me. The kid and I are going to chill here and watch cartoons or something,” you told him, interrupting his repetitive speech.

He stood there hesitantly, debating in his head before choosing to just walk down the ramp and away. You guys never did that stop and turn around things you’ve seen in movies; there was no need to. He was always going to come back; he had promised you. 

As soon as the Din was far away enough, you closed the ramp and started getting ready to leave. Dins birthday is coming up, and you’re trying to make him a chocolate cake. In one of your late-night pillow talks, you asked Din what he remembers from his childhood before the Mandalorian, he replies that he doesn’t remember a lot. What he does remember is how every year, for his birthday, his mom would make him a chocolate cake. It was the best thing he has ever eaten in his life, well, the second-best thing he adds a few seconds later. 

Since then, you have been collecting all the ingredients you need to make the cake over the next couple of weeks. You have everything but cocoa powder, the most crucial ingredient. You’ve looked everywhere, every plant, every website you couldn’t find it anywhere else but this plant. 

You don’t want to go against what Din has asked you, especially because you said you wouldn’t. Still, you just wanted to do something special for him, for his birthday, because he deserved it. After all, he had done for you, you wanted to do something for him even if others might consider it a little thing you knew it would mean a lot to Din.

 For example a few months ago, you tried to make sure Din started enjoying his meals more and eating meals more frequently. You did this by eating together like a clan Breakfast, Lunch, and dinner. You and Din sit next to each other at the small table you had built together, the kid in his high chair. Din had to adjust to it but never complained. He even started to look forward to it, rushing back to the ship sometimes after a bounty to make it in time for lunch or dinner.  

You smiled, thinking fondly of the memories you’ve created with your clan over the past months as you started getting ready to leave. As you’re finishing up and was about to leave, you activate the droid; you have to watch the kid. This droid you had found in a past mission but never had a reason to fix it until now. You had been working on it the ship during flight and while Din was away on hunts. 

When Din had asked you about the droid, you said you were programming the IG-11 to help clean around the ship. Din had been uncertain because of its killing background but ended up letting it go. You had lied though, you had kept the Droids programming and just added few changes to it. The changes were that when you left, its mission was to protect the child and take care of all its needs. It was to kill anyone or thing that came onto the ship unless it was you, Din, or the kid. 

The little white lie was never a problem either because you only activated the droid when you and Din were out to watch the kid, and you always made sure to come back to the ship before Din to deactivate it, plus Din never questioned why he’d never seen the droid in “action.” 

You set out to the local market nearby, where you were hoping to find the last ingredient so you could make the cake. Since you started a little late today and this is one of the most dangerous plants in the galaxy, you walked a bit faster than usual. The quicker you walked, the more excited you got. You were about to be done getting all the supplies to make the cake, just in time, because Dins birthday was in a couple of weeks. As you neared the market, you prayed to Maker that the thing you’re risking your life over was going to be here. You were incredibly proud of yourself for keeping this a secret from Din without him suspecting a thing.

***********

Din had tracked his bounty to a bar nearby; as he neared the bar, he could hear the noise of people inside. As soon as he stepped foot into the bar, it went silent, some people shaking in fear, others puffing their chest out and rising onto the balls of their feet slightly. Din looked around the bar; it wasn’t a bad bar. It just wasn’t the nicest. 

The same color brown wood was throughout, green bar stools, plastic lawns chairs, mice having a party in every corner. Also, the floor was sticky; he could feel it with every step he took, he would have to use a little more effort than usual to lift his foot up, and you could hear it in every step. Din hadn’t spotted his bounty during his initial scan of the room, so he turned to the bartender to ask if he had seen the bounty. The bartender wasted no time and pointed to the backroom as he kept his head down. Din reaches the backroom and sees a smaller room same design and layout as the front with four men playing poker and three bodyguards. Dins usually not a man of words, but he doesn’t really feel like fighting today, so he tells them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

 One guard rushes towards Din and tries to grab him, but Din is quicker; he pulls a blaster and shoots a bodyguard in the chest. He starts getting attacked by two of the bodyguards but takes them out with ease. After the last bodyguard fell to the floor, he heard footsteps pounding against the floor, then pressure is applied to his back, one of the poker players had jumped on him. Din falls backward, crushing the person underneath him; he then quickly rolls over, props himself on one knee, and pulls his blaster to shoot the guy. Din then whips his gun around to the other side of the room to find two people standing there shaking with their hands up, neither of them his bounty. Din snaps his head in the direction of the door he came in as he hears the bell ring that’s placed above the door. He pushes himself off the ground and starts chasing after the man.

*************

You had to go to three different vendors in the market, but you finally found the cocoa powder you were looking for, the lady dared to charge you three times its worth, but you didn’t care anything for Din. You had to wander deep into the market to find the cocoa, so on your way out, you were doing a slight jog. You had hoped you were making good time and would make it back in time, but you had no way of knowing for sure.

***************

Din is chasing after the guy, and he’s so close the guy knows this too. The bounty suddenly stops in the middle of a crowd; he pulls out a blaster and waves it. Sounds of shock and fear echoed threw out the public. Din steps forward to get the guy he needs alive; the man suddenly looks around frantically, pulls the closest person to him, and puts a gun to their head. It was you. The bounty had put the gun to your head. Din’s mind blanks. He has no other thoughts besides getting to you; he doesn’t care if the bounty is for him brought in cold. The bounty had touched what’s his. 

Din quickly pulls his blaster ready to fire when suddenly you pull forward, folding over as you push down on your toes; you then spring up, moving your head back to strike the man’s head. The man then stumbles backward from the sudden impact. Din is quick to act as he runs towards the man and then shoots the man in his arm, the man falls to the ground, and Din proceeds to lift the man up and place him in handcuffs. 

Din turns towards you to scan your body as he looks for any injuries. His beskar covered face then looks up towards you as he asks, “hurt,” and you proceed to shake your head no. Before you can ask if he’s hurt, he grabs your arm and pushes you in front of him, signaling to walk. You do walk as he follows, dragging the bounty behind him. 

The journey back to the ship was quiet, too quiet even the bounty tried to speak on the tensions, “struggle in paradise, eh.” 

Din pressed his finger into his wound for that one.

You’d been so distracted by the event that happened you had forgotten about the droid, but it was too late. Din had already typed in the code, and the ramp was coming down. 

This was the first time, the one time Din wasn’t the faster person in the room; by the time Din pulled his blaster out, it was too late. It all happened in a blink of an eye. The bounty was dead. The droid shot him. 

You were nervous, it’s not like you were in desperate need of the credits, but the money could have help, and you know Din just went through a lot to get him.

“The child is safe, would you li-“IG-11 started before Din shot him. You were about to complain, but then you remember the situation you were in.

You stood in silence for a couple of minutes before deciding to look at Din only to find him staring at you. You turned your head away so quick that pain in your neck started to arise. “Din I-I-I’m so so sorry this is all my fault, I’ll take the blame, ok. Just tell Greef Karga, ok. Can he be brought in dead? I mean, it’s not a big deal, y-y-you’ve done it before. Greef Karga will s-still a-a-a-accept it right …. RIGHT!”

Din didn’t utter a word as he dragged the body onto the ship; he put the body into carbon freeze and closed the ramp. Then he just stood there. He didn’t move an inch. The tension in the air was so thick, you could even breathe properly. You knew this was your time to leave him alone. Earlier, you had noticed that the kid wasn’t in IG-11s arms, so you were planning on looking for him, assuming that he had been put to sleep because this was around his nap time.

“Ok, so I see that you need alone time; I’m just going to find the kid and take care of him,” you said as you turned to go look for him.

You didn’t even get to do a complete 180 before Din grabbed onto your wrist and twisted it, pulling your body closer to him. You could hear the hard deep breaths he was taking as he stared right into your soul.

“Why,” he whispered out, hurt invoice.

 “I-I-I,” you tried to speak, your eyes moving back and forth as you tried to find his.

“Why would you be so stupid? I told you not to leave, I told you this place was dangerous. You didn’t listen, why can’t you ever just listen.” He snapped at you, saying every word with a tremble. He let you go and started to walk away from dragging his feet across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your eyes watering up, tears threatening to fall.

 Your words had made him stop dead in his tracks. “Are you” he questions as he walks towards you. Each step he took towards you, you took one back till your back hit the wall. You were nervous but weren’t afraid, you knew Din would never hurt you, but you still didn’t like to be around him when he got like this. 

“WHAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE FOR? DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THAT YOU COULD HAVE DIED TODAY? DO YOU EVEN CARE?”

You did understand how sideways things could have gone, and you were trying to tell him that, but the words kept getting caught in your throat. So you ended up just slowly shaking your head in agreement.

“Are you sure cause you don’t seem like it? What about that FUCKING droid? You lied to me; why would you do that? You already know how I feel about them, so why would you do that. And to leave THE KID with it. I hope whatever you got was worth it. Just do what I brought you here for and watch the child,” he growled out as he walked away towards the cockpit so he could set our next coordinates. 

You stood there for a second shook but started to move to find the kid after the ship took off. He was in your old room, which you and Din turned into a toddler’s room after you moved into his. You picked the kid up and sat down in a rocking chair. You hugged the kid close to you as tears fell down your cheek. You were angry. Din had no right to talk to you like that. You messed up, you understand that, but to yell at you like he did have. Plus, you had risked your life for something for him. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t know it; he should know you better than to just assume that you would have intentionally risked your life for something stupid.

***********

 Din sat in his chair in the cockpit, feeling the weight of guilt immediately; the weight of his beskar couldn’t even compare to how heavy this felt. He felt awful; he regretted every word that came out of his mouth. He was just so angry; he had almost lost the only person he has ever cared about since his parents besides the kid. That was no excuse; he has had his fair share of screw-ups, the number of times he has almost gotten killed was too many to try to count on both hands.

 He took his helmet off and put his hands in his head. He was stressed after all the events that happened today, but he was most worried about what had just happened in the bay. He deliberated on going down there and apologizing to you but ultimately decided to give you your space and apologize later today. 

Din was going to apologize, he swore on Maker, but later that day, when he found you so he could apologize, you were sleeping in your old room. He was tempted to move you to the room you shared but then decide against it knowing you had fallen asleep in your old room for a reason. He slept in the cockpit that night; it didn’t feel right without you next to him. It’s funny Din spent most of his life alone; now he doesn’t even know how to sleep alone. 

The next day Din did honestly try to apologize to you, but every time he entered the same room as you were in, you got up and left. Din understood that you probably need space after the fourth time stepping into the same room as you and you walking out. Din decided that you probably needed one more day.

The next day came, and you still were leaving every room he came into. He was sad; he missed the family dinners and lunches, he couldn’t wait any longer, he decided to apologize to you as soon as possible.

Din stepped into the kitchen area around lunchtime; he knew you were cooking something that requires your full attention, so he knew you wouldn’t step away. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, I should have never yelled at you like that. I was angry because the bounty tried to run and then held you at gunpoint, he was touching what was mine, and I-I-I took it out on you. I should have never taken it out on you; I’m sure whatever you went out for was well worth it. I’m sorry, cyar’ika, ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Din waited there for something, anything, you didn’t say a single word. You instead finished up your cooking, turned the stove off, and proceeded to fix you and the child a plate before heading off to the cockpit to eat. 

Din stood there in shock; this is not how things usually go after an argument. Din stood there for a few minutes as he contemplated what to do next. Maybe he had said it wrong, he thought; Din hadn’t apologized a lot in his life, he could count how many times on one hand, and all those times he had been with you. All those times, you had also accepted it, so Din shook his head of the thought that he had said it wrong. He decided to give you another day to think about accepting his apology.

***********

A day turned into two, then three, next things Din knew, three weeks had passed. It had been complete silence for three whole weeks. Din was dying inside. He barely ate or slept; he missed you, everything about you, even things that seemed stupid. He missed the way your hair smelled, he missed the warmth of your body as he slept next to you, he missed your smile. Din has never been before addicted to something, but he will bet this is what it feels like to go through withdrawal.

He craved you mentally and physically; he had started waking up this past week on the verge of a nut. He always had the same dream to, he would apologize and you would accept. Then he would worship your body like never before, discovering new things about you, what turns you on and how flexible you really are. Each and every time right before he would nut, right when you give him permission to cum inside, he wakes up, every time like clockwork. 

*************

It was around lunchtime, and Din sat in the kitchen debating his next move. He needed you. He missed the way you guys used to be as a clan; just him and the kid alone wasn’t the same. He looked up and saw you putting the kid in a high chair and turning to the fridge, taking stuff out to make sandwiches. He laid back, watching you move around the kitchen. You had one of his shirts on with some shorts that you couldn’t see unless you reached up to get something that made your shirt rise. 

He watched as you bent over getting something out of the fridge, his dick twitched in his pants. He had been so deprived of you that anything you did got him hard; he grunted as he started to palm himself over his pants.

You had heard Din behind you, you smiled to yourself, you knew he was dying inside, you’d heard it every morning when he was rubbing one out. You honestly had stopped being mad like a week and a half ago. You just wanted to see how long Din could stay away from you; you really wanted to see how long till you had Din Djarin on his knees. 

You finished cooking and made some food for the kid and you, but instead of going up to the cockpit like you usually do, you ate in the kitchen. You decided to stand up to eat, leaning over the counter, back facing Din. You moaned with every bite you took, doing a little happy dance.

You had unknowingly confirmed to Din that you were no longer upset and were playing. He had suspected it but wasn’t sure; you would do things like get changed with the door open or take a shower with the door open. He saw those things and thought that you were ready to talk, but when he tried, you walked away. He had assumed that you weren’t ready and wasn’t doing those things on purpose. He knew now, though, that you were playing some type of game, a game he was about to end. 

You had finished eating and looked up to find the kid sleep in his chair. You took the kid and put him in his room so he could sleep in peace. You came back to the kitchen to clean up; you felt Din’s eyes on you everywhere you went. You walked over to the crates to put some things from the kitchen up, passing Din as you went. You had felt him before you saw him, his back pressed up against you. You could feel the heat radiating off his clothed body as he pressed up against you. You leaned in for a second before realizing what you were doing. You turned around, trying to leave, but Din stood in your way. You had no other choice but to look up at him and go along with whatever he was trying to do.

“What do you want, Din,” you asked 

“I was going to say I was sorry.”

“Well, apology not accepted,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he said another word.

“See cyar’ika keyword, was, “he replied looking at you with his brown eyes

“So what do you want now, Din,” you asked as you walked backward, eventually running out of space as your back hit the wall. You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked him again what he wanted.

He didn’t reply; instead, he reached up and took a finger drawing it from your collar bone to your chest; you shivered as he stared circling your covered nipple before pinching it.

“You,” he said 

 “What”

 “You had asked me what I wanted now, and my answer is you,” he replied.

You were about to question it when he brought his finger up to your lips to quiet you before bringing his hand down and up your shirt to play with your breast. He made a low groan in his throat when he realized that you weren’t wearing your band wrap.

“At first, I was mad that you had put yourself in danger. Then I was a little sad when you started dodging me; it really hurt when you didn’t respond to my apology,” he chuckled. You could hear the smirk in his voice. He lifted up your shirt up over your head. He placed his hands back on your breast and then pinched one of your nipples, making your head fall back as you moaned out loud. 

“Then you started playing games with me, messing my head all up. To blame you for playing this game would be wrong of me,” he said as he left you boobs, and his hand traveled up to wrap around your throat. Your body leaned into his touch, your hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist that was at your throat. 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter at your silent request as he pushed you back, bringing his head down to bite along your collars before mumbling against your skin, “I realized that it’s not your fault, I should have taught you better, and I will” he said and then quickly pulled away and grabbed a chair to sit down.

“What,” you asked, eyes popping out head. You were confused, but it was too late; Din had already pulled you over his lap. He had pulled down your shorts; he was excited to see that you were wearing a thong, so he left your underwear in place.

“Din, what are you doing?” you questioned as you shifted around on his lap, trying to get a better look at him.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like a little brat,” he said as he processed to take his gloves off. 

“I will give you an equal amount of slaps on each cheek, and you will count each one out, ok, and safe word is cake, ok, “He asked as he messaged each cheek.

You shook your head as consent, “I need to hear a yes cyar’ika,” he said, giving you a little tap on your right cheek.

You yelped, surprised by the slight sting that followed that slap, and wondered how on Tatooine you were going to endure more, mainly because you and Din have never done something like this before. A slap or two while he hit it from behind, was the closest thing that had ever happened.

“Yes,” you were excited, you’d never seen this side of Din; you might even start messing with Din more often. 

Din was smiling; he always loved to try new things with you. He continued to run over each cheek for a few more seconds before he raised his hand and landed the first smack on your right cheek. 

“One” You choked out as he rubbed the cheek he just slapped. 

It was hard, and it stung, but there was something about it that turned you on. 

Din lifted up his hand before smack the left cheek “two,” you tried to suppress your moan. You were kinda embraced at the fact you were getting turned on from this.

When Dins hand landed on your right cheek again for the second time, you moaned loudly as you said the number three. Din smiled at that; he was happy you were enjoying this new thing. Din continued to tear your ass up, each slap hurting more than the last. You were getting wetter with each one to the point where your wetness started to drip down your leg, your underwear no longer keeping it in as it was soaked.

You were preparing to feel a sting on your left cheek for the last slap. Instead, Din pushed you off his lap and set you onto the floor. You laid there confused as he spread your legs open and took your thong off. He got on the side of you and leaned down to kiss you. Your lips captured his in a passionate kiss. You were distracted as Din slipped his tongue into your mouth, so you didn’t see it coming. He had raised his hand and slapped your pussy. You throw your head back as you moan, tears streaming down your face from the intensity of the sudden, overwhelming rush of pleasure. 

You shot up before going back down as you raised your hip as he started to rub circles on your clit. He reached down, placing kisses along your neck up and down your neck to your collarbone and back up. He took your ear lobe and brought it into his mouth, pulling on it before letting it go.

These slow circles on your clit were killing you, “Please,” you whimpered as you reached down, placing your hand on top of him, encouraging him to go faster. 

He slapped your hand aways, stopping because of you. He rubbed his nose up and down on your ear before asking. 

“are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You shook your head up and down, unable to speak as he started playing with your clit again. You didn’t realize that this game you were playing had affected you too till now. You were so desperate; you would do anything he asked just so you could cum on him because of him.

 He took his hand away from cunt and brought it up to your lips. You looked Din in the eyes as you took two of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them. You closed your eyes as you moaned, tasting yourself on his fingers. You weaved your tongue around his fingers before you hollow your cheeks, making a popping sound when he pulled them out.

He ran his finger down your body before shoving two fingers inside of you. You moved your hips down to meet the thrust of his hand. Your legs threaten to close as the pleasure builds, nonsense mumbling falling from your lips.

“More,” you begged 

“Faster,” you cried as he gave in to both of your demands. 

Suddenly he stopped, and your whines of complaint soon turned into a moan as he pressed his tongue against your clit. He shifted so he could wrap his hands around your thighs as he dove in. It was still the best thing he has ever tasted, he thought to himself. Your back arches as he bites softly on your clit before he sucks on it, and he pushes two fingers into you. You reached down your finger through Din’s hair, causing him to moan into you to moan as you clench around him. Din loves feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you gripped his fingers, his tongue, his dick. 

You were close. You can feel it, and so could Din, so he quickened his pace. 

“I’m- I’m. “You tried to speak be couldn’t 

“I know,” he said, moving his thumb to circle your clit

You were so close, you could feel it in your stomach. You were about to cum when Din pulled his fingers out and started to lick them clean. 

You let a puff of air out as you lose your high. You prop yourself on your elbows as you looked at him, throwing your hands up asking why.

“I just wanted you to see how it feels to work so hard for something only to have it taken from you at the last minute.” He said, standing up but never breaking eye contact with you. You choked on your spit when you realized what he was referring to. 

You tried to stand up, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down into your knees. You cocked your head to the side, and he just reached down and took your hand, placing it on top of his pants.

You looked up at him licking your lips before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper; you pushed his pants down along with his boxers down. You spit into your hand before wrapping your hand around his dick as much as you could. You stroked him before sticking your tongue out and licking the tip, then running your tongue up and down his shaft. 

He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you back to look up at him. “Don’t play with me,” he said before taking his hand and wrapping it around your jaw to keep it open as he spits in it. 

He let you go, and you stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth. You moaned around him at the taste of him; this caused Din to lose his balance for a second, making him grab onto a crate to balance himself. 

You swirled your tongue around his head before going back and forth, taking more of him in each time, you pulled back off of him, but strings of spit still connecting you to him. You purse your lips as you spit into your hand, reaching down to massage his balls before taking him back into your mouth, making sure to lick the pre-cum as you did. 

He reached behind your head to grab your hair as he thrust into your mouth, you gag on his dick, but he keeps going knowing that you will tap against his leg if it gets to be too much. Din grabbed on to your head with both hands as he continued to fuck your face; you could feel him inching down your throat with each thrust. He was about to nut; you could feel it as his balls started to tighten. He griped your hair tighter, signaling for you to look at him. “Where,” he asked, slowing down so you could choose.

He let go of your hair as you pulled back, sticking your tongue out. He smiled down out at you before taping his tip against your tongue a few times as he started to stroke his dick. He quickens his paces and grabs onto your head, pulling it tight, so he won’t miss his target. Din grunted as if he was in pain as he painted your face with white streaks. He rubs his dick smearing the last bit on your tongue. You swallowed the bit in your mouth before feeling around your face the rest and swooping it into your mouth. You licked your lips, smiling up at him when you were all done.

He bent down and swiped his thumb across your cheek, getting the little you had left behind into your mouth. You sucked on it for a second before he pulled it out. He grabbed onto your hand, helping you up as his hands cradled your face, and he pressed his lips to yours; he moaned into your mouth at the taste of him. He reaches down to grab your ass before smacking up light and kneading it as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss as he taps your side, signaling for you to jump up so he could carry you. You jump into his arms, and he takes you into the room you shared and lay you against the cot. You lay there waiting for him as he finishes getting undressed.

He got onto the cot and got between your legs; he stroked himself a few times before lining it up with you. He looked up to meet your eyes looking for consent, and you nodded your head, giving it to him. He slowly pushed into you feeling your walls stretch around him before tightening. Your head falls back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You grab onto the sheets, bunching them into your hands as you feel yourself being starched to your limit. You take your legs and wrap them around Din’s waist. You cross your ankles as you try to push him into you to make him go faster.  He stops suddenly, he’s not even all the way in, and he stops. You’re starting to regret trying to make him go faster, you can’t see much, but you can see him smiling. You know that smile, nothing good is about to come out of that smile. 

Din pulls all the way out before slamming back into you completely. You didn’t even make a sound because the air is knocked out of you; your back arches as you try to catch your breath. As soon as you caught your breath, he steals it as he leans down for a kiss capturing your lips roughly.

As he continuously pounds into you ruthfully, he takes one of your legs wrapped around his waist and pushes it to your chest to get a better angle to go deeper. You cry out with every thrust, your voice bouncing off the walls, echoing in the room. 

“Mine, This body, theses tits, this tight as pussy, it’s all mine,” he told you as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. 

“It’s yours; every part of me is yours,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him in closers. 

You were close, especially after being denied earlier; you need release. Din quicken his paces as he felt you clench tightly around him.

“I-I-I’m close,” you screamed out. 

“Cum for me, riduur,” he whispers in your ear.

The name he calls you pushes you over the edge; you clamp down on his dick as you cum. That doesn’t slow him down as he continues for a few strokes riding out you high before pulling out, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing back into you without warning or rest. You back arch into his thrust as he makes your legs go apart, spreading you wider. He pops onto one knee, driving into you mercilessly as he reaches down to press your face into the mat. 

As he’s thrusting into you, you feel one of his fingers circle around your unstretched hole; you guys had been saving that experience, maybe for this moment. “Can I please? I’ll only put a finger in,” he begged you you nodding your head under his hand. He acknowledges the movement as he pulls out, reaching down swooping up some of your wetness before plunging back into you. He teases the hole before slowly pushing his thumb in, causing you to arch your back even more and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “ f-f-fuck, Din” you stutter out when he got fully in.

Din quickens his pace in you as he sets a steady pace with his thumb. This was new to you, so being stretched like this, you were close to began for more; you wanted to know how it would feel to be pushed to your limit in both holes. You decided against it as you feel Din reach under you to toy with your clit, you chocked on your spit as you tried to catch your breath, all this pleasure was becoming too much for you to handle, you couldn’t even seem to catch your breath. 

The pressure builds up in your stomach once again as you feel your peak near. You let sob into the mattress as you feel yourself clench around Din like never before as you cum. Your back arching to the point of pain, which only adds to your pleasure. You feel Din slow down; at first, you are confused about what he’s doing, but then you realized he’s watching how well you take him. He’s looking at how your pussy quivers around him with every stroke. He then speeds up for a second, loving the sound of skin slapping and the gushing sound your pussy makes as your wetness flows out of you staining your sheets. 

Din chuckles before pulling you up by your hair, pressing your back to his chest, as he starts to thrust into you. Your body naturally arching into him as he reaches up and cups your right breast, moving his other hand down as he rubs vicious circles on your clit. Your tried body slumping against him as he takes you from behind. He knows you’re tired even if the grip you have on his dick says; otherwise, he stills know. He leans down into your ear, telling you, “you have one more in you, I know do.”

You reach up to take his hand from your breast to wrap it around your throat; you gave his hand an extra squeeze encouraging him. You get that familiar feeling in your stomach as he continues to pound into you with one hand wrapped around your throat and the other one rubbing circles on your clit. You whimper as you try to tell Din you close, but your body is too tired to even conjure up the words. Din understood you though, he was close, not far behind you. He knew that the feeling of you coming around him would do him.

You throw your head back against Din’s shoulders as you felt yourself unravel on him. Din places a hand on the wall as he losing his balance the feeling of your tighten around him as you milk him dry, he continues to pump into you, riding out of yours. Din pulls out, turning you onto your back, laying you down before opening your legs and settling himself between them. He pulled back for a second because you had winced in pain, his dick had rubbed against your extremely sensitive mound; he pulled back, readjusting his self before laying back down. He played comfortably in your arms, his head in the crook of your neck as he rubbed circles in your side while you laid there with your arms wrapped him.

Din lifts his head up and leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy but passionate kiss that held a lot of emotion behind it. You pull away, and he pushes his head into the crook of your neck, and you reach up and run your fingers through his loose curly. 

“I’m sorry about everything I said, it was wrong, and I was out of line.” He said but face still in your shoulder 

“It’s ok. I should have been more careful when I went out; I didn’t even bring a blaster with me,” you replied as you continued to massage his scalp.

“What did you get from the market.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises. Do you not remember the droid.” He asked 

“Hey, at least we know it effective,” you said laughing, but Din wasn’t

“Too soon,” you asked, but you knew it wasn’t as you felt Din smile against your skin. You guys fell asleep just like, you holding him in your arms.

********

The next day went by so smoothly; you guys were back to the daily routine like nothing happened. Din was excited to get back to the meal sharing, he didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You guys had eaten breakfast together but had your lunches separate because you each had your own projects to do. Which is what you told Din, but you had actually needed the rest of the day to set up everything for his birthday dinner and make the cake.

You weren’t even sure if Din knew today was his birthday, but even if that’s true, it will make for a better surprise. 

Din was coming down soon; he just had to set new coordinates. You guys needed to come out of hyperspace to get gas before continuing on your journey to the next plant where the next bounty is at, which is two days away. 

During one of your trips to the market, you found a pretty little black dress; you were so excited to wear it for his birthday. You don’t even remember the last time you were in a dress, and you knew Din had never seen you with one, so it would be like icing on top of the cake. 

 You heard footsteps above you move, and you were quick to act as you turned around, lit the candles on the cake, and flipped the light switch. 

You heard Din slide down the step and walked towards you; your back was still turned to him, and it was dark, but something was illuminating your face; he just didn’t know what. He reached over to the wall next to him and flipped the light switch on. He turns and sees the kid in his high chair next to you.

“cyar’ika,” He asked, stepping closer to you.

 You then turn around slowly, not wanting to make the candles go out. As soon as Din sees your face, he gives you a small smile, but it drops when he sees what’s in your hand. You were nervous for a second, thinking that you had crossed a line or something. Then you saw a single tear roll down Din’s face; you had never seen the man cry. You had been with him for close to a year and never have seen this. 

You set the cake down and quickly went over to him, embracing him in a hug. He hugged you back so tightly as if he was going to lose you.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner Ridder,” he said, but you only recognized one of the words used.

You reached up and wiped his tears and took his hand and led him over to the cake, Din looked at you before bending down to give you a quick kiss, and he straight up, closing his eyes for a second before bending down and blowing out his candles. You clapped your hands in enjoyment and excitement and reached over to pull in your face for a quick kiss. You heard a slight noise, and you pulled back and turned to see the kid clapping also.

You laughed at that before reaching over and grabbing a knife so Din could cut his cake. Din happily took the knife from you as he cut himself a pretty big piece of cake; he took a fork and a huge bite. Din moaned as he took his first bite, slowly chewing on the chocolate fudge cake with chocolate frosting. His tongue dashes out to lick up any residue that he might have left on his lips.

“I might have to change my mind. This might be the best thing I have ever tasted,” Din said, bringing down the fork for another bite.

You faked gasped, “what does that make me second.”

“You know what? I think I need a refresher, especially with you in that little black dress,” I said, licking his lip, and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Later, the kid and I are hungry; it’s time to eat,” you said as you shoved him off of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed you on the neck before saying, “no, seriously, this is the best thing anyone could have given me. I have a question though, is this what you went out to get” he asked, you hummed in response. 

“As much as I love my gift, and I really do, please do risk your life over something like this. All I need is you and the kid, and I’m happy, ok.” He said 

“Ok”

Cyar’ika - darling

Ridder - wife/partner

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you.

ner Ridder - my wife/ partner




[dramat-ic]

Can anyone give me advice? I am just rly confused by this haha:

Ok so there’s this cute guy at my school whose a grade above me that is literally good at EVERYTHING, ITS NOT FAIR (dancing, singing, acting, math, like you name it, he can do it), and from what I’ve been told, he is also a genuinely good person with a normal sized ego. The universe rly knew what it was doing when creating this guy dndhdj

Ive looked up to this guy for a rly long time but I have had no idea how to get to know him so we had never talked until a few days ago. Even though we haven’t talked it seems like we know each other? Idk how to describe it haha, like I think he may have vaguely known of my existence? We have made long eye contact since the start of the year and sometimes we smile at each other? He requested to follow me on two different socials at the start of last semester despite having a rly small number of ppl he follows/follows back, doesn’t even follow some of the ppl Ik he knows, and is said to not be the type of person to reach out to ppl. Idk, probably is nothing, I just thought it was weird bc we hadn’t technically met? LIKE WE LITERALLY ONLY FORMALLY MET AND HAD OUR FIRST FORMAL CONVERSATION THREE DAYS AGO??

Anyways, in my schools choir program you have to take this complex ear test/music theory test to get into choir each year and students from the top choir are the ones who give the test, and bc he is ~INCREDIBLY~ talented, gifted I would say, and has been in the top choir since he was in freshman year, he’s been giving the test since he was like a sophomore. All day before the music theory test, everyone who had him for past tests or generally knew him was telling me to do anything I could to avoid getting ear tested by him bc he’s supposedly “judgmental”.

I was walking towards these three rooms where ppl were being tested and I was the last in line so I’m waiting for someone to walk out of one of the rooms and OFC THE NEXT PERSON TO WALK OUT IS THE ONE BEING TESTED BY THIS GUY, so I’m thinking “oh, great!I’m going to make a terrible impression on this guy I actually want to seem cool to!” Lmao so I’m the only one in the hallway and am walking to where he was testing ppl and he STEPS OUT OF THE ROOM, turns his head, sees me in front of the door, walks over, pauses for a minute and then says “hi yo-“ stops and just kinda looks at me for a sec and is like “oh- YOURE in MY room?” And then I’m like yeah ?? And hes like “alright…cool-“ and it was just kinda interesting haha, he seemed to know my name already and said it like every other sentence?? Anyways, he let me retry anything on the test I screwed up on and gave me random points which ig he doesn’t usually do? If anything the teacher usually has to alter the scores he gives ppl bc he’s such a harsh tester? And then at one point he straight up stopped the test and looks up from the piano and goes “you have ~impeccable~ pitch” and then kept going?? JDNSJDJJDKDKX BEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE LMAO, And at one point in the test you have to prove you can hold a harmony by singing some notes while the PIANO plays the other notes and he just started signing the other part which ig noble of the testers do?? I didn’t mind bc we actually sounded good singing the harmony lol, I’m sorry but like 🤷‍♀️

(Ooo feeling kinda bad for this, but I chose to sing the alto notes instead of the soprano notes THINKING THE PIANO WOULD BE PLAYING THE HIGH PART and this tenor bitch just kinda sighs and is like “ok…ok…I like singing comfortably too” and then decides to SING THE SOPRANO LINE LIKE DAMN THIS KIDS RANGE, I just- when he went into his falsetto it 100% made me second guess my years as a soprano 1 💀) with all this to say, I am probably wayyyyy reading into all of this but for some reason I wanted to ask someone I don’t know irl wtf this means?? Does he want to be my friend or- ?? What’s happening ?? Do I try to talk to him ??

[firelxdykatara]

gods, ok, apparently i’m not done.

atla fandom? we need to have a chat.

(....ok that made me sound pretentious as fuck. and maybe i am, but this needs to be said, cause i’m getting....real, real tired of a Certain Corner of this fandom and as a result, this is gonna be a discourse-heavy post so feel free to scroll past if that’s not your bag. as always, my salt posts all carry the catch-all #salt for ts tag, which you’re free to blacklist/filter at your leisure. i’m Very Annoyed at the moment, which will probably come through in the following post, so just. yknow. be prepared for that. or ignore it, that’s perfectly valid too.)

under a cut bc i do care for my followers and their sanity i swear lmao

there’s a real serious issue in this fandom with not understanding what queer terminology actually means or implies, especially when applied to a fictional narrative.

i’m specifically talking about ‘coding’, here. (if i were in a more meme-y mood, i might have said ‘the atla fandom found out about the term “gay-coding” and haven’t shut up since’.)

to the people who say ‘zuko is gay-coded’, i have this to say: you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means. because he isn’t. i’m sorry, but he’s not! and the fact that this is such a prevalent claim in this fandom is distressing, bc it says to me that none of y’all know what gay-coding is or when and how to apply it! please, i’m begging you, go and look up these terms and what they mean and when they should be used before actually trying to plug them into your critical analysis, because when you misuse them and then call other people delusional for disagreeing with you it casts a pall over the entire fandom and is, i think, the root of some of the worst toxicity this fandom has to offer.

and the thing is, there are cases where gay-coding would apply--for instance, a couple series that are famous for queerbaiting their audience by coding their main characters as being attracted to one another (sometimes even despite their openly stated sexualities) come to mind, but those shows bare no similarities at all to atla and how zuko was written and portrayed! (and it would be funny, if it weren’t so obnoxious and infuriatingly wide-spread throughout the fandom, because the only queer couple we actually seen on-screen in either show wasn’t even queer-coded in any respect, and they’re canonically bi! [yes, i’m shading korrasami, or more accurately i’m shading bryke for refusing to give ka the build-up and development they deserved].)

this absolutely isn’t to say that headcanoning zuko as gay is a bad thing or invalid in any respect. (although the tendency for zukka shippers to do this specifically to keep zuko away from katara and/or invalidate his canon relationship/attraction to girls is more than a little eyebrow raising. especially since sokka is usually allowed to be bi, bc fans have no problem letting sukka stay in the background bc it’s no real threat, while jetko shippers are happy to have both boys be bi. [possibly bc katara is less a threat to jetko bc jetkotara is every bit as valid as any single ship between the three, but zukka can’t exactly let katara join in, and if the potential exists for zuko to be attracted to her then canon giving them the far deeper emotional bond becomes a threat to zukka’s existence? idk for sure--you be the judge.]) i prefer to hc zuko as bi (and always have, long before the atla renaissance), bc i don’t think zuko being attracted to boys is outside the realm of possibility, and it isn’t a threat to my ship since zuko&katara had a deep and emotional bond in canon that is very easy to develop further into something that becomes explicitly romantic--but the headcanon itself isn’t really the problem (although what it’s often in service to can be).

it’s the strange insistence that this is the only way to read his character, bc he was coded that way and so anyone who doesn’t see it must be too straight to understand--and i really shouldn’t have to say why and how that is so incredibly fucking insulting. (the ‘hetero lenses’ comment wasn’t cute when it came from bryke six years ago, and the same sentiment being repackaged and delivered by zukka shippers ain’t cute now.)

calling zuko gay-coded not only demonstrates ignorance as to what the term actually means, and how to usefully apply it in critical analysis, but also validates the frankly bullshit insertion of institutionalized homophobia in the world of atla where it was neither needed, nor wanted, nor ever hinted at in canon. as a queer woman i’m still infuriated by one fucking comic panel shoving institutionalized and systemic homophobia into a world where it was entirely unnecessary (and doing this in the first installment of the franchise showcasing a queer relationship??? making korra and asami worried about ‘coming out’ when they could have just gone on to have cute adventures together and tell people ‘hey we’re dating’ and have everyone else be ‘that’s awesome =DDD’ [because it is, in fact, possible to just have a world without homophobia i promise!!!!!] double yikes, i’m still pissed at bryke about it), and i doubly hate that ‘zuko is gay coded’ has become so widespread that ‘ozai hates him bc he’s gay’ has become a staple in that part of the fandom.

not only does making zuko gay and implying (or outright stating) that ozai hated and abused him because of it completely undermine zuko’s character arc by making his abuse about his sexuality rather than ozai’s toxic pride and anger at seeing himself reflected in his ‘weak’ son, but it comes very close to outright stating that abuse and trauma are inherently gay experiences, and they aren’t!!! they really aren’t, i promise!!!

abuse and trauma narratives exist outside of ‘my dad hates me because i’m gay’. and, quite frankly, there are MORE THAN ENOUGH queer trauma narratives out in the world. we do not need to start trying to retroactively make them canon in a series where they didn’t exist! if you’re gay and see yourself in zuko and project your own experiences on him, that’s understandable and valid. that does not make zuko gay-coded. and honestly, the insistence that he is makes very little sense to me, because you’re essentially trying to give the show credit for work you put into interpreting the characters! why would you want to do that? why not own your own headcanons and take credit for them, rather than insisting they are canon and everyone else is wrong for not seeing them??? like, i’ve said before that i’ve always headcanoned zuko (and katara) as bi, and even support it with my interpretations of evidence from the show, but the difference between ‘i think zuko is bi’ and ‘zuko is definitely gay-coded’ is that i know that bi zuko is my interpretation of canon, and that it is work i’m putting into the show that wasn’t actually intended by the creators/writers, no matter how much sexual tension i read into the jetko swordfight.

and like, zuko’s character arc doesn’t actually parallel a queer one all that well to begin with. it’s easy enough to do the work and twist it sideways just enough to make the general points fit, but the fact is, zuko’s arc is not one of self-discovery. it’s not one of coming to understand something fundamental about himself that he can’t change, that he was hated for, and coming out to his father in a dramatic confrontation where he shows that he understands himself and doesn’t need his father’s acceptance to be fulfilled.

zuko’s arc is actually one of trauma and healing. and those can (and often are--like i said, there are more than enough queer trauma narratives in the world, atla really doesn’t need to be one of them) be part of queer narratives, for sure! but they aren’t uniquely queer. and zuko’s confrontation with ozai during the eclipse doesn’t read like a ‘coming out’ at all. (yes, i’ve seen that post. yes, i rolled my eyes and moved on, bc unlike some people, i’m capable of not clowning on correctly tagged posts i disagree with.) zuko is specifically confronting ozai over his abuse, because his arc wasn’t about discovering anything fundamental about himself (and therefore realizing that ozai was hating him for something he couldn’t change)--it was about realizing that he was not at fault for the way his father treated him. it was also about realizing that the fire nation was broken and corrupt at its core, and that his father was an aspect of that he needed to break away from so that he could help the world begin to heal.

he says it himself:

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

making this about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

anyway, uh, that was a lot of words, so have a tl;dr: zuko is not gay-coded. there is nothing uniquely gay (or even uniquely queer) about his character arc or characterization, and he was certainly not coded gay in an attempt to sneak a queer character past the censors. if anyone involved with atla was gonna try that, it would’ve been in lok, and as established, they didn’t even manage to queer-code the actual queer relationship before the last few minutes of the final episode. headcanoning zuko as gay is absolutely fine (though if it’s only done to keep him away from female characters he may otherwise be attracted to, that smells more like misogyny than anything else), but insisting that this reading is the only one that makes sense, and anyone who doesn’t agree must be straight (hello, queer woman here making this insanely long thinkpiece) is very much not.

ship what you like, but stop trying to invalidate other ships and other interpretations of characters just to make your ship seem more plausible. it’s really not a good look.

[mortispoxi]

BBC’s The Watch Episode One Review: A Near Vimes Experience

Episode Review order: two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight

Hi! My name is Mortis and several months ago I made the dumb decision to review each episode of BBC’s The Watch when they got released, which if you do not know is a widely controversial entry in the anthology of Discworld adaptions. Its problems began when the show wrapped up production and in an Instagram post, the show runners neglected to thank the original creator of Discworld, Sir Terry Pratchett. This raised many red flags for fans of the series because if the people who had produced The Watch were not even acknowledging the person who gave them material to work with in the first place, what else were they hiding?

This show was neither approved by Rhianna Pratchett (Sir Terry Pratchett’s daughter) nor Neil Gaiman (Pratchett’s friend and colleague) and after the trailer was released during New York Comic Con 2020, Discworld fans could tell no care was put into the shows production to make it even remotely resemble the Discworld everyone knows and loves. It has been criticized of being overly dark and edgy as well as having way too many characters not resembling their book counterparts in the slightest.

So, I’m here today to give a recap and my thoughts about episode one of BBC’s The Watch, A Near Vimes Experience. Since many of the characters in The Watch differ significantly from the characters they are based on, I will be referring to them by nicknames I have created so you can differentiate between the tv and book characters. Ok here we go.

Episode Recap:

So right off the bat, we are treated to a flashback sequence of Raccoon Vimes’s (Samuel Vimes) past when he was a part of a gang lead by Gang leader Carcer (Carcer Dun) where we see them arguing about how Raccoon Vimes betrayed him by joining the city watch and not killing Captain John Keel. Already I was shaking my head when they made Carcer, one of the few black main characters in a cast of a white majority, the leader of a street gang that wants justice for the common people through violence. For those who have not read Night Watch by Terry Pratchett, which it seems part of this show is based off, Carcer Dun was a remorseless serial killer who Samuel Vimes chased through time to stop and apprehend. If that is too cryptic to unravel let me make it abundantly clear to you, the show writers made a character that was originally a murderous bastard into a black gang leader who is taking the law into his own hands by murdering authority figures like the police to “improve” the lives of civilians who gain nothing from the senseless deaths. I was only three minutes into A Near Vimes Experience when I realized that what I was seeing was copaganda.

The scene then pans back 20 years later to a drunken Raccoon Vimes, who is trying to arrest a little white dog which is a nod to the character Gaspode, while Himbo Carrot (Carrot Ironfounderson) runs by trying to catch Urdo van Pew (the president of the Thieves Guild but only in Guards! Guards! and is later replaced by Mr. Boggis in the rest of the books) who passes the raccoon man about to piss himself (I am literally not exaggerating this part; he was literally about to piss all over himself and the dog). Already The Watch is starting to show its true colors when an instrumental version of Bad Reputation by Joan Jett starts playing in the background to tell the viewer, “This show is supposed to be punk rock and edgy. You know, punk rock, that movement that’s entire identity centers around its anti-authority and fuck the cop’s messages in their songs.”

The next ten minutes are dedicated to introducing the main cast who occupy the watch house and why watchmen are so disregarded like they are. This merry band of characters includes:

Faux Detritus (Sergeant Detritus)

Werechipmunk Angua (Angua von Uberwald)

Tall Cheery (Cheery Littlebottom)

And of course, the others I spoke on, Himbo Carrot and Raccoon Vimes.

Since Fred Colon and Nobby Nobs were removed from the shows cast of characters, The Watch puts more of an emphasis on Angua, Carrot, Detritus and Cheery’s characters. An absolute travesty in my opinion.

The “plot,” if you can call it a plot, gets set into motion when Lady Vetinari (Lord Havelock Vetinari) calls upon Raccoon Vimes to find a stolen book because…the Librarian asked Vetinari of all people to report it stolen…no explanation as to why this book is of significance but for some reason is important enough for Lady Vetinari to see the raccoon man and tell him…could have made a police report but ok I guess. (Side note: The costume design is atrocious, See image below) The disappearance of the library book, The Summoning of Dragons, is a major plot point in the novel Guards! Guards! However, the show makes no mention of what the book is nor how it is important enough for Lady Vetinari to make it a priority for Raccoon Vimes to find. It then cuts back to Werechipmunk Angua giving Himbo Carrot some much-needed exposition by explaining how the guilds in Ankh-Morpork were established under Vetinari’s rule.

When Raccoon Vimes meets back up with his crew outside the Mended Drum, which has been turned into a night club for some reason, he spots GL Carcer making some sort of deal before running in after him…then getting drunk and passing out. It is revealed through another flashback (there’s a ton of random flashbacks) that GL Carcer shot and killed John Keel which causes Raccoon Vimes to run after and chase him up a tower with a lot of random purple lightning around it. By the way, this whole thing takes up 4 flashback sequences to tell which is annoying and stupid so I’m just going to recap the whole backstory here. After they get up on the tower, they fight a bit before GL Carcer eventually slips off and falls yelling over and over again to “Arrest me.” 

A quick side note: They filmed the scene where Raccoon Vimes walks around the bar in the first person, so as he’s walking forward, no joke, it made him look like a dog with rabies. He’s just very gross to look at during the whole sequence. 

Here is where we are introduced to Tall Cheery (Cheery Littlebottom) who I describe as tall because despite her being a dwarf, they chose an actor who is both taller than Werechipmunk Angua and Himbo Carrot. They of course try to explain it away by saying dwarfs come in all shapes and sizes but if you open any DnD manual you know that’s wholly untrue. There was controversy surrounding her character when the cast and crew described Cheery as nonbinary when in fact this is not the case. If you did not already know, Cheery’s character in the books established a binary in dwarf culture by identifying as a female in a society where all dwarfs are male. In the past, if a dwarf identified as female, they were forced to keep it to themselves out of fear of ostracization. Some would describe Cheery as a trans icon because she established her femininity in canon which led to a change in how gender was viewed in dwarf culture around Ankh-Morpork. However, in this rendition, Tall Cheery identifies as nonbinary but still uses she/her pronouns and apparently has also worked for Raccoon Vimes long enough to know about GL Carcer and his weird idiosyncrasies.

Anyway, Raccoon Vimes tells his crew that they are looking for a library book which causes Himbo Carrot to throw a mini tantrum about how he wants to be a real cop instead of whatever the fuck they are doing. He wanders off into a storage closet where he pretends to be a “real” copper in front of the mirror before the mirror starts talking to him. THIS IS NOT EXPLAINED BY THE WAY! (It may be a reference to Lilith Weatherwax in Witches Abroad but it was so out of left field that it’s worth mentioning)

Feeling confused? Congratulations! Me too! We’ve made it to the 20-minute mark and it only gets weirder!

After looking at a trashed jail cell which we later find out is because Werechipmunk Angua can’t control her werewolf powers in this rendition so she chills in there every full moon, Himbo Carrot announces that he wants to resign and goes to find the raccoon man. Raccoon Vimes on the other hand is out searching for GL Carcer and stumbles across an iconograph, the Discworld equivalent to a camera, and takes the pictures the imp living inside of it was painting. This is the point where I had to pause and take a deep breath because for some godforsaken reason, someone had the bright idea to make the images Raccoon Vimes views be on a sort of touch screen iPad device. I think whoever thought this up was trying to combine the concept of iconographs and moving pictures, the Discworld equivalent to film, into one device but my immediate first reaction upon seeing Raccoon Vimes using a touch screen (when Sam Vimes is in fact technologically illiterate) I said out loud, “excuse me what in the fuck?”

Another side note: If you watch the images on the iPad, you can see actual dwarfs walking around in the background! Which means they made Tall Cheery tall for no fucking reason!  

Speaking of dwarfs, you know what was the most fucked up moment in the entire episode for me? When Carrot found the letter his dwarf parents sent to Raccoon Vimes on his desk and in the letter his own adopted family thought he was a monster because he accidentally hit his head on a support hoist and collapsed a mine shaft. Now this is a genuinely concerning development because in the books, Carrot’s adopted parents love their adopted son, but they realize that living in a mine is not sustainable for him because he is really a human and should live among the humans. Carrot keeps his identity as a dwarf throughout the book series and even continues to write to his family who live up in the mountains. To call Carrot a monster as a way of isolating a significant part of his original character in order to form a connection with members of the watch so that he can fit in the show’s message of misfits coming together to form a team is concerning. Carrot Ironfounderson was already a misfit the moment he walked through the city gates because he self-identifies as a dwarf. Him being accepted as a dwarf helps him sympathize with the plights of the dwarves living in the city. He is both on the side of human and dwarf so he can see both sides of a conflict and deescalate situations because he can sympathize. Carrot walked into Ankh-Morpork with the love from his family in his heart and with time it expanded into love for his job and love for the city itself. When you take that away from him and call him a monster then he’s no longer the Carrot Ironfounderson Discworld fans have come to recognize. 

And now we reach the part of the episode where things really go off the rails and that is when Supermodel Sybil (Lady Sybil Ramkin) gets introduced. Upon waking up after getting clonked on the skull while following leads, Raccoon Vimes finds himself chained to a cement slab in a place called the Sunshine Rescue Centre for Broken Bedraggled Things in which Supermodel Sybil teaches, well forces people really, to realized that they are being brainwashed into believing crime is a profession. She still takes care of dragons but apparently everything about Sybil Ramkin’s original character was stripped down to just the frame and remade into a badass dragon lady who also…kidnaps…people… Yes, you heard me right, Supermodel Sybil is apparently mad about the existence of Guilds allowing for crime to be legal in a way that it can be regulated and controlled under Vetinari’s rule so that she can run off and be a vigilante. And since she has taken on this role of being this gone rogue hero, she joins Raccoon Vimes in finding GL Carcer because he’s a gang leader stockpiling and moving large quantities of drugs…which is also apparently legal under the protection of the Alchemists Guild despite the books being opposed to that concept.

All of this culminates in the end to GL Carcer returning into Raccoon Vimes’s life and the show hinting at time travel being used on top of GL Carcer summoning a dragon as a way of continuing his evil plan to…uh…yeah, I’m still not entirely sure what his plan is. One thing’s for sure, although I saw elements from other Discworld books were used to establish the world and some of its characters, it’s going to be largely based on Guards! Guards! and Night Watch.

Oh yeah, hey! Did I mention this episode is a series of flashbacks about ways Raccoon Vimes has possibly died throughout the show? Yeah! Both the beginning and ending of the episode is literally Death looking at him and going, “You’re probably wondering how you got here.” 

If you’re gonna pull this bullshit Simon Allen then at least include Baba O'Riley by The Who to complete the picture. 

Episode Review/Thoughts:

As someone who enjoys Discworld, I was willing to give the show the benefit of the doubt before I watched it. I’m one of those people who can look over character changes from book to cinematic adaption because I feel that if an actor can add onto or even improve upon the character then I’m all for it. However, the changes they made from book to show was done with such backwards thinking that it negatively impacted the way I viewed The Watch as a whole. They changed nearly every character’s main identity that allows them to stand out in the stories they were featured in and stuffed them with edgy bullshit to fit their cyberpunk narrative. 

This is only the first episode and the story is all over the place. This show wants to be so many things but does not know how to convey it in a way that is easy to understand. It’s constantly trying to pull the viewers attention in different directions that by the end it leaves you reeling trying to figure out what exactly it wants to say. I think the thought process was if we throw a bunch of references at the fans who understand them then maybe we can get away with the entire episode being a literal mess. The Watch desperately tries to be a dark retelling of the city watch series but still wants you to laugh at the jokes that are barely entertaining while also trying to maintain itself as being a serious/no nonsense cop show. If I as the viewer can’t figure out what’s going on until twenty minutes in, then you’ve already failed at story telling! It’s confusing for no goddamn reason!

Minor Gripe- There were so many pointless flashbacks throughout the episode to explain the backstory it becomes downright annoying whenever there was a cutaway. If you’re going to tell us how Raccoon Vimes and GL Carcer had a falling out, then show the whole thing in one go or actually step up your skills as a writer and have an actual dialogue between the characters later on. How about you actually write a good Discworld adaption! 

It’s only the first episode and it’s already not looking too good for the series as a whole!

Now for the fun part of the post I like to call...

Things in A Near Vimes Experience that made me go, “Wait What?”:

Goth ghosts/vampires showing up to ask Tall Cheery to join their band

Drugs! Drugs everywhere!

Whoever included the iPad I will hunt you down for blood sport!

Raccoon Vimes can and will pee on things to establish dominance 

Supermodel Sybil locks people in her basement

Whatever the fuck these costumes are! (They did Vetinari so dirty!)  

Honorable mentions:

“You became a cop to stop people from throwing babies at dwarves?”

The Mended Drum is a neon infused dance club

Dibbler has been replaced with a lady in a wheelchair named Throat that deals in drugs and information

Raccoon Vimes almost successfully committed suicide 

Current Kill Count...

Supermodel Sybil: 2

[thorns-and-rosewings]

My Owl House Theories

Ok so after the most recent episode of the Owl House, I know that pretty much everyone is jumping even moreso on the Belos is Philip bandwagon...

Honestly I don't know if that is the case. I mean it's a good theory and very likely.

But to me it just seems a little too obvious.

Not to mention that there is only a record of ONE human to have been on the Boiling Isles, not two... And does anyone else think it's strange that Philip never once mentions his brother being with him on the Isles? He mentioned companions, yes, but not his brother. Also Philip donated his diary, he clearly thought he was about to go home. These little threads don't show a lot of remorse if his brother had died.

So...

What if Belos is not Philip, but his brother?

I keep thinking about three things in particular. Playing into three theories...

Number one... Could Titans blood possibly distort time as well as space? If it opened a portal to a different section of the Demon Realm could that explain why a man from the 1600's would only appear about 50 years ago? After having spent an unknown amount of time in another section of the Isles developing artificial magic? If the brothers went through two different gateways it would explain that discrepancy...

Number two... and this one is a bit dark... Philip was in awe of the Demon Realm, he clearly did explore a lot of it and enjoyed himself. He didn't hate wild magic and... Something that did seem odd... He showed very little remorse for when his companions died. That does show a certain amount of coldness to his character. If the story in the human world is accurate and two brothers were both approached by a witch who took them to the Demon Realm why is only Philip there?

...Could Philip have traded his own brother for an adventure?

Would a younger brother, (As I see Philip as the younger brother) have traded an overprotective, no-nonsense older brother to a witch in exchange for an adventure? In the Owl House we have seen all kinds of families and a family where one brother is willing to sacrifice another is a depressing, but very real thing. And it would fit very well into the belief Belos was betrayed by a sibling.

It would also explain Belos's actions towards Hunter. Keeping him on an even shorter leash than he gave the real Philip, in his mind trying to prevent him from turning out like his predecessor... And also punishing him for the actions of his aforementioned predecessor.

Number three... and this is the one I know is the biggest stretch yet, but also my favorite of the three... I keep thinking Belos is not the big bad of the series. I think that title is probably going to belong to a being we have seen only once so far, the creature known as 'The Collector.' The one who created the scroll with the Owl Beast in it.

In a mix of the other two theories, what if both brothers went through two different portals. One came out in the Boiling Isles, while the other came out wherever the heck the place we saw in the Owl Beasts memories is... If there's a being called the Collector, it's not outside the realm of possibility it wanted to collect a human. Possibly being responsible for cursing Belos with one of its collected creatures. Assuming as humans are not naturally imbued with magic it couldn't turn him into a scroll.

The result is a human kept as a prisoner by an unknown entity... Probably making Philips brother grow to HATE magic of all kinds due to the situation he was in. And if this being kept the beast satiated with Palisman, it would explain why Belos uses them instead of elixers. It's the only thing he knows works.

And Philip was on his merry little adventure, unaware his brother was in hell.

I also keep coming back to his ears, not shaped like a humans but too small for a witch. Perhaps being cursed with this creature for as long as he was mutated his ears? And for an even darker theory... The notch in his ear; in real life it is not uncommon for farmers and ranchers to mark animals with notches in their ears to show they are their property. Just fitting this in was he very well could have been marked to be identified as the Collectors property... Maybe on accident he hurt Hunter or his mind has been warped that he marked him too.

Eventually Belos gets away only to end up in the Boiling Isles, finding his brother dead and no way home... Well he finally snaps and becomes the dictator we all love and hate, the end.

Aaaand that's my views and theories on the most recent developments... Long winded as ever but I just thought I'd throw them out there to see what others think. 😅

[whump-town]

In With The New, Out With The Old

Hotch packing Jack up for college

None of it feels real.

For two years after he and Haley divorced he lived in an apartment of boxes. It was some sort of punishment he created for himself while also creating a dissonance he could be lost in -- that he didn’t need to unpack just in case. He had his suits in the closet, his work would not take the fall for his personal life’s failings. The coffee maker sat on the counter, one of the only appliances hooked into a light socket. The necessities followed -- two mugs for coffee, a glass tumbler for the whiskey sitting on the counter, and one plate for when he ordered take-out he couldn’t just eat out of the box.

It had taken him months to buy a mattress, he was perfectly miserable sleeping on the couch. He had only taken Jack to the apartment once, needing to switch into more park-appropriate clothing. Between them, he and Haley agreed that the best thing for Jack was consistency so he would spend all day with Hotch but he would always go home to Haley. He knew this could be used against him in court, Haley could take Jack from his so easily it terrified him but he also knew he’d let her. He was more powerful, he had more strings to pull and more people on his side but the thought of getting on the stand and having his friends call her a bad mother made him feel even worse. So he knew that if it came down to it, he would let Haley have Jack rather put either of them that sort of grueling case.

This was a shared thought between them. Both are aware of the other’s power over the other. Neither will act on their own.

He had only bought a mattress because of New York. Limping home he’d sunk down into his old faithful couch only to wake up the next morning with achingly stiff sutures in his leg and his face stuck to a throw pillow, the blood drying like glue. He had to call Emily and Derek that afternoon. Unable to drive himself with his concussion and consequential blurred vision Emily had come over to pick him up, never said a word about what he’d been sleeping on in the months before. Neither did Derek when Hotch got too dizzy coming up the stairs, the stitches in his leg bleeding through his jeans and so pale Emily had to hold him upright to get him to the bench in the lobby. He was left there, listening to Derek and Emily bicker their way into forcing the mattress into the apartment through the pounding sound of blood rushing in his ears.

That was years ago and yet they’ve created its mirror image once again in his living room.

All of Jack’s belongings in boxes spread out in every room of the house. Packing up to leave.

“Art?” Emily mumbles disapprovingly. She’s knelt down in front of Jack’s bookshelf, dismantling the organized shelves to pack them into boxes. It’s a different method than the one that Hotch uses. Jack has them categorized by author and general theme and as Emily takes down all the books she’s gotten him about cults and psychology and crime she can’t help but feel a little cheated. Jack knows all about crime. He’s had Macdonald’s Triad memorized since he was five -- could give that method of thought its critical analysis as not a precursor to antisocial or serial killer behavior but more as a demonstration of a child’s poor coping skills or as the indicator of a dysfunctional home environment. He’s a well of information about cults, knows the “B.I.T.E.” system.

And he’s throwing all that away because Hotch took him to too many museums as a child?

Jack doesn’t say anything when he hears her grumble about art again, he’s had this conversation so many times. He knows she’s not really mad and she’s not even that irked but she needs to do something with the feelings she has about him leaving and this is just the best way she’s come up with. Better than crying -- which she’s also done far too much of.

“I think art is a great idea, kid.” Derek teases his hair as he passes, sweaty and hot from dragging Jack’s belongings around the place.

Hotch works slowly where he’s been assigned. They all work around him. He’s more freelance than the others. His job is to do what he can and leave the rest for someone else. Today his physical capabilities are not in the way. Derek does all the heavy lifting that Hotch knows is supposed to be assigned to him, it’s his duty as the father of the freshman moving away. He finds himself in the living room, one of Haley’s old photo albums on his lap. Thumbing pictures he can remember going with Haley to print. Pictures he can remember being in. Ones that he took.

He’s crying again.

Emily comes out with a box of books on her hip, having figured out the perfect ratio of books to box to prevent them from falling out the bottom. She sees Hotch wiping his face with a tissue, hiding away but unable to fully pull away right now. The hurt raw. The fear is too much.

The second that Hotch got the chance he left home and never came back. Over the years he returned to his hometown only when he had to -- when Haley’s parents couldn’t be convinced to come to see them. It didn’t matter how down bad he was, Hotch did it on his own. When his mother died when he was thirty he’d talked to her only once since moving out. Then it had only been for the benefit of Sean, who he had driven all the back to Virginia to collect and drove to college.

He fears Jack will do the same and it terrifies him in so many ways.

His own death will come quickly, he knows he’s only made it this long because he’s not alone. Without Jack, there’s no reason to keep going on, not with the way his body aches from years of abuse and neglect. More than that, he knows what growing up that fast did to him. As a child, the things that happen to you are out of your control. Children are sponges, not yet able to take control and mold themselves. So their reactions to abuse and neglect and even just trivial everyday things are but a reaction they are taught to form or never corrected on. But Hotch never corrected his behaviors as a young adult. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone, not at twenty, or thirty, and still at forty.

He spent his twentieth birthday on the side of the highway in a broken down car freezing his ass off with negative twenty-three cents in his bank account. No one to call because he couldn’t bring himself to believe anyone would come -- but Haley would have, or Jessica, or the sociology professor who gave him his number for emergencies or “just anything you can think of, just in case you need me”.

He doesn’t wish anything like that on Jack.

The cycle of self-destruction and fear and loathing.

But Jack knows how to form healthy relationships with people. He’s more worried about Hotch.

The car ride is nearly silent.

Jack cranks his window down and lays his head on the seal, lets the wind blow his hair back from his skin, and closes his eyes. There’s no air conditioning but it’s not that bad. The air has cooled off, the thunderstorms taking over the area sucking the humidity from the air as the wind picks up. It’ll get bad again in a day or so but today is nice and Jack wants to enjoy it. To sit contently with his dad and just try to soak it in before he’s thrown into the world of college.

Emily had promised him several times she’d make sure that Hotch didn’t turn himself into a hermit. Jack has grown up watching those two spar off so he knows she’s perfectly capable of getting Hotch out of the house. More than that, Jack knows he’s just going to miss his dad.

“Please--” Jack’s in the middle of trying to reorganize his stuff when he sees Hotch come in with one of the big boxes, one of the heavy ones. “Dad!” Jack takes it from him, not listening to Hotch’s complaint about being able to carry a few boxes. That he won’t break that easily. “Please, just leave the heavy stuff to Emily and Derek. Help me put my clothes away? Please?”

He nearly cries again folding Jack’s t-shirts away. Once upon a time, Jack’s shirts were about the size of his hand. Tiny delicate little things about the size of rags. Now he’s wearing the same size as Hotch, a grown man standing there racing to beat Emily to the heavy stuff because he doesn’t want her lifting it all either.

“Well,” Derek announces, setting the minifridge down, “that’s the last of it.”

Emily offers Hotch her hand and he takes it, grunting as he moves his body back upright.

“Well,” he declares, looking around the room. “We’ll leave you to it. Let you get everything sorted out how you like.” Hotch smiles and Emily and Derek step in to take their hugs, imparting half-wise ideas and a no-questions-asked ride home from anywhere.

“I love you,” Hotch says, he’s quick because he knows he can’t keep his composure if he stays here for too much longer. “I’ll send you care packages, you’ll just have to text me if you think of something I don’t send.”

Jack nods, pretending to make himself busy putting away the rest of his clothes. Trying to downplay his own feelings.

“Ok.”

Hotch nods and they leave, he doesn’t want to make a scene. They’ve hugged and Jack needs to unpack. He’s done. He’s only two doors away when he hears Jack’s door gets thrown open.

“Dad!” Hotch turns and stumbles, an armful of the little boy who was once the size of his forearm. He squeezes Jack tight, laughing through his tears when Jack holds on. “I love you too.”

Hotch holds him for a solid minute, just balanced there with his hand on the back of Jack’s head. “Alright,” he whispers. He sniffles a little, smiling as he cups Jack’s cheek wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I’m just a phone call away, okay? Any time of the night, you know where I am. You’ll be fine. You’re going to make mistakes and you’re going to fail tests and cry over boys and drink too much but you’ll be okay. And-- And if you’re not…”

Jack nods, smiling as he says, “I’ll call Emily.”

Hotch smirks, “well.. After a certain hour, yeah I suppose you’ll have to but yeah. Just call, okay?”

“I’ll call.”

Hotch nods and he has to force himself to let go and walk away. To let Jack do this.

They’re halfway down the hall, far enough away now that Jack won’t see or hear when Hotch starts to cry. He forces himself to keep going. Not to look back. Emily takes his hand, squeezes his fingers and he looks over at her tears in his eyes, and tries to smile.

Emily drives his truck home, she plans on feeding him chocolate and ice cream, and wine this afternoon to improve his mood. He gets a text and he smirks, he actually laughs.

“Let me know when you get home, old man. Tell Emily not to keep you out too late.”

[sanstropfremir]

I’d love your thoughts on BTS and their current image and music if you have them and aren’t afraid of the mindless internet hoards.

Personally, I liked a lot of their older stuff, but haven’t liked anything since I think the Fake Love promotions 3+ years ago. They’d started losing their personality and soul before that album cycle, but it feels like the sanitization of their image and artistry really kicked into hyperdrive after that. Now most of what they do seems like a sterile money grab driven by the Hybe hive mind which is a shame.

ok alrighty (cracks knuckles) let's get into it.

now that i've fully given myself a headache watching the majority of the bts videography, here are three points i'm going to cover:

performative character and the lack thereof

interesting aesthetics and the lack thereof, and

the inevitable cracking of perfection

ready, set, let's begin.

1.

idol music is very clearly definited by spectacle based aesthetics. and it's had that structure for its entire existence. so i gotta hand it to hybe for this one, because they managed to revolutionize being utterly fucking average. the triumph of bts is that they're just some guys and they look like just some guys. hybe found a niche in the system and then gamed that system to the tune of one of the largest musical acts in the world. they're not marketing bts as a romantic parasocial relationship, they're marketing them as your friends. and that is just as insidious to lonely kids as a run of the mill romantic fantasy. but that's not what i'm here to talk about today.

there's a pattern i find very interesting with bts mvs and that is that i don't remember anything about them. specifically, i don't remember the stuff that's happening IN the video; not the styling, not the setpieces, if i didn't know the members i doubt i would remember them either. what i DO remember, is how expensive the production is, and specific shots. i couldn't tell you what a single member was wearing, but i sure as hell remember that first upward angle shot of jungkook and the rusted park ride in spring day. or every single time they do that birdseye shot of jin in like every video. honestly as far as i'm aware jin has only ever worn a loose fitting beige longsleeve shirt.

it took bts a long time to establish any kind of consistent visual character. and the character they did establish.... i don't know if you can call a family-friendly-style clean aesthetic 'character'. they debuted as a hip hop group to little (comparative) success, and then made a switch to doing an early version of where they're currently at right now. if you've seen any of the mvs, you know that this is a pretty significant visual change. i don't think it is inherently a bad change, since the visual branding for hiphop based groups always tips over into iffy terrritory, but it is dramatic enough and early enough that it doesn't strike me as a natural evolution. concept switch ups are common, but they usually work because the members have established a bit of character for themselves, used their performance abilities and presence to fit into a niche in the group. the idol mould is perfect for showcasing the performers; that's its function. the groups that are the most fun to watch are the ones with stage presence, the ones who know how to perform, who can act all the parts they need to play. and bts? 4/7 actual performers on a good day. in my personal opinion it's 2/7.

i'm gonna expand on what i said about jimin here (this is technically the first part of this series), because it does apply to the rest of the group on the whole:

and i think here is where we see the main crux of the difference between taemin and jimin as performers: taemin has both an artistic and an idol persona. we know and understand him to do solo work that has a separate artistic meaning to just him being an idol. even though this performance was pre-move, i would still say this applies, because he's hot off press your number, where he's acting in a story based mv. jimin on the other hand just has his idol persona. he's not known for creating the same kind of storytelling that taemin is.

bts has been very insistent on the image of the group as a single unit. despite having the size of fanbase and the revenue that would make any official solo debut a massive success, none of them have done any substantial solo work. this isn't artistically a problem, and i think it's very admirable of them to be so dedicated to the image and the legacy of the group, when that can be an uncommon trait in the industry. i do however, think it starts to become an issue when we want to discuss what the artistic visions and images of groups are. shinee taemin and solo taemin have two distinct artistic representations, and taemin himself will attest to that. it's the same with all the shinee members that have solo careers, and the same with other groups. jackson, bambam, yugyeom, and jaebeom's solo work is all very different from got7. yixing's solo work is very different from exo's. even the subunits within exo all have their own character (cbx and sc). kpop groups all ostensibly are trained under the same system, so why the disparity with bts? mostly, it's their brand of "authenticity." it's impossible to perform authentically, by the nature of performance as a medium it is unnatural, and tragically, not everyone is naturally interesting, or suited to performing: that's why the performing arts even exist in the first place. it required painstaking training to be good at performing; it is a complex set of skills and those skills are not learnt by "being authentic." being an idol is not just the singing, dancing, rapping; that's only half the work. you need to be able to act to be a compelling performer. pulling your true self and emotions out on stage every night is a fast track to burnout and psychological issues, there's plenty of evidence. the only member of bts of whom i can say for some certainty has a persona and a stage presence is jhope/hoseok, a) because he's kept up a very specific brand in the solo work that he has done, and b) he has actual dance training, not just kpop dance training. the rest of them may have the kpop dance and the kpop vocal training, but what they do not have is the ability to market themselves as compelling performers on stage. taehyung is the only other member i would hesitantly give a semblance of persona and ability to, but i think he stumbled onto that mostly by accident. and if all the pieces don't each have a distinctive colour, how can the whole machine be visually interesting?

2.

bts may never have been able to establish an aesthetic brand, but what they did establish is an intellectual one. if you talk to a fan, the schtick they give is that "it's about the lyrics." as noble as having an intellectual or cerebral message is, what does that look like? how do you portray intellectual on stage, on film? what about intellectual is interesting to watch? cerebral, by it's literal nature as a descriptor, is very difficult to communicate in visual language because it is internal. to successfully communicate cerebrality and intellect in a short form medium like music videos requires a deft hand with metaphor that can elude even an experienced designer. and honestly? i don't know whether to applaud hybe's visual team for being the most successful subtle contemporary designers i've every seen, or to decry them as worst kpop designers i've ever seen. maybe both. regardless, i don't think they're able to cross the gap.

there are exactly four mvs where i actually remember the content of the mv and not the frame it sits in, and those are dna, idol, the singularity comeback trailer with taehyung, and war of hormone. and of an eight year career......that's not very many. these four mvs have at least an inkling of interesting spectacle and character, but even then, it's still a stretch. there is absolutely nothing to write home about in the styling for dna, other than it's well colour matched. I don't even know if I should include singularity because it involves none of the other members. idol is probably their most interesting mv because it actually has alternative styling and varies (at least a little bit) from the standard hybe boom crane shot-that-shows-off-how-we-can-afford-big-studio-spaces-and-locations. the company and the group would be loathe to admit it, but war of hormone is a well designed and interesting mv for the time it was made, with a well crafted gimmick and some actual showing of character from the members. it was the start of a potential that they squashed quite quickly because it wasn't picking up in the hiphop-group-saturated market of 2014. but the rest of their mvs? remarkably uninspired styling. like it's truly impressive how boring the styling is. and like i've said, that is the triumph in their aesthetics: they all look like normal dudes (if you had professional skin + makeup techs looking after them for the last 8 years).

all of this is a carefully crafted image that's tailored to hooking an audience, especially an international one. the mvs are boring in the relative scale of kpop, but they're just different enough from a western pop mv to catch attention. and once you do sink a hook, there's a direct clickfunnel of content that bills itself on these men being "authentic" and "self-producing," which is a huge draw to international fans, because people are racist and believe that the kpop industry is a factory that produces idols like clones, where none of them know how to do anything other than sing and dance and all the music is just handed to them by companies. and they have SO much content that there's no way a new fan can get to it all in a timely manner, so they'll never have to engage with any other kpop artists' work if they don't actively seek it out. but that's another essay for another time.

3.

that brings us to current day, in which at least the last five bts releases have been in the same aesthetic vein of positive, sanitized, and pristine. i said it in one of my txt responses and i will say it again here: money scrubs the humanity from the aesthetic of living. minimalism is for rich white people. hybe and bts may have pivoted their style and brand directly into the lane of mass appeal, but when you pair that with the amount of money funding them, there's a cognitive dissonance between the message and the aesthetics in which it's portrayed. some people do like the clean cut looks, and i won't say that they don't work, but as you've likely gleaned from this response, it isn't my style and if you've been around and reading my writing for longer you'll know that my tastes runs much closer to the messy and the weird, so very little about any of bts' visuals have appeal to me. i do find the contradiction of applying the appeal of radical relatability with the aesthetics of expansive (and expensive) minimalism interesting; it's an extremely fine line that hybe is walking and eventually they are going to tip over, the porcelain mask will not hold forever. maintaining the all ages aesthetic is going to be difficult now that all of them are grown ass men. with other groups of this member age and generation there's very obviously been a shift to a more adult tone, and not necessarily explicitly. got7, mx, nu'est, btob, shinee, 2pm, and groups that have older members like a.c.e and sf9 have all made slow shifts in tone that are undeniably aimed at a maturing audience: they know their core fanbases are aging with them and they (the fans) are not as interested in the 'boy' in boy group. and most of them have telltale visual styles, enough so that i can distinguish a specific group's mv. the last year and change of mx mvs have a very distinctive character; got7 too, since easily as far back as if you do. i can always tell an a.c.e mv by its impeccable fashion and formic styling, and although shinee has always had a more experimental aesthetic edge, their sound and voices are unmistakable.

honestly, i can't predict what bts is going to do in the future, but i personally don't believe they can keep up their clean aesthetic indefinitely without some fallout. part of the fun of following bands is watching them grow musically, and the last couple of years of bts haven't felt like growth. there are fans that have already started realizing it, and there's likely to be more soon.

---

the third part is here, which is a short followup about some of bts' industry influence.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Messages || Part 1

(Part 4 of The Crystal Ball)

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word count: 9,099

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus experiences a major bump in his relationship that he’s never experienced before. It’s easy to be confident in a working relationship when being together is a daily habit, but when the relationship turns long distance after summer is over, he just doesn’t know how to keep himself afloat.

Warnings: Sex scene :o (mainly at the end), tiny bit angsty

A/N: Hello everyone! :D This is part one of a two part arc within the crystal ball series so I hope I make sense in saying that Messages part 1 and Messages part 2 will both count as part 4 and 5 of the crystal ball XD (this one is long and part 2 might be just as long so I hope that’s ok :D) (also also this is officially the first of the 500 next part request… so 1 down, 499 to go XD) I hope everyone’s holidays went great! 

Posted: 12/31/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus stood in front of his shelves of books, looking for new titles to introduce into the curriculum but none caught his eye. He ran his finger along the spines, dust coming off each one in a long streak and collected under his nail. They were all worn, their binding fabric once rich in texture now flush and smooth as the hard cover underneath. Their once-golden names rubbed off from excessive obsessive use from years of studies during and after his time as a Hogwarts student. His eyes followed his finger as he tried reading the titles, hoping one would spark a memory of a passage easy enough for his students to grasp.

I should introduce the Odd-Stir Method to the fifth years after winter holidays. I think Rotus explains it best – though I doubt they’d be able to get over his outdated terminology… I’d have to give them translation sheets though… Perhaps E. K Nimgo uses more appropriate language… even the densest of dunderheads should be able to understand her phrasing.

He’d reached the very last shelf and stood, clutching only two books from his collection and sighed, not entirely certain that his efforts to make brewing easier would even be appreciated. He wiped his finger on the rough fabric of his black vest and sighed, realizing he’d just created a very visible grey streak across his chest.

He heard a soft giggle and looked up, blushing at the beautiful woman leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen, watching him intently. Severus smiled and shook his hair to cover his face. He tapped the books in his hand with his finger, trying to draw her attention away from him in embarrassment. “Should I even try this year?”

She pushed herself from the doorframe and walked over to him slowly with a finger tapping her chin as if in thought. She slid her hands under his arms and pushed her face into his shoulder blade. “No – In fact, maybe take a break from teaching and stay here with me this year.” She’d been begging him for several weeks now as their summer fun was coming to an end.

He wanted so badly to say yes… But Dumbledore won’t allow it. It’s still too soon after… He sighed. He ran his hand along her arm and pulled it away, freeing himself to face her. “Help me pack these?” Her smile dropped and he almost winced. “You know I’ll just throw them in,” he whispered.

She nodded and gave a slight smile. “You’re so awful at packing, Sev.” She took the books from his hands and planted a kiss on his unready lips. Her smile widened at his look of joyous surprise and laughed. “You act like a schoolboy receiving his first ever kiss every time I do that.”

He pressed his palm to his mouth until he felt his stupid smile fade and frowned at her, removing his hand. “I do not. Besides… it’s hardly my fault.” He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her in for a proper kiss. He let his lips linger on hers and made sure to speak low, just how she liked. “I can’t control what you do to me.”

She bit her lip and pulled her chin down, looking up at him with innocent eyes that sparkled wickedly at him. Merlin help me. He slid his hands down her sides and played with the hem of her skirt, loving the invisible sparks of lust and tension popping in the air.

The flames of the candles scattered around the room flickered under the influence of their accidental magic, brought on by their subconscious need to dim the lights and set their favorite evening mood. His living room had never held any romance to it until her. It was the one room in the house whose floors were maintained perfectly clean. It was the one room where they constantly found themselves on the floor of.

A soft tapping from the kitchen pulled his eyes away from hers. Merlin, I didn’t mean literally. He sighed. “I have to answer back.”

She dropped her arms that had snaked their way around his neck and folded them over her chest. “I’ll go pack these into your trunk.”

He watched her march out of the room and listened to her footfall on the stairs, heavy with anger. The door to their room slammed and he headed into the kitchen. A large brown owl sat on the rim of the empty potted plants outside and tapped its beak to the window again.

“Silence already!” Severus swung the window open and took the letter from the owl’s beak. “Tell that man if he wishes to be enraging he’s doing a fine job. Next time he hands you a letter, wait for the next one.”

He tore the envelope open and read the fourth letter sent to him that day. ‘I forgot to remind you the lists will be sent out next week, though if you have the required textbooks ready, the sooner the better this year.’ Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and walked back into the living room, scribbled the title of the textbook his students had been using for the last three years and folded it up, not bothering with a new envelope.

He marched back to the owl and held the note out for it to take. “Try not to come back – or better yet, get lost on the way.”

It hooted and took the note, tapping the window once more for the apparent pure satisfaction of seeing Severus scowl and fluttered away. He closed the window with a tight snap and pulled the curtains closed. He headed out of the kitchen and looked around.

Where is she? It was around this time he’d normally sit down to read at his chair, only to be interrupted and asked to join her on the small couch instead so she could lean on him while she entertained herself with her own books – or on busy days, her work.

Severus crossed the room and headed into the foyer, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He called out her name and listened. Silence.

He looked down at the long rug covering the center of the staircase. She’d found it on sale a couple of weeks ago and bought it for ‘the house’ claiming she was tired of the loud clomping of shoes on the stairs. Looking at the rug – along with the new matching towels and pillows and cushions for the couch – had made his chest feel unpleasantly tight for the first few days… Now he always felt a slight smile coming on when he noticed them. It was her way of moving in, knowing full well he was too scared to ask her to live with him in his grotty hovel of a house.

He headed up the steps and opened the door to their bedroom. She was laying on his side of the bed, face down on his pillow, with his books left out on his cluttered night stand. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. He closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly at the end of the bed for a few seconds.

This is all my fault. If I’d never… Merlin. I regret everything but you. “I’m sorry,” Severus whispered.

She pushed herself up onto her forearms and turned to him, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Oh Sev. Please don’t go… You’ll be gone for so long – ten months! I’m going to miss you so much! It’s going to be so hard not coming home to you every day… Everything’s going to be so much harder without you around.” She closed her eyes and fell back onto his pillow, shaking more violently than before. “Who’s going to make me soup after I finish ranting about how awful my boss is?”

He could barely make out her muffled attempt to lighten the mood and smirked, trying not to feel the growing hurt of seeing her so upset. Severus moved to the side of the bed, holding in tears that mirrored her pain, and kicked the open trunk away. He knelt on the bed and pushed her on to her side, holding her tight the moment she sat up for a hug.

He stroked her hair and bit his lip. “It only seems hard now.” He swallowed thickly. “Trust me, you’ll forget you even want me around.” He forced out a chuckle. “You might even forget I exist.”

Her hands clawed his back, pulling him closer. He let her pull him onto the bed, careful not to crush her with his weight, and allowed her arms to keep him in her sweet embrace. She was still crying into his neck and all he could do was kiss her head and press his hands into her back, pulling himself closer. As much as his heart broke when she cried, a small part of him warmed at the idea of being wanted so bad it hurt.

He was used to his brain turning on him, trying to convince him she didn’t actually care for him, despite checking to make sure he’d eaten when she got back from work, asking how he’d slept every morning, and every other little show of affection. It often times told him the small frown she wore was because of him, something he’d done wrong, despite her whole face brightening at the sight of him. All summer he’d felt like he was sitting on the edge of his seat, dreading the day she’d wake from her trance and leave him. It was hard to accept his luck when all his life he’d had anything but that.

And now here she was under him, crying over the pain she swears she’ll feel not seeing him every day… and he can’t help but want to cry over just being loved so openly and plainly. He felt guilty.

It won’t last. He closed his eyes and held her closer to him, attempting to focus on her rugged breaths of sorrow and not the cruel words ringing in his ears. We’ve only spent three months together, no one could ever feel this way for me in such a small amount of time… Not me… Not Snivellus… Not ever.

She’ll forget about me after the first month apart – less even. I’ll only cause her pain for a handful of weeks and then… then she’ll be perfectly fine without me. He pulled away as her sobs calmed and kissed her smooth salty lips with the same longing he knew he’d feel the whole almost ten long months without her. “Everything will seem normal in a matter of months. I promise you won’t feel this for long.”

She wiped her eyes and gently pushed him off her, curling up to his side and shook her head. “No. It’ll hurt this bad and worse.” She sniffed and draped her arm over his middle, pulling him closer. “Will you go over the plan again?”

He nodded. “We’ll write letters every day. You’ll visit me every weekend at the Three Broomsticks. And twice on as many weekends as I can.”

She lifted her head and kissed his chin. When she pulled away, she was finally smiling up to her eyes behind her glimmering tears. “Promise me?”

The way she looked at him, with love and hope and need, made him want to melt on the spot. I promise you anything. He swallowed. “Of course.”

She pulled away and she was no longer smiling, instead searching his eyes for something. “I really will miss you, Sev.”

He nodded and sat up, feeling the strange tightness in his chest again. He felt goosebumps on his arm despite feeling no chills, and his shirt seemed oddly restricting again. “I’ll make us dinner. Anything you wish.” He kissed her cheek and turned away, swinging his legs over the bed. He stood and crossed the room to the door, opened it, and left, giving her just enough time to mumble ‘something creamy’ before he closed the door with a snap.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stood over his trunk and started unpacking his things. The chamber was quiet and cold with new shining webs decorating the corners and connecting rows upon rows of glass jars. The fireplace cracked in the corner, vaguely illuminating the cavity he called his office, filling the air with the scents of cherry firewood, thickly sweet.

I should thank her for the new wood. She’ll surely gloat about being right, though just imagining her smiling is enough to be worth it. Severus grinned to himself and took out a folded piece of parchment where he’d been keeping notes on what to send in his letters since he’d left her at Kings Cross station. He jotted down the ‘thank you for the new fire wood’ she’d snuck into his trunk to help him relax and slipped it back into his vest.

“Ah, Severus. Finally here I see,” McGonagall’s voice echoed in. She stood on the threshold with hands on her hips, looking around at the state of things. “You’re normally on the first train back – You will be dusting won’t you? I’d give you my spell, but as you so kindly pointed out last year, it’s inelegant wording might disorganize your… ‘systemized assortment of components’… or as I call it – clutter.”

Severus rolled his eyes and faced her. “I had business.”

She arched her brow. “I see. Well welcome back, and I suggest you get started with Poppy soon, unfortunately several vials went bad over the summer – something about cheap valerian and the Ministry’s fat pockets – she’s been raging about it since she arrived. Afterwards I think Pomona’s having trouble reviving her oleanders.”

Severus nodded and waited until the crisp clacking of her heels could no longer be heard before gathering what he needed and headed out to his usual pre-term duties as the school’s only Potions Master.

After a long night of replenishing the hospital’s stocks, an early morning brewing Come-’Round serum, and an annoying evening spent with Sprout and her plants, dinner rolled around and he hardly noticed the maddening levels of screaming and laughing and talking coming from the house tables full of old and new students.  

“Severus,” McGonagall drew his sleepy attention to her. “Albus mentioned you expressed an interest in taking over monitoring the corridors at night.” She took a sip from her goblet.

Severus frowned. “I mentioned the need to double down on dawn and dusk hours. Not – ”

“That is a marvelous idea. I’m sure you will keep plenty of nosy students out of trouble this year.” She sipped her goblet again.

Severus blinked several times at her. “D-did you just hand over the entire position to me?”

She continued drinking as if he hadn’t spoken and turned back to her food, glancing over at him every so often to check if he was still glaring at her.

Severus grumbled to himself and turned back to his food. I miss ONE meeting and suddenly every tedious responsibility is handed off to me. Of course.

Soon the Great Hall was emptied of students as their prefects led them to their houses and Severus prepared himself for a short night’s rest. He spent three hours walking between corridors from one house entrance to the next, catching at least five students out after hours walking about the castle in the dead of night, and two in the early hours before the sun rose.

He sat back at the high table with a groan and stretched out his legs. The morning light filtered through the tessellated windows high above the tables and reflected off the maple-glazed sausages and glittering butter that melted over his toast.

A familiar wood owl soared down and landed on the top rail of his chair, hooting happily with an elegantly ribbon-wrapped note clutched tight in his foot. Severus suppressed a grin, keeping his usual scowl plastered over his face, and took the note, quickly unraveling it from its pink satin bindings.

2 September

My dearest Severus,

You have not replied to the letter I sent yesterday. How was the train ride and our first night apart in months? I missed you more than you could ever imagine. You said I’d be glad to have the bed to myself, but for the second night in a row I have missed your warmth and your embrace. I fear to even wash the sheets and erase your all too alluring scent… Although I will. When did we last wash them? A week ago? Please fake your death and come back to me.

Love,

Your already forgotten girlfriend.

‘Girlfriend’, his heart skipped as his eyes reread the word. He felt a strange forgotten ache deep in his core, of sleepless nights as a student wondering if he’d ever have someone to call his. It was within these very stone walls that he’d muttered curses under his breath at any student that pointed out the fact he was alone and would forever be alone. He’d been wrong, and it was a pain he wished he could go back and relieve from his younger self. He took out his quill, flipped the note over and smoothed it’s curves on the dark oak table.

2 September

My unforgettable girlfriend,

I’ve officially taken over monitoring the corridors at night. It seems McGonagall is trying to remedy my insomnia with hours of walking the halls like a soul-lost mummy in the deep caverns of Khufu’s temple. I caught seven just last night, and apparently my reprimands were deemed ‘unfair’ and ‘dumb’ by these pests we call students.

Severus

He paused.

Also, thank you for the logs. They were nice, but I will switch them out soon for something more menacing.

He folded the note and handed it back to her owl, who had been intently watching his quill feather jitter as he wrote. Her owl took the note in its beak and joined the dozens of other owls leaving through the windows.

Although the letter had suppressed his stress for a few minutes, it soon bubbled back up as the bells rang for the start of lessons. As he’d expected, none of the students had done an ounce of studying over the summer, resulting in the floors being covered in melted stirring rods, the high ceilings dripping with fluorescent watery syrup, and six cracked cauldrons from high-tempered concoctions.

But of course I’M the one writing to the ministry about replacing six cauldrons. If it were up to me, each one of those brats responsible would be writing apology letters begging for new cauldrons themselves. He started writing out the letter towards the Ministry’s Educational Mayhem Funds Committee explaining the need for new ones and how he would supposedly prevent the need for more. Perhaps suggesting teaching dogs instead is not a reasonable approach.

He skipped dinner and by the time it was a quarter to nine, he set out patrolling the corridor and this time checked every broom-closet twice. He slept, and by dawn was up again, pacing floors until the smell of eggs and citrus filled the passageways, wafting in from the kitchen vents.

Breakfast, he sighed. He made his way down and took his usual seat. At some point between his first and second poached egg-topped buttered crumpet the familiar aspen-feathered owl landed on his chair, delivering a newly ribboned note.

3 September

My hardworking boyfriend,

I do not envy those under your authority. I’m sure in the coming week, everyone will remember how strictly you rule the corridors and classrooms and will choose to stop breaking the rules. Perhaps slapping the desk harder while you yell will really make them quiver in their shoes. Speaking of heavy hands… will I see you at the end of this week? I miss visiting Hogsmeade and especially the butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks. This weekend will be a MUCH needed break from work and everything that reminds me of my boss’s red warty face. He’s driving me mad. Come down and hex him for me, won’t you Sev?

Yours always,

A previous pest.

Severus chuckled and replied immediately.

Do not tease, especially since the weekend is two days away – it feels like a lifetime when imprisoned within these walls. I shall see about a room at the Three Broomsticks. Regardless, Saturday for lunch. Noon exactly.

Severus

He handed the owl her note and stuffed the new ribbon in his pocket with the other. ‘Heavy hands’. He pressed his elbows to the table and his fists to his growing grin. He was sure Sprout would let him pick a few of her bluebonnets to take with him. It’d be a lovely surprise he was sure she’d more than appreciate.

He pushed away from the table and made his way out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons. His first lesson of the day was in a few hours. The first years are probably running Pomphrey dry on the Dreamless Sleep elixir. She’ll likely ask me about it this weekend… If I get started on it now ­–

The library doors opened and a shrill voice called out to him. “Oh! Professor Snape!” The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher came marching up to him with a determined look about her. “I was told to seek your advice – Professor if you have the time.”

Severus kept from rubbing at his temples and breathed out in what almost sounded like a groan. “In what are you seeking council?”

The new professor shook her head, her large bun bobbing from side to side, and placed her hands on her hips. “The library does not stock extra copies of the books I have assigned as required textbooks. I was told you’d had this problem when you first began teaching?”

Do not remind me. “Ah… yes. The library will not stock books outside the Ministry’s recommended reading. You could try convincing… Dumbledore,” the word rolled off his tongue distastefully. “But the Headmaster prefers leaving it up to the professors to figure out.” Severus turned to leave.

The woman laughed. “Is that your advice? Figure it out myself?”

Severus turned back and narrowed his eyes. “If the books you are seeking… are not stocked. Then they are not from the list the Ministry has provided you – as I’m sure you know, as we receive updated lists every summer. That means either your book is considered too dangerous – ”

“It’s not! I would hardly call unicorns and counter-clockwise counting clocks dangerous when – ”

“Or,” Severus interrupted, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “They are too expensive. If some students cannot afford the textbooks, then it is your job to provide them or incorporate them into a learning plan.” Severus turned on his heels and started walking briskly down the dungeon stairs.

“And am I supposed to make a learning plan after term has already begun!”

He kept walking without turning back. “That IS the situation you find yourself in. Yes,” he yelled back. How many more of these incompetent teachers will Hogwarts endure before Dumbledore allows me the position? Talk about maddening ‘bosses’.

Severus hadn’t even sat in his chair for more than a few minutes before his fireplace burned with flames alit with minor Floo powder.

“Severus.” McGonagall’s voice drawled from within the flames.

Severus pinched his eyes closed. “Minerva,” he hissed.

“As much as I enjoy watching new teachers flop around from task to task, it is not me that applies for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position every summer. Perhaps showing some initiative would propel Albus to take you more seriously next year.”

He could hear the amused smile in her voice. He seethed in his chair for a minute. “Last time I ‘showed initiative’ I was given the whole bloody task. I am NOT filling my schedule with her poor attempt at education.” He thought for a moment. “Unless.”

McGonagall sighed. “What do you want, Severus.”

“I will be gone this weekend. Saturday and Sunday… And sometimes other weekends as well.”

The bright green flames flickered over the cherry firewood and a log fell, sparking tinier flames for a few seconds before the larger ones engulfed them.

“Alright.”

The fire cracked and then died down to the normal short flames that he liked. Well that solves that.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stared at the densely grown purple wildflowers that filled the smallest planter in the greenhouse. The cool blues and purples of the bonnet-shaped petals made his mouth turn up in a smile, mirroring the very same one he knew he’d receive if he showed up to his date with these in hand. He clipped diagonal cuts into the stems and wrapped them in the two ribbons he’d kept from her letters. The pure pink of the ribbons shined brightly among the mellow blues of the flowers. Perfect.

Severus carefully tucked the bouquet in his inner cloak pocket and headed out towards the gate. Not feet from the door of the greenhouse he heard Madam Pomphrey calling his name from the castle doors.

“Ah! Severus! Glad to catch you before you left.” She waited for Severus to approach her. “The first years have just about drained my supplies of Dreamless Sleep. Minerva suggested having some flown in from that new shop across from Zonkos but I refuse to give the students anything I wouldn’t just make myself.”

Then why have ME make it? Severus sighed. “Of course… I’ll have that for you Monday.”

“No sooner?”

Severus refrained from frowning. “No sooner.” He turned – noticing Pomphrey’s eyes glancing down at the purple pollen smudged on his black cloak – and headed towards the gate.

~ * ~ * ~

Hogsmeade was busier now than it was when Hogsmeade trips started for students. He guessed it was because there was only one month during the year where there were no loud and screaming children bumping into people out on the streets or taking up unnecessary room in shops. If he’d realized just how pact the day would be, he’d have suggested meeting in the room he had gotten instead of out on the street.

He sat on one of the benches near the Three Broomsticks and took out his small journal, hunching over to see his small writing. On Mondays and Wednesdays I can help plan defense lessons in the mornings, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays will have to be in the evenings, so those days will have to be plans for the following day which means this Monday or Wednesday I’ll have to help plan two lessons… Sunday I can get back early… I’ll only be able to brew a fourth of the stock… I can catch up on it next Sunday if my visits with her are just Saturdays… at least for only a week or two. He quickly scribbled down his plans.

Two hands pulled his hair up out of his eyes, and he found himself staring at a pair of shiny heels. He trailed his eyes up her legs and looked up, squinting at her smiling face already diving down for a kiss on his forehead.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Severus quickly stood and took out the flowers he’d picked just for her.

She smiled so bright her eyes glowed with delight. “Sev!” She took them and jumped onto him, clinging onto his neck.

He felt his face go red and cleared his throat, acutely aware of just a few stares pointed their way. She didn’t let go of him, however. She held on tight and all he wanted was to breath her in so desperately. To pick her up and twirl her and never let go, but there were so many people. He forced a simple hug and pulled her away. The room! It should be available already.

“What’s that little smile on your face for?” She arched a brow, hugging her flowers tight.

Severus bent down and pushed her silky hair behind her ear, gently tracing his lips on the soft ridges of her ear. “Room? Now?” Am I a barbarian? I haven’t seen her all week and all I can muster are two single-syllable words? He pulled back and watched as her teeth bit down her plump lower lip.

“Take me away, Severus,” she whispered.

His brain had turned into dense fog and all he could think to do was nod and take her hand, leading her inside. He slinked past groups of people thunderously enjoying their early morning drinks and up the stairs, gripping her hand tight, making sure not to lose out on a single second of feeling her skin on his.

He pulled out his key and slipped it in the lock, turning it until it clicked, and opened the door. The room had a single bed and closed curtains, which was really all they would need tonight. What if she was expecting something better? He couldn’t afford any of the nicer, larger rooms available.

He turned and watched her saunter in, paying no attention to the room and only to him as he closed the door with his heel. Her intense sultry eyes eyed him up and down as she bit her lip, taking him in like a cold sweet treat left out for her to have on a hot summer’s day. His face went red again, and he could remember the feel of her hands all over him, begging him to give himself to her to do with at her whim.

Did she lick her lips? He swallowed.

“My Severus,” she whispered.

Mind blank, he lunged for her lips and they both fell onto the bed. His hands roamed over the fabric of her dress, outlining her figure with a yearning need. She moaned and squirmed under him, making his temperature rise with desire. In one swift move, she had him pinned down, her knees straddling his hips. Her lips teased light bruises onto his neck and a deep moan escaped his mouth.

Before the new hour had even struck, they were already under the covers in an embrace deeper than ever before. Physically, the positions were the same, needy and wild; emotionally, his soul couldn’t get enough. Her scent, her touch, every minute sound that escaped her lips, breathy or fierce, sent a fire down his body. He’d missed her so much.

“Severus!” she moaned in his ear, holding him down with a shaky grip. Her body tensed with pleasure and finally relaxed onto him, limp with euphoria.

He shivered and closed his eyes, keeping the same steady rhythm that had undone her. His hands gripped her hips and pushed her down as his heels dug into the mattress and his own hips pressed up. She was huffing in his ear, moaning, whimpering. And with the same sudden flowing energy, he followed in her pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her as the waves washed over him and hugged her tight as their breaths caught and their rhythmic movements ceased, fully satisfied.

He smiled and chuckled, laughing louder as her giggles bubbled out as well. “The room was a good idea.”

“I see you can form sentences once again.” She laughed and pushed herself up to kiss his face.

He blushed, wishing she hadn’t noticed how utterly speechless her presence had left him in only a single week of not seeing her. “Yes – well – ” Merlin, a sentence! Finish a sentence. He cleared his throat. “Lunch? Er – Would you like to send for some lunch to have in here?”

She bit her lip, poorly hiding a wide grin, and nodded. “You can go order for me. I’ll be right back.” She took her clothes and headed into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar like she always did before a shower.

He dressed quickly, headed down to the bar and ordered two meals and a few drinks. It only took a few minutes to receive his order despite the crowd of wizards and witches sitting at tables talking with friends. He flicked his wand and the meal led the way back up the stairs and into the room.

The rest of the day was spent eating and laughing on the bed, talking about mainly her work or things she’d added to his house – or ‘the’ house as they had been ‘sneakily’ calling it. He liked it, maybe this summer it could be ‘our’ house. After several drinks and hours spent in each other’s arms, they got ready for bed.

Severus wrapped his arms around her, squeezing them between the mattress and her back, and rested his head on her chest. He closed his eyes as she played with his long hair, curled it in her fingers, and smoothed it out with her palm. Within seconds sleep seeped into every corner of his mind.

~ * ~ * ~  

Although breaking the news that he had to leave early that Sunday had soured their last hours together, Severus felt far more relaxed as the week went on. His memories of her warmth and softness were renewed and he could put more focus into his work, knowing what the ends of the weeks would more or less look like now.

Of course he had told her that the following weekend date would have to be canceled if only to ensure that the rest would remain free. He still had potions to restock in the hospital wing that took several days to brew single batches. And that lesson plan, he grumbled to himself.

The full week that followed had felt like one long trek up a mountain, only to reach the peak and see more mountain to climb. The weekend was spent slumped over one of his brewing tables with an elbow dug into the wood and his head glued to his palm. He stirred and stirred for hours, waited for the potion to turn purple, and then stirred for longer.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to replicate the feel of her fingers brushing through his greasy tendrils, and sighed, wiping his hand on his trousers. The room was quiet except for the slow pop of bubbles and he knew if she’d been in the room he’d have had to demand she leave, unable to brew under the tight squeeze of her hugs. He lifted his head off his palm and wrapped his arm around his middle, hugging himself close as his other hand stirred.

Once the tall jars were filled and stoppered, he walked them down to Madam Pomphrey’s office and headed to dinner. His eyes narrowed on a group of students suspiciously whispering to each other. Hufflepuffs. It was no coincidence dessert tonight was the Hufflepuff favorite, honey-stuffed bear biscuits. Their house door was only a corridor away from the kitchens and there was always left overs of this particular dessert for some reason. Sprout denied having anything to do with it, Of course.

He waited in his office watching the clock and smiled as the hands marked the start of After Hours. He stood and smoothed out his teaching robe, preparing for an eventful night of patrolling. He started with the other houses first, going from top floors to the bottom, and allowing the Hufflepuffs plenty of time.

He finished his dungeon rounds and headed up to the main corridor. He crossed it with a light stroll, and turned the few corners into the Hufflepuff and kitchen passageway. The kitchen door was left ajar, and a creamy warm light seeped into the shadows. Severus stalked through the dark and pushed the heavy kitchen door wider, observing the chaos in secret.

Six Hufflepuffs stuffed the cookies into sheer golden bags and tied them around their hips by the stings like valued coin. Two were reaching for the jars of deep golden syrup placed high above cabinets while the others overloaded the biscuits with slices of grilled pear chunks.

He stepped into the kitchen and held his hands behind his back, glaring at the back of their heads. He could see their shoulders tense one by one until they all stopped their movements and turned around ever so slowly.

Severus licked his lips and lowered his voice to a growl. “Detentions. Scrubbing cauldrons and boiling devilpods.” Severus flicked his wand and every last treat disappeared from their sticky hands. He marched them to their house door and slammed it hard behind them.

He was half way to his office when it suddenly dawned on him. Six detentions? Where in Merlin’s shiny bald head would he fit six hours of detention supervision in his schedule? His hands fisted at his sides and an angry growl roared out of him into the darkness.

“Shhh!” A portrait hushed from up the nearest stairs.

Potions. Severus stalked down the dungeons stairs. Lesson Plans. He threw his office door open. Detentions! He slammed the door shut and glared as a jar threatened to topple off his shelf. “When does it end!” he snarled.

It was two weeks into the first term and his patience had already run dry. If he wasn’t going to see her this weekend either, then there was no reason to hold out on punishments for misbehaving brats. There was no more scraping the bottom of the barrel for mercy for any student or coworker.

His words dripped with venom, his actions were sharp, and what little restraint he had shriveled and died. Everywhere he went the whispers followed, ‘Careful, Professor Snape is coming this way.’

~ * ~ * ~

20 September

Of course. Next weekend it is then. I miss you, Sev.

Yours Always

Severus sighed and pinched his eyes closed. The guilt in his gut had clawed its way into his veins and was now circulating his whole body, making him cold with worry. This was the second weekend he canceled on her and after expecting anger, she’d delivered a short but loving message showing how much patience she had for him.

20 September

I’m sorry. I miss you too. I’m sorry, truly.

Yours, Severus

He handed his reply to one of the school owls in the owlry and watched it fly off into the greying sky. The wind was chilly as it brushed passed his nose and hair, sending goosebumps down his arms. He stuck his hands in his pockets and squeezed his eyes shut as more guilt shivered up his core. She hadn’t yet mentioned the fact he wasn’t replying every day to her letters anymore, and that made him all the more scared. Was that her way of telling him she had expected he wouldn’t keep up with his promise?

Merlin, I’m an awful boyfriend. He forced a trembling laugh. Couples were supposed to hug and kiss and lay in each other’s arms and talk often weren’t they? He didn’t know anymore. It had seemed so easy over the summer. He’d felt so proud when she called him her boyfriend, especially when he knew he was doing everything right. Bringing her flowers, helping her with work, complimenting her every morning and night before and after work. He’d felt he earned the title.

But I don’t deserve it now. He barely talked to her, had broken all his promises, kept canceling on her, I keep disappointing her. He began walking down the spiraling stairs down the owlry, hardly taking in his surroundings, mind haunted by his past. Words floated in his head, voices that made him tense with rage. ‘Stop lookin’ Snivellus. You’ll never find a girl who’ll ever want you.’ The walk from the owlry to the dungeons was a tormented blur.

His office glowed green as the fireplace flames waved on an old burnt log, an inch high and ready to fizzle out. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and picked up one of the cherry wood cuts. He wrapped his arms around it and carried it into his room, placed it in the fireplace, and shot red sparks from his wand into it.

It caught fire instantly and soon a thick sweet scent filled the air. He wrapped his cloak around himself, still feeling the cold chill from the outside, and fell onto his mattress, pressing his face into his pillow. He welcomed the summer memories, allowing them to fill every crevice of his mind.

He missed the way she looked at him. Missed the way his heart skipped every time she did. He closed his eyes tighter and started to sob into his pillow. I miss her hugs. I miss her warmth. He couldn’t even explain to himself how much he missed just rambling to her about small unimportant things and blushing when she actually paid attention to him. It was hard to experience the fullness of their relationship over letters and two-day visits alone. And even harder now that he couldn’t even keep up with that.

He wiped his face and huffed roughly, turning onto his back. He felt exhausted and depleted and it didn’t take any effort at all to close his eyes. He gave one final sigh and – Fuck. I have essays to grade.

~ * ~ * ~

28 September

I’ll see you soon! Same room, order dinner, bring it up, and close your eyes! No peeking and no barging in! I’ve got a little surprise…

Severus smiled and put the letter in his pocket. He picked up the bronze key that she’d slipped into the envelope and ran his finger over the smooth edges. She’d picked the same room he had gotten them. Either she was as broke as he, Or that room actually meant something to her now. He leaned back in his office chair and crossed his arms, holding the key close to his heart.

There was a knock at the door and he quickly slipped the key in his pocket and sat forward. “Enter.”

McGonagall pushed the door open. She stepped in and sighed happily, looking around at his dusted shelves and turned, quickly erasing her look of satisfaction. “Well, Severus. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I must. Your requests to hold the meetings for week days next month have been denied. There are too many teachers and everyone is busy most class days.”

Severus gave her no response and stared at his hands as they began to tremble. He squeezed them into fists and pressed them to his knees.

She looked him over from across the room and frowned. “However, like always, Hogsmeade visits will be kept free… The meetings will be held on the weekends between Hogsmeade visits, and there are only two…” She stood for a few seconds, still looking at him, as if having expected some note of frustration from him, or any sort of disgruntled response. “You’ll only be missing two weekends…”

“I’ll have missed four in total by next month,” he whispered.

McGonagall crossed the room and waved her hand over the empty space in front of his desk, summoning one of her office chairs to sit in. “Might I ask what it is you’re missing out on?”

Severus leaned away and kept his eyes down, his hair falling over his face like protective curtains. McGonagall and him had never talked about anything other than lessons, Hogwarts, or the Ministry. She hardly knew anything about him and he had never asked a thing about her.

“Does it have something to do with whoever you gave those flowers to?” She smiled when he scowled at her. “Poppy might have mentioned…”

Severus looked away again, deciding to fix his energy on glaring at his burnt fire log and the bit of charred entrails he’d accidently dropped last time he prepared a potion in here.

McGonagall stood up and waved her hand over her chair. “I’ll see to it that after October, you get the weekends free, as you requested.” She looked around at his unswept floor and tisked. “Let me know if you need that spell I mentioned.” She fixed her emerald green hat and left his office.

Severus stared at the door and nodded. He had no doubt she’d keep her word. Some bad news… but mainly good? Maybe I won’t entirely ruin tonight with this.

~ * ~ * ~

The Three Broomsticks was just as crowded as before, except the wizards all looked like they’d stopped bothering to take any sort of sobering tonics. Severus ordered their dinner, sparing no expense. Cheesy onion rings, three types of dips, a lettuce salad, fruit salad, battered fish with onion gravy and mash, toad in the hole, two drinks, and garlic chips to share. It was a feast of everything she loved and anything she could be in the mood for tonight and anything they wouldn’t eat he was sure she’d be glad to take back with her.

He waved his wand and followed the trays up the stairs, hissing at rowdy wizards that almost bumped into the food as he went, and stood outside the door. He closed his eyes and knocked. He heard it open and a surprised gasp.

“Are we dining with the Queen?”

Severus’ lips pulled up into a coy grin. “I’m dining with a queen.”

She giggled and pulled him in by his cloak and shut the door behind him. She slid her arms around him from behind and pressed her chin into his shoulder, holding him close. Her breath fanned over the ridges of his ear as she spoke low and quiet. “Then you are my king.”

Severus bit his lips and opened his eyes. There were a few candles hovering around the room and red sparkling petals on the floor. He could feel himself shaking with anticipation and before he could tempt himself, he moved forward and placed the trays of food on the table by the closed curtains.

“Turn around, Sev.”

He let out a shaky breath. Whatever the surprise. I don’t deserve this. He swallowed and spun on his heel slowly, dragging his sight along the floor and stopped at her silver heels. His eyes trailed up her legs, her curves, her glowing face, and flowing hair. She wore silver lace that sparkled with her eyes and a sheer flowing green night gown with feathers at the cuffs and hem of the wide trail.

A heat started burning at his core, and his face flushed red with color. She was wearing his house colors again and an immediate rush of greed flowed through his veins. Since he was young it had been instilled in him what those colors meant. Silver and green were a Slytherin’s pride, a Slytherin’s territory, it meant it was Slytherin owned.

He trailed his gaze all over her body. “Mine,” he growled.

She bit her lip and slowly let the sheer gown drop and pool at her feet. He crossed to her and let his hands roam over her soft skin and plump curves, squeezing and gripping with need and want. She pressed herself closer, putting pressure on his hardened member and looked up at him. He met her eyes and whimpered; her eyes sparkled with a wildness that sent shivers down his spine.

“I need you,” he huffed, his voice low. He reached down and squeezed her curves, pressing her closer into him, feeling the pressure on him mount and the tense heat between them rise.

“I need you too, my wonderful boyfriend,” she whispered.

His breath caught in his throat. ‘Wonderful boyfriend.’ He looked at the deep red petals on the bed and pulled away. He squeezed his hands together, trying to stop the shaking but all it did was make it spread down his whole body.

She frowned with concern. “Severus?”

His breath came out in huffs and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot stinging tears run down his icy cheeks, cold with dread. I have to tell her now. I can’t wait ‘till after. I can’t… I can’t –

“Severus?” she repeated more urgently and pressed her palms to his jaw. She ran her thumbs over his cheeks and wiped away the river of tears. “Tell me,” she whispered.

He sniffed and sat on the edge of the bed, bending his head low enough for his hair to fall forward, shielding him from the world. “I’m not a good boyfriend,” he sobbed. “I haven’t been responding to your letters… I’ve been canceling our dates… And – I have to cancel two more. I can only see you during Hogsmeade visits next month and – ”

She sat next to him on the bed and pulled him into her, rubbing her hand up and down his back gently. “I know you’re busy, Sev. That doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Your job as a professor keeps you in the castle… and that’s ok…”

“It’s not ok…” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. “You were crying all summer and I promised you – ”

“I was just scared, Sev. I’m so sorry. I was so upset and I missed you so much already that I made you promise me something you couldn’t keep, just to make myself feel better…”

He nuzzled closer and ran his hand down her arm.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Sev. I should have asked you to send me notes and messages only when you had time… I shouldn’t have put you in a position to cancel dates we’d planned before the school year even started… You’re everything I want. I promise… Dates on Hogsmeade visits sound wonderful.”

He sobbed once more, taking in her words. He didn’t feel she had any hate or loathing, only understanding and care for him. He wasn’t used to this. I don’t deserve her. And yet here she was, giving herself to him, accepting him, caring for him, even after he’d broken his promise and disappointed her countless times. He let his nose trail up her neck and pressed his lips to her warm skin. She tilted her head in response, exposing more of her neck for him and all he could think to do was kiss her tender skin harder.

She giggled and pushed him away with a wink. She moved herself up the bed and laid back against the pillows, moving her finger to motion him over. He followed her, kicking off his shoes and kissed her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He crouched over her, cornering her, and moaned when her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands ran up and down his thighs as his own hands tore at the delicate lace she wore, unwrapping her like a gift.

He leaned down and began marking her with needy kisses, leaving red marks all over her chest and replacing the ones that disappeared with newer ones. She held him close, encouraging more as her hands played with his long hair. He let his tongue slide out and licked over sensitive areas with hunger. With every moan she gave he grew harder, finally needing to undo the buttons of his constricting trousers.

Her hands found him, and released him from his pants. He groaned and pressed himself against her while her fingers got to work on the buttons of his jacket, vest, and shirt. He slid himself between her lips only, rocking himself, groaning as their bodies began to grind with eagerness.

He tore his mouth away from hers and shrugged off his clothes quickly, sliding off his trousers and pants and threw everything out of his way, unable to keep from her any longer. He closed his eyes and moaned as he slid in slowly, enjoying himself fully. He looked down and pulled back out just as slow and made sure he was fully slicked and glistening before pushing back in all the way and cuddling into her open arms.

“I love you Sev,” she moaned.

He moved his hips slow as he held her, savoring every sensation. He was warm and secure in her arms, like he often felt when they cuddled in bed after long days. He hugged her close and closed his eyes, moaning into her neck with every push he gave. He felt close to her, confident in their shared affection for each other and he realized there was never anything to fear. He moaned and trembled in her embrace as he built up their pleasure slow and steady, knowing soon the romantic mood would dissolve into pure lust and need. He needed to show her how much he loved her with every pleasurable push he gave.

She’s getting wetter, he couldn’t help but notice. Nor could he help the sudden throb he gave at that thought. I need her. He pushed his hips harder and whimpered at her moan. Her hands tangled in his hair and pulled, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. The slow give and take of his movements turned into hard pounds sending more vivid waves of pleasure throughout his body and hers.

Severus pressed into her, holding her tighter, pounding faster, making sure every wave was immediately replaced by the next. He groaned and held her locked in place as every ripple of pleasure was followed by his name moaned in his ear. He breathed out shakily as her legs wrapped around his waist squeezed tighter and her back arched. Her nails raked across his back as he pounded harder, faster, until her breath caught and her muscles stiffened.

He throbbed as she tightened around him and pushed harder as she relaxed under his weight, letting him press his body back into her inviting curves that cushioned him so perfectly. His breathing was rugged, gasping, trying hard to hold out longer, feeling the pleasure begin to boil over. He dug his face into her neck as the final tidal wave crashed over him and the perfect rhythm he had going broke with every throb he gave deep inside her.

“You’re made for me,” he gasped, shuddering as the wave washed over every nerve in his body. He relaxed completely and her arms held him tighter as she rubbed slow circles on his back.

She pushed his chin up with her finger and kissed his nose. “We’re made for each other. Soulmates.” She whispered.

The message from fate couldn’t be any clearer as they caught their breathes and breathed each other in. They had thoroughly enjoyed not only each other’s bodies, but their hearts and souls as well in this blissful evening.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

(Part 4 of The Crystal Ball)

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@wow-life-love4​

@x-avantgarde-x​

@dandyrua​

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General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot​

@bionic-otp​

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Thank you to those who requested a fourth part and for all the lovely comments on part three and messages in my ask box (which I will answer in the coming days :D )!