HAPPY WIZARD WEDNESDAY! HERE IS MORE MILK!

It was suggested to Milk to get some wizarding gear. Milk has no money so they went to find stuff in garbage and had their first encounter!

Now Milk has all the wizarding gear!

What should Milk do now that he is fully geared for adventuring for real this time?

----- -Click tag Milk's Wizard Adventure for other Milk adventures!-

-Leave replies or comments in tags to suggest things for Milk to do next adventure!-

ISFP 2w1: Personality Breakdown

The ISFP 2w1 is a creative, compassionate, and industrious personality type. As an adventurer at heart, they are driven by a deep desire to help others, often going above and beyond to ensure everyone around them is well-cared and content.

However, despite their spiritedness, this type also hankers after tranquillity and peace, making them a soothing presence in any environment.

The ISFP, also known as the Adventurer, is a spontaneous, curious, and adaptable personality type.

They are characterized by an artistically driven nature, often going with the flow and following wherever their heart may lead. Now, introduce the 2w1, or the Host, from the Enneagram.

They are naturally altruistic, always striving to meet the needs of others and, at times, forgetting their own.

When these two types merge to form the ISFP 2w1, you get a person with a heart as big as the ocean, hands always ready to help, and an innate ability to find beauty in the mundane.

ISFP 2w1 in a Nutshell

Strengths: Empathy, Creativity, Reliability.

Weaknesses: Over-giving, Self-neglect, Indecisiveness.

Soulmate: Someone who appreciates their creative spirit, but also encourages them to make decisions with confidence.

Guidance: Remember to take time for yourself. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

What Is The ISFP 2w1 Like?

Let’s talk ISFPs. For starters, these characters are called the Artist of the MBTI world, which means they’re original, sensitive, and oh-so-caring.

These quiet observers love chillin’ in the background, watching the world go by and soaking up the details.

They have this dazzling ability to stay present and in the moment, and they’re all about living life at their own rhythm.

They also have this fascinating attachment to personal values. They’re like, “If it doesn’t align with my core beliefs, I’m out.”

Now, let’s dive into the 2w1 Enneagram, shall we? These do-gooders are basically the ‘Mother Teresa’ of personality types.

They’ve got a heart bigger than Texas, and they’re all about helping others.

They’re friendly, warm, and always trying to meet the needs of the people around them. But wait, there’s a twist!

The ‘one-wing’ bit adds a generous dollop of perfectionism to the mix.

So, while they’ll happily make you a cup of tea, they’ll also stress about the temperature being just right.

Okay, so try to imagine this – an ISFP, who’s already a soft-hearted, laid-back type, joins forces with the 2w1’s deep desire to help and be of service. What do you get?

You get a super-sensitive, super-caring individual who’s likely to be your go-to person when you’re sick, upset, or just need a good listener.

They’ll show up with a blanket, homemade soup, and a comforting ear because that’s just how they roll.

Plus, if they choose to do something, you can bet your bottom dollar it’s gonna be done perfectly.

But, it’s not all rainbows, they might also stress about the soup being seasoned perfectly. So show some appreciation, okay?

What Are the Main Traits of the ISFP 2w1 Personality?

ISFP 2w1 Strengths

Uber Creative

Detail Oriented

Super Adaptable

Mega Altruistic

Chillaxed Optimist

ISFP 2w1 Struggles

Pretty Private

Unpredictable

Commitment Wobbles

Conflict Avoiders

Overly Sensitive

ISFP 2w1s are like the love child of Picasso and Mother Teresa.

They’re the folks whipping up a storm in the kitchen and making it look like the Sistine Chapel.

But, they’re also the ones crying over spilled milk, literally! Their throbbing empathy and creative energy are a double-edged sword.

It fuels their passions but also makes them super sensitive to criticism. Ouch!

Their attention to detail is epic, but take a walk on the wild side and they might freak out. Predictability? Not their style.

This can make them exciting, but a nightmare if you’re trying to plan a trip to Disneyland.

And let’s talk about their obsession with authenticity.

They won’t participate in any fake chitchat but will appreciate you to the moon and back if you keep it real.

They’re the kind of people who, if they were superheroes, their power would be dodging conflict like Neo in The Matrix.

Being altruistic AF, they’re prone to the dreaded burnout. They’ll help anyone and everyone until they just can’t anymore.

Also, they’ve got commitment issues – not just with Netflix series, but with everything.

Still, their sunny optimism is infectious, making them the chill optimism ambassadors they are.

So, a mixed bag, but certainly never a dull moment!

What Sets ISFP 2w1s Apart From Other ISFP Types?

“Helper” with a “Reformer” Topping

ISFP 2w1, darling, is like your gooey cheese pizza with an unexpected sprinkling of health-conscious kale. So, what’s the deal?

Well, ISFPs are typically the sensitive, live-in-the-moment types, right?

But add that little 2w1 twist, and suddenly, they’re also all about helping others and seeking a better, more perfect world.

It’s like they’ve got a heart as big as Oprah’s and the perfectionist drive of Martha Stewart.

Above and Beyond Generosity

Now, all ISFPs have a giving streak. But 2w1s? They’ve practically got ‘Santa Claus’ as their middle name.

They aren’t just about lending you their last piece of gum; they’re the ones who’ll share their last bite of chocolate cake, even if they’re still craving it.

The ‘2’ part of their personality makes them the selfless, helping types – because nothing says ‘I love helping’ like giving away your chocolate.

High Standards, Not Just for WiFi

ISFPs usually go with the flow, but our 2w1 friends here have a wee bit of a perfectionist streak.

Unlike other ISFPs, they have a ‘1’ wing that keeps them focused on details most would ignore.

If they’re into photography, they’re not just capturing a sunset; they’re positioning every cloud perfectly.

It’s as if they’ve internalized that old adage— “If you’re going to do something, do it right, or don’t do it at all.”

And trust me, when it comes to getting the perfect Insta shot, they’re all over it.

What Are The Major Fears and Desires of the ISFP 2w1?

Fears

Being Unloved

Insignificance

Rejection

Apathy

Losing Control

Desires

Emotionally Engaged

Stability

Significance

Enthusiasm

Acceptance

ISFP 2w1s are like those adorable puppies in a pet store window.

You know, the ones that prance up and down, wagging their tails at every passerby? They’re yearning for that acceptance, that love.

At the same time, they fear rejection and insignificance, like the puppy not chosen from the litter.

They want to feel unique, but not at the expense of feeling alienated.

They want to be in control, but not to the point of being overwhelmed.

It’s a bit of a juggling act, really. You see, our ISFP 2w1 friends, like everyone else, are a delightful cocktail of contradictions.

They dance between wanting to be loved for who they are and fearing the consequence of being too much.

It’s like wanting to eat cake but worrying about fitting into your jeans. A universal dilemma, really.

How Do I Know If I’m An ISFP 2w1?

First, you gotta ask yourself some deep, soul-searching questions. Don’t worry, it’s not as scary as it sounds. Ready? Here we go:

“Am I helping-obsessed?”

“Feeling more than thinking?”

“Sensitive to criticism?”

“Chasing perfection?”

“Expressing through deeds?”

“Avoiding conflict?”

“Seeking validation?”

Now, hold up. Before you start diagnosing yourself and all your exes, let’s go a little deeper.

Here are some key signs and behavior patterns that can help you reel in the ISFP 2w1:

The unsolicited helper: Are you the kind of person who’s always ready to lend a helping hand, especially when it’s not exactly asked for? You might just be an ISFP 2w1.

The pursuit of lawlessness: Do you seek perfection like a squirrel seeks nuts? If your motto is “Perfect or it’s not worth it”, you’re really showing your colors here.

Love language: Service – For ISFP 2w1s, actions speak WAY louder than words. If you’re expressing your love by doing and not saying, well, that’s textbook you.

Conflict? Nope. – ISFP 2w1s would rather walk barefoot on legos than engage in conflict. If you’re the diplomatic, peacekeeper type, it’s a match.

Approval junkie – And lastly, if you’re constantly seeking others’ approval, congratulations. You get a gold star! Because, let’s face it, you were looking for one.

What’s The ISFP 2w1 Man Like?

The Nerdy Caretaker

Our ISFP 2w1 pals are basically a mix of Bob Ross and Batman: peaceful and introverted, but with a heart of gold when it comes to helping others.

They feel things deeply, insisting on doing the right thing, even when no one’s watching—thus, earning that superhero title, amirite?

Everyone’s Personal Zen Master

Alright, let’s be clear, when it’s time to chill, these boys don’t mess around.

They’re all about the here and now, choosing to live in the moment rather than stressing about the past or future.

Think of them as Tony Hawk on a Sunday afternoon: laid back, vibing, and filled with a Zen that we could all use a little bit more of.

Mr. Reluctant to Share

Bless their hearts, these ISFP 2w1s tend to bottle up their feelings.

They’d rather fight a grizzly bear than share personal thoughts or feelings.

But don’t let that fool you. It doesn’t mean they don’t care.

They’re just a little more shy with their emotions, like a baby koala clinging to its mother, except maybe not as adorable.

Or maybe equally adorable, depending on how you look at it.

What’s The ISFP 2w1 Woman Like?

Mysterious Creative Goddess

Oh honey, when it comes to crafting, picture your ISFP 2w1 gal as the Picasso of Pinterest.

She gets lost in her colorful world of D.I.Y., turning everything from junk into a work of art.

Even if it’s a broken chair, she’ll morph it into a magazine-worthy centerpiece.

Mother Teresa in Jeans

Prepare for a friend who practically radiates altruism and kindness.

ISFP 2w1 ladies are all about helping out, even if it means making life a tad harder for themselves.

You know that friend who drops everything to help you move? Yeah, that’s her. A little bit of Mother Teresa, but with a better fashion sense.

Sensitive Soul

Lastly, let’s talk about feelings. Our ISFP 2w1 woman is like a human mood ring.

She’s incredibly sensitive and tuned in to her emotions, and she’ll probably feel things before you even know they’re there!

If you’re not open with your feelings, she might just pry them out of you with a pair of emotional tweezers.

ISFP 2w1s In Relationships & Compatibility

ISFP 2w1s are full of love and tenderness, always ready to lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on.

They’re like that childhood sweetheart who always had a plaster ready when you skinned your knee.

But oh, they’re not all sweetness and sunshine – they’ve got a fiery core of passion and a stubborn streak that could give a mule a run for its money.

MBTI Matches

First up, the valiant ESTJ. These decisive leaders provide structure, something our gentle ISFP 2w1 occasionally needs.

Then there’s the INFP. Sharing the same dominant function – introverted feeling – these two understand each other on an elemental level.

And let’s not forget the ESFP. Their shared extraverted sensing can lead to some fun, spontaneous adventures together.

Enneagram Matches

As for their Enneagram buddies, Type 9s are a good match. They bring out the ISFP 2w1’s nurturing side and provide a sense of calm and peace.

Type 6s offer loyalty and dependability, which goes hand in hand with ISFP 2w1’s need for reassurance.

And lastly, fellow Type 2s, understand each other’s desire to be loved and appreciated.

Tips For Interacting With ISFP 2w1 Individuals

Like all introverts, these folks need time to recharge their social batteries.

Secondly, appreciate their help. They love being your knight in shining armor, so be sure to show your gratitude.

And lastly, never, ever take them for granted. They give their all in relationships, so make sure to reciprocate.

Remember, it’s a two-step, not a solo performance.

Best Careers For The ISFP 2w1

Key Skills

Practical Problem-Solving

Empathetic Listening

Authentic Creativity

Quick Adapting

Tactful Diplomacy

Best Jobs

Counsellor

Nurse

Landscape Artist

Veterinarian

Interior Designer

So, listen up, my ISFP 2w1 buddies. If you play your cards right, you can really rock the boat in the workplace.

With your empathetic listening skills and your practical problem-solving, you’ll be solving office spats faster than they can say “unresolved tension”.

You’re also not one to shy away from rolling up your sleeves to get stuff done – quick adaptation is your middle name, after all.

And let’s not forget your thoroughness! From crossing t’s to dotting i’s, you’ve got a knack for detail, and that won’t go unnoticed.

Sprinkle in a bit of your authentic creativity, and boom – you’ll be turning heads before you know it.

Now, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. Remember, every coin has two sides, honey.

You might face a few hurdles along the way. For instance, in a high-speed job or in roles where you need to make snap decisions, you might feel a bit like a fish out of water.

Your tendency to be all diplomatic may actually backfire in tough-love circumstances.

Also, you’re a bit of an emotional sponge, so dealing with constant negativity or conflict in the workplace could drain your battery really quickly.

But hey, remember this, your challenges are just opportunities in disguise. So, suit up and roll those sleeves!

Final Thoughts

So to sum up, our dear friend ISFP 2w1 is basically the Mother Teresa of personality types.

Their nurturing vibe and drive for perfectionism could probably end wars, people!

But seriously, understanding your personality type, like our friend here, is like getting backstage access to your own brain.

It’s like a cheat sheet for personal growth and building healthier relationships.

So, get to know yourself and remember, your brainwave playlist is on repeat, make sure it’s playing your favorite tune!

Official post by Joanne at Sacred Joanne

https://sacredjoanne.com/isfp-2w1-personality/

Richard Siken - You Are Jeff

1 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which twin you are in love with at the time. Do not choose sides yet. It is still to your advan- tage to remain impartial. Both motorbikes are shiny red and both boys have perfect teeth, dark hair, soft hands. The one in front will want to take you apart, and slowly. His deft and stubby fingers searching every shank and lock for weaknesses. You could love this boy with all your heart. The other brother only wants to stitch you back together. The sun shines down. It’s a beautiful day. Consider the hairpin turn. Do not choose sides yet.

2 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road. Let’s call them Jeff. And because the first Jeff is in front we’ll consider him the older, and therefore responsible for lending money and the occa- sional punch in the shoulder. World-wise, world-weary, and not his mother’s favorite, this Jeff will always win when it all comes down to fisticuffs. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t always all come down to fisticuffs. Jeff is thinking about his brother down the winding road be- hind him. He is thinking that if only he could cut him open and peel him back and crawl inside this second skin, then he could relive that last mile again: reborn, wild-eyed, free.

3 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which Jeff you are. It could have been so beautiful—you scout out the road ahead and I will watch your back, how it was and how it will be, memory and fantasy— but each Jeff wants to be the other one. My name is Jeff and I’m tired of looking at the back of your head. My name is Jeff and I’m tired of seeing my hand me down clothes. Look, Jeff, I’m telling you, for the last time, I mean it, etcetera. They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it.

4 Your name is Jeff and somewhere up ahead of you your brother has pulled to the side of the road and he is waiting for you with a lug wrench clutched in his greasy fist. O how he loves you, darling boy. O how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. When he throws the wrench into the air it will catch the light as it spins toward you. Look—it looks like a star. You had expected something else, anything else, but the wrench never reaches you. It hangs in the air like that, spinning in the air like that. It’s beautiful.

5 Let’s say God in his High Heaven is hungry and has decided to make himself some tuna fish sandwiches. He’s already finished making two of them, on sourdough, before he realizes that the fish is bad. What is he going to do with these sandwiches? They’re already made, but he doesn’t want to eat them.

Let’s say the Devil is played by two men. We’ll call them Jeff. Dark hair, green eyes, white teeth, pink tongues—they’re twins. The one on the left has gone bad in the middle, and the other one on the left is about to. As they wrestle, you can tell that they have forgotten about God, and they are very hungry.

6 You are playing cards with three men named Jeff. Two of the Jeffs seem somewhat familiar, but the Jeff across from you keeps staring at your hands, your mouth, and you’re certain that you’ve never seen this Jeff before. But he’s on your team, and you’re ahead, you’re winning big, and yet the other Jeffs keep smiling at you like there’s no tomorrow. They all have perfect teeth: white, square, clean, even. And, for some reason, the lighting in the room makes their teeth seem closer than they should be, as if each mouth was a place, a living room with pink carpet and the window’s open. Come back from the window, Jefferson. Take off those wet clothes and come over here, by the fire.

7 You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room. Phone’s for you, Jeff says. Hey! It’s Uncle Jeff, who isn’t really your uncle, but you can’t talk right now, one of the Jeffs has put his tongue in your mouth. Please let it be the right one.

8 Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything this ferocious or intentional with another person. Your mother is pretending that she hasn’t seen anything. Your father is fiddling with the knobs of the radio. There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello.

9 You are in an ordinary suburban bedroom with bunk beds, a bookshelf, two wooden desks and chairs. You are lying on your back, on the top bunk, very close to the textured ceiling, staring straight at it in fact, and the room is still dark except for a wedge of powdery light that spills in from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom is covered in mint green tile and someone is in there, singing very softly. Is he singing to you? For you? Black cherries in chocolate, the ring around the moon, a bee- tle underneath a glass—you cannot make out all the words, but you’re sure he knows you’re in there, and he’s singing to you, even though you don’t know who he is.

10 You see it as a room, a tabernacle, the dark hotel. You’re in the hallway again, and you open the door, and if you’re ready you’ll see it, but maybe one part of your mind decides that the other parts aren’t ready, and then you don’t remember where you’ve been, and you find yourself down the hall again, the lights gone dim as the left hand sings the right hand back to sleep. It’s a puzzle: each piece, each room, each time you put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, your ear to the wound that whispers.

You’re in the hallway again. The radio is playing your favorite song. You’re in the hallway. Open the door again. Open the door.

11 Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love even care? Snow falls as we dump the booth in the bay.

Suppose for a moment we are crowded around a pier, waiting for something to ripple the water. We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark, we want to say.

12 Consider the hairpin turn. It is waiting for you like a red door or the broken leg of a dog. The sun is shining, O how the sun shines down! Your speedometer and your handgrips and the feel of the road below you, how it knows you, the black ribbon spread out on the greens be- tween these lines that suddenly don’t reach to the horizon. It is waiting, like a broken door, like the red dog that chases its tail and eats your rose- bushes and then must be forgiven. Who do you love, Jeff? Who do you love? You were driving toward something and then, well, then you found yourself driving the other way. The dog is asleep. The road is be- hind you. O how the sun shines down.

13 This time everyone has the best intentions. You have cancer. Let’s say you have cancer. Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure with lots of action, where the mirror says mirror and the hand says hand and the front door never says Sorry Charlie. So the doctor says you need more stitches and the bruise cream isn’t working. So much for the facts. Let’s say you’re still completely in the dark but we love you anyway. We love you. We really do.

14 After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don’t remember. Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and you can’t decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you’re deciding, the afternoon light is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go.

15 Like sandpaper, the light, or a blessing, or a bruise. Blood everywhere, he said, the red light hemorrhaging from everywhere at once. The train station blue, your lips blue, hands cold and the blue wind. Or a horse, your favorite horse now raised up again out of the mud and galloping galloping always toward you. In your ruined shirt, on the last day, while the bruise won’t heal, and the stain stays put, the red light streaming in from everywhere at once. Your broken ribs, the back of your head, your hand to mouth or hand to now, right now, like you mean it, like it’s split- ting you in two. Now look at the lights, the lights.

16 You and your lover are making out in the corner booth of a seedy bar. The booths are plush and the drinks are cheap and in this dim and smoky light you can barely tell whose hands are whose. Someone raises their glass for a toast. Is that the Hand of Judgment or the Hand of Mercy? The bartender smiles, running a rag across the burnished wood of the bar. The drink in front of you has already been paid for. Drink it, the bartender says. It’s yours, you deserve it. It’s already been paid for. Somebody’s paid for it already. There’s no mistake, he says. It’s your drink, the one you asked for, just the way you like it. How can you refuse Hands of fire, hands of air, hands of water, hands of dirt. Someone’s doing all the talking but no one’s lips move. Consider the hairpin turn.

17 The motorbikes are neck and neck but where’s the checkered flag we all expected, waving in the distance, telling you you’re home again, home? He’s next to you, right next to you in fact, so close, or. . . he isn’t. Imagine a room. Yes, imagine a room: two chairs facing the window but nobody moves. Don’t move. Keep staring straight into my eyes. It feels like you’re not moving, the way when, dancing, the room will suddenly fall away. You’re dancing: you’re neck and neck or cheek to cheek, he’s there or he isn’t, the open road. Imagine a room. Imagine you’re danc- ing. Imagine the room now falling away. Don’t move.

18 Two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart. Two brothers: one of them wants to put you back together. It’s time to choose sides now. The stitches or the devouring mouth? You want an alibi? You don’t get an alibi, you get two brothers. Here are two Jeffs. Pick one. This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them. Jeff or Jeff? Who do you want to be? You just wanted to play in your own backyard, but you don’t know where your own yard is, exactly. You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet. You have not made that place yet. You are here. You are here. You’re still right here.

19 Here are your names and here is the list and here are the things you left behind: The mark on the floor from pushing your chair back, your un- derwear, one half brick of cheese, the kind I don’t like, wrapped up, and poorly, and abandoned on the second shelf next to the poppyseed dress- ing, which is also yours. Here’s the champagne on the floor, and here are your house keys, and here are the curtains that your cat peed on. And here is your cat, who keeps eating grass and vomiting in the hall- way. Here is the list with all of your names, Jeff. They’re not the same name, Jeff. They’re not the same at all.

20 There are two twins on motorbikes but they are not on motorbikes, they’re in a garden where the flowers are as big as thumbs. Imagine you are in a field of daisies. What are you doing in a field of daisies? Get up! Let’s say you’re not in the field anymore. Let’s say they’re not brothers anymore. That’s right, they’re not brothers, they’re just one guy, and he knows you, and he’s talking to you, but you’re in pain and you can- not understand him. What are you still doing in this field? Get out of the field! You should be in the hotel room! You should, at least, be try- ing to get back into the hotel room. Ah! Now the field is empty.

21 Hold onto your voice. Hold onto your breath. Don’t make a noise, don’t leave the room until I come back from the dead for you. I will come back from the dead for you. This could be a city. This could be a graveyard. This could be the basket of a big balloon. Leave the lights on. Leave a trail of letters like those little knots of bread we used to dream about. We used to dream about them. We used to do a lot of things. Put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, pick up the bread and devour it. I’m in the hallway again, I’m in the hallway. The radio’s playing my favorite song. Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.

22 Someone had a party while you were sleeping but you weren’t really sleeping, you were sick, and parts of you were burning, and you couldn’t move. Perhaps the party was in your honor. You can’t remem- ber. It seems the phone was ringing in the dream you were having but there’s no proof. A dish in the sink that might be yours, some clothes on the floor that might belong to someone else. When was the last time you found yourself looking out of this window. Hey! This is a beautiful window! This is a beautiful view! Those trees lined up like that, and the way the stars are spinning over them like that, spinning in the air like that, like wrenches.

23 Let’s say that God is the space between two men and the Devil is the space between two men. Here: I’ll be all of them-Jeff and Jeff and Jeff and Jeff are standing on the shoulder of the highway, four motorbikes knocked over, two wrenches spinning in the ordinary air. Two of these Jeffs are windows, and two of these Jeffs are doors, and all of these Jeffs are trying to tell you something. Come closer. We’ll whisper it in your ear. It’s like seeing your face in a bowl of soup, cream of potato, and the eyes shining back like spoons. If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder. One thing. Come closer. Listen . . .

24 You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terr- ible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

- You Are Jeff by Richard Siken

A Growing Market

It's about that time again.  Time to go order some groceries.  You go online and start to fill put your order as usual.  Strangely an ad pops up on screen.  You thought you had your ad blocker on but this one still got through.  "This food is so full of calories you won't need to eat for months!"  It's a weird ad but you were feeling adventurous today and click on it.  Looking around the site you can't believe this store's prices!  This can't be real, something isn't right here.  Against your better judgment you decide to give this site a try and fill out your entire order.  A few days later you hear a knock on your door.  When you open the door all the food you ordered is there, but no sign of who delivered it.  Weird, but as long as everything's here you don't care.  You bring it all in and begin to go through your bags.

After unpacking everything you figure a little snack couldn't hurt.  You open the box of doughnuts and bite into one.  You've never tasted a doughnut that good before!  As soon as it hit your taste buds you were in heaven.  You shove the rest of it into your mouth completely satisfied.  You can't just stop at that one.  You eat another, and another, another.  As your eating your body begins growing, slowly expanding as you go to the next doughnut.  You don't even notice, too focused on the next doughnut your about to shove into your mouth.  Soon the box is gone.  You can't believe you just ate them all.  It felt so good though.  As you go to throw the box out you notice your arm looks bigger.  You go find a mirror to look at yourself and can't believe it.  You're huge!  Shirt looking like your stomach will burst through any moment.  Muffin top spilling over your pants.  Jeans so tight that they might explode off your legs.  How did this happen?  What was in those doughnuts to make you gain so much so quickly.  At that moment you hear your stomach growl.  You feel a rush of feelings come over you.  You don't just want more, you need more.  You feel the need to be bigger, to be fatter, to expand and be a massive ball of lard.  Luckily you just ordered the food that can do just that.  You run back to the kitchen, grab all the snacks you can carry, bring them to bed, tuck your jeans under your gut, and sit down.

You start with a box of cookies, quickly going through them.  Stomach stretching further, the shirt holds on.  Next moving onto a box muffins.  Each one tasting better the the last.  Your belly still not breaking through.  You get an idea, you need something to wash all this down anyway.  You grab the gallon of milk and start to chug.  Your body starts growing fast, you feel your stomach so close to those buttons.  You get halfway through when your shirt gives out.  Buttons explode everywhere, your bulging gut now free.  You don't stop though.  You keep going.  Arms gaining fat hanging off of them.  Legs getting bigger too, seams in the jeans starting to tear looking like a tin of expanding dough.  Stomach now hitting you bed from how massive your getting.  You finish the gallon in one impressive go and let out a belch.  You take a second to marvel at your body, giving your stomach a nice slap.  Your growing faster then you could have expected.  Still not big enough you grab the Cheetos.  You dig into the bag grabbing them by the handful, shoving them into your face.  Each cheesy crunch better tasting great.  Still your body expands slowly, stomach pushing out, double chin growing.  Finally, your jeans can't handle anymore and burst open.  Your stomach still isn't satisfied and only one thing remains.

You grab the two liter of coke, wipe the Cheetos dust on your giant gut and get ready.  Just like the milk you begin to chug.  As you go your body begins to rapidly grow.  Belly bulging out even farther.  Thighs becoming massive chunks of meat.  Arm fat hanging lower and lower.  Rolls of fat forming all over your body.  You finish the bottle and take a second to breathe.  You feel a little bubbling, it starts to come up and you let out a huge belch.  Just then you hear a giant crack.  You feel a sudden shift and the bed falls to the floor.  You just broke your bed.  Gazing upon your massive body you aren’t surprised and even laugh to yourself.  You started the day just looking for some groceries, now you have become a massive blob of fat.  Nothing has been more satisfying.  Just then you hear your door open.  Someone walks in and finds you on your broken bed.  They say to you, “hey, need some more food?”

Great comprehensive interview with Elvira on the making of The Letter Room and filmmaking, in general. One interesting tidbit mentioned: she is currently developing a podcast about sex. 👀🤔

For most of her creative life, Elvira Lind has been behind the the lens compassionately capturing true stories as a documentary filmmaker. Her debut feature, Songs for Alexis, observes two young lovebirds navigating a long distance relationship and challenging views on gender identity in the modern age. While her sophomore feature, Bobbi Jenne, explores the life of a famous dancer fighting for her own creative and personal independence.

Despite her prolific doc work, a story that couldn't simply be told in its raw form kept circulating in her head: a dark prison comedy about the secret life of a correctional officer trying to bring humanity to the prison system. When he gets transferred to a job in the letter room, he finds himself a little too involved in the private lives of the inmates.

Far along in her second pregnancy, and with the support of an incredible team of collaborators, Elvira took on the challenge of writing and directing her first narrative short, "The Letter Room." The film stars Oscar Isaac and Alia Shawkat, and has had an all-star festival run, screening at Telluride, Tribeca, and the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Here, Elvira reflects on the joys and challenges of creating your first short film—putting empathy first, reshaping the tropes around pregnancy, and screening in the COVID era.

FTW: How did you become a filmmaker?

Elvira Lind: I’ve always loved film. I was very drawn to documentaries because it felt like you were entering something that was really happening. You opened a door and were already inside the film. You’re just trying to keep up with what’s being thrown at you. As opposed to fiction where you have to conjure it up from nowhere. I loved imagining and writing stories when I was little, but I didn’t have the confidence to pursue it.

I didn’t come from a family of filmmakers. And I came from a time when people had a little shitty camcorder that you borrowed from someone’s uncle, and buying film was expensive. Things opened up and changed a lot when cameras became more accessible.

I could only afford one year of film school in Cape Town, where I met some amazing people and learned about so many different ways of storytelling. I came back to Denmark and found myself working for free a lot for other filmmakers while doing a side job. The paid work was very hard to get, but I’d rather work for free with filmmakers that I loved and have more responsibilities than have access to nothing. It wasn’t easy to find my way in, but it’s so worth it. 

And now you live in New York. How does this global background affect your general filmmaking style and approach?

I definitely bring a lot of Danish documentary traditions with me and hold it very dear. There are a lot of kick ass female documentary filmmakers in Denmark that have taught me a lot. There’s a good support system for women there. It’s an incredibly privileged place in that there’s funding from the government to make films. You can make things that, in my opinion, are often far more interesting because it’s not reliant on how it’s going to make money in the box office.

You’ve shot many of your documentaries in the past. So what was it like this time to be working with a cinematographer?

I always wanted to work with a cinematographer on my documentaries; we just couldn’t afford it. Now for “The Letter Room”, I worked with Sam Chase, who has got such a brilliant eye and it was wonderful to have someone to work with on composing the look of the film because I’m usually doing it by myself. It is kind of like a marriage. I work with the same editor on all my projects as well. You enter this symbiotic sort of dance together. For me, it also means you have to fight about things and disagree and then make up and hear each other out. My editor, Adam Nielsen, is the kind of guy who just comes up with genius ideas while in the shower or on the way home from work on his bicycle. You have to find these key people in your life where you can bounce ideas back and forth with.

Where did the idea for “The Letter Room” come from?

It was a story that was brewing in my head for a long time, but I wasn’t sure how to put a narrative film together. I just started to write it down and then it kept developing.

There was a podcast that I listened to that really inspired me. It told the story of different men who were all unknowingly writing love letters to the same woman. She started to ask for money and help with rent, but the letters she wrote were so wonderful and all these men were very in love with her. These very lonely men felt like magic had entered their lives. They all eventually found out that the woman was actually a man writing to different people trying to get their money. They were all heartbroken, but one of the men said that the worst part was losing these letters and that the fantasy was gone. He wished they could just keep writing to each other. So much of life is fantasy and trying to live through other people’s lives. I’m very drawn to stories of loneliness and bottled up feelings.

And then I am firmly against the American prison system. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating, and I can’t make sense of it. How do you even begin to explain this system to a child?

It’s a society that doesn’t care about humanity. I wanted to show the monotony, the repetition, the sadness. I don’t see the bigger goal or purpose of locking people away for countless years  and taking away all the things that makes you feel human, that makes life joyous. I really believe that we can all change and this system teaches people nothing. “The Letter Room'' is the combination of these two concepts that I’m very passionate about.

And then I got pregnant for the second time and I hadn’t made a film between the two. It was a crazy feeling to be taken over again by pregnancy. A wonderful friend of mine, Sofia Sondervan-Bild, came to me and said, “I think you should make this film and I’ll make it with you.” Initially, I freaked out and thought I didn’t know how to do fiction and doubted how I could make a film in a prison, but she inspired me and told me to do it. She’s just one of these incredibly powerful people that you want to go on an adventure with. She made me feel like my pregnancy wasn’t going to stand in the way of me making this film. We ended up shooting while I was far along in my pregnancy in a prison in the middle of a summer heat wave. It was crazy, but it was the best thing that I could’ve done at the time.

When you were directing on set at that stage of pregnancy, did you feel like you were reshaping tropes of what women are capable of? 

It was insane. The funny thing was that the crew was like, “we can’t complain that we are tired because she is extremely pregnant and still running around.” I was so high off of that experience. When we finished, I collapsed. I fell straight onto the couch and then I have a two and a half year old screaming my name. That was more work for me than directing the short. I edited the film right before I gave birth actually, and then I gave birth and did sound right after. I was pumping breast milk in the corner in the darkness during the sound edit.

I’ve learned a lot from surpassing whatever I thought was physically possible with being pregnant. I learned that being in a creative process gives you so much energy that it allows you to be in whatever shape, size, form, mental space you can. People are ready to give you their support, if you choose the right people. I’m really grateful that I chose such wonderful collaborators who supported me through it all. Even when people were questioning my choice to direct a film while being pregnant in a prison. Why not? Women get pregnant and then we still need to be supported so that we can continue to make the things we want to do.

What was your experience with getting “The Letter Room” funded?

It’s really hard, let’s be honest. There aren’t a lot of people sitting around waiting to fund a short film. We ended up working with Topic, which is a part of First Look Media. They are just incredible and really support filmmakers with whatever their vision is. I’ve had great experiences and some really bad experiences with funding, so I know this was an ideal scenario.

Having a short that is over 30 minutes long seems like a feat. At what stage in the process did you know this was going to be a longer piece? And how did that decision affect the shoot in both positive and difficult ways?

It was way too long at first, and when I shortened it, it was still 32 minutes. We could only afford five days of shooting, and a lot of it is shot on active prison grounds, which have an insane amount of protocol. We almost used everything we shot.

I’m not used to being able to have different angles to choose from in my doc work, so I think I just knew exactly what I wanted. I know that my producers were worried that I wasn’t getting enough, but to me, I was like, I’m getting double of what I usually get on a documentary! Everyone was quietly concerned, but everything worked out when we got to the edit.

The short’s length hasn’t done any favors for me so far, but you need to breathe as an audience, you need to pace it out. If I cut out certain minutes, it would’ve felt rushed and you wouldn’t have believed the arcs that the characters had.

I loved the concept of placing a very empathetic character in a setting that is contrary to that personality type. You included so many details that made the world feel so three dimensional and cared for. Can you talk about those decisions to create that feeling?

It means so much to me that it made you feel that way. What frustrates me about the prison system is that it lacks any empathy or understanding of human nature and nurture and who we are. What we need to become better people. It takes all of that away.

I spoke to people who have spent a lot of time in prison and they told me that you have to hide your feelings and that showing any signs of weakness will be a disaster. It’s the worst possible scenario you can imagine yourself in. Being robbed of every privacy, anything that makes you happy, anything that makes you feel like yourself. I imagined the character of a caregiver in this setting who wants to help and finds a silly way to do so. I was very inspired by that story of the love letters that I talked about earlier. What does it mean to lie if you’re making someone else happy?

It’s the morning of your first day of the shoot — how do you feel?

I was very nervous. I had never said ‘action’ before. I’ve been on a lot of sets, but I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing, but it’s also okay not to know. Mistakes are going to happen, and sometimes they become gifts. At the same time, I was very excited. You come in and there are all these people there with you who are there to make this thing you’ve written come to life.

What are some things you would do on set to create a safe space and vulnerable environment?

We did everything we could to make the set a safe space. It was very difficult and stressful to shoot in an active prison, but we made sure to actively ask our crew if everyone’s feeling okay and if we can do anything to make the situation better. I’m very vulnerable and encourage all of my crew to be vulnerable with me. Mistakes are welcome.

It's a short film, people come and work on this not because they’re making a million dollars, but because they want to be there and are being incredibly generous with their time and energy. It was such a good environment that even when challenging things came up, it was still a lot of fun.

What was it like working with actors for the first time?

That was one of the biggest challenges for me. I’ve heard so many different stories in passing of the least helpful note or worst thing to say to an actor. You want to be respectful and actors have their way of working. Ultimately, they are all really talented actors and all of them came with so much energy and a lot of ideas.

I spent time with each of them talking about their character. Those 1 on 1 conversations helped me a lot in the writing process as well because you’re bouncing ideas off of each other and they’re asking you questions about how they would respond to a certain situation.

I had always imagined Alia Shawkat as Rosita and she ended up wanting to do it and came from LA to film it. I had tears in my eyes when we were filming the scene of her and Oscar. They were excited to do the scene together. It was all a dream.

What was the experience of working creatively alongside your partner like?

We were joking a lot about it before because there was already the stress of being so pregnant and we have a 2 year old at home, and now I was putting us in another highly intense and demanding situation. Either it was going to be great OR we would drive each other nuts. But we had so much fun. It was wonderful to work together. I was so happy to be on set and make my film and he’s just so talented and fun to be around. Those little moments where you know each other so well—I’d give him notes and he just kept surprising me and was so respectful of my directions.

He found this photo for him to connect to the character and it became very fundamental to me. It was this incredible black and white photo from the 70s of a prison guard. I had always imagined that he would have this inner salsa soundtrack playing in his soul and we would play Rubén Blades and 70s salsa music and Oscar just morphed that into music into everything and created this unique character. 

And he was wearing a fat suit the entire shoot and I was pregnant and Alia Shawkat had her pregnant belly on. The three of us—it was so funny.

It seems like the perfect first experience of going into narrative with people that you really trust and support you.

Definitely! Find the people that you can team up with that really believe in your vision and who will push you to do exactly what you had in mind. People who never try to push you into these conventional routes. Our creative voices are so fragile. You want to be on the same page so that they see what you’re trying to do and want to bring that out of you. Where they’re treating your film as a sacred thing that you’re creating together.

How do you know when a film is done?

Fiction is very different from documentaries. With documentaries, it never feels like it’s done because there are so many options. That’s also why I love fiction so much; It’s so much faster. It’s a whole different beast to tame a documentary with hundreds of hours of footage where you’re reinventing the wheel every day.

How have you built up your own confidence as a director and your unique voice?

Stubbornness. I’ve had many experiences working with people who didn’t believe in my project. You have to stick to your guns and trust your instincts. Once you find your voice, you find people that want to go on that ride with you and find your vision interesting. It’s a miracle when any of us gets a project made, so your confidence can’t come from how much money your movie made. It has to come from somewhere else. Did you do justice to the people you portrayed in your story? Did anyone walk away feeling like something had changed within them?

What is a good director to you?

Someone who is driven with passion without letting that passion take over and become any source of frustration that’s taken out on other people. It should feel like a collaborative effort. And having gratitude every day that you’re making something with other people who are donating their time. You’d be nowhere without them. One of the most important things is making sure that your crew is treating everyone equally. It depends on the size of the production, but having someone who can sense what’s happening in all different departments and having department heads that are there to protect everyone. Listen to each other, and make sure everyone feels safe and is in the best place to be creative.

With COVID, what has the adjustment been like to being in an online space for this festival run? 

I’m really deeply saddened by not having the human interaction aspect of it. It feels so crucial to be in the room together, to meet and see each other's projects and share the experience, to cry and laugh next to people you don’t know. I’m grieving to be honest. We just gotta get through this time. It reminds us of how sacred it is for us to gather and how that feels, and I hope that all of that will come back after this and that cinemas will survive. We really need them.

What’s next for you?

Right now I’m writing more fiction and working on a new documentary feature that I am kind of researching and shooting at the same time. I am also creating a podcast about sex, called “The List” with my friend, writer and photographer Kirra Cheers, based on a book and play she wrote. My husband and I just started a production company together, Mad Gene Media, in order to develop and produce our own material. So. lots of exciting things to continue with in the new year.

Born in 1981 in Copenhagen, Elvira Lind graduated from School of Media and Creative Arts in Cape Town in 2006 majoring in documentary film where she received two awards for her final year achievements. She has worked within that field since directing and shooting documentaries of various lengths for TV, cinema and web on 4 different continents.​In 2020 she premiered her first fiction project, a 32 min short film she wrote and directed. The film was sold to Topic and was invited to various festivals including Telluride and Tribeca FF. Elvira's feature doc BOBBI JENE premiered at Tribeca Film Festival in 2017 where it won all awards in its category including Best Feature documentary, best editing and best Cinematography. The film had theatrical release in US, Spain and Scandinavia.​Elvira's first documentary feature Songs for Alexis premiered at Toronto HOT DOCS in 2014 and screened and competed at a long list of international festivals. Her 8 part documentary TV series "Twiz and Tuck" was bought by VICELAND and launched in 2017. Elvira now lives and works out of New York.

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45 for the prompt list? (+kaysanova)

okay I AM SORRY this took ages, but i also hope to have made it up to you by showering you with feels.

send me kaysanova prompts from this list!

45 - Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

***

Joe opens the door of the bedroom by pushing it with his shoulder, his hands occupied with carrying a small tray with two mugs full of tea. He can hear a slight movement from the bed, which he recognises as Nicky’s skin brushing against the bedsheets – and he smiles almost instinctively.

Every once in a while, he was the early riser of the two and he got to relish in the nice and warm feeling making tea for his husband caused in his chest. It was a routine they’d perfected for centuries: Joe knew the exact amount of milk Nicky liked in his tea, the exact amount of sugar, the exact temperature of the hot water. Andy used to make fun of them, tell them that a degree hotter or colder wouldn’t have spoiled the tea, but Joe had always insisted in keeping the tradition. Nothing made him feel better than Nicky’s quick smile after the first sip.

Joe puts the tray down on the bedside table next to Nicky’s head and sits on the edge of the mattress, looking at the bundle of bedsheets and pillows that is supposed to be his husband. Malta had quite warm mornings during summer, and yet Nicky still managed to turn into the cutest burrito ever, especially on mornings when life wasn’t running after them and they could just rest.

“Tesoro.” Joe whispers, brushing his fingers against the cloth, where he thinks Nicky’s arm might be. The answer is a little whiny moan and Joe’s smile gets a little bit bigger, a little bit softer.

“Your tea’s going to get cold.”

Andy would’ve had something to say, had she still been around. She would’ve not-so-politely asked them to get up and get ready. That their next mission wasn’t going to wait for any cuddles or late risers. That they had to be on the move, that they had to hurry.

Joe finds himself thinking back sometimes, back at the times when all they did was run around, travel the world, jump from house to house, from mission to mission. It was quite ironic: it almost felt like they didn’t actually have all the time they needed, like they weren’t immortal. This endless moving, this marathon from which he and Nicky had to distance themselves sometimes just so they could have a few days of peace, really didn’t look like something an immortal would do.

Now, however…

Now small rays of sunshine peek through the half-closed window and draw shapes on Nicky’s face, they dance around his nose, entangle themselves in between his hair and the light that reflects from it is the most beautiful shade of grey Joe has ever seen in his life.

“Babe, come on.” Joe encourages him again and Nicky finally shifts, sitting up on the mattress. He rubs his eyes with his hands and Joe is still looking at him, smiling, one hand on the mattress on the other side of Nicky’s legs, propping him up.

“No one told me that bones could hurt this much.” Nicky mumbles and Joe’s smile is now showing teeth, the little lines around his mouth and his eyes get deeper and it looks like Nicky is taking a moment to just look at his husband’s face.

“This suits you more than it suits me, by the way.” Nicky whispers again and Joe sits up, moving the hand he was using to prop himself up to grab one of Nicky’s, wrapping his fingers around it in a way so gentle that almost looks like he’s scared of breaking him.

And maybe he is. Maybe, now, he is.

Joe looks at Nicky’s hand in his. His thumb moves slowly and he rubs it against Nicky’s skin, which moves, thinner and weaker, under his touch. His finger caresses the little darker marks on the back of his husband’s hand and Joe looks at them, observes them, as if he was in a museum, looking at a masterpiece.

And he was.

“It really doesn’t. You’re beautiful as ever.” Joe answers after a while, the thumb still moving and feeling the veins and the bones that are now more visible. Nicky could’ve protested, but Joe would’ve put his foot down: Nicky’s oceanic eyes were an absolute miracle already, and the small wrinkles around them had made them even more divine. His own white, messy curls were impossible to compare.

Old age suited Nicky just as youth had.

Joe had spent literal millennia memorising every single aspect of his husband and now that the details were constantly changing it almost felt like a brand new life, a brand new adventure they could go through together.

haikyuu!! headcanons

⇢ scenario: how you’d spend the holidays with them!! | read pt.2 here! ⇢ feat. : suga, hinata, & kageyama (karasuno) x gn!reader ⇢  wc & warnings: 1.7k, none ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ this is me trying to psych myself up for the holidays aha... thinkin of doing more if i get the inspo and make it in time ><

sugawara koushi ୨୧ ˻˳˯ₑ*॰¨̮ the holiday spirit with him is unsurprisingly soft and domestic!! he’s the kind of guy that loves to uphold traditional celebrations like the holidays, your birthdays, new years— things like that because it’s important for him to create memories that you can look back on many years later. you bet the holiday decorations will be up mid-november, so once you see him struggling to hang multi-colored lights along the exterior of your house, you have no choice but to laugh at him at first but eventually help him out!! his cheerfulness and child-like excitement nearing the holidays becomes contagious so the two of you start matching everything: penguin sweaters, (ugly but comfortable) red/green pajamas, mugs that have those cringey couple labels on them— basically, you name it, you and suga have two versions of it to wear/use!! suga would be in an extra-baking mood, too!!

if there’s a holiday party (probably at the school he’s teaching at) that you would be attending with him, suga will volunteer to be in charge of baked goodies! sugar cookies, brownies, donuts with cinnamon sugar, maybe even a raspberry choco cake roll?? the possibilities are endless with your pastry chef of a man, and ofc you make it your duty to help him out in the kitchen!! baking til 2 or 3am, sometimes just goofing off with the flour, cookie dough on the tips of your noses, and suga stealing a kiss (or a lick) here and there. all the while your favorite holiday playlist hums in the background of your colorfully lit home, pictures of the two of you hanging around a tree, santa hats bouncing up and down atop your heads the way you dance everywhere, his arms snug around your waist. while you wait for the last batch of cookies in the oven, suga has already prepared his original hot cocoa for the two of you, making sure he adds extra mini marshmallows in your elf mug tonight— you sit by the couch overlooking the decorated frenzy of your surroundings. and you know you made the right choice spending it with him. :) when the actual party happens, o god the kids love you!! calls you his partner for lifey!! sth cute like that and u don’t know if suga taught them that or they just made it up lol either way, you’re so very excited to see how the love of ur life interacts with his students as, you guessed it, he’s so so good with them!! they run up to him, bouncing up and down just to get a bite of his baked goodies and while he’s handing them out, he also gives them a handwritten card. for each n every one of them!! when did he do that?? you question to yourself, but when he seesn you giving him an incredulous look, he just sheepishly smiles and says, “when you fell asleep on the couch last night, i wrote them last minute.” o,, that’s why when you woke up, u don’t even remember lying down in the bed but you surmise suga had carried you all the way there too :’) 

they sing a lot of holiday songs, play those party games like trip to jerusalem or once the music stops, you have to stop dancing or you’re out type of game and just overall lots of fun filled moments and you feel thankful for witnessing such a pure, innocent sight right around the holidays!! ofc once it’s all done and he bids them goodbye with a hug, a hi five or a pat on the head, suga doesn’t forget about you and puts up a mini mistletoe by the door when everyone had left. he has that teasing smirk on his face and you’d do more than just kiss him bec of it but uh, you’re still in the classroom so you give in with a chaste yet sweet kiss on his lips. he returns it a little deeper, but you push his chest off playfully, and boop! him on the nose. “later, sir,” you reprimand lightly, yet cheeks blushing at your interaction with him in his workplace. he shows that toothy grin, and intertwines ur fingers together as u walk to your car and finally spend more time together again <333 his most favorite part of this season!!

hinata shouyo ୨୧ ˻˳˯ₑ*॰¨̮ be prepared for a very hyper and energetic holiday week with this guy!! imagine you two are still in college, he has a break from playing professional volleyball to spend these times with his family. and he chooses to spend most of those days with you!! he is actually very excited to bring you home to meet his mom and (not-so) little sister, and it’s very nerve-wracking knowing that it’s an important holiday for them to be together as a family— and then you’re just gonna crash it like that??? BUT sho doesn’t see it that way! he already sees you as a person he’ll definitely experience even more holidays the next year, and the one after that, but in order to ease up the anxiety that has been building up in your system, he tells you of his extravagant plans for the two of you before going back to his parents’ house!! think amusement parks in the winter, ice skating in frozen lakes, walking on boardwalks with two styrofoam cups of hot choco for him, and a peppermint mocha for you!!

o, and if there’s some downtime with your adventure, he’ll drag you outside where the snow is ankle deep, tells you to take a picture of him in the cold, earmuffs hugging the sides of his temple so warmly that you find so adorable. you’re about to pull your phone out until you feel cold, wet, melting ice smacked onto your cheek!! “SHO, WHAT THE HECK—” you don’t even have time to protest because WHACK, one more snowball, but he missed and it got to your jacket this time. luckily, your phone was still okay but your boyfriend definitely won’t be once you find him as he had started running, your voice calling out to his name in the breezy wind. so that whole afternoon, you were seen having a ridiculous snowball fight around campus (you guys stayed in the dorms until you were ready to leave), laughing when you threw one directly at his open, cackling mouth. shouyo started choking on the snowball, but you were still wiping tears from your eyes at the hilarity of the situation. “STOTPF IM LITERALYLYL DYUINGGG” “don’t be ridiculous” “JDFSKFDJH” and that’s when you actually run towards him, patting his back rather forcefully because oh god what if you did make him choke and his family won’t have a son coming home this time around?!

while you worry in your head, shouyo had already tackled you to the ground, snow engulfing your bodies together. “let’s take a picture here, this is the perfect spot!” he’d chuckle, peppering you with winter kisses, sending shivers down your arms not just because they were cold but also wow, you’re so lucky to be with a guy like him during this season. suddenly, you anticipate meeting his family :)

kageyama tobio

୨୧ ˻˳˯ₑ*॰¨̮ you know what you’re very excited for that kags isn’t? his birthday falls on the week of christmas, and any other normal person would just think, “ah, i can just combine his gifts into one!” but for you that’s a big no-no. and kageyama knows it, and he’s flustered and shy because everyone in his life up until the point he’s met you had always just given him a 1 for 2 type of gift. not that he minded, that’s all he’s ever known in his life so when you promised him a big birthday bash and a special holiday gift, he’s scared for what’s to come,,, although, you know he’s not big on surprises or bigger gatherings, but you wanted to see his reaction as to how you planned it all out! in reality, you just wanted to spend precious time with your bf on his bday and an early christmas before he leaves to go visit his family :(

after tiring hours of vball practice and finals (he’s gotten better at studying, don’t underestimate this guy!) he sleeps in on the day of his birthday, not even realizing the night prior he’s turning a year older that day!! you creep up to his dorm with the spare key he has given you, place the milk and berries cake you ordered yesterday on his desk, and surreptitiously clasp the paper birthday hat on his sleeping head. the guy doesn’t even stir!! stifling your laughter, you pull out your phone and snap a picture of him and you together, your lips puckering to kiss his cheek and— you forgot to turn your phone into silent mode! apparently the click was loud enough for his eyes to flutter open, and when he realizes you’re next to him he feels a sense of relief, but at the same time the rubber around his face became bothersome… only when you start singing happy birthday did it dawn on him… and he can’t get mad, it’s you, how can he??

you eat a piece of the milk n berries creme cake on his bed, talking about the day you’re gonna spend with him.. and you ask what he wants to do bec it’s his special day!! this gets him blushing since he thought you had this elaborate party with lots of people come, and now he feels guilty and grateful as to how thoughtful you’re being for him… he asks if he can sneak in a practice session for vball for at least an hour and you agree, guessing that would’ve come up sooner or later. anyway, aside from that his birthday was spent strolling around the town center near campus, snow underneath your boots and snowflakes showering your hair,,, he places his beanie on yours so it doesn’t get messed up and you thank him with a nose kiss… rudolph, is that you??

you take him to shops so you can buy matching sweaters <3 and he OBLIGES, seeing the gleeful expression in your eyes and smile, how can he resist the beauty radiating off you today? this is the best birthday gift he can ask for. you end the day by grabbing some milk tea, spending the rest of the night getting cozy under blankets, and watching cheesy romcoms to which kags just shields his eyes away… the embarrassment!! >< you end up sleeping in his arms, the ending credits with christmas music playing in the background. the next day, you both wear your holiday outfits (he has polar bear and yours is a panda!!) and take lots of pictures bec you know you’ll miss him when he goes back home :(( he immediately makes one of the selfies u took as his lockscreen: the two of you squish yourselves in between the snowman you both created. your face is lit up with utmost happiness, and kags is just looking at you with a loving grin to his smile as well. :)

A bump in the road.

Smut ahead.

“Can you pass me the remote please?” you ask through a mouthful of biscuit.

“Excuse me?” Gwil laughs, “what was that? All I heard were crumbs being moved around in your mouth.”

“Can you pass...” you pause to chew and swallow before continuing, “...pass me the remote please?”

“Of course darling, and would you like me to get you anything else?”

“A banana please.”

“A banana? With chocolate bourbon creams?” he clarifies, his nose scrunching up at the thought of the combination.

You run your fingers lightly over your large bump, “yes but if you haven’t already noticed I am very pregnant and my taste buds have gone haywire.”

He smiles proudly as he looks at your stomach, “I had noticed actually,” he nods before getting up from his arm chair and crossing the room to press a kiss to your belly, “banana it is then!”

Gwilym strolls out of the room after placing the remote on your chest and you scroll through the television guide as your free hand strokes idly over your bump until his return with the already peeled banana in hand. He raises his eyebrows suggestively a couple of times as he kneels on the floor beside you, then he lifts the curved fruit to your lips in an unmistakably flirtatious manner and you gladly part them for him. These days this was all it took for you to get in the mood; your hormones now fluctuating beyond your control but always on standby when it came to anything that could be remotely linked to sex. It was almost laughable how the slightest thing could turn you on, but you certainly didn’t hear any complaints from your other half about it, and you’d been more adventurous during the last few months than you’d ever been when you were both younger.

“Do the Boots advert voice,” you whisper after swallowing your first bite.

He chuckles lightly before clearing his throat and speaking as softly and seductively as he possibly can, “he lifts the banana to her lips, her mouth opening wide to take the thick girth of the fruit in his hand, then her teeth sink slowly into it, causing his dick to twitch.”

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, “I forgot how good you were at that.”

“Upstairs?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod fervently, swinging your legs off the couch and pushing yourself up awkwardly into a standing position while he chucks the banana on the coffee table and practically runs up the stairs leaving you trailing behind with a hand on your lower back as you waddle out into the hallway.

“Sorry,” he calls from the tops of the stairs, “do you need me to help?”

“I’m fine,” you laugh, “get naked but don’t you dare start without me.”

“I know better than to go against anything a heavily pregnant lady tells me to do, don’t worry!”

He disappears into the bedroom while you make your way slowly up each step with a huff and a puff, then you pause when you finally get onto the landing and stretch your back out awkwardly by leaning backwards a couple of times. Your bump was getting heavier by the day it seemed, the round shape also getting bigger along with it; you’d never been small in any sense of the word and your bump had taken full advantage of your already chubby stomach, but you hadn’t let it get in the way of your overactive sex drive until recently when positions had got a little harder to get in to.

“Now that is a sight I never get tired of seeing,” you sigh as you enter the bedroom to see Gwil bending over by the armchair to set his recently discarded clothes down neatly, “look at the arse on that.”

“Oi!” he laughs as he turns to face you, “I’m not a piece of meat you know!”

“I know you aren’t darling, and I love and respect you so very much, but right now we’ve gotta have sex before I need another wee, ‘cause this baby is pressing on my bladder like it’s their personal pillow,” you wince.

“How are we doing this today then? You on top?”

“I’m not sure the bouncing will do me much good…” you say as you struggle to kick off your leggings, “…I’ll lay down and you ram me like the animal you are.”

“That’s an offer I cannot resist,” he replies, rubbing his hands together as you shuffle yourself onto the bed and up to the pillows.

“I do love you,” you add as he kneels on the end of the bed, “you know that right? I’m just so fucking horny all the fucking time right now and you do nothing to help me calm down looking like that.”

He laughs at your slight ramble as you sit there with your legs wide open before him, then he strokes your knees gently and looks into your eyes lovingly, “I know and I love you too, but I understand that right now you’re a very horny pregnant lady, and I am very willing to help you satisfy your needs. There will be plenty of time for cuddling when this little one is here.”

“Don’t, because now you’re going to make me cry and I don’t want to cry during sex!” you say, fanning your eyes with your hands.

“Shit, okay...” he clears his throat once more and puts on the sensual voice again, “I could rub some of that silky soft body lotion anywhere you want me to after I make love to you.”

Your eyes widen, the tears now suddenly forgotten at the sound of his husky voice, and all you manage to whimper is, “please enter me.”

He grins at your hushed request and moves forward on the bed, his hands now sliding up your thighs until he comes to a stop at your belly and awkwardly leans over it to kiss you before guiding himself inside you once he’s returned to his position behind the bump. You both try your best to get into the feel of it but Gwilym can’t quite reach your chest without squishing your stomach, and as the baby moves up towards your chest you get out of breath far too quickly.

“Stop stop stop,” you pant as your head falls back onto the headboard, “this isn’t working.”

“It’s really not is it?” he sighs, pulling out reluctantly, “how about from behind? You on all fours?”

You nod as you take a deep breath and prepare to move, Gwil holding his hands out for you to help sit you up, then you turn around and place your palms on the duvet before bursting out into laughter.

“I feel like a cow that needs to be milked!” you grimace, your enlarged breasts hanging down heavily.

Gwilym begins to laugh from behind you and he puts his hand on his forehead as he shakes his head from side to side, “I can assure you you look absolutely beautiful from this angle, but I don’t want you feeling like a farm animal. How about you lay down on your side? Can’t beat a bit of spooning, huh?”

“Perfect,” you sigh happily, collapsing down onto the bed and getting comfortable on your side with your knees curled up as far as they could go.

Gwil settles in behind you, his arms wrapping affectionately around your body with one hand caressing your bump fondly while his tip sits ready at your entrance. The mood in the room had suddenly changed from one of a quick romp to get you off to a calm and loving atmosphere; now being held so tenderly by the one you love while he slowly pushes inside you to give you the pleasure you crave from him. You hold onto his hands during the entire time you make love; his body fitting against yours as if you were made for one another. Whimpers and moans are the only sounds that fill the room apart from bodily noises and the two of you are left in a panting, sweaty mess by the end of it all with his nose moving through your hair to kiss your head sweetly as his arms tighten their grip on your figure.

“I really would love to stay like this all day, but I’m gonna piss myself if I don’t go to the loo now,” you chuckle as you wriggle from his grasp hesitantly.

“Go!” he laughs, “but come back soon to these waiting arms, won’t you?”

“Just try stopping me,” you wink.

Could I make a request for Gwilym please. Thought you might like a funny one with Gwilym and his wife in bed and the awkwardness of trying to continue a physical relationship with a baby bump.

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @the-baby-bookworm @chlobo6 @drivenbybri

As Dreamers Do

The Doctor and Rose, a couple of months after they are back to the stars, take a trip for baby food with their 8 month old daughter to a new planet, where they unexpectedly meet a man who thinks the TARDIS is the key to unlocking the one dream he's always wanted, but has never had.

First Story in my series Forever With You: Part 3 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 

(Chapter 1 posted below)

He told her once not to make this place domestic.

To be fair, it had less to do with her and more to do with her mother, whom, at the time, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of and whom, he had to remember, came on board without permission. He rolled his eyes at that thought now, because he should have known Jackie Tyler wasn’t the ‘ask for permission’ type, but he’d been rather grumpy back then and mothers were a bit of a touchy subject. He also knew he hadn’t meant it, not really, but still, he’d said it, and he was thinking about it as he glanced around the galley.

A messy finger painting was hanging on the refrigerator. A gift from his daughter, crafted when Rose let her do some art the other day, and he’d been so excited about it he hung it up before it was completely dry. There were stuffed animals thrown about the hallway that led to the console room, his wife’s breast pump was sitting on the counter next to a photograph of all three of them he’d framed, and there was an empty carton of milk sitting in the bin, designed to serve a visual reminder that they needed to pick up some more.

The TARDIS was a domestic playground at this point, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had never been happier, and he thought about all the baby books in the nursery, the closet that was half his clothes and half Rose’s, the ensuite that had two toothbrushes in a gold holder, and the library that always had two coasters on the coffee table for both of their cuppas at night.

They’d built a life together, circling the vortex and traveling in between, and somehow, someway, the one adventure he never thought he’d have was exactly the one he was living.

What a privilege it was.

“Here,” Rose said, giving him a look when he just smiled like an idiot at her, and he took a jar of baby food from her hand, followed by a small spoon. She had one, too, and they both looked down at Alice, whose smile was reminding him so much of her mother it was making it hard to breathe, and he bent down to kiss her cheek.

They put all the stars to shame, the two of them, they really did.

She giggled when he kissed her a second time, and Rose laughed too, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back. “If we don’t start soon she’s gonna cry.”

“One more,” he urged, kissing her other cheek with a pop, and Alice giggled so hard the sound imprinted on his hearts, he was sure of it. Rose bit her lip and held up her spoon, and like a sword pulled from its sheath he did the same, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Please, this is child’s play,” she said, and the corners of his mouth twitched as they twisted the lids off of their jars, and each took a small spoonful. “Alright, Alice. You pick. Which one do you want? Daddy’s stupid bananas? Or Mummy’s yummy pears?”

“No, no, no, don’t do that, don’t use adjectives to try and persuade her opinion,” he scoffed. “Use science. Bananas, Alice, are much higher in potassium which you need. They also have about 44% more iron, 3 times the amount of magnesium, are higher in protein and will give you more energy and are the all around smarter choice.”

“But Daddy loooooves pears,” Rose said, and he lowered his spoon and turned to stare at her. “Eats them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Why would you say that?” he asked, and she smiled, her tongue playing with the corner of her mouth as they looked back at Alice.

“Goo-ba-da,” she said, smiling at them, and he sniffed.

“Go ahead, darling. Which one?” he asked her, and they held their spoons up to her face, waiting in anticipation as she looked between them, and she reached for the bananas. “YES! ALICE! BRILLIANT!”

Rose groaned and handed him 10 quid, and he did a happy bounce as he set the jar to the side and kissed his daughter’s head, only to pick it back up and hold the spoon out to her. Rose couldn’t even pretend to be upset, not when her child was about to eat some semblance of actual food for the first time in her life, and she found herself quickly mesmerized by the look on her face as the Doctor got her to open her mouth and slurp up the mashed bananas. Half of it fell onto her bib, then onto the high chair, and he tried again, and again, until she finally swallowed a bite and clapped.

She giggled.

“Oh my God, she likes it,” Rose said, biting her lip, and suddenly her eyes were watering. The Doctor, too proud of his daughter to notice anything else at the moment, merely smiled and got her to eat another bite.

“Of course she does, it’s a banana. It’s impossible to not like them. And now! Rose Tyler! HA! Now, we should always take a banana with us to -”

“Don’t start,” she teased, nudging his side a little, and he just laughed, until he noticed she was trying not to cry. His smile fell and the jar of baby food was forgotten about as he stood and cupped her cheeks, using his thumb to wipe away her tears.

“Oh, Rose…” he said, pulling her into a hug.

“When did she get so big?” she said against his chest, and he smiled. “She was in my belly, the size of a banana yesterday. Do you remember that?”

“Course I do,” he whispered, and the softness of his voice made her tears spill over. “Rose, it’s okay.”

“S-s-she won’t want my milk soon, will she? She’s going to be so grown and- and- and what am I supposed to do with all of it?” she sobbed. He smiled at her.

“You’ll stop producing -”

“And then she’s going to be talking and walking and then she’s gonna run faster than we can and then the next thing we know she’s going to be piloting the ship and we’re going to be -”

“Okay, shhhhhh,” he said, rubbing her back. “It’s just a couple of bananas.”

She fluttered her lips, and he smiled at her, trying not to laugh. She wiped the last of her tears away and collapsed onto a chair and just sulked for a moment, but when she scooped up a sample of the pears so she could eat her feelings like it was ice cream, and had the audacity to do it right in front of him, the face he made was nothing short of horrified. “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!”

“Oh, God, it tastes like plastic,” she said, spitting it out into a napkin, and his skin felt like it was crawling with bugs. He began to stick his tongue in and out of his mouth, not hiding his disgust, and she started laughing. “Sorry! It was just there!”

“I can’t believe you just did that!” he shouted. “WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU...WHY!? I just gave that speech! Choose the bananas!”

His reaction was delighting Alice, who thought he was just being silly and she began to giggle and bounce in the high chair.

“Oh, not you, too. Don’t you dare, it’s not funny.”

She laughed harder, as did Rose. A happy high pitched sound coupled with a few syllables rang in the air as Rose got up to grab a glass of water, letting her own amusement subside as she gargled and washed the horrible aftertaste of that particular brand of baby food out of her mouth. He just stared at her. “I could have told you that was going to happen. Been saying it for years.”

“Mum told me that was the best one!” she said.

“And you believed her?” he asked, still unable to stop making a face. “I need you to go brush your teeth before I kiss you.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, please. It was one small bite and it’s washed out. Come here.”

She reached for him, having every intention of going to brush her teeth but she just wanted to watch him freak out a little bit more, and he jumped back and went to hide behind Alice, placing his hands on the edge of her highchair.

“Nope,” he said. “Superior taste buds. Palette has to be cleansed. I made an exception when you were all pickles and ice cream during pregnancy but this? Can’t do it.”

“You’re a bigger baby than she is,” she said.

“More adorable, too,” he said, smiling, and she just rolled her eyes. He looked down at Alice, and he winked. “Kidding.”

Rose smirked, but she knew how serious he was and she wanted him to be able to kiss him more than she wanted to win this battle of banter, so with an effort to rock her hips just to rile him up a little, she sauntered off to their ensuite to brush her teeth.

“Aaaaaaand we’re just going to throw this away, yes we are,” he said to his daughter as he picked up his wife’s jar of poison, making sure to use a tissue so he didn’t directly touch it, and it was in the bin faster than he could say Raxacorcicofallapatorius. Alice began to cry when he walked away, and he was at her side again instantly. “What’s wrong? You still hungry?"

He helped her eat more bananas, though she only consumed about a quarter of the jar. The rest was on the floor or her face, which was honestly better than he expected for her first time. He smiled at her and wiped her chin clean, and he let the TARDIS take care of the floor as he grabbed a bottle of breastmilk, too, figuring she was probably still hungry.

For a few minutes, it was just him and his daughter, and he smiled at her while she suckled the bottle, slowly rocking her in the chair as he did. “I love you so much, you perfect little thing.”

She started to fuss a little, and he shifted how he was holding her and the bottle, and he started to sing to offer a distraction. Her eyes widened at the sound, and she smiled, and he remembered how much she loved music, so he just kept going.

“Okay, so I -” Rose started to say as she walked back in, but she shut up the moment she saw what he was doing. She bit her lip, letting the cadence of his voice wrap itself around her, and she had to lean against the wall to steady herself, falling impossibly more in love with him, and thinking he really was the most wonderful man.

She waited. When the song was over he turned around to set the bottle down, smiling at her when he realized she was there. “Hello.”

“The Beatles?” she asked softly, pushing away from the wall so she could wrap her arms around his neck as he kissed their daughter.

“Well….she likes to hold my hand,” he whispered. Rose smiled.

“Not just her,” she said, proving her point as her fingers molded to his without either of them having to look, and a spark of arousal flew between them. “That was really sweet.”

He winked. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Maybe. Kiss me and find out,” she flirted, but he could smell the toothpaste, and he kept Alice on his hip as he brought their lips together. She moaned a little, and he smiled.

“So much better,” he said, but she ignored him and just kept kissing him, until they both had to pull away when Alice tugged on her father’s hair. Hard. “Ow!”

“Come here, sweet girl,” Rose said, pulling her daughter into a hug. “Mummy loves you. I’m so proud of you. Yes! Good job.”

She smiled wider with every word Rose spoke, and he watched them hug. “We should go somewhere. Celebrate her milestone.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Where’s the best baby food in the galaxy? We can get her to try it all.”

“Brilliant,” he murmured, kissing her again. “We’ll go in the morning. I promised her I would read her a bedtime story. Charlotte’s Web? What do you think?”

“No, that’s so sad, read When You Give A Mouse A Cookie,” Rose said, and he raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“She’s a Time Lord, I’m not reading that to her,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “And, Rose Tyler, I'll have you know I happen to have the first draft of Charlotte's Web. Long story - how I got it, not the draft - grammatical errors left and right, but the plot is much better.”

“Oh, well now I have to hear it,” she teased. He laughed, and together they walked to the nursery, where Rose curled up on the rug and watched him hold Alice in the rocking chair, and as he read the story, she found herself falling asleep, too.

He stopped the chapter before he was even halfway through when he noticed they were both out like a light, and he chuckled a little, carefully bringing Alice over to her crib. Gently, he laid her on the blankets and tucked her in, and he aimed his sonic screwdriver at the lights, flipping them off.

The projection of the cosmos in the paint illuminated around him, spilling over every inch of the room. He clenched his jaw a little and looked down at Rose, making sure she was still asleep before he walked toward the bookcase, and he shifted the view, revealing the spot in the sky Gallifrey once sat.

He stared at it.

“Hey,” Rose whispered after a few minutes, slowly stirring on the floor. “Hum in my head.”

“Sorry, I’m fine,” he said, pulling his focus to her and helping her stand up. “She’s asleep.”

“You want her to stay here?” she asked, and he nodded. “What if she needs us?”

“Nah, she’ll be okay. She’s been sleeping through the night for weeks,” he said softly. “And we both share a bond with her. We’ll know if she wakes up, and she’s getting too big for the bassinet anyway. I think it’s a good day to do it.”

Rose bit her lip and looked at her, watching the rise and fall of her stomach. It was slow and steady, and she just nodded, but there was a lump in her throat that was hard to swallow. She wanted her to grow up, she did, she couldn’t wait for so many things, but two milestones in one day just felt like a lot, and this one she hadn’t been prepared for at all. “I just…”

“Come here,” he whispered as he pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly, and he kissed the top of her head. “I promise she’s okay.”

“No, I know,” she muttered. “I’m just... sad, I guess. I know it’s stupid. And I’m not...It’s a good thing, I know it is, but…”

“What?” he murmured.

“Can she sleep in our room tomorrow night? Maybe?” she asked, and he smiled at her.

“We can switch off, hm? Every other night for a bit? Until you feel ready?” he offered.

“Really?” she asked, and he smiled at the tenderness of her tone.

“It’s not stupid, Rose. I understand. I really do. I’m sad, too,” he said. “Even if we find a way to get her regenerations, which we will, she’ll never be this little again. I know that. But like you said. It’s a good thing.”

Rose felt tears well up but she held them back, and he hugged her again. She looked up at the projection over his shoulder, and when she saw the hourglass nebula he once showed her after they defeated the Master and Rassilon so very long ago, she froze. “Is that…”

“Hm?” he asked, and then realized what she was looking at. “Oh. Yeah.”

“You okay?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Just...looking,” he said. “Making sure nothing changed. Making sure it’s still...well…”

“Hidden?” she whispered. He just took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

“Something like that,” he admitted. “It’s safe, it’s fine. I’m fine. I promise.”

“Good,” she said, and he kissed her, letting his tongue swipe across her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “Let’s let her sleep.”

He took her hand and walked directly across the hall to their own room, keeping both doors open in case Alice did end up needing them, but as soon as they were both washed up and laying down, he realized they were essentially alone, and he decided to take advantage of it.

“Can we…” he started to say, and she straddled him, apparently thinking the same thing. His hands roamed her back as they kissed, and she pulled her t-shirt over her head, suddenly bare chested and hovering on top of him. He began to explore her skin with his tongue like it was new territory, despite the fact he knew the map of her moles just as well as the stars. He was careful and almost tentative, and she let out a long moan when he flicked his fingers over the soft mounds of flesh that were right at his eyeline, giving them a gentle squeeze.

He rolled them over so he was on top of her, peeling his own shirt off as he found her neck, then her jaw, licking and sucking, and she panted his name. “I want…”

“What?” he asked, stopping and looking at her. “Tell me.”

She connected their minds, and he shuddered. She took over the kisses for a moment, bringing her lips to his chest, and as they shimmied out of the rest of their clothing he slithered down so he could explore more of her with his tongue, and he made her scream, which she somehow had the brain power to remember to cover with her hand so they didn’t wake Alice up with the open doors.

“Have I ever told you…” he began as he trailed kisses up her stomach, then her chest, until he reached her lips. “How much I love how you taste?”

“Mmm, no,” she said, smirking at him.

“Wait, really?” he asked, his tone suddenly more alarmed than sexy, and she laughed.

“Every single time,” she whispered, gripping his hair on the back of his head. “Even if you don’t say it out loud, I hear you. We share a mind, remember?”

“Good,” he said, his voice returning to its husky tone, and he kissed her again. “Because I do...It’s...there’s this sweetness to you I can’t get enough of. And also this tanginess that’s just...I just want it. All the time. It’s intoxicating ....Drives me absolutely insane....”

She whimpered, and he winked, then let her massage his scalp as they kissed. He couldn’t resist joining their bodies together, and they slowly started to move, exploring every inch of what the other had to offer. Every tightening of every muscle, every gentle stroke.

It lasted for a while, full of soft pants and quiet moans, and they both marveled a little at how incredibly addicting it was to be able to do this without stressing about timelines or diamonds or vengeful Time Lords; without worrying in the back of their minds about whether or not it would be the last time they got to make love at all.

It was just them, dancing and writhing and groaning between their sheets, letting time stand as still as it possibly could.

His forehead buried itself onto the crook of her neck as he began to make strangled noises, so close to bursting it was starting to feel like a fire inside of him, and when she thought the word ‘forever’ he came so hard he nearly broke the bed frame.

She was carried away with him, and they smiled as they caught their breath, glistening a little with sweat. He kissed her, and she pulled her hair out of her face as they settled next to each other on the mattress. “Think it’ll still be like that in seven hundred years?” she panted.

He chuckled.

“No,” he said. “I think it’ll be better.”

She smiled at him, and he gave her the most adoring look as he wrapped his arms around her, and this time fell asleep together, ready for whatever the following day would bring.

You Are Jeff

1 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which twin you are in love with at the time. Do not choose sides yet. It is still to your advan- tage to remain impartial. Both motorbikes are shiny red and both boys have perfect teeth, dark hair, soft hands. The one in front will want to take you apart, and slowly. His deft and stubby fingers searching every shank and lock for weaknesses. You could love this boy with all your heart. The other brother only wants to stitch you back together. The sun shines down. It's a beautiful day. Consider the hairpin turn. Do not choose sides yet. 2 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road. Let's call them Jeff. And because the first Jeff is in front we'll consider him the older, and therefore responsible for lending money and the occa- sional punch in the shoulder. World-wise, world-weary, and not his mother's favorite, this Jeff will always win when it all comes down to fisticuffs. Unfortunately for him, it doesn't always all come down to fisticuffs. Jeff is thinking about his brother down the winding road be- hind him. He is thinking that if only he could cut him open and peel him back and crawl inside this second skin, then he could relive that last mile again: reborn, wild-eyed, free. 3 There are two twins on motorbikes but one is farther up the road, beyond the hairpin turn, or just before it, depending on which Jeff you are. It could have been so beautiful—you scout out the road ahead and I will watch your back, how it was and how it will be, memory and fantasy— but each Jeff wants to be the other one. My name is Jeff and I'm tired of looking at the back of your head. My name is Jeff and I'm tired of seeing my hand me down clothes. Look, Jeff, I'm telling you, for the last time, I mean it, etcetera. They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it. 4 Your name is Jeff and somewhere up ahead of you your brother has pulled to the side of the road and he is waiting for you with a lug wrench clutched in his greasy fist. 0 how he loves you, darling boy. 0 how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. When he throws the wrench into the air it will catch the light as it spins toward you. Look—it looks like a star. You had expected something else, anything else, but the wrench never reaches you. It hangs in the air like that, spinning in the air like that. It's beautiful. 5 Let's say God in his High Heaven is hungry and has decided to make himself some tuna fish sandwiches. He's already finished making two of them, on sourdough, before he realizes that the fish is bad. What is he going to do with these sandwiches? They're already made, but he doesn't want to eat them. Let's say the Devil is played by two men. We'll call them Jeff. Dark hair, green eyes, white teeth, pink tongues—they're twins. The one on the left has gone bad in the middle, and the other one on the left is about to. As they wrestle, you can tell that they have forgotten about God, and they are very hungry. 6 You are playing cards with three men named Jeff. Two of the Jeffs seem somewhat familiar, but the Jeff across from you keeps staring at your hands, your mouth, and you're certain that you've never seen this Jeff before. But he's on your team, and you're ahead, you're winning big, and yet the other Jeffs keep smiling at you like there's no tomorrow. They all have perfect teeth: white, square, clean, even. And, for some reason, the lighting in the room makes their teeth seem closer than they should be, as if each mouth was a place, a living room with pink carpet and the window's open. Come back from the window, Jefferson. Take off those wet clothes and come over here, by the fire. 7 You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room. Phone's for you, Jeff says. Hey! It's Uncle Jeff, who isn't really your uncle, but you can't talk right now, one of the Jeffs has put his tongue in your mouth. Please let it be the right one. 8 Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything this ferocious or intentional with another person. Your mother is pretending that she hasn't seen anything. Your father is fiddling with the knobs of the radio. There is an empty space next to you in the backseat of the station wagon. Make it the shape of everything you need. Now say hello. 9 You are in an ordinary suburban bedroom with bunk beds, a bookshelf, two wooden desks and chairs. You are lying on your back, on the top bunk, very close to the textured ceiling, staring straight at it in fact, and the room is still dark except for a wedge of powdery light that spills in from the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom is covered in mint green tile and someone is in there, singing very softly. Is he singing to you? For you? Black cherries in chocolate, the ring around the moon, a bee- tle underneath a glass—you cannot make out all the words, but you're sure he knows you're in there, and he's singing to you, even though you don't know who he is. 10 You see it as a room, a tabernacle, the dark hotel. You're in the hallway again, and you open the door, and if you're ready you'll see it, but maybe one part of your mind decides that the other parts aren't ready, and then you don't remember where you've been, and you find yourself down the hall again, the lights gone dim as the left hand sings the right hand back to sleep. It's a puzzle: each piece, each room, each time you put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, your ear to the wound that whispers. You're in the hallway again. The radio is playing your favorite song. You're in the hallway. Open the door again. Open the door. 11 Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. Can the heart escape? Does love even care? Snow falls as we dump the booth in the bay. Suppose for a moment we are crowded around a pier, waiting for something to ripple the water. We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark, we want to say. 12 Consider the hairpin turn. It is waiting for you like a red door or the broken leg of a dog. The sun is shining, O how the sun shines down! Your speedometer and your handgrips and the feel of the road below you, how it knows you, the black ribbon spread out on the greens be- tween these lines that suddenly don't reach to the horizon. It is waiting, like a broken door, like the red dog that chases its tail and eats your rose- bushes and then must be forgiven. Who do you love, Jeff? Who do you love? You were driving toward something and then, well, then you found yourself driving the other way. The dog is asleep. The road is be- hind you. O how the sun shines down. 13 This time everyone has the best intentions. You have cancer. Let's say you have cancer. Let's say you've swallowed a bad thing and now it's got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you're happy anyway, and that's okay, it's a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure with lots of action, where the mirror says mirror and the hand says hand and the front door never says Sorry Charlie. So the doctor says you need more stitches and the bruise cream isn't working. So much for the facts. Let's say you're still completely in the dark but we love you anyway. We love you. We really do. 14 After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don't remember. Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and you can't decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you're deciding, the afternoon light is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go. 15 Like sandpaper, the light, or a blessing, or a bruise. Blood everywhere, he said, the red light hemorrhaging from everywhere at once. The train station blue, your lips blue, hands cold and the blue wind. Or a horse, your favorite horse now raised up again out of the mud and galloping galloping always toward you. In your ruined shirt, on the last day, while the bruise won't heal, and the stain stays put, the red light streaming in from everywhere at once. Your broken ribs, the back of your head, your hand to mouth or hand to now, right now, like you mean it, like it's split- ting you in two. Now look at the lights, the lights. 16 You and your lover are making out in the corner booth of a seedy bar. The booths are plush and the drinks are cheap and in this dim and smoky light you can barely tell whose hands are whose. Someone raises their glass for a toast. Is that the Hand of Judgment or the Hand of Mercy? The bartender smiles, running a rag across the burnished wood of the bar. The drink in front of you has already been paid for. Drink it, the bartender says. It's yours, you deserve it. It's already been paid for. Somebody's paid for it already. There's no mistake, he says. It's your drink, the one you asked for, just the way you like it. How can you refuse Hands of fire, hands of air, hands of water, hands of dirt. Someone's doing all the talking but no one's lips move. Consider the hairpin turn. 17 The motorbikes are neck and neck but where's the checkered flag we all expected, waving in the distance, telling you you're home again, home? He's next to you, right next to you in fact, so close, or. . . he isn't. Imagine a room. Yes, imagine a room: two chairs facing the window but nobody moves. Don't move. Keep staring straight into my eyes. It feels like you're not moving, the way when, dancing, the room will suddenly fall away. You're dancing: you're neck and neck or cheek to cheek, he's there or he isn't, the open road. Imagine a room. Imagine you're danc- ing. Imagine the room now falling away. Don't move. 18 Two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart. Two brothers: one of them wants to put you back together. It's time to choose sides now. The stitches or the devouring mouth? You want an alibi? You don't get an alibi, you get two brothers. Here are two Jeffs. Pick one. This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them. Jeff or Jeff? Who do you want to be? You just wanted to play in your own backyard, but you don't know where your own yard is, exactly. You just wanted to prove there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet. You have not made that place yet. You are here. You are here. You're still right here. 19 Here are your names and here is the list and here are the things you left behind: The mark on the floor from pushing your chair back, your un- derwear, one half brick of cheese, the kind I don't like, wrapped up, and poorly, and abandoned on the second shelf next to the poppyseed dress- ing, which is also yours. Here's the champagne on the floor, and here are your house keys, and here are the curtains that your cat peed on. And here is your cat, who keeps eating grass and vomiting in the hall- way. Here is the list with all of your names, Jeff. They're not the same name, Jeff. They're not the same at all. 20 There are two twins on motorbikes but they are not on motorbikes, they're in a garden where the flowers are as big as thumbs. Imagine you are in a field of daisies. What are you doing in a field of daisies? Get up! Let's say you're not in the field anymore. Let's say they're not brothers anymore. That's right, they're not brothers, they're just one guy, and he knows you, and he's talking to you, but you're in pain and you can- not understand him. What are you still doing in this field? Get out of the field! You should be in the hotel room! You should, at least, be try- ing to get back into the hotel room. Ah! Now the field is empty. 21 Hold onto your voice. Hold onto your breath. Don't make a noise, don't leave the room until I come back from the dead for you. I will come back from the dead for you. This could be a city. This could be a graveyard. This could be the basket of a big balloon. Leave the lights on. Leave a trail of letters like those little knots of bread we used to dream about. We used to dream about them. We used to do a lot of things. Put your hand to the knob, your mouth to the hand, pick up the bread and devour it. I'm in the hallway again, I'm in the hallway. The radio's playing my favorite song. Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I'll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. 22 Someone had a party while you were sleeping but you weren't really sleeping, you were sick, and parts of you were burning, and you couldn't move. Perhaps the party was in your honor. You can't remem- ber. It seems the phone was ringing in the dream you were having but there's no proof. A dish in the sink that might be yours, some clothes on the floor that might belong to someone else. When was the last time you found yourself looking out of this window. Hey! This is a beautiful window! This is a beautiful view! 1 hose trees lined up like that, and the way the stars are spinning over them like that, spinning in the air like that, like wrenches. 23 Let's say that God is the space between two men and the Devil is the space between two men. Here: I'll be all of them-Jeff and Jeff and Jeff and Jeff are standing on the shoulder of the highway, four motorbikes knocked over, two wrenches spinning in the ordinary air. Two of these Jeffs are windows, and two of these Jeffs are doors, and all of these Jeffs are trying to tell you something. Come closer. We'll whisper it in your ear. It's like seeing your face in a bowl of soup, cream of potato, and the eyes shining back like spoons. If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder. One thing. Come closer. Listen . . . 24 You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terr- ible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.

✦ a friendship by letters - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

summary: a friendship formed in childhood, a friendship that survived the riskiest adventures ... what will happen when they separate and their only contact is letters? word counter: 2,674

warnings: abandoned parents

according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):

Peter - 20

Susan - 17

Edmund - 15/16

Lucy - 12

Prince Caspian - 26

digory kirke had raised you after being abandoned by your family. when world war II came to england, food was scarce. you were barely three when your parents took you to have a tea afternoon with your favorite uncle, but they never came back to pick you up. at first you didn’t understand, why had they abandoned you? people should not leave the people they love, that's what your fairytales said; but this wasn't a story, it was reality. 

digory took care to keep you safe and with everything you needed. the years went by and your parents had become a vague memory, you no longer had remorse for them; a three-year-old girl had seemed a nuisance to them at the time. 

when you turned eight, you got the first letter from them; they had started a new family, they had a pair of twins with blue heavenly eyes, they looked a lot like you. your little person wondered if they would see the resemblance and leave them too. despite the confusing news, that birthday was the best of your entire childhood, because an even better news had arrived. after all these years, you’d have some kids to be with. kirke had taken care of your education so you’d never had another friend than your uncle and the people who worked for him. the day the pevensies arrived was cloudy, a typical english day, with a small drizzle that would get wet from time to time.

they were well-dressed and with dubious faces, they were more confused to see a sweet girl waiting for them at the door of the cottage.

"hi, it’s nice to meet you!" you shook hands with them politely, despite your enthusiasm. 

"we didn’t know there would be more children" one of the children, with freckles on his pale cheeks, looked at you from top to bottom, it didn’t seem much older than you but he seemed to judge you with just a few words. 

"don’t be rude, edmund!" the other boy gently pushed his head, he looked like the oldest of them all.

the four of them were very nice, some more than others but they treated you well. you used to play in the big courtyards and take classes together. you had discovered each other’s personality shortly after your arrival; you were very observant. peter was the loudest talker, if it was a sports team he’d be the leader. but susan was not left behind, she was very smart and knew a lot about all the topics they talked about during meals. edmund didn’t talk much but he wasn’t quiet, of the four he was the most serious and acid but he wasn’t a bad kid. and finally lucy, she was a walking ray of sunshine, with that no further description was needed.

"why can’t we see the old man?" edmund was at your side as the two of you walked down the dirt road. the cook had ordered you to go in search of bread and milk. 

"his name isn't old man, his name is digory kirke…” as they moved on and crossed people, edmund was surprised as every redneck seemed to know you. 

"you said he raised you, how did he raise you if you never saw him?"

"yes I saw him, we spent all our time together...but now he’s busier than before"

"but...where are your parents?" edmund’s childish mind thought she was there for the same reason as them; perhaps, he wanted to think that her mother was a nurse and her father a soldier, that would be to have heroic parents. but your look got lost in the trees on your side as you didn’t answer, instead you said, 

"race to the store!"

that was your first interaction. thanks to that race your friendship was forged, after two weeks of them living in your house. 

your last interaction was the day they returned to finchley. the chaos continued, but was not enough to keep them away from home, so they had to leave. the four of them were on the cart thrown by a horse, ready to go to the train station; lucy greeted you, already sitting, fluttering her little hand. peter left you a kiss on the forehead and susan hugged you tight.

when edmund’s turn came, your eyes watered down, provoking ed to shed a tear. you had become best friends, everything that had happened in narnia had brought you together more than ever; you had grown up together, even though you then returned to your little child body.

"I packed you a book I found in the library, it’s about narnia," you whispered when you hugged him. "take good care of him" 

"with my life" so you saw them leave, as they greeted you waving their arms as you did the same.

time went by and years flew away. years when the only contact between you and the pevensies, especially edmund, was letters. letters that came and went every week, so they grew together but apart. 

when you turned 13, you started high school. your joy was so immense that the first thing you did was write to your great friend. 

‘my dearest edmund

 I have great news. this year I will start high school in a school. a real school! uncle took me yesterday to buy my supplies and uniform. is unreal! 

how are you, lucy, peter and susan? I miss them too, I miss you and narnia. how's school? is it tiring to live there? I hope not because my school is a boarding school too. I hope to see you soon 

y/n"

the letter arrived two days later in edmund’s school room. his heart exploded because of the great happiness it gave him, you would have other friends and you could live a normal teenage life. he immediately wrote you a letter expressing his joy. 

my dear y / n,

I also miss you more than you imagine and reading you so happy about your new school makes me want to run to hug you. I know I can't, I imagine it and I enjoy it just the same.

we are all fine, school is always the same. boring. but in the boarding school, I know that you will have fun and will make many friends.

i care about you

yours, edmund.

when you started school, the sending of letters began to be less frequent. the correspondence between the secondary schools was slow, which made it difficult to communicate. the letters took weeks to arrive, between two and three. on a saturday afternoon, he got his first letter of yours after weeks.

‘dear ed,

the mail sucks! all the letters I was sending you didn’t reach your school, I know because they were all returned to my address. I’m tired of this, I want to see you and go to narnia again... 

in other news, you remember I made two friends? well, they introduced me to roger. he’s very friendly and he always accompanies me to all the classes, but well...I’m happy to make friends. 

In a few days it’s the christmas ball and I’d like us to go together...i mean, the five of us. I know it’s not possible, but it’s a nice idea. 

tell me about yourself. 

with love, y/n!’

edmund still did not know why but, after reading the letter, an anger invaded him, he even thought he would explode. who was roger? would you go to the ball with roger? 

"I had it sorted" said peter, looking at him, while waiting for the train, edmund just rolled his eyes.

"since when do you get into fights, edmund?" lucy looked at him from across the bench. "since he received the letter from y/n the other day" said his bigger sister moving her eyebrows coquettishly.

"why don’t you shut up, susan?!"

"both of you shut up!" peter screamed when everything around him started to disappear.

out of nowhere, the four were inside a cave with access to the sea. an immense joy filled them, they were in narnia. at that time, while everyone was taking off their clothes, to dive into the transparent water, edmund just wanted to grab a paper and quill to tell you, but it was impossible. in fact, they were in a narnia 1300 years older. their kingdom had been invaded and the magic of it was dying faster and faster. edmund wanted you there, while he walked the meadows looking at the ruins of what was cair paravel. but you were in england.

"y/n are you ready for the ball tonight?" one of your friends was walking beside you on the streets of london. the teachers had let all the students go in search of their garments for the feast, the very day of the celebration. 

"not really, I have never been to a party so I’m a little nervous" 

"it’s easier than it looks" you were turning the corner when you thought you saw a shiny fur. "are you okay, y/n?” the girl next to you asked as she saw you looking for something with intensity. what you saw it looked like a lion, but it was impossible. lions in london? will be aslan?

"is that...I remembered that I must call my uncle to wish him a good christmas eve, yes that!... emm, you go ahead, I’ll go talk on the phone and catch you" so you retire at a fast pace, to see the lion enter a phone booth. of a push you entered the red booth, finding a small golden paper on the machine. 

'You know what numbers to dial’

it would be lying to say you were confused, the number 338 appeared in your mind immediately; it was your room number inside of cair paravel. when your fingers moved through the numbers, the machine began to tremble slightly, making all your surroundings become blurry. in the blink of an eye, you were standing in a meadow full of daisies. you were alone but far away you could see what seemed like a how, a shelter.

 without the need to ask anyone, you knew it. you were in Narnia, you felt it in your bones. It was different, but the aroma and familiarity did not go unnoticed.

the trees were not as you remembered them, they used to dance around you every time you made an appearance in the gardens but this time they stood still; they seemed asleep. your school uniform started to heat you up so as you moved along the green lawn you left your clothes in the way, until you were left with your blue skirt, which reached a little above the knee, your shoes and the white shirt. you felt at home, you had returned to your home; among your thoughts, the idea of the pevensie being there also reached your head and you wished that aslan would appear back to show you the way to them. but instead of aslan, a horse being ridden by a men appeared before you.

"I’m sorry, miss, but may I ask who you are?" a dark-haired boy got off his horse to stand in front of you, curiously. he had never seen you before, but he knew you weren’t a telmarine, or you would have bowed to him, and you weren’t a narnian because the sons of adam and eve who belonged to narnia, were the kings and queens and he already knew them. 

"my name is y/n, gentleman...and you are?"

"prince caspian, future telmarine king" telmarine? it sounded familiar to your ear, perhaps you had read it in some book of prophecies in your stay in narnia years ago; but it had been so long that no memory came to your mind. "you’re a daughter of eve, right?"

"I don’t have horse legs so I’m not a centaur" you said in a comedy voice that wasn’t funny enough for the prince to smile, so you stopped your laugh and continued to say "yes, I’m a daughter of eve."

"come with me then" the situation that edmund had gone through came to your mind, you didn’t know whether to trust the boy who claimed to be future king. despite your doubts, you didn’t have the courage to ask where he would take you and you decided to trust him, asking aslan to give you back your fighting skills if necessary; it’s been a long time since you’ve practiced, sword fighting was not a common hobby in finchley.

you skillfully climbed, to caspian’s surprise, to the white horse where he had come to you. the said prince took the reins and began to ride. they went up a high meadow, from there you could see the transparent waters several meters down. if the situation had been different, you would have run down to the sand to enjoy the water, but the uncertainty of where you were going did not leave you. surprisingly, you arrived very quickly at the place you had seen before. now from close up you could see that it was, aslan’s how. caspian didn’t kidnap you, he was a good man. so, thanking him you got off your horse and looked around as the prince walked into the how. edmund was busy looking at a map, but someone’s footsteps from behind distracted him.

"yes you take your time, we don’t need you to make war plans" the sarcastic voice, that so characterized ed, echoed through the shelter as it reached the outside causing you to freeze. it was a voice you were unfamiliar with but you had heard it before. your mind traveled to the last time you spoke on a pay phone with your best friend and recognized the voice. it was edmund, but he had grown up. he had obviously grown up, like you had. 

"I’m sorry, I found someone on the way..."

"with whom you could possibly have met in the middle of the wood-" edmund’s gaze moved towards the entrance of the place when he saw a delicate figure enter. those sweet traits that he remembered so much from his childhood were refined, elegant, but they kept that shred of innocence that he liked so much. that face that was so much expected to be found casually on the streets of london or finchley was in front of him, dressed in what looked like the remains of a school uniform and the astonished eyes absorbing all around her.

"y/n..." it was a whisper, but the echo of the how made it sound loud enough for you to hear. 

so you looked up meeting the person who had occupied your head since you were eight. the boy  you used to create scenarios with at night. the boy who was a little kid and now was a man in armor looking at you from the other side of the room. the boy you were afraid to see holding someone else’s hand. your mind failed to form a word because you were already running towards him, to wrap yourself in his body. his arms traveled to your waist swiftly as he lifted you from the ground and shoved his face up your neck, smelling your scent that he had so missed. one of your hands traveled to his hair caressing that darkness that you used to braid when you were just a kid. 

"hello ed" you whispered giving yourself permission to shed a tear. edmund felt that drop of water fall on his shirt, so he took you off his body to start leaving kisses all over your face, causing laughter in both. by that time, caspian had already retired, leaving you two alone.

"what are you doing here?" said edmund when he stopped kissing your face, but leaving his hands on your waist while you stroked his cheeks. 

"I have no idea, but I’m here! and I missed you so much that I don’t care!" 

"I missed you too, with all my heart" the boy’s eyes turned to your mouth and an urge to taste your soft lips flooded him. 

"do it" and he did it. what he was waiting for so long. at that time nothing didn’t matter, no war or anything. just the two of you. neither of you could put into words what you felt, but you two wanted to find out together. between kisses and caresses, you could decipher when that passionate love was born, that passion that was sealed with a reunion kiss.

The Gift of a Good Meal

Someone really liked the Motherly!Eda moment and asked for a Daughterly!Luz one. So this is a companion fic to “You’ll be in my Heart” but before the events of said fic.

For the longest time Eda got by with eating whatever she could scrounge up. Whether it be something she stole off a stand or an unrecognizable blob that happened to be in her fridge. Most of the time it was bland and tasteless, until Luz came around and things slowly changed. 

It began one morning when Luz was feeling particularly generous, which was a feat let me tell you cause that girl didn’t just have a heart of gold it was like she was sculpted out of said metal, but she was feeling generous in the way that she wanted to make breakfast for Eda. And King too, of course, that shouldn’t even be a question. 

The child had discovered earlier in her stay that Eda didn’t have much in the way of ingredients to cook with but she did have milk and what looked to be pancake mix, or at least the Boiling Isles equivalent of it. Putting on and apron that said “kiss me and you die” Luz got to work making as many pancakes as she could. For there was nothing bigger than the appetite shared between the three of them. Four if you counted Hooty who would sometimes eat food but Luz found it a little weird considering he was the house and all. Where exactly did it all go?

Shaking the image out of her head she looked down at the first stack of pancakes she made. They were a little odd shaped and had weird multicolored spots on them but overall Luz thought she did a fairly good job. 

That’s when Eda walked in rubbing the sleep from her eyes “Whatever that good smell is woke me up and lead me here. Kid, what are you doing?” 

“I’m making pancakes!” 

“Pancakes?” Eda’s confusion over something so simple was actually kind of adorable. 

“Yeah! Hasn’t someone ever made you pancakes before?” 

“No ones ever made me anything before.” Eda said in her usual way that conveyed ‘it is what it is’ and she didn’t really mind it. But the admission did manage to tug at Luz’s heartstrings. No ones ever made anything for her? Not even her parents? 

“Well, I’ll be the first then.” She placed the stack of pancakes on the table nearby Eda, along with a bottle of what she thought could be syrup and a cup of apple blood. 

Eda stared at the display for a moment before looking up at Luz. “You made this for me?” 

“I just thought you deserved something special for all you’ve done for me.” 

“Oh.” Eda sat at the table and picked up her fork, she continued to stare at the pancakes a little longer before looking back up at Luz. “Thank you.” 

The smile the human gave her was sickeningly sweet but Eda found she was slowly growing use to it and even maybe preferred them over her frowns. 

“Alright, now time to make a stack for King!”  

~~~

Ever since then Luz started making her meals more and more often until it finally got to the point where Eda couldn’t even remember what it was like before, she hadn’t needed to scrounge for food for weeks. 

Breakfast was ready as soon as she awoke and if it was a school day there would be a package wrapped up in the fridge or left on the counter with a note that said “Don’t forget to take this with you when you’re off running the stalls or on an adventure. Love, Luz.” 

And when she got home the first thing she’d do before studying the latest piece of drivel the teachers filled her mind with was prepare dinner. One particular day Luz stated it was a goal of hers to find out if Eda had a favorite of things she’s made. Eda would just shrug, she’d never say it out loud but she considered everything Luz has ever made for her a favorite. 

Today, the owl lady decided it was her turn to have dinner ready by the time Luz got back from school so she found an old cook book she had laying around somewhere that she never used and searched for a recipe she hadn’t had in a long time. 

It wasn’t completely true when she said no ones ever made anything for her. Once there was someone who would do so a few times and though they hadn’t made anything for her in the longest time she remembered what her favorite was. She remembered they’d still make it for her even if they didn’t like it themselves. Hopefully Luz would like it. For some reason she really wanted Luz to like it. 

When Luz got home that day she was surprised to find the table set with three different plates of food. Eda and King patiently waiting in two of the chairs. 

“Welcome home, Luz, now hurry and sit so we can eat!” King called out in the adorably loud voice of his, digging in as soon as her butt found the chair. 

“What’s this?” Luz asked Eda who still has yet to take a bite. 

“Oh just something from my past, nothing much really.” In truth it was her favorite meal when she was fourteen. 

“Eda are you blushing?” Luz teased in astonishment, somehow understanding in her Luz way that this meant more than Eda was letting on. 

“Kid, you’re going crazy, I don’t blush.” 

“Well considering I’m in this magical talking bird house with a witch and a tiny King of demons, I’d say I’ve been going crazy for awhile now.” The two chuckled as Luz picked up her fork. “Thanks for the food!” she called out like the nerd she was before shoveling a good bit into her mouth causing her eyes to go wide. 

The reason Eda had yet to take a bite was she was waiting for this, for Luz’s reaction. She really, really wanted Luz to like it. “Well?” 

“Eda this is so good!” The young human looked at her with sparkles in her eyes and that sickeningly sweet smile that Eda had completely grown use to. Luz shoveled another good size portion into her mouth that it surprised even Eda that she was still able to speak around it. “Couwd yew mawk ths evy eek?” 

“Slow down, kid, before you choke. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.” She had remembered to take the legs off this time. 

Swallowing the huge bites in one go, like a champ, Luz spoke clearer this time. “Could you make this every week?” 

Eda’s answering laughter was genuine and sweet and Luz couldn’t put a finger on it but it felt so much different from her usual. “Sure kid.” ‘Anything you want’ she added silently in her head. 

(I don’t know what I like more. Writing Lumity or writing Luz and Eda mother/daughter bonding moments. ^^) 

n$fw, Kaeya and Diluc, part one. Includes blowjobs.

The cold breeze clings onto your skin as you enter the local Mondstat bar, the Angel's Share. A lonely wandering traveler like yourself ached for a drink after a long day of cleaning up monster camps and cashing in on the commissions of the day. Opening the door, you took in the warm air that singed your icy skin. The red headed man behind the bar scowled at you for letting the hot air out, so you quickly closed the door behind you and found a seat at the bar. The bar was empty except for a muscular, tan man with a blue mane and a mysterious redhead with a trench coat.

You silently ordered the local specialty, a light and airy sparkling beverage with a hint of alcohol. Savoring the feeling of the cold drink in your mouth, you swirled around the glass, looking around at the building. The bar was dimly lit, but still a nice establishment. There were posters of adventurers feats lining the walls and neatly set tables on the bar floor.

"You look lost. Not from around here. I can help you find your way back," the man with the blue hair introduced himself as Kaeya. "Lonely as ever. I could also fix that." He chuckled to himself, taking a sip of his frothy beer out of his mug. You were a bit tipsy yourself, so your advances only seemed natural. He was a handsome man with toned abs and an alluring aura, and you were a beautiful person yourself. It would only be natural for the both of you to start gravitating toward eachother.

"That's enough. I run a bar here, not a hookup place. If you want to, take it somewhere else. I will not be having my reputation ruined by having you two fuck on the tables of MY bar," Diluc spoke firmly, only making you more attracted to him. You loved stern men, almost as much as you love men who are straightforward in what you want. You swayed your body toward Diluc from behind the bar. He was a tall man, so you had to pull him by the collar to get him to your level. As soon as his face was close to yours, you planted a big kiss across his soft, thin lips. Your tongues danced in an intricate rhythm as you pushed your tongue passed his lips, allowing the alcohol still on your tongue to intoxicate him. He pulled away, suprised, but not readable. His eyes wandered to trace your slender figure, and his lips parted into a small smirk. "Well, I wouldn't mind having you work off the small little tab you owe the bar." He chuckled, pushing your head downward toward his pants.

Diluc gave Kaeya a stern look. "Just be patient, you will have your turn soon enough," the look seemed to be saying. Kaeya nodded, smirking as he watched over the table. You didn't hesitate to work off the debt that you had accumulated, undoing his belt and pulling out his semi-hard cock. Already, it was bigger than you had any practice with, and his cock isn't even at full mast. Letting your hot breat linger on the base of his shaft, you gave it a couple long licks, from his tip, all the way to the balls. His cock was standing at full attention now, laying across your face as he eagerly watched to see your next move.

Although it was almost closing time, someone managed to wander in and almost ruin your change to taste some of Mondstat's salty nectar. The door rung as the small bard walked in. He was famous all across Mondstat, so you knew his name by the sound of his voice. Venti sat down on the bar stool and ordered an alcoholic apple cider. He chatted with Kaeya for a moment, while Kaeya's icy blue eyes were fixated on watching what you did next. Venti was too short to see over the counter, so he had no idea what was going on.

You admired your work. Getting the most stuck-up man in Mondstat to pull out his cock before you was a trophy in its own right. You admired the massive hunk of rock hard meat before you, pulsing in anticipation. Diluc was as calm as ever, preparing the drink without even moving, allowing you full range of pleasing him with your mouth. You took him into your wet cavernous mouth, and his breathing hitched as he tried to maintain his composure. Sucking on the tip and savoring the taste of his precum lubricating your throat, you sat there for a while, leaving him in anticipation. Out of nowhere, you shoved the whole length of his cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down furiously, to draw out the nectar awaiting for you. You kept your tongue out as you bobbed in and out, tasting the sweat that was accumulating on the base of his cock. You eyed him, watching his moves carefully as you did this lewd act in front of a bystander, but loved every minute of it. You loved being secretly on display for everyone to see if they could just look. Kaeya licked his lips, eagerly watching your every move as he took a sip of his own beer.

You could tell that Diluc was close to flooding your mouth with his salty juices. He gripped the cup he was polishing in his hand tight and his breathing was labored. This only encouraged you to keep going harder so you can receive the fruits of your labor. You gave it your all, taking the whole length of his massive shaft down your throat. To make sure you got every last inch of his cock in your mouth, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in further, causing his cock to swell and your throat to clamp tight onto his massive length. His dropped his glass and slammed two hands onto the table, gripping the edge as he was close. Diluc flooded your mouth with his sticky juices, flowing down your throat and coating your mouth in his flavor. He pulled his cock out of your vice-grip mouth, and you eagerly opened your mouth, showing off the massive load you just took. Kaeya was intrigued as he watched you swallow the load that was just dumped into your mouth. Venti looked concerned, never seeing Diluc act this way. He tried to come around the bar to help him stand straight, but Kaeya gripped his sleeve, assuring him that he was alright. He admired your beauty, his eyes roaming across your cum-soaked face as he began to regain his composure.

He was panting, yes, but he was beaming. After all these years of being pent up, he finally got the release he was looking for. But Diluc was far from done. He was willing to milk this out for all its worth. Actually, both him and Kaeya were ready to take it to the next level.

(Hey, if you liked this and wish for me to continue, let me know what you would like to see in the next part!)

I am very excited for Sindayz! Gonna be an extra special weekend! Guess who I'm still thinking about. That's right. I'm here for The Twins. I imagine they're just ecstatic to have the reader and even though they're generally reserved, they can't help but get a little handsy in public. Maybe an initially innocuous trip to the grocery store turned steamy? Something sweet and domestic but also a little sexy? Sending you love and strength ❤️❤️❤️❤️

(1.2k, sweet domestic fluffiness, playful dirty talk, very brief mentions of nsfw content)

It’s one of your favorite days with the boys, grocery shopping. You go every Sunday right when the sales switch over and there’s all sorts of new displays for the week. Paul drives, because Pat spends all his time driving and you like to be lazy when you can, but he’s a good driver, so no one minds. You’re excited, the little list in your hand creased from accidentally clenching tightly around it. It’s not a particularly exciting week ahead of you or anything, you just love spending time at the grocery store with Paul and Paterson because, well, they’re just so sweet to you.

“Ready?” You ask them, turning around to smile at Paterson, making him reach forward and pinch your cheek.

“Mhm.” He smiles back, and you look to Paul as if to say let’s do this.

Paul parks and you hop out of the passenger seat, Paterson opening the door for you like a gentleman with a soft smile. He’s in charge of the re-usable bags that get stashed underneath the cart, the cart which Paul pushes around. He gets it now, sanitizes the long push handle and you begin your adventure up and down the aisles.

Your first stop is always the sales, because really that’s what you’re there for. Sometimes it’s half-off, sometimes it’s buy-one-get-one-free, and you cannot pass up a good bargain. The three of you aren’t particularly low on funds, you and Paul both have high paying jobs with good benefits, it’s one of the ways Paterson doesn’t have to worry about his poetry, can drive his beloved route with little anxiety. But still, a sale is a sale, and there’s no sense in wasting money if you can buy double for the price of one!

Paterson doesn’t let go of your hand for most of the trip through the grocery store, content to be led around wherever you want to go; he gives your hand small soft squeezes when he points out stuff on the shelves that he knows you need. Paul follows behind you, occasionally sneaking things into the cart that he hopes you don’t notice. You always do, of course, and you always tease him about it good-naturedly when you get to the check-out lane.

“Oh shit, we passed the milk and I totally forgot we were out.” You stop in your tracks, making Paul accidentally bump into you with an apology.

“I’ll go get it.” Paterson bites at his lip with wide eager eyes, as if running this small errand is his most treasured mission. The second you nod, he’s swooping down to kiss your cheek and he’s off, long legs carefully carrying him through the aisles.

“Is that getting too heavy?” You ask Paul, taking the opportunity to link your arm through his as he slowly pushes the cart, lazily walking with you.

“No, I can manage it.” Paul says softly, his glasses slipping down his nose when he leans in to kiss you softly on the lips. There’s no one in the aisle, it’s too early in the day on a Sunday still for it to be crowded, that’s one of the reasons why you like going. Paul tucks you under his arm, cages your body between the cart and his stomach, sweetly teasing in your ear, “Why, do you want to try?”

“Could I? Just for fun?” You grin up at him, earning yourself another kiss on the lips before Paul steps away, giving you free control of the cart. Except, when you push it, the damn thing doesn’t even budge, so heavy that you have to actually exert some force to get it to go forward. You laugh in disbelief, “Oh my god Paul! Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s fine, really. I like getting to use these muscles, they don’t get much action at work.” He grins and cages you in again, his big hands resting next to yours on the push handle, and you melt into his embrace, let him kiss at your cheek.

“You could use those muscles on me,” You wink, licking your lips and speaking lowly, “Later tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Paul asks, breathless and interested. He’s already beginning to blush, and you think the look is so handsome on him.

“Mhm, I was thinking about making…eggplant.” You waggle an eyebrow, and Paul lets out a knowing laugh at that, nervous and shy, biting at the inside of his cheek so he’s not grinning like a loon.

Just then, Paterson returns with a couple cartons of milk. You each have your own preferences, so you each get your own half gallon and it only weighs down the cart further. Paterson must have heard the last bit, because he’s already stealing you away from his brother and slinging his arm around your waist.

“You do love eggplant, don’t you.” He ever so playfully tsks his teeth, making Paul grin some more.

“It’s my favorite. I could have it for every meal – breakfast lunch and dinner.” You nod, leading the twins down to the produce aisle. All your teasing isn’t for nothing, you have been wanting to make eggplant parm for a while, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

“What about dessert?” Paul asks, and you hum in thought as you all browse the fruits and vegetables that are set up so nicely.

“I don’t know, can you make eggplant sweet?” You ask with mock innocence.

“Maybe if you mix it with…cucumber.” Paterson pulls out a long cucumber from a neatly stacked pile, and the three of you can’t help but need to cover your mouths with your hands to not laugh so openly.

“This is a pretty big cucumber.” You say as though you’re heavily impressed, before licking your lips, eyes sparkling with mirth, cheeks hurting from how much you smile when you’re with them.

“Mine’s bigger.” Paul whispers in your ear as he pushes the cart past you and makes you gasp and swat his arm playfully.

“What else is on the list?” You roll your eyes, knowing that if you don’t get what you came here for soon, the store will start to fill up and then you won’t be able to get away with these little displays so easily.

“I don’t know but we should add chocolates, strawberries, cherries, and whipped cream.” Paterson says nonchalantly, making you and Paul exchange eager glances at one another and nodding in agreement.

“I love the way you boys think.” You sigh happily, leaning up to kiss each of them on the cheek.

With your cart full and Paterson’s hand safely back in yours, with the two of them making it a competition to see who could carry in the most in a single trip, you can’t help but think that grocery shopping with them really is a special treat. And when you suck their cocks so well that they cry for you, and they spray whipped cream all over your tits before licking it up and sucking on your nipples, you just can’t wait to see what specials there’ll be next week.

Amina and Time

 MGR Chapter Four

[Previous] [Next] [Masterpost]

TW: food

Princess Amina Hollan sighed, and leaned up against the palace wall. She had been waiting for her parents to exit their latest Royal Council meeting, so they could eat dinner together, but that had been two hours ago. And based on her knowledge of Calinian politics, she wasn't sure when they would leave.

But now the princess was getting hungry, so she decided to head off to the kitchen.

She grabbed her phone and turned on its light so she could see and started walking down the hallway. It was incredibly silent—you could hear a pin drop.

As she walked, she thought about what she had overheard.

The subject of the meetings had been the Xan Ruz attacks. The Council had gotten together the day after the attacks and were on their third day of discussing what to do. Due to the treaty that ended the War of Misconception, no country could send aid without a formal request of help from the country's leader. No such request had come from the kings, so they couldn't do anything there. But with the ominous message broadcasted on the alert a few days earlier, they couldn't exactly do nothing. Hence the debate.

She paused and turned left into the entrance to the East Wing. There, in behind a pair of fancy double doors, was the dining room. She pushed on them, and with a creak, they opened.

The girl pushed a button on the wall, and a few torches lit up, illuminating the dining room. It was quite majestic, with a long table that looked like it could seat over twenty people in the middle of the room. On it was a silver table liner, as well as some assorted tchotchkes. Decorating the walls were a few paintings, including one of Amina's favorites—a portrait of Lord Cal and Queen Inas, great heroes of the First Great War, who happened to be the creators of the island and the first elementists.

She walked towards the end of the room, where the kitchen was located. She kept the door open, so the light from the dining room made it just bright enough to see.

A few minutes later, she had finished making her dinner of choice—a porcelain plate filled with cheesy crackers, a china bowl with butterscotch ice cream, a crystal goblet of chocolate milk, and a single baby carrot. She set her meal on the prep counter, pulled up a stool, and started to eat.

Suddenly, she heard something. Footsteps, maybe? They sounded like footsteps, but the sounds were softer and seemed to be far apart, as if whoever was making them wasn't touching the ground all the way. Amina quickly shoved her dishes under the counter next to some silverware. It could be her mother, and she really wasn't looking for a speech on healthy eating tonight.

As the footsteps grew closer, she sucked in her breath. She knew it was probably just her parents or a member of the castle staff, but she still felt unsettled.

Then, there was a pause, and the figure entered the doorway.

It was a woman. She was tall, quite a bit taller than any human or sprite she had ever seen in her life, maybe seven or eight feet. Her hair was brown and curly, and it seemed to cascade down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes were a sparkling hazel, and there was a light dust of freckles against her skin. She was wearing a sparkling cyan dress that cut off at her knees and had a sweetheart neckline.

But what captured Amina's attention was the silver pendant around her neck. It was like a closed pocket watch, but there were odd symbols on it. It looked like a language, but if it was, it wasn't one from this planet.

The woman walked over to her, and she hopped off the stool, slowly moving backwards. Noticing this, the woman stopped.

"It's alright."

Her voice was like caramel. Smooth, yet rich. Beautiful and powerful. Something about her was... right. The woman wouldn't hurt her.

"Who are you?" the princess asked.

The woman smiled. "I am Time, and it's guardian."

Amina stared her. This was the legendary Time? The one who was the only one besides the gods who could control the events of the world? The one who created the concept of time? The leader of the time elementals?  It wasn't that this woman couldn't be Time, it was just that if she was, why would she be here? According to the stories of old, she didn't interfere with Izani affairs, so this was extremely unorthodox.

"Why are you here?"

Time smiled sadly. "Do you know what my job is?"

She thought for a second. "To guard time?"

The woman chuckled. "Yes, but not just that. My guarding of time results in Izan's safety and stability. So really, maintaining that is my job. Therefore, when dangerous things plague your world... I must find a way to stop them. And you are part of the solution."

Amina blinked. "Are... are you serious? You can't be serious! I'm nine, almost ten. I’m literally just a kid! There is no way I'm a part of any solution to whatever's going on."

"I knew you'd say that. But that doesn't matter. I know that you're a part of the team."

The princess furrowed her brow in confusion. "Team?"

Time nodded. "Team. You'll meet most of them soon."

Amina looked around but saw nothing but pots and pans. Time chuckled. "No, they aren't here. Now listen, this is very important. You will need to pack for a longer journey. Bring Inas' sword. At 22:27 exactly, you will follow Lady Elisabeth Melly as she sneaks out of the Council meeting. Make sure to stowaway on the boat."

Barley knowing what she was agreeing to, she nodded. "Pack, sword, stowaway at 22:27. Got it."

Time got up, and turned to leave, then stopped. "Oh, silly me. You'll need this," she said, handing the girl a box. "Do not open it until you see her. It will bring her out of her trance and briefly weaken her."

Amina started to ask who "her" was, but Time was gone.

She looked at the box in her hand. It was a bit bigger than her palm and carved into it's wooden surface were intricate patterns featuring two women. She felt like she knew them, but she couldn't put her finger on it...

But now wasn't the time to look at that. Now was the time to figure out what to do. According to Time, she had a part in something. And the only way to find out was to stowaway with Lady Elisabeth. She was destined for something. Not just for sitting around castles, but for something truly important and exciting.

She looked at the time, 21:42. Exactly 45 minutes.

She went to the pantry, looking for food she might need. There wasn't much, except a box of breakfast bars. They weren't her favorite, but they would have to do.

She ran out of the kitchen and dining room to her bedroom, bars and mystery box in hand. She placed them on her bed, and after a moment of thought, grabbed her pink backpack from the back of her closet. In it, she shoved a few dresses, some books, her toothbrush and hairbrush, and a foam toy she had been low-key obsessed with for the past month.

She put the food in there and placed the box in the front pocket. She looked around her room. This was it. She was really leaving this place on an adventure.

She went over to her desk and grabbed a sheet of paper. With her glitter gel pen, she wrote a quick note to her parents, explaining that she was safe and would be back soon. She walked out, then stopped. She was missing something.

She walked back in, looking for whatever it might be. And then she found it, right on her bedroom shelf.

Her family picture. Not a fancy one for a royal portrait, but the one she had taken a year earlier when they had gone to Julington for some festival. Her mom was in the back, a smile on her face. Next to her was her dad, holding her now three-year-old brother, Humza. And then there was her between them. She had remembered feeling a bit out of breath, not realizing the timer was a three-second one instead of a ten-second one. But she had made it for the photo.

She would miss them.

She grabbed it and added it to her pack. She was ready.

✧✧✧

The armory wasn't that far from her room, thankfully. It was a dark and a bit musty room with all sort of weapons—swords, spears, bows and arrows were everywhere. She worried that it might take a while to find it (It was 22:03 now, only 24 minutes left), but then she saw it.

Hanging at the top of the wall directly in front of her was Inas' famous Black Iron sword. It was still in its sheath, decorated with spiral patterns. She had only seen it in pictures—and now she was about to steal it!?

She sighed. She had to do this. And anyways, wasn't it technically her birthright as future queen of Calinas?

She spotted a stool in the corner and after placing her backpack next to a shield, she dragged it over. She got up on it, and reached for the sword, barley grasping it. After a few tries, she finally un-hooked it from it's pin. She wanted to pull it out of its sheath and swing it around (she knew a little bit about how to use a sword), but there wasn't time.

She looped the sheath to the ribbon around her waist, picking her backpack back up, and checked the time. 22:25. She started to jog over to the meeting room.

Two minutes later, she was there. She ducked under a tapestry, and in moments, a teen the princess recognized as Lady Elisabeth walked out. She followed behind her, trying not to make a sound.

Soon, the noblewoman made a sharp left turn. Amina wasn't sure why she would do this, there were no exits there, until she realized what she was doing.

She was climbing out the window.

She had left it open, and after a few moments the princess climbed out.

(Amina silently thanked the Gods that they were on the first floor.)

Lady Elisabeth was running over to two figures in the water. That’s when she realized she wasn't sure how she would ever sneak on undetected. But then she remembered something.

She was a night elementist.

She chuckled, and quickly used her powers to make her area darker. If anyone spotted her, they would just mistake her for a passing shadow.

Soon, she made it over to the boat. She worried that someone would notice the slight rock of the structure as her weight was added to it, but a girl with brown hair in a long braid seemed to be arguing with Lady Elisabeth, and the other girl was staring off into space so hard, Amina thought she wouldn't even notice if she tipped the boat.

She crawled under a bench, setting her backpack next to her. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know where she was going. And she certainly didn't know who she was traveling with. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that she could help fix things.

Right?

Taglist:

@dorkdukess

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(hey look, i finally published this!! oh gosh. anyways, sorry it took so long, it’s just that this really sets off the plot, and I’ve had like,,,, four different versions of this chapter playing around in my head.)

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Maria and Lise

They were both laying in bed, naked, under luxurious linens and a silk eiderdown. Maria lifted her hand and gently stroked Lise's long, golden curls; she then moved her hand to her cheek and caressed it with her thumb. It was so soft, softer than freshly baked brioche. Her dark chocolate-like finger contrasted deeply with Lise's milk-coloured cheek. She continued to touch her cheek, before moving down and gently running her fingernail on Lise's underbelly who stirred in her sleep. She grinned, "Where did the athletic adventurer go?" She whispered in Lise's ear, who opened her eyes with a groan. The former adventurer turned around and kissed her protector: "How do you not have bad breath in the morning? Did you get up and washed your teeth or do you usually keep flowers in your mouth?" Lise said.

Maria laughed and urged Lise to get up. She then called for a maid to help her and Lise get dressed and ask another one to make sure breakfast was going to be ready when they were done.

While getting dressed, Maria took a good look at her protégée; Now that Lise didn't have to wield a sword, her arms began to look softer, so did her hands, dimples replaced joints and her visible veins slowly disappeared. However, they were still calloused, a mark of her long gone self, if you will. Her chest was bigger as well, although not as much as her stomach which used to be toned and flat but now had a remarkable belly. Her thighs and bottom were much bigger than they used to be as well, not used to running anymore. As soon as they finished getting dressed (with a tiny bit of trouble on Lise's part), they went to the dining room, sitting next to each other, at a big table. Breakfast was brought out and laid on the table, there were many fruits, pastries and even savoury dishes. Maria waited for the maid to serve her and give her her usual breakfast, two lightly buttered toats, and her fruit salad composed of grapefruit suprêmes, small balls of cantaloupe and sliced strawberries with a touch of lemon zest. Lise on the other hand, had a generous slice of brie, a few grapes and 3 toasts in her plate. As soon as they were served, Maria dismissed the maids while asking them to leave the dishes on the table and they both started eating. Maria, as to be expected from a noble, ate slowly and elegantly, dabbing her napkin on the corners of her mouth from time to time, to avoid getting crumbs and fruit juice everywhere. Lise, who still had been a comonner all her life but still had some manners, ate a little clumbsily compared to Maria but obviously knew how to use a napkin. When Maria finished eating, she turned to Lise who obviously, didn't look satisfied at all. She told her :"Go ahead and eat some more if you are still hungry." Lise looked at her and nodded, she took a croissant and a brioche in her plate. And started slicing the croissant open to spread some redcurrant jelly inside and happily bit into it. Maria watched her with loving eyes. When Lise finished she said: " Is that it?" with a small frown. The blonde looked embarassed, Maria sighed and put a few other things on Lise's plate, quite a bit more than a few, and started hand-feeding her, bringing the spoon to her mouth and making her taste the vanilla custard she has asked the servants to prepare as she knew it was a favourite of Lise's. She brightly smiled and asked for more so Maria obliged. Just so Lise wouldn't get bored of the taste of the custard, she also gave her some apple tart bites and a few strawberries. This went on for about an hour and at the end, Lise's tummy had swollen considerably, making her breathing a little difficult. "The weather looks rather lovely, wouldn't it be nice to take a walk outside to enjoy it?" Maria said teasingly. Lise looked at her with despair but simply agreed.

The weather was indeed lovely, the sun was shining brightly and it felt quite warm but not too hot. Although Lise was having a difficult time walking, she was still appreciating the garden, the flowers and the sky. She turned to Maria and took the opportunity to admire her beauty, she was holding her lace parasol but the sun still hit her skin, making it look a warm shade of brown, her black eyes looked a little more like the colour of chestnuts, her high cheekbones and defined jaw could make anyone jealous and her plump, kissable lips were just pure temptation. Maria caught Lise admiring her, she chuckled, "Am I that beautiful?", Lise, still looking at Maria bluntly said "Yes. Yes you are." Maria's cheeks grew hot and so, she turned her head before asking: "There is a bench over there. Should we sit down?"

Lise looked at her, with begging and gleaming eyes and hurried over to the bench and plopped herself on it, out of breath. Maria followed her and sat elegantly. "How do you feel?" She asked. "Very full, and out of breath, my dress feels tight."

"Do you dislike it?"

"I'm not sure, I've never actually been fat, as you may have already guessed." She laughed.

"I suppose so, but do you like feeling bigger? Do you like simply indulging in whatever you like? Do you like living leisurely? Doing nothing except reading, eating, sleeping, going on walks in the garden?"

Maria took Lise's hand and ran towards some high bushes, dragging Lise behind her who quickly got out of breath; both of them giggling like children. They hid out of sight, and Maria sat down, dirtying her crisp white dress, she invited Lise to sit in front of her and lean on her. She embraced her and started kissing her neck, whispering how beautiful Lise was. She then moved down, and found her Lise's dress in her way, so she undid the dress' buttons and slid one part of her shoulder down, doing the same with her chemise. She then found the problem of Lise's corset, she knew she shouldn't have allowed her to wear a corset. She undid the busk, freeing Lise's stomach who sighed, it was still hidden underneath her chemise but that will do. She then explored her body with her hands, kissing her neck, smelling her light perfume she gave her last week, jasmine and sandalwood, the perfect scent for her, strong but also delicate. She played with her breasts, her stomach, teasing her by stroking the top of her thigh, running her finger along her soft inner-thigh. Maria then held Lise's chin to turn her head and french-kiss her, both breathing heavily and moaning a little. Not wanting to spoil tonight's "love", Maria suddenly stopped, burried her face in Lise's shoulder and simply rubbed her tummy for a while, until she dressed Lise again.

I hope you liked it ! If you want to see a little bit more about them just tell me and I might write something else with them !

Have a wonderful day !