#// grieving husbands club

[jacklynchh]

Cold swept through him like a tidal wave. That particular pain he did know. A part of him regretted prying, the obvious stiffening in Rory's posture riddling him with guilt, but another and much louder part surged forth with a strange sense of relief. This was somebody who understood. This was somebody who likely knew how it felt to hear 'I'm sorry for your loss' one too many times. He wondered if Rory felt the same emptiness at those words that Jack did.

Eliza. There was a long moment of silence while he processed it all. The tension, the anger in the man's voice. A car crash, something completely preventable. How must that feel, to know that somebody else's selfishness had taken someone he'd loved so much? Jack had always considered the worst part of his wife's death the fact that there was no direction in which to point the finger. Nobody had thrust cancer upon Grace like a curse and the doctors had done all they could, thus it was easy to blame himself. Why hadn't he seen the signs sooner? Could she have lived if he'd just been more observant? Asked more questions? But now, looking at Rory, he wondered how much worse it would be to know that the situation truly was preventable. An unimaginable kind of torture.

"I-me too. That's why I'm here, I mean. I lost my wife a couple years back too." God, he hated to talk about it. It seemed necessary now, though. He couldn't leave Rory's admittance hanging over them without return. "Grace." His voice cracked a little as he said her name, uttered quietly like a prayer. It still hurt to say. "Cancer, you know."

➥ tagging @rorysanderson

Rory freezes only for the smallest of moments before forcing himself to relax and finish with the chicken. As he transfers the cooked product over to a clear bowl, he replies, “Not exactly.” It’s hard, to put into words exactly why he’s here. Yes, technically Eliza’s death had brought him to Blue Harbor. But it was mostly the unfortunate series of events that followed that were the culprit. He’s no idea how to explain any of that without sounding insane, however.

He tries to stick to the facts as he begins shredding the chicken, carefully avoiding Jack’s gaze. “She passed two years ago,” he says. “Head-on collision. The drunk arse that swerved into her didn’t have a scratch on him, though,” he mutters darkly. “Seems they never do, do they?”

When he finally finishes shredding the chicken, he meets Jack’s gaze again, forcing it to remain steady. “Her name was Eliza,” he says, because he feels like she deserves the introduction. Her presence is all around this house — her paintings up on the wall, her books tucked into the shelves, the colorful blanket she never finished crocheting thrown over the back of the couch. “The move was, uh — related. Change of scenery.”

[sadcoms]

until i recently read posts on here about how there is an inherent queerness to the doctor and rose's relationship in how it's unspoken and filled with yearning that i'd never really considered that element, despite knowing for ages that RTD is gay but. man. it's just reframed a lot of the series for me, like the idea that you have this lonely man who's just watched his people die and is self-destructive and misanthropic and traumatised and he can love again and he wants to but it has so many risks.

but especially S3 and how it adds even more weight to the doctor's grieving widower status. how he tells martha that he and rose were together but martha refers to rose as a friend to tallulah; the fact that he can only say they were together once she is gone; how the only other person that both can feel how he feels but also understands the depth of his feelings is jack, a queer man himself. and I've been thinking to myself lately oh, it's ok, the doctor and rose probably accidentally got married on at least one planet or something but also the point is that there was no official title that could convey to people the extent that they meant to each other, that the doctor can really only tell donna that rose was his friend even though it is so wholly inadequate and she comes to see that by the end of the episode (and martha too of course). how people who saw the doctor and rose together assumed they were a couple, like on krop tor, but once there's no more physical evidence of the relationship it becomes more vague (and simultaneously clearer).

anyway something about how christopher eccleston said he based his portrayal of nine on RTD and something about RTD saying that his husband is "in every good man i write now" and how the doctor and ruby seeing each other in the club mimics his first meeting with his husband aka the one moment he would use a time machine to go back to hmmm

[devilfic]

omg we need more of the honeymoon shot bruce and reader,, maybe a one bed trope if it’s not too much to ask no pressure obv!!<3

❝honeymoon❞

II. marriage bed.

parts: previously / next plot: the in-laws are in town. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, only one bed trope. words: 1.6k.

"I'm sorry" feels numb to say at this point. You still say it, standing at the foot of what should have been your marriage bed. It's been a long night and you'd wrung your hands of dish soap until your family practically barked at you to get to bed, to get back to your husband.

You can still hear them, cackling downstairs in the living room while your nieces and nephews tumble through the hallway. It must feel alien to have your childhood home, long devoid of familial joy, be suddenly bursting full of it. And have none of it mean anything to you.

Bruce stands shoulder to shoulder with you for a few more beats. Then he walks to the door, and you watch him twist the lock with a firm click. Your heart picks up a bit.

His steps are muted on the carpet and you take in his shoulders, the rolling hills of muscles in his back, and the pants that cling to the divots of his hip bones. The black cashmere is a gift from your mother, something preferable to his "ratty" sweats. He didn't like these very much.

Since you'd started living here, you caught glimpses of him like this. A heavy shadow of a man skulking in the darkness, waiting for you to leave for work before revealing himself. Rarely would you find yourselves crossing paths in the kitchen or catching eyes in the living room. And with each fleeting glance, he would escape elsewhere, receding into the tower the way a frightened cat might hide from strangers. Intruders. Funnily enough, you found avoiding eye contact helped that.

But now there was nowhere to run. Your family was here for the holidays and they were in every room. Eyes everywhere.

"Do you need to work tonight?" You'd started calling it that: "work". It made sense around the family (not so much your mother), and it didn't put him on edge when you skirted around the "B" word. "I can help you get downstairs."

He's half-turned to you, waiting on his side of the bed, so you can see the way his face scrunches up at a thought, "Gordon... told me to take time off. For family."

You snort, "You told him the in-laws were in town?"

"Yes."

You blink, "Oh."

Bruce had told you that between you and Alfred, no one else knew who Batman was. The lieutenant, trusted friend and ally as he were, had yet to join the ranks of your prestigious little club. It felt wrong to be in it when he wasn't; you'd forced yourself into it, and Bruce didn't even trust you.

You round the bed opposite to Bruce, and staring across it at him felt like staring across an ocean—he was so far away. You wondered how many people had shared this bed with him. How many he trusted as little as you.

You understand that the Bruce you remember was still a boy, grieving much differently than he is now, and had liked you just a little bit more.

You're the first to draw back the covers.

Bruce watches you settle in before following suit, reluctant, as if he were still wondering about the cons of sleeping in his car tonight. The weight of the bed dramatically shifts and you glide against the silk to his side when he lays down, your hand going for his upper arm to steady yourself. He jolts at the contact, staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Your second sorry of the night spills from your lips, and you squirm away from the warmth of his side and back to the edge of the bed.

You both lay like that for a while, side by side, neither of you particularly comfortable.

"Why didn't you say no?"

His question rocks the stillness in the air. You almost jolt. You turn your head and ask, as casually as you are able, "Say no to what?"

"The marriage."

Ah. "You've met my mother. It's hard to say no to her. Isn't that why you're in this situation in the first place?"

He remains looking up at the ceiling, but you see his jaw constrict, "The you I knew had a backbone."

He means it to hurt. Reminders of your youth together had not softened with time, it seemed, even if he treated you like a distant memory. You don't muster up the courage to bite back at him. Instead, you tuck your tail and keep the mist from gathering in your eyes, "...Yeah."

He doesn't seem to have expected that response. He finally turns his head to look at you, visibly confused. For a few moments, the two of you just stare at each other. Him, analyzing. You... mourning. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's becoming harder to hold back tears, "Not this. Not with her pulling all the strings. Regardless of what you think about me, or my mother, or my family, I didn't want any of this. I don't... want to be your enemy, Bruce."

You want so badly for him to believe you. You've never wanted anything more than for him to see you honestly, transparently, except perhaps to see him the same. To not have to fight.

He's about to say something when the doorknob wriggles, followed by a tentative knock. The two of you sit up and listen for who could be at the door, until a small voice calls your name through the wood, "My niece." You say, rigid. "She must be lost." You go to stand but to your surprise, Bruce is already at the door letting her in.

She stands at just about his knee, blanket clutched in her chubby arms and mouth hidden by the purple fleece. She has to turn her head all the way up to look him in the eyes, "Uncle Bruce," she says through a lisp, "where's the bathroom?"

You can't fully see Bruce's reaction from the bed. From the side, you watch his shoulders sag and his cheek rise in what you think is... a smile.

Very slowly, he comes to a crouch in front of her, "The bathroom?" He asks. She nods an affirmative. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa Alfred? He knows where everything is."

Her eyes dart to the side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "...Grandpa Alfred is scary."

Bruce laughs, actually laughs. He hasn't laughed around you. Hasn't managed more than a smile today, and only to placate your mother. He's warmer too, more open. You watch him. Mesmerized. "He is a little scary, isn't he? But I promise, he's really nice if you get to know him." Your niece doesn't seem so convinced. A moment passes as Bruce thinks of what to say, "How about I come with you to go ask him?"

Her eyes light up, "Really?"

"Really."

Bruce holds out his arms to her, and though she's reluctant, you watch her tumble into them with arms thrown around his neck. He hops back to his feet with her perched on his hip like she weighs nothing—and she probably does, to him—and asks her in a hushed voice if she's holding on tight.

Her little head turns to look at you over his shoulder and he follows, his smile weakening some.

You almost ask if she'd like you to come with, but think better of it. In the time it would take Bruce to complete this task, you could try to fall asleep. Maybe then it'd be easier on him to share the bed with you, "Go with Uncle Bruce. Maybe Grandpa Alfred will show you the fancy swords if you're brave enough to ask."

Your niece beams, urging Bruce to take her to him this instant, and they disappear out of sight.

You're half conscious when Bruce returns and shuts the door, but there is no click of the lock to follow after.

With your back turned, all you have to tell you where he is in the room are his small sighs. He's on his side, closer than you expected him to be so quickly, and you curse the carpet that hides his footfalls. You keep your breaths measured, pretending you're fully asleep, and wait for him to climb in.

One knee presses into the mattress, then the other, and you quickly remember the problem with this bed.

He's just laid on his side when you go sliding backwards, feeling your body collide with his chest. You force your eyes to stay closed but you are chilled with mortification. Should you move? Give up the facade of sleep and scramble for the other side of the bed? Would he shove you away?

You wait for his heavy hand to fall on your back, but... nothing. Seconds crawl forward at a snail's pace. You can feel the heat of his hand hovering over your hip where your night shirt had ridden up, but he never touches you. You take slow, deep breaths. You wait for him to wake you, then, if he won't shove you.

But that also never comes. The tips of his fingers lightly brush the skin of your hip, and then disappear. You feel his arm wiggle between the both of you, feel him shift a bit on the mattress, but nothing more. He doesn't push you away. Doesn't call your name. Doesn't shake you until you're forced to crawl to the other side.

He gets comfortable. Stiff, but comfortable, and he doesn't move you. You wonder, as the heat of his chest makes you conscious of your heart beating quicker, if it's too late to crawl back on your own.

You wait for what feels like hours contemplating it. So long, it feels like he might've fallen asleep behind you. So long, that you melt into his side of the mattress. So long, that sleep comes and morning soon after before you could even make up your mind.

[natjennie]

just. the way that ghosts so thoroughly shows that people have always been people. they've always been a little bit messy and a little bit silly and they get mad and they laugh and they learn and they grow and they have forever and will continue to forever. and then when you consider the queer aspect of like. gay people have always been here. robin slept with anyone he wanted to and they raised children as a community. fanny's husband was gay in the 1800s. the captain was gay in 1945. sam and clare had their wedding at button house in the 2020s. people have always been here and sometimes they're gay and sometimes they fight and sometimes they grieve and sometimes they love and sometimes they're mean and sometimes they're kind and they apologize and they play games and they organize clubs and they play pretend and they cry and they live. they're dead but they live. they live.

[ohnopeh]

thinking about ian running away with mickey in season 7, once again having none of his family give much of a thought about him being MIA.

thinking how even thought he had a social-worker-boyfriend who knew about his bipolar and that his criminal-ex-boyfriend (who he allegedly doesn’t want to get involved with anymore) is out— all he thought about doing was leaving a couple of messages and going on about his life like nothing happened.

thinking about trevor knowing ian is grieving over monica’s death, knowing how he felt about her and their shared bipolar— thinking the best thing he could do would be having ian being blown by chubby people ending up with ian crying on some stranger’s arms.

thinking about trevor being a social worker, knowing ian worked at gay clubs as an unmedicated minor being groomed and drugged by pedos and still making him have sex with someone to get what he wants.

thinking about mickey, despite being scared and deep in the closet, worrying about ian distress despite having his father inside the house shouting at someone

thinking of mickey letting ian hold his hand as they have sex, the only way he knew how to let himself show he cared about ian

thinking of mickey stepping up once frank tries to leave without paying ian, looking down on him

thinking about mickey finding out ian is in trouble in season four and worrying, despite having his abusive father, hookers, abused sister and a pregnant wife he didn’t want but was forced to deal with.

thinking about mandy telling mickey about ian not answering her messages anymore, making mickey go to gay clubs to find his ex, specifying he doesn’t have to hang out with him as long as he goes back home cause ian is missing so many things happening to his family. mickey knows how much ian cares about them.

thinking of mickey finding out ian cheated on him and waiting until he shows up to talk. being told he made a porno— unprotected and shoving aside whatever he might have felt in that moment cause ian well being is his top priority.

thinking of mickey on his phone. calling, sleeping with close to his chest and still defending ian despite him going mia, running away with the car and his son.

thinking of mickey stepping up to take care of ian and get him to take his meds, not afraid of his maniac episodes and stepping up to protect him from hurting himself or others.

thinking of mickey getting angry at ian’s family reaction to ian running away again, seeing them being careless whilst mickey worried and tried to reach out, again.

thinking of mickey risking it to see ian one more time before running to mexico

thinking of mickey going back to prison to keep ian safe and protected.

thinking of mickey not knowing if ian will want him once he’s out on parole but still putting ian above his needs and feelings.

thinking of mickey trying his best to make his husband happy no matter what.

thinking of mickey noticing ian mood changing and silently helping him out of a possible depressive episode

thinking of mickey being the only one who put ian above anyone and anything else.

[cosmerelists]

Support Groups that are Needed in the Cosmere

[Spoilers throughout!]

Sure, Kaladin has invented therapy, but where are the highly specific, timeline-blind, Cosmere-spanning support groups that our heroes desperately need? Support groups like...

1. "My Parental Figure Tried to Murder Me and all I Got was this Stupid Trauma."

Vin: You grow up thinking your mom tried to kill you, but it turns out she was just spiking you to be controlled for an evil god. Vin: Not better. Charlie: Oh man, that's horrible! My dad just sent me to an evil sorceress he thought would kill me because I was just that embarrassing to him. Wax: My uncle, who raised me, tried to blow me up with my own butler! And that was just, like, the first murder attempt. Shallan (sweating): I really thought there'd be more "and I killed them back" by now.

2. "Kin-Killers Club Support Group"

Wax: Kin-Killer's...Club? Shallan: I thinks someone thought the alliteration would be jolly before realizing that this group probably shouldn't be. Raboniel: Some would claim that "kin-killing" must be specifically a blood relative, like a daughter, rather than a spouse. Dalinar: ...should I go? Wax: No, no, I think wives definitely count as family! Vin: How do we feel about in-laws? Father-in-law? Brother-in-law? Shallan: Hey, it's all trauma. Kaladin: What if you didn't kill your brother exactly but you feel like it's definitely your fault and the guilt eats you alive? Wax: Yeah, nixing the jolly alliteration was definitely a good idea.

3. "I Did Not Enjoy Being Enslaved"

Kaladin: I think, for me, the worst part was that by the time I had fallen that low, I kinda felt like I deserved it. For not protecting people. Kaladin: I think that's why I kept my slave brands for so long. Rlain: I never thought I deserved it. None of my people did. Crow: Hey, why is this group's name in the past tense? Some of us are STILL enslaved to the big stupid dragon, you know!

4. "Dead Brother Gang"

Kaladin: Uh, Shallan? Is it awkward to have me here? Shallan: Eh, it's okay. Narratively, I got over you killing my brother really quickly! Shallan: Sorry he killed, like, all of your friends. Kaladin: I think that's trauma for a different support group. Shallan: Ha ha yeah! I've been to so many it's hard to keep track. Jasnah: If the two of you are finished, perhaps the rest of us could also talk about our deceased brothers now? Llarimar: Uh, is it okay if our brother died but then later came back to life? His death was still, like, very sad. Marsh: Of course. Even brothers who don't remain dead can be grieved. Marsh: ...Sometimes they manage to annoy you more.

5. "Horses Suck So Much--Why Doesn't Anyone Else See It?"

Kaladin: ... Vin: ... Kaladin: Vin: ... Kaladin: I really thought we'd get more people. Vin: Me too!

6. "Killed Off For Another Character's Development"

Evi: I know my death gave my husband such a powerful backstory but...it would have been nice to be in the main narrative. Vin's mom: Hey, at least you got a name. Parlin: It sucks, but it must be nice that you were grieved, at least! Parlin: People are like, why was Parlin even a character? Kelsier: (sighs) Yeah, our deaths may help the main character grow...but at what cost? Evi (low voice): Are we sure he qualifies?

7. "I Really Thought That Guy Was Cool and then He Almost Murdered Me and I Felt Kind of Stupid"

Vivenna: Turns out you CAN'T trust mercenaries, even if they seem jolly. Shallan: Some men who bring you jam and bread are...bad. Siri: Even nerds can be evil. Hrathen: Sometimes the crazed, violence-prone, deeply unstable underling you think you can control for your own purposes turns out to be crazy, violent, unstable, and murderous. Vivenna: ... Shallan: ... Siri: ... Hrathen: What?

7. "Wronged By Hoid"

Kelsier: Ugh, that jerk. Punched me in the face. Sigzil: Abandoned me in the Bridge Crew. Not to mention that I have to run forever now, thanks to him. Jasnah: "Wronged" is perhaps strong, but I will say that he is not the ideal boyfriend. Riina: That son-of-bitch kicked me off of a perfectly fine planet! Amarem: He was quite rude to me, once. Or many times. Hoid: It's all so true. I get myself into SO much trouble sometimes. Hoid: Is there any greater victim of Hoid...than Hoid himself? Kelsier: YOU CAN'T BE HERE

[confessions-sm]

People find ways to complain about Lila being a bad parent while she’s actively grieving/going through something traumatic . A bunch of people after spooky hallows came out started to actively side with father Gregor about how bad she is as a parent , when it hadn’t even been a full month after bob literally tried to kill both her AND HER SON . Of course she’s stressed out about this , you can see she literally started sleeping on the couch and added a bunch of safety just to make sure no one would hurt skid . she needed a night out to take her mind off things and left him with Susie who she trusted . Susie is not fully to blame either as she’s a teenager , trying to figure out why her parents won’t come see her and her brother . And now in the Kevin short I’ve already seen people talk about how Lila didn’t do anything to make skid apologize to Kevin when she was outside . She literally didn’t know ? ? She was outside of the candy club . Both her and skid are actively grieving since her husband died (possibly recently with how they both act during the short, she wouldn’t have looked so distraught and out of it if not)

And since that saying that skid has clearly never been taught manors . He’s 6-8 , possibly younger since Kevin has been working at the candy club for what looks like years at this point

I have absolutely no problem with people not liking her character but bringing in situations to call her a horrible parent while something has affected her is shitty , in my opinion . I love Lila , she is one of the best parents in spooky month to support and protect skid even AS a single mother . you don’t need to like every parent/character in sm, but it’s the fact they’re trying to blame her for grieving about something to say they dislike her is unfair . No parent is perfect . She’s human , even if you can’t always keep your kid safe . (I apologize if any of these seems rude , i don’t mean for it to be . I have no disrespect towards anyone and their opinions . This is just mine and it bothers me deeply)

.

[bardic-tales]

EDIT: Thank you all for all of your support.

I think I'm just going to go for today. I don't know if there will be a post tomorrow for Creators' Club. I most likely will return tomorrow to answer any asks or mentions. I feel like avoiding all of this drama as I have Avoidant Personality Disorder. And it's interfering with my creativity.

tw: death

I just feel like this entire thing is my fault. I have had 4 deaths in my family in the last 2 years: my grandpa (cancer), my husband's cousin (car accident) and she was 17, my husband's aunt (covid), and my emotionally support cat (cancer) who I always said we saved each other: he almost died when we adopted him and then he would purr and let me lay my head on him when I had migraines. I have chronic migraines: about 15 a month, so I need to be very careful of what stimuli that I have. And I know that to some that this would seem unusual too.

I had my friends on here that helped me at that time @arrthurpendragon, @sliceoflifeshepard, @serenofroses, and @prehistoric-creatures.

And as for starry, she was the first person that I met in the OC community. She was the first one who ever commented on a fanfiction that I posted on Tumblr and AO3. This is especially important when I have been told ALL my life that my writing sucks and to find a real job by my own mother. I found out about her death through three weeks after my Grandfather passed in Jan, 2024. I have GRIEVED her death, as I grieved my grandfather. And I made this club to share positivity on Tumblr, as I wanted to give back to the people who have helped me in my grief and to spread positivity and the kindness that certain members of the OC and the Writeblr community have showed me about my writing.

I will say this once and only once. Then, I am moving on from the drama. I know that you, anon, might not see this, as I have you blocked, but I know you can stalk my blog if you log out. I do not CARE what anyone thinks on whether she faked her death or not. It is not up to us to decide that, as we do not know why someone would do that or the mental state that they are in to even consider doing that. And it does not change the fact that I literally GRIEVED my friend. It does not change the fact that I CRIED over this friend.

It may be a 'don't be silly' as Starry's post makes no sense to YOU, but to me, this is a person that I have lost and have grieve for.

I love each one of you. And I sincerely apologize for everything that has happened. All I wanted was to bring positivity to Tumblr and to give back and bring exposure to creators who often don't get comments over their work. That's it. No nefarious agenda.

[onyxmango]

Bf! Rindou who has another girl on his lap at the club

Bf! Rindou who didn't try to push her off of him, and accepted the kiss from her

Bf! Rindou who didn't see you standing right there watching.

Ex bf! Rindou who didn't even care enough to get up and follow you as you ran away crying.

Best friend! Ran who sees the whole situation and follows you to comfort you and apologize about his dickhead brother

Best friend! Ran who hates seeing your pretty face cry

Best friend! Ran who lets you cry on his expensive suit telling you to not worry about it

Best friend! Ran who drives you to your favorite restaurant to get comfort food on him

Best friend! Ran who tells you to not worry about rindou as he never deserved you

Best friend! Ran who doesn't accept your kiss as much as he wants to, because your heart is grieving is his brother at the moment.

Best friend! Ran who waits a couple months for you and is there for you as your friend, despite his feelings for you.

Husband! Ran who loves you and cherishes you like his brother never could.

[anamelessfool]

Ok Secondo's family in my AU (the year is 2018) (thank you for your interest @can-of-pringles and @saintbowie )

Sandra was a sibling of sin and worked in the infirmary. A med school dropout who came from a family of funeral directors. She was Primo's nurse towards the end of his life. She is a surprisingly bubbly, energetic soul. Very athletic and self-conscious. But she has the intellect and drive for knowledge that matches her husband's. Also she can maneuver his temperament with the right kind of sarcasm.

I am writing a fic about their meeting. It's a tense love triangle between Secondo and Primo and Sandra in 1998. Secondo is navigating becoming Papa Elect and his mother's very recent death.

I'm enjoying writing their conversations.

Since meeting Sandra, Secondo has attempted to quit smoking 6 times. He's on his longest streak of 3 years in 2018.

Secondo retired and left the Church in 2008. He was too ill and Sandra's father had recently died. Her brothers were struggling with the family business and so the couple stepped in. They went back to school together and loved every minute of it. Secondo is a licensed funeral director and Sandra a mortician. Secondo enjoys his new role helping grieving families and organizing administrative tasks.

Secondo is the primary caregiver of the family. His mobility was destroyed by the Curse and so he suffers chronic pain and weakness in his leg and spine. He can manage working from home fairly regularly and so he handles most of the domestic tasks he's able to accomplish. He's turned out to be a very good cook and his personal goal is to create every type of pasta from scratch at least once.

Paul was 4 when the family left the Church. He doesn't remember much of it, just that his dad was too busy or ill to spend quality time with him. Paul (14) is shy but has inherited his father's musical talent. He knows several instruments, guitar being one of them. He enjoys contributing to the theater and art clubs at his school. Theater is his big interest. But Paul would never sing in front of a crowd though.

They had two other children, Eden (8) and Samuel (5). Eden is very crafty, a go-getter. A tiny, exacting dictator with a fascination with the macabre. She has been known to tell her father odd messages of magical importance. Sam is an enthusiastic follower of his sister and tries to copy her all the time. The two younger children are closer to each other than Paul. They love their older brother but it sometimes seems like Paul is a third caregiver to them.

[toxinroxin]

✨️Lore Time✨️

Okay so this is gonna be super summarized as changes may occur later on. While for now this is what I've got so let's roll!! I've also got Huā (my oc) ref sheet at the bottom :)

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

She's a creation of the Gold Star of Venus, using the trigram furnace, a stone fruit, snow Monkey fur and some lotus petals.

After being raised by the gold star as his assistant she later became the goddess of flowers and fertility.

During that time she met Sun Wukong when he first came to the celestial realm and the two became friends, Wukong being one of Huās first friends (Who was like her a simian) and she was the one to show him the pills without realizing he would be the one to steal them. Eventually Wukong convinces her to come see the mortal realm where he introduces her to Macaque.

So around the brotherhood time Huā had already abandoned her duties of being a goddess so she could stay by Macaque's side as they had become lovers.

After the Brotherhood Era Huā still cares for Wukong as he had become a brother to her and was still her first friend but once jttw starts up the bond is slipping as she's busy focusing on herself and her marriage.

Then Macaque is killed during the journey to the west by wukong which sent huā down a grief stricken path and she wasn't taking proper care of herself even though she was pregnant with twins. She was at the beginning when Macaque died, but in her grief she went from being a very quiet and kind individual to a manic one. She started to hunt humans and even ate them; she only started to regret it when she killed and ate a child in front of its mother.

This action will stain her memory for a long time, during her haze she convinced herself the one who's at fault was Wukong because he killed her husband causing her to grieve and take it out on these mortals. By the time she had killed the mother so the child wouldn't be alone, the pilgrims had arrived to seek shelter at the place. Only for Huā to stumble out covered in blood, she ended up begging them to kill her, to put her out of her misery before she hurt another child and so she could join her husband. The monk ended up stealing her away but not before Wukong had tried attacking Huā believing she too was just trying to trick them to kill and eat the monk. During her time of being sealed away Huās body remained the same but the ones inside her did not thanks to her body's frozen state the cubs couldn't grow or survive so she miscarried them (this part will most likely change with more research) Centuries passed before she was released by Macaque using the skeleton key, the two have a long tear filled reunion as Huā kept mumbling he's alive only to later realize her cubs are gone. So with Huās nature based powers and macaque’s shadows the lost souls of the two cubs were put in husks made of shadows creating Rumble and Savage. They aren't their real cubs and is something Macaque reminds her of but Huā treats them like they are her real clubs to keep her sanity intact.

Throughout the lmk show she follows Macaque until season 3 as she ends up getting a broken leg and is stuck with the monkie kids as when Mk tossed the pipe into the engine Huā got her leg stuck and from the fall plus the explosion badly messed up her leg, even before season 3 she's never physically hurt anyone besides wukong, she just messed with Mk mentally but treated him like a like a proper student during the time with remembrance to keep his mental state in check for the best results.

[housedeaubemarle]

FFXIV Write 2024 #21: Shade

PG for non-graphic mentions of sex, what we used to call 'lime' back in ye olden days.

~~

He moves in darkness by necessity. Morning light always brings more inconvenience - mostly the reality that something had actually occurred, not just a dream brought on by overly strong brandy. Experience, both benign and painful, has taught him few people want to greet the sun with him still in the room. 

Well, not usually. 

“You're going already?”

He stops moving, turns from where he's sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots in the dark. The voice has come from behind him, soft and tentative in spite of the fact it's the usual time he leaves. She's generally sound asleep by this point, though he supposes today is rather different.

“Yes, I'm afraid so.”

There's a pause. The shadow on the other end of the bed shifts slightly. “Is it so bad to wait for the sun at least?” 

The deliberate tremor in the tone makes him quirk a corner of his lips upwards. Some commendation had to be given for effort, it must be said. “You will regret me if I do. Believe me.”

“...don't you mean you'll regret me if you stay?”

He lets out a breath. “My lady, we had an understanding. Your mourning period officially ends today – so must our meetings.”

“And what if I want to still grieve my late husband? What if I still wish to wear black and close my doors to all so you may still come to me without endangering either of our reputations?”

“...it will still end, one way or the other. I would rather leave on better terms than either of us tiring of each other.”

The petal-soft quality of her voice drops into one holding thin barbed blades within. “So you're going while the going is good, is that it? Selfish, heartless man. All of you are the same.”

He turns back to finish tying his laces, unbothered by this accusation. “Lord Barnabontant isn't. His flowers have been constant, have they not? Each time I'm here, I see a dozen Azeyma roses on the side table.” 

There's a profoundly loud silence before the reply comes. The blades have all shattered; now it is just an urgency to cover up a mistake she thought a simple-minded highborn fool would have assumed was her personal taste. “Th-that’s not- how dare you claim such a falsehood…!”

He rises from the mattress. “Hardly. I’ve seen those roses change from red to soft pink to then back to some other sort of crimson over the course of two moons. This evening, I saw it’s the exact shade of the stain you use to colour your lips. As I hear it, Barnabontant gave a fortune to the Botanists Guild to grow something to his satisfaction. And yours, apparently.”

“How dare you insinuate that!”

“What? That you weren’t happy with his roses?” He shrugs. “‘Tis your prerogative, madam, as the one who is being wooed. And his lordship certainly doesn’t mind. I'm sure half this city has heard him say the flowers pale in comparison to your beauty, but he has no other means to express his passion for you. He can only be thankful to the Fury that you've allowed him to attempt perfection in the colour of your lips.”

“...you… he… he has? He is?”

He picks up his coat from where he always drapes it over the chair by her dressing table, then turns towards her direction, as if at attention. There’s no need for light to picture the fall of her soft dark hair over her bare olive-toned shoulder, no need for him to climb back into the bed to know the touch of her soft, warm, perfumed skin. 

“You should know better than I do, Lady Ystride, considering how long you’ve closed your doors to all but me… and him.” When the silence stretches again, he smiles. “He and I do go to the same gentleman’s clubs, you know. And he will insist on his Ul’dahn cigars – it’s not hard to detect the same smell lingering on your balcony.”

“Damn those cloves,” mutters the lady, at which he just laughs louder. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

“It seemed to amuse you, pretending you had to keep such a secret after you’d met him. As if you had two serious suitors who couldn’t know you were sleeping with both all this while. I imagine it was a bit of a relief when my excursions to the Observatorium began.”

He can already see her glare at him. “Did I not have two? Weren’t you supposed to be enamoured with the lonely widow who sought comfort and succour?”

Just as she had been supposed to have only allowed him into her bed because he had no intention of marrying her. After an unfulfilling marriage to a wealthy but austere, irascible nobleman, Lady Ystride had always declared she was going to play the merry widow for all eternity.

Then she'd mumbled 'Barney' in her sleep one fateful night, and he almost gave himself away by laughing. Despite themselves, the lady's affections had been won by the man with more honourable feelings. He was glad for it personally.

Yet he just smiles and bows. “It's been a pleasure, my lady. Rest assured my lips are sealed about our connections. I don’t imagine we will ever be in such close proximity again, so allow me to wish you very happy for the future. If I may be so bold, late spring will be a good time to hint for a proposal – just in time for a summer wedding. A man of Lord Barnabontant’s passion can be expected to wait no longer than that.”

“You- don’t pretend as if you know me, Remont de Aubemarle!”

“I have never been the one pretending, Lady Ystride.”

And with that, he slips out of the room, gliding quietly through familiar corridors, down a staircase and out a side door the lady ensures is unlocked for these nighttime visits. The shocking cold of Ishgard’s air hits him like a well needed splash in the face. 

Remont breathes in deeply, lets the iciness shoot through his nose and chest and breathes out. He doesn’t even glance backwards as he leaves the compound. For once, it will be a relief to have his bed to himself. 

-

end.

[literaryxbones]

Goth History-Episode 2: Gothic Fashion

Welcome back to my Second Episode of Goth History. If you're new to the @literaryxbones blog, don't worry! You don't have to look at the previous episode to follow this one.

Today we'll be discussing the history of gothic fashion: it's historic origins, connection to music, and its modern evolutions. Consider this a more generalized overview of goth style. There are many different iterative substyles that could warrant future entries.

Before delving into the contemporary goth scene, we must not neglect modern fashion's original, archaic influences. Stylistic inspirations date back to the Romantic Period. At the tail-end of the eighteenth century, people became disillusioned with the Industrial Revolution. They attached a sentimentality to nature, beauty, and simplistic living. Corporate technologies had long been eroding this traditional way of life.

As a result, discontent transformed clothing conventions. Dresses, vests, suits, and pants began to don elaborate, ornate patterns. Laces and ruffles exemplified its flair. A more restrictive, darker color palette of black, scarlet, purple, and brown was worn. The writings and dress of Edgar Allan Poe helped popularize the aesthetic.

With the rise of the Victorian period, British nobility adopted the darkened elegance displayed by its counterculture. In 1861, Queen Victoria mourned her husband's passing. Ever since his death, she was only seen wearing black. With the public clad in funeral garb, the commonfolk and the royalty grieved together. The color black possessed a strengthened association with death.

In the late 1970's, a rebellious post-punk subculture emerged. An emphasis on individualism, non-conformity, and a dark appreciation pervaded in their fashion. Victorian touches remained in the jackets, fishnets, and expressive makeup worn by early post-punk bands. Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, and Bauhaus flaunted this style on their tours.

A sprinkle of Punk-designer Vivienne Westwood's carnival themes cultivated the angular trad-goth makeup look shared all over social media today.

Bauhaus often used bat symbolism in their song lyrics and outfits. These nocturnal creatures are loved by many goths alike. Bats also recall to mind the Bat Cave, a London club.

I couldn't write about the history of our subculture's fashion without mentioning DIY. "Do-It-Yourself" attitudes were embraced by multiple alternative fashion scenes. Oftentimes, people thrifted, upcycled, and sewed clothing out of necessity. Younger members couldn't afford the expensive outfits worn by celebrities and made by fashion designers. Before online-shopping, most alternative fashion was inaccessible.

DIY also allowed for more creativity. Creations became an extension of the person wearing them. Goths chose from a variety of chains, collars, charms, and rosaries as accessories. They could implement these decorations in infinite ways. Different methods of distressing, cutting up, and patching clothes gave each piece a unique quality. Upcycling became an avenue for self-expression. People made what they liked.

In more recent times, second-hand shops and the DIY ethos has been centered around anti-fast fashion movements. Fast-fashion is when big corporations mass-produce a vast catalogue of items. Production is usually outsourced to other countries with cheaper labor costs. In these places, there are little regulations protecting workers. Popular sites for sourcing alt fashion like Ali Express, Shein, and Amazon use Chinese sweatshop slavery to produce their clothes.

Overall, gothic fashion is catalyzed by scene artists, ethical dilemmas, and the creative spirit. Now, a ton of styling subgenres are gaining traction. Pastel Goth, Trad-Goth, Victorian Goth, and Cybergoth are just some of these newer terms.

It is important to remember that these styles are all goth, and that dressing to a certain aesthetic does not make you goth. Goth is in your heart. It's in the music you listen to. It's in the interests you find beauty in. You don't need to wear loud microtrends to have your identity recognized. Just have fun, wear what you want, and explore your own creativity.

Phew, that was a long post! Thank you for reading all of it. Maybe I could add in a prize for readers who read all the way to the bottom, like a hidden sticker or stamp you can use or something!

Sources:

A Fascinating Look at Gothic Fashion History and Its Roots – Midnight Hour

Gothic Fashion: Brooding, Forceful & All About the Black | FashionBeans

DIY Goth Battlevest Created by @Lord_Dagger on Reddit

Written by SORDID

[lasudio]

StrangeSpot, Round Thirty Two: Smith

Poor Virginia's still navigating the grieving process of losing Bondi when Jill moves in.

Jill: "I know I cheated on your brother with a college kid, but we're still good, right, fave sister-in-law?"

Virginia: *sobs even harder*

Jewel: "Why is she even here?!"

Apparently, to form a cool hat club with the other gals of the house.

Brighton: "Oh, so I'm not good enough for a cool hat?"

JoAnn: "Let me have this kid, my husband got pancaked by a satellite last week."

Brighton's also grieving for his big brother and can't find a good way to deal with it, other than repeatedly kicking over the trash can and inviting vermin to descend on the Beech beach huts. Now everyone is suffering from on-again off-again flu. Should've let him have a cool hat, y'all...

[turboloverjudas69]

Steve Cortez for the character ask! 👀

Ooo fun I don’t tend to think about Steve that much but it’s gonna be fun to think about a “new” character.

- Favourite thing about them

I personally love Steve’s ability to match Shepards energy on the field like he’s flying the shuttle and Shepard could say to do 3 spins and Steve would just say aight got it and execute it with no question as to what it adds to the tactical situation they are in. And he doesn’t do it cause he blindly follows orders but because he would find a way to make it advantageous and not just throw the idea away cause it seems weird at first.

- Least favourite thing about them

I guess it’s not about Steve himself but more about how they wrote him for me? Like I hate that he has little personality apart from dead husband and Shepard romance? I’m not sure how to phrases it but that’s kinda the reason I never romance him too?

- Favourite line

I’m not too versed in Steve lines but I always liked the delivery of one of the first ones we hear from him it goes something like

“Don’t worry Shepard when I’m flying I’m 100% with you. I won’t let you down”

I’m not even sure why I like it I just do :)

- brOTP

James !!!! Vega and Steve interactions are one of the best parts of both of their characters I LOVE when existing characters become/are besties with no player involvement

- OTP

Honestly I have no idea cause I personally think that Steve shouldn’t try to get into a relationship seeing how his husband’s death still affects him. Like I think he should take time to be with friends and himself to give him self proper time to grieve.

- nOTP

Kaidan / Steve

Maybe cause I’m a mShenko till I die but I simply don’t see it romantically. I do think that the 2 of them could be a great book club / cooking classes besties

- Random headcanon

Steve is banned from casinos cause he counts cards. Bros unstoppable when it comes to cheating for money. I don’t even know where that came from but it feels right.

- Unpopular opinion

Kinda ties with the earlier answer but I don’t think Steve should have been a romance option or his character arc shouldn’t be so deeply ingrained in him still grieving and having little personality outside of that.

- Song I associate with them

Honestly it’s a new one but “die with a smile” by Bruno mars and lady Gaga

Something with the essence gives me Steve

- Favourite picture

I legit don’t have one 😭 I’m sorry

[mmfan1]

WIP - no name yet - another scene from the AU I started yesterday

“Not grieving so much as I should.  Our match was an arranged one, one that would keep our estate in our family.  You see my father is the Earl of Grantham and I am one of three daughters.  As you probably know primogeniture does not give the right of inheritance to daughters, but to the next male in line to the title.  In this case, my second cousin.  He was a nice chap, but had no sense of business, and I did not find him the best company.”

“How long were you married?”

“We married in 1912, after he survived the Titanic disaster.  My parents felt it was a divine sign that we should in fact be married.  Before that the engagement was not official and I thought I might be able to snag a duke and leave Patrick to my sister, to whom he was much better suited.”

“So I guess your husband was a lucky chap”

“For a while he was, survived the Titanic, served in the War, but ultimately made it through without injury”

“What happened to him?”

“He was killed in a stupid car crash on the day our son was born.  He held him once, told him earnestly that he loved him, and died on the way home”

“How awful for you, for the whole family.  When did this happen?”

“Robert Patrick is 7 months old now and he shares his birthday with his father’s date of death.  And yes it was awful, the shock of it, and also knowing Robbie would grow up without a father.  Because I do believe he would have made a good father, he was so looking forward to being a father and teaching our son to be the next Earl.  You see the whole point of our marriage really was to produce an heir and we were finally successful at that.  It had taken us eight years, I was beginning to think our marriage really had been pointless “

“Was there not a little element of love?”

“Oh you are so middle class.  There was some respect, perhaps appreciation.  But we spent more than half our marriage apart during the war.  And Patrick was quite injured by it.  Miraculously not physically, but mentally.”

“As most men of our generation “

“May I ask you something?”

“ I suppose you should be entitled to, I’ve done nothing but ask you questions “

“Do you still think about the war? More than three years later?”

“ I would be untruthful if I said I did not. But I do try to move on.  It’s just that so many things have happened since the war ended, not all of them good.”

“Does it hurt to talk about?  Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.  Surely you did not come to this club to hear tales of woe”

“For now l will only share that I too have lost my spouse. She was sweet and Spanish flu stole her life not long after we married after the war.”

“Children?”

“I’m afraid not.  But this whole conversation has been way too serious for this club.”

“And what should we be discussing at a club like this?”

“Well I believe everyone is dancing, may I have the privilege of this dance, Lady….?”

“Lady Mary, and yes you may Sir…?”

“Not Sir, just Matthew”

He held out his hand, she placed hers in it and they headed to the dance floor.