#(Me ' HI Did You Know Donor Children EXIST ')

[deebris]

Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

[celticcrossanon]

The family photo used in the Harkle Christmas card has me convinced that Meghan is not Lili's biological mother. How is Lili basically the same height as Archie when she's two years younger? Of course siblings can end up being different heights once they're older but Lily looks like a 5-6 year old. Plus boys usually end up taller not always but that tends to be the case.

There are children who are either smaller or bigger than expected for their ages but that generally applies to all siblings, either they're all taller or all shorter than average.

It's unlikely that Archie is small for his age and Lili is big for her age especially if they have the same biological parents. I'm generalizing but it just seems odd to me. I could understand if there is a medical condition but I doubt there is.

Archie's stature mirrors Meghan's but I guess she didn't want that for her daughter. I wouldn't be surprised if they got a donor egg from a white, tall, blue eyed woman.

The obsession with the children looking like the Spencers and Diana especially also makes me think Meghan didn't want to use her own eggs (if they were even viable).

Your reading on Harry's paternity is interesting as if he knows or suspects Charles isn't his biological father but it was ignored/covered up so Harry is treated as a prince and received all the privileges then he might not think of it as a problem if his children aren't either his or his wife's biological children.

It would be something if it turns out that Harry isn't the biological father of either child and Meghan is only the biological mother of Archie and that's not even considering that they most likely used surrogates for both.

Whatever the case is Harry and Meghan do things in a way for people to speculate about the children and it will be the children who grow up hearing rumours just like Harry did. He really took the "genetic pain" thing and decided to carry it on!

Hi Nonny,

Exactly. The children do not make sense in that photo and it looks fake/photoshopped (how long has it been since Harry did not have a beard?). As for the paternity of the children, who knows? I'm still not convinced that either of them exist tbh, as for all we see of them they could be borrowing kids from someone else to 'stand in' for the alleged children (Yes, I know that sounds like a far out conspiracy theory).

Whether the children are rent a kids, from a surrogate, or something else is going on, the one thing I am sure of is that there is something very dodgy about them. As you said, Harry has spoken about his own pain and anxiety over his parentage, and yet he has willingly passed that on to both his alleged kids. Some father he is.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #19 – Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro

This is the third book I’ve picked up as part of my whole aspirational ‘read a piece of non-SFF capital-l Literature every month’ New Years resolution. Of those three, it is the second I opened only to discover it actually is science fiction and/or fantasy after all. Which is just a very funny thing to happen twice, and also meant the book was significantly less outside my comfort zone than I’d expected. Which did make it quite a pleasant read.

The story follows Klara, an AF (Artificial Friend, a companion robot for children) in a broadly sketched and mildly dystopian future America. At first it just follows her life in the shop where she’s kept, observing the world around her and interacting with the store manager and the other AFs, but the meat of the book is her life with the family who buys her. Over time you learn that Josie, her child, suffers from severe and increasing health issues as a consequence of being ‘lifted’ (genetically enhanced, in some unclear way) in the womb. Klara, being solar-powered and having quietly developed a one-robot religion underpinned by a firm belief in the power and benevolence of Mr. Sun (and a moral opposition to Pollution, which obscures and drives him away) does her best to invoke his help in nourishing and restoring Josie. At the same time, she learns that her job is not just to comfort Josie but, should she die, to be her mother’s replacement goldfish and imitate her perfectly.

The setting is broadly sketched and never really exposited upon – it’s just not something Klara is particularly interested in – but it’s a very modern sort of dystopia. Much of the populace, even among the American professional elite, have been left ‘post-employed’ by robotic automation. The remaining meritocratic elite have embraced novel and risky genetic enhancements for their children, as the only possible way of ensuring they get into a good school and one of the few good careers left. There are fascist militia compounds off in the distance somewhere. The overall feeling is that of a society dimly aware it’s midway through collapsing, but with no ideas of how to arrest its fall. But since Klara has no interest at all in either politics or economics, we only see this as it directly intrudes upon the story, with nary a lecture or manifesto to be seen.

I’ve only ever read one other book by Ishiguro, so I really don’t know how much this generalizes, but the similarities to Never Let Me Go really were striking. Both books are set in really rather horrifying societies, but portrayed in an utterly normalized way by someone who never even thinks to question the real rules they live under. Which is even more striking because in both cases the protagonist is seen by society as only quasi-human – like a person, but existing only in relation to and for the benefit of the people who really matter. And in both cases the story follows the protagonist who lives their life moving through the role they were made for without ever really resisting it, let alone changing it. Not that the roles of ‘friend to sick child’ and ‘mandatory organ donor’ are exactly comparable but, you know.

A definition I’ve always kind of liked for what makes literary fiction, well, literary is that it’s as or more concerned with the beauty and presentation of its prose than it is on the information the prose is conveying. Not at all true in terms of how the term’s actually used (genre is marketing), but it works for me, and lets this book count as literature quite handily. The whole story is told quite tightly from Klara’s point of view, and it’s a pleasure to read. Even if it took me more than a few pages to really understand how she described scenes, always foregrounding the ways they were divided by grids or patterns of the sun’s light.

Portraying the normal human society through the eyes of a naive and somewhat alien narrator to get away without explaining everything is a classic sci fi trope for a reason, but it’s overall used really well here as well.

I’m still not entirely sure how to interpret the sudden intrusion of magical realism with the ending. But otherwise, really quite a good read.

[nami-moittli]

Currently trying to figure out a combined family tree for the 1-6 Joestars and the 7-9 joestars, even though I’m only on chapter 12 of Jojolion. Send help

I’m not done yet, mainly because I have NO CLUE how to start going about Johnny’s side of the family tree, considering how 90% of it is just reusing the 1-6 family tree until oops! The Kira’s are here now! And idk how I wanna go about doing that right now, and like I said, I’m still really early on in jojolion, so idk where gappy falls just yet, and I haven’t even touched jojolands yet, all I know is that the jojo is named Jodio Joestar and has a sister named Dragona, and that seems pretty daunting rn lol

Some notes!

Dio and Diego have the Joestar last name due to being adopted

Their mother is specifically Diego’s mother because we have much more to go on for her, at least from what I’ve seen

Her name is Anne because in jojolion it says that George I’s wife’s name was Anne, but I’m pretty sure that Mary is Jona’s mom’s name, so the name has been gifted to the Brandos

Also nicknames don’t show up so imagine that it’s either their nicknames or just the Roman numerals for how many times the name has repeated (ex. Johnny instead of Jonathan (II), Lisa Lisa instead of Elizabeth, George II, Tomoko II, Norisuke IV, etc)

Lucy is Lucy Steel because I find it funny and her maiden name is Pendleton, so I like to think that she’s actually named after Erina’s mom

Yes this means that all of Jona and Eri’s children are named after other people, George II, Jonathan II and Lucy II

No I don’t know how Steven Steel plays into this

Josuke’s donor conceived, so Joseph is technically still his bio dad n stuff and Josuke’s an actual Joestar

Also since this is purely for me, really, imagine Yukako as siblings with Josuke bc I love Yukasuke twins. I did go back and add her in, but then you weren’t able to see everyone on the family tree nicely anymore, so just imagine she’s there

George II and Nicholas have been condescend into one character, feel free to imagine his full name as George Nicholas Joestar II

In the panels of JoJolion I used to get the Higashikatas family tree, it mentioned a few unnamed siblings, due to their lack of importance they have been erased from existence. Who knows, maybe they still exist but I did not add them

Same goes for Johnny’s family tree, for when I get to it

Marina is like, the only non canon name on this list, unless you include Anne but even then I got it from a different character

No idk how some things would play out due to this shift (ex. Sbr) this is mainly just for fun

Ryohei is younger than Norisuke IV, I just didn’t feel like going to the trouble of fixing it and swapping their places around

I… think that’s it? I’ll probably go back and update this eventually with Johnny’s family, and if Lucy ends up with children or anything and where ever the fuck Gappy, Jodio and Dragona end up, but for now this is it

Also thank you to these panels from JoJolion:

Also bonus Johnny family tree:

[mr-orion]

ok I must have more lore on this Icarus I keep seeing since I’m officially in love with him and want to kiss

he and I should kiss

also may I draw him bc that drawing you posted of him gossiping tickles my brain so much-

"I guess if the inspiration strikes... me being your muse must happen."

Oh boy. He's a bit of a firecracker and not very PG. He's in fact, kind of mean. As for the kissing, you and Ray both, though I think Icarus will shake you down for all your cash before you start getting any affection. As for drawing, yeah! I'm always grateful for any drawings and honestly treasure each one I get!

I don't see the harm in saying it as it is. He's a prostitute and escort. Man is raking in the big bucks working under Stags INC. The only reason Ray and him are friends is because Icarus has a lot of intel on the people manning the cartels. While Ray initially got his cooperation by bargaining to sweep his drug use under the carpet, he found Ray is a fun guy and not too sleazy to be around. Plus he's fun to tease, which is Icarus' favorite thing.

He's a Stav'raw, as opposed to Ray who is an Auveri. Unlike Ray he cannot fly. He has dense bones and his wings are only good for a glide. Which, he doesn't preen them. He was never taught so he is absolutely matted with feathers he hasn't thought to pull out. He's actually much more vibrant but because he's so fucking crusty with feathers from his whole existence you can't really tell. Additionally the sclera of his eyes is black. Along with his mouth and lips. He also gave himself a split tongue.

He comes from a very neglectful household with a mother who was a first generation Earthian and a non-existent father. He found his profession as a way out of that bad situation. Though Icarus' dream job is being able to help kids someday. He wants to be a pediatrician for alien children, believing that if one adult had noticed the abuse happening to him he could have been helped.

While Icarus doesn't think he'll make it because of his job history, Ray encourages him. Also reassures him that there are other ways he can help people. While Icarus is bummed he's only just starting to get into the 9 years of schooling at 28, he remains hopeful.

His hobbies consist of video games, nursing classes, clubbing, taking his dogs for walks along the beach, and riding his motorcycles around.

Another fun fact is that this man is absolutely the best of friends with Rays older brother Rowan. Though he has no clue the two are related because they look nothing alike and it's just never comes up. It will be chaos when all three of them figure it out and Rowan tries to beat him for trying to rizz up his beloved sibling. Ray will also get a scolding for bringing sweet, innocent Icarus into his less ethical detective practices. Ha.

Additionally, in freak coincidence Rowans child, is also his niece! He genuinely had no clue until one night in a deep conversation his best friend opened up about how similar Icarus looks to his niece, Onyx's egg donor. Icarus developed an even deeper hatred for his twin sister that night upon Rowan opening up even more about what his sister did to him. (It gets real fucking dark, so I'll spare those details.)

Icarus absolutely hates talking about his blood relations unless its Onyx. Who he treasures deeply and is so proud of. And by proxy Rowan. Of course. Who is his bro, his best friend, his pogchamp.

I can't think of much more, if you want to know something specific please feel free to send more asks!

[muralconservator]

i know this will not be seen until the following morning in your timezone but. aaaaaaa florian thoughts. i'm in on the savior complex and have been for a good while (read: i drew him like. under 24 hours after he was revealed and went all in on analyzing my boy), and really? this is a guy who hates the cold equation of having to sell teammates in matches. this is a guy who would not keep his cool if he failed to save someone he meant to. he thinks what he's doing is for the best, he thinks he'll be able to create all these miracles. and then someone dies. because of him. mmmm post arson clarity destroying him. one of the few times he'd be unable to keep the act/his cool because he couldn't be the person he had to. he couldn't save them. he couldn't– and then there's the matter of florian and identity issues! when there's only one clearly first person deduction tagline (the one for deduction 6)? he's lived so much of his conscious life being photographed that i imagine he's sort of gotten used to living like he's always being perceived and like the spotlight will burn him if he plays his cards wrong. in deduction 3, we have that photo of him standing indifferently, before the repetition-induced (?) recontextualization of the fire that stole his parents from a painful nightmare into a motivation to act. heck, in deduction 1, we see a photo of his parents showing him how fire works when controlled, what it could be. and we see the depths of calculation for even simple theories of how flames spread that he'll take into account. that talk about how he "always stays friendly and humble to donors and the children who require treatment"... this is after white sand became an asylum, and he was there when it was simply (?) an orphanage. he's been in the system for too many years, he's been given authority. and what does he do? he burns the place down, rescuing as many as he can. he sees the drugs that can't treat (deduction 6) and uses them for his own measures. with talk of how "in any case, he needs the attention" (deduction 8), i also see that knowing the newspaper's description, and knowing he could save people without having to sacrifice himself... it could be another kind of miracle, could it not? and with descriptions of how he's seen as "the friendliest person to ever exist" (deduction 9), how he refuses to let that smile of his falter, i can't help but see it as a conscious thing. he's hiding the arson when he refuses to talk about his personal life, but there could also be so many things he's hiding. the parts that aren't photogenic. the parts that don't fit the story people tell about him. he's so many things as a character and i love him dearly. in regards to the facade he constantly holds in my personal headcanon (this man is masking so hard i am convinced), i think victor would catch that (source: victor does the same for his own reasons. man is on the run, man knows what's expected of him and what could easily happen if he messes up) and. victor dislikes face to face conversations because of the lies people tell, how they hide so much. and yet both victor and florian hide so much and say so little about themselves. it's just that i imagine florian's forgotten where the presentation of himself ends and his internal thoughts begin. letting them both find a way to connect and see each other as the messy, complicated humans they are as opposed to the images and superlatives on newspapers or the ways they have to act in terms of the work they did. victor having the "who are you really?" moment but he can't/doesn't say since it would be out of pocket for him. but it lingers in his mind. in both their minds, faltering has a very real cost, very present stakes. i am so sorry for the ramble i just have too many things i think of when it comes to this man. he's a normal guy who does normal things trust.

don't apologise for the rambles I love when people talk to me about this stuff !!!! I'm sorry I don't have more to add though (I'll probably end up adding to this later ngl), I fully agree with you and I really enjoyed reading this

I'm really into the whole saviour complex idea with him and the idea of him trying to hide and mask things, he's the kind of person that'd want to hide his flaws to me, he wants people to see him as good, to say the least, to see him as always happy, always brave, and always smiling despite what's happened to him, he's noble

[theshortolivia]

Do you ever wonder who your real parents are

First, thank you for my first ask ever! It’s super cool that I exist to people I don’t face to face know.

I’m gonna assume that by ‘real parents’ you mean biological parents. (Just a note I would try to stop using the term ‘real’ when talking about biological relationships it might offend people). Anyway, I actually do know my biological parents! I have two moms, one of them is my biological mother, and my parents used a non-anonymous sperm donor and artificial insemination to conceive me.

I used to be really uncomfortable about the donor thing as a kid, it weirded me out that there was a stranger involved in my conception. But I love to talk about this now for education purposes and as a fascinating story most people as old as me don’t have to tell (a two mom family having a kid not from a previous hetero marriage in 2000? pretty rare at least where I’m from!) so here’s some further explanation:

When my moms decided they wanted kids they actually chose sperm donation instead of adoption because as a lesbian couple in 2000 Ontario, they would have been pushed to the bottom of the adoption list and it would have been really difficult to get a child basically. So they went with a non-anonymous sperm donor. (This is better than anonymous for a million reasons I could go into another time if you’d like I’d love to talk about it from my perspective as a donor baby!) My moms decided which of them would get pregnant based on who wanted to, health, and family health history. They chose the donor based on a multitude of things: someone who looked like my non-bio mom so I’d look like both sides of the family, someone with good genetics both health wise and characteristic wise (no diseases run in family and family are very smart, creative), and because this donor specifically provided much more information than other did, way more than required. He gave us a video of himself talking about why he chose to do this, family and childhood photos of him, extensive family history including professions and personalities, etc. Then on March 21st 2000 (I’d have to check with my mom but if I remember correctly this is when) at 10am my mom got artificially inseminated and I was conceived. (I think it’s super cool that I know my exact conception date and time btw). Fun (not so fun) fact my moms were common law partners (mostly same legal bindings as marriage in Canada) when I was born but my non-bio mom was not put on the birth certificate out of discrimination (a common law husband to a woman’s biological baby would have been placed on the birth certificate), so, to have legal guardianship over me she had to adopt me. To make things equal my bio mom disowned? me and they both adopted me together! In similar discriminatory fashion, my non bio mother did not originally get granted leave from work and they had to go to court to fight it because a man would’ve. (My parents are trailblazers they’re so cool!)

I can meet the sperm donor if I’d like, he allowed meet ups on his profile at the sperm bank, so once I was 18 I could meet him. I’ve never really cared to though since I don’t see him as anything other than half of my genetic information, i suppose it could be interesting to see what similarities we share since I’m studying genetics but that’s about it. I do think it’s really cool I know my genetics so closely because it’s all written down though. Im half European Jewish on his side and have his eyebrows, and a mix of his and my bio moms hair!

I also know of the other 5 I think? children whose parents used him as a sperm donor scattered around the North America, my parents were in contact with them when I was a baby not not really anymore though, I also don’t really wanna meet them cause they’re strangers to me? Like idk it’d feel kinda weird to make up some connection to them cause we have genetic info in common.

Thanks again for the ask, im pretty much an open book and it’s super cool that I can give my perspective’s answers for questions!

(Sorry this was so long winded and probably disorganized, that’s just how my neurodivergent brain be)

[koushirouizumi]

{DigiAdv 02 Ep. 50} (J.P.N Version) ~ Adult!Researcher!Koushiro[u] Izumi & Child

“Don’t forget the {SAMPLES}.”

“I know!”

(Narrator!Takeru) “Koushiro is a Digital World researcher.” {Pictured is Koushiro in front of a large, “futuristic”/Sci-Fi like computer [+screen]; working alongside Shuu Kido, the elder of the two older Kido brothers of Jou*; and Haruhiko Takenouchi, Sora’s father, who in 02, also was actively researching mythological folklore, and (post-Adventure) the Digimon’s connection to it.}

* [The U.S. dub combined them into one character, “Jim”, but they are two disctinctive characters in the original version. Shuu only appeared visibly in 02.]

{Clipped by Me} {DO NOT re-post} {DO NOT remove caption} {Please ASK to Use} [Disclaimer: I Do Not own DigiAdvs]

(Note: This post is mainly intended as Koushiro-Informative. Please do NOT interact on this post if you cannot do so respectfully.)

[trashendence]

Wait also!! In that same conversation Mitchell tells Eddie 'me dying and him living maybe makes the world a better place' and if that is not the Evan Buckley Thesis then I don't know what is? In relation to Daniel of course, but also in relation to every stranger he's willing to risk his life for. To Eddie, especially. Buck not only has his parents' dna, but he also grew up with them, in their house, around their constant anger—now this sounds grim but perhaps, if Evan Buckley as a father died (if he figuratively let his dream of being a father and building a family die) and he settles for being a donor, his children would grow up loved and cared for by someone else and the world will be a better place. And it’s funny because it’s Eddie in 5x06 who asks Mitchell 'you think that's a feel-good ending for him?', it’s Eddie who tells him that that is not the right solution, that his son wouldn't want it to happen that way. It's. A Lot.

please know this ask left me staring at the rain outside my window when it’s not even raining.

because this is exactly it. not only buck feels like he has to remove himself from the happiness he so craves in order for it to exist, but he also feels like he has to pay an additional fee and make sure it can happen for someone else. i also think his insistence on keeping it a secret from maddie and from eddie parallels so well with eddie being explicitly asked to be the keeper of mitchell’s secret instead. trusting eddie to do the right thing for nolan was the last thing mitchell did and, under a layer of jokes about jerking off, buck thinks that eddie would do the right thing for buck and try to stop him. eddie sympathizing with mitchell as a dad cannot work here because buck is not acting as a dad, he’s acting as a wounded son - and eddie will always protect the wounded son.

not to mention that these secrets are not that secretive (nolan can literally read the news from the day of his transplant operation and find out his father died suicidal in the hospital parking lot, while connor’s kid will likely be told his dad is not his biological father) and, thinking of it, daniel’s existence was the original secret destined to be uncovered all along, the secret that affected buck’s life even when he didn’t know about it.

the evan buckley thesis (i love that) keeps being about him trying to find answers while hiding those he’s already stumbled upon and can’t deal with.

[tommyspeakycap]

Can you do a jealous John stones please 🥺🥺🖤

jealous stonesy coming right up! feel like john is the quick to get jealous type :) this gif does things to me

Black Tie Turbulence

John’s hand is both a constant and comforting presence on your lower back from the moment you both stepped out the car. He’s careful with his feet to not step on the bottom of your beautiful long dress that was matched in colour to that of his delicately placed pocket square.

“Aren’t you two a sight?”

John leads the turn so you can both face Kyle and Annie, also both dressed to the nines and offering each of you a glass of sparkling champagne. “The heels are already a killer,” you joke, making Annie giggle immediately. Heels were a must for almost all black ties, but more so when your boyfriend is an absolute giant.

It was a charity ball that a good few England and their players had been invited to, mostly in order to try and sweet talk the donors into giving more of their money than they originally would. You had gotten used to these events and liked to think you had actually gotten very good at sweetly chatting the vendors into emptying the metaphorical pockets. John wasn’t the world biggest fan of these events, but he knew they had to come hand in hand with the joy of doing what he loves each and every day. Plus, he gets to see you all dressed up. That’s good enough for him.

“I’m gonna go see if I can grab another drink.” You tell John, leaning up to press a chaste kiss into his jaw. He nods, eyes following you intently as you walk off with your heels clinking and dress swaying. “Earth to Stones.” Harry Kane waves, clicking his fingers to get the defenders attention. John shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “He’s fucking whipped, mate.” Kyle laughs heartily, eliciting similar laughter from Kane and his wife.

You stood up at the bar as the tuxedo glad bartender went off to collect your order for you when an older man appeared next to you. He too was looking to order a drink. “I hear the sambuca shots are exquisite this year.” You suggest with a teasing grin and a sparkle in your eyes, very successfully gathering the full attention of the silver fox who you had turned to face. He chuckles, eyes meeting yours as his tongue hits out to lick his lips. He was probably in his mid fifties, so you didn’t feel gross for a little bit of flirting to get some cash for a children’s charity.

“I’m just joking,” you note softly, “But the whiskey is fantastic.”

He nods, a smile overtaking his pink lips and stretching his face to fill a happy 60 years worth of laughter lines. He seemed truly sweet, not that you were at all interested. But he wasn’t sleezy, didn’t have a wedding ring in and looked a little younger than you knew he was. A little bit like Patrick Dempsey, actually. “A woman after my own heart.” He responds, flagging down the waiter for two whiskey’s.

As you got to talking, you learned he was a CEO. You had always been in awe of the kind of money that John had immediate access to in his bank account, what with you still paying off student loans and such until John took went behind your back and payed them off with an insistence that “his girl shouldn’t be worrying about anything ever.” But this man had even more money than that, you suspected. He just screamed out overpriced whiskey, fancy holidays, houses on every continent and boatloads of cars that you hadn’t even heard of. Yet, he seemed very sweet. You told him about some of the work you had gotten up to on a year abroad doing aid work during your second year of uni and he had been extremely curious about it, genuinely listening which shocked you significantly.

John would have said it was because the way that you spoke, completely captivatingly as you got lost in your own stories. You made people feel as though they were part of the adventure, drawing them in and leaving them hanging on every word. Most would claim that you were the only reason John still got invited to these black tie charity events because he certainly wasn’t so good at wooing older men out of their money.

“You’re definitely a whiskey lady, then.” You nod your head at the statement from the older man, a small laugh as you remove your hand from his arm that you had reached for when he made you ‘laugh’ with his last joke. “Mhm…well travelled, beautiful, very elegant and clearly incredibly loved.” You furrow your brows slightly his words, eyeing him carefully in search of their meaning. He leans in slightly, his eyes soft with a kind smile of his face. He nods his head behind you, “He’s been watching you since the moment I stepped up next to you.”

Your eyes land on John when you turn around, trying to look as though he wasn’t watching the interaction intently with those fiery blue eyes. You giggle to yourself with a soft sigh. “You made an old man feel incredibly young again,” he begins with genuine joy in his eyes. “You could change the world with that heart. It’s that reason and that reason only that I’ll be making such a hefty donation. None of this wining and dining, fancy ballroom party they’ve thrown. Passion,” he pauses, “Your kind of passion for better is what this is all about. But I reckon you best get back to the man who looks like he’s going to eat me alive.”

His words were touching and incredibly sweet, but the end was also true. You could hear your boyfriend’s footsteps approaching at a pace that might make you question his fifa rating from last year. You turn yourself back around to offer a thank you for the donation in your name, but all you see is that head of salt and pepper hair disappearing off into the crowd. John has suddenly remembered why he hates these things so much. You’re very clever at getting exactly what was needed from these men and you had no shame at all for flirting with them. If you had it, why not use it? You always said.

Despite knowing it meant nothing, it still sent John absolutely crazy and though you’d never admit it, that was one of the biggest reasons you did it. He used to bring you these things as his friend before you had started dating, which was very coincidentally where he burst and told you he loved you when you had asked what had irritated him so much afterwards.

His jealousy wasn’t something you exactly regarded as a demon, a little bit more of a treat.

Seeing him hot and bothered, angry flush to his cheeks with his jaw set firm and his muscles tense in irritation. It was beautifully hot.

“Flirting with older men again, eh?” He says sharply, his eyes burning a hole in you with the fire of their irritation. You shrug nonchalantly and take a sip of your drink. “Not a big deal,” you hum softly in response, watching carefully as anger flickers through his eyes. He turns his back to you with a scoff and a shake of his head, grumbling something under his breath.

“We’re going.” He states. You roll your eyes. “Oh don’t be like that, John.”

“Like what, eh?” He presses, still not turning to look at you.

“All angry and shit, it’s not a big dea-“

John isn’t having it. He whips around quickly, using his large body to press you back into the bar and takes the drink from your hand with ease when you still, enjoying a sip of it before he places it down on the bar, out of the way easily with those long arms. His hands come down to hold onto the dark mahogany surface of the bar top, trapping you with your back against it between his arms and your front against his chest. “Not a big deal?” He challenges, being careful to wedge his thigh in between your legs, he presses it up against you.

“It’s all for charity, John.”

Your face remains unchanged as you look into his eyes, darkened by lust with his pupils swallowing the blue of his iris.

“I don’t care,” he rumbles, his voice low, reverberating through your ear where he had loved his mouth to, his lips and hot breath tickling your neck with each word he speaks. You open your mouth to response, but John sees this and ceases the opportunity he has primed himself for so you can’t speak before he does. The words are lost on your tongue, dying before they ever have the chance to exist when he flexes the muscles of the thigh between your legs, tightening and pushing it up against you. He swallows your squeaky whimper with his mouth over yours.

“You’re mine.” He growls against your lips, continuing to make his presence between your legs known, very very known. He does pull back k slightly though, his darkened smirk flattering to a soft smile as he tilts his head to take in your rosy cheeks. “My sweet, kind girl.” He coos, lifting both his hands to cup your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the soft surface. You giggle at his words, blush deepening. “Seriously though, love,” he hums, “Hate the action, love the cause.”

That prompts another giggle, your head falling to rest on his chest gently. His hands strokes over your hair softly as his lips press down on the top of your head.

“Not mad?” You query, listening in to the soft and slow thud of his heart against your cheek. John has moved you effortlessly to the ballroom dance floor from the bar with only a few backwards steps, letting you lean in against his chest again. “Little bit, of course.” He replies.

John has his arms wrapped tightly around your body to keep you flush against him in every way, swaying back and forth in time with the music.

To any onlookers, it would appear as normal, mundane and incredibly sweet to see the relatively young couple enjoying each other so close on one of his few nights off. Truly, it was adorable when you factored out the reason for the proximity John keeps to your body.

“John?” You lilt, your voice a daring misfire between sweet and sultry. “Mhm?” He rumbles in response, keeping his cheek rested on the top of your head. “Your hard-on is pressing into my stomach.” He chuckles to himself, your words too quiet for anyone else anywhere near to eavesdrop on but enough to flush his cheeks ever so slightly.

“And I would much rather it was in some far more pleasurable places.”

John does not need those words explained to him, nor does he waste even a moment leading you hastily off towards the exit of the ballroom, sure that he could find somewhere in this venue suitable enough to let everybody hear just who you belong to.

[miaikon]

Book Rant - My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult

There's no other book I have as intense a love-hate relationship with as "My Sister's Keeper". I've got no-one to rant to about that in real life, so here you go, dear tumblr. I need to get this off my chest.

Having (at least a bit) matured emotionally over the last year, I decided to re-read "My sister's keeper", to see if it still outrages me as much as it did two years ago. And it DOES! I have no beef with the author or the writing style, and I suspect it can be called a good book by the metric of moving me emotionally. What I hate are some of the characters, their actions, and the ending. So, TONS of spoilers ahead.

First, about the characters: I sympathize most with Anna, and I absolutely HATE Sara. I think she is the villian in this whole thing. Jesse gets my sympathies too, and Kate and Brian are pretty much non-entities. (Campbell is a prick. Julia is sympathetic but underused. I wonj'T be talking about those two, though, just the Fitzgerald disas... ehm family).

Let's start with our Big Bad Evil Woman, Sara. This freaking nightmare of a human being concieves a whole-ass CHILD to be spare parts for her poor sick golden girl, Kate. Like, really, she even TELLS ANNA the only reason she exists is spare parts for her sister.

This is driven home when, for the first time in her LIFE, Anna DARES to want something for herself - to go to a hockey camp. "If something happens to Kate, we need Anna - her BLOOD, her TISSUE, her PLATELETS - right here". Empathis mine. They don't need Anna, they need her body parts. Sara would prefer if Anna was a vegetable, kept alive by machines, so she can continue to harvest her designer donor for parts. That's despicable.

Also, she fails heavily as Jesse's mom. I get it, her golden child is deathly ill, but still. She just stops caring about ANYONE else all together. I would be more sympathetic if she hired care for her other kids or adopted them out if she is that overwhelmed. But of course she can't adopt Anna out because spare parts.

Also, her keeping Kate alive is pure selfishness, in a way. Sara herself does not sacrifice anything or, bizarrely, acknowledge either of her children as a person. They are just "the sick project I have to fix", "the spare parts", and "the problem". She doesn't even CARE what happens to Baby Anna right after birth, didn't bother to name her (Brian did), or knows where Anna is and what she does 99% of the time. When pregnant, her own inner monolouge tells me she thinks she is birthing a cure, not a baby.

Brian the fireman is a coward. He admits he dreads going home, and he never stands up to his wife even a bit. It takes Anna sueing her parents for him to realize something is off. While he might be seen as the "good, trying hard" parent, he too went the path of least resistance, gave up on Jesse, and also does not know what's going on in Anna's and Kate's lifes. While more sympathetic than his wife, he too utterly failed all his children.

Jesse is the first innocent victim of the situation. Being driven to pull his own bracers at about ten, because his mother won't drive him to the dentist, because she's "too sad to move, Golden Child is ill again". His needs get ignored for Golden Kate's needs and even wants again and again. To get at least some attention, he turns to deliquency, drinks and other stuff, and his parents just give up on him instead of getting him the help he desperately needs.

Reading this far, you might think I hate Kate. I don't, being ill as she is is not a joke and her mom's behaviour is not her fault. She just doesn't get much of a character other than "sick, likes soap operas, slightly mischievous". Also, she treats Anna like shit a lot, modelling her mother's behaviour.

Anna is the second innocent victim. Having been forced to be a donor for her sister for most of her life, she is well aware that that is her only purpose. I can't fault her for not wanting to do that any more and for not wanting to donate a kidney to someone who'll most likely die anyways. Her needs are getting passed over for Kate's needs, wants and even moods. Anna is treated like a walking donor bank, and basically told to be grateful to be fed, clothed and get whatever scraps of joy and love she can steal, beg or give to herself.

I also DESPISE the ending. Anna dies, Kate miraculously gets cured by her organs, and everyone's happy. Barf. That reinforces the message that Sara was right, that it's okay to birth and treat a child as a tool for the survival and benefit of your Golden Child.

A better ending would have been: - Sara donating the kidney, doing something for her daughter herself for ONCE in her miserable excuse of her life - Kate refusing the kidney for Anna's sake, and dying peacefully. - Kate committing suicide for the sake of her sister, so Anna finally can have a life instead of being beholden to her illness

Rant over. Fight me or not. If you read that far, thank you.

Miaikon

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[butterysalt]

Fun | Sherlock x platonic!Reader

Pairing: Sherlock x platonic!gender neutral reader

Request ( @a-paper-cut​ ): 

Word Count: 2,202

Contains: Mentions of child abduction, platonic fluffiness and banter :)

A/N: AAAAAAA thank you so much, lovely! This was my first request and I was SUPER excited to write it hehe. I’ve been on a slight creative block lately and I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope this fic does justice for what you wanted and I hope that you are doing amazingly 🧡🧡

It was an early, snowy winter morning in London. You and Sherlock Holmes have been mind-boggled by a puzzling case for the past week. The detective proposed that the two of you go on a walk to allow some fresh air in the brains again. This suggested that even his extensive mind palace and composing weren’t helping the genius. Not that you were complaining about sharing a nice stroll with Sherlock. It had been years after all since you two had spent any casual time together. Like what people normally did in their free time, anyway.

The two of you stepped side by side, feet planting in the thin sheet of snow on the ground in unison. You grinned a little at the matched body language. You and Sherlock always had special ways to subtly communicate with one another. It was like a part of your minds were connected.

“Anything yet?” the tall brunette questioned. Your lip twitched upward. “Don’t rush the process, Sherlock. Just enjoy the moment. Live in it a little.” Sherlock’s long drawl could be heard next to you. His walking strides were growing longer as his patience began to thin out. You could practically hear the subtle gnawing of his teeth.

“We’ve only been walking 5 minutes,” you flouted, “Loosen up a bit.” Sherlock snickered to himself, messing with his gloved hands. “You’re already trying to read me?”

“You’re walking like you’ve got a stick up your arse. It’s clear you’re agitated,” you jested. The curly-haired detective sneered at you and kicked a clump of ice out of the way. “I can’t think, Y/n. We have potential homicide to solve and we’re here drudging in the snow.”

“Remember, this was your idea, genius. Unless you can come up with something else, this is all we’ve got.” Sherlock went silent, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mind wandered to try and come up with something snarky to throw at you. Perhaps a witty comeback that would leave you in doubt. The headache he was dealing with was enough to strike him in his train of thought. He shook it off and his focus returned to the matter of urgency. Unsolved case.

Sherlock lifted his face to the sky, blowing a hot cloud of breath into the chilly London air. He tugged his scarf a little closer to his neck, shoving his gloved hands down into his thick coat. The breath cloud was a common habit of Sherlock’s during cold weather. It mimicked the effect of blowing cigarette smoke, just without the tar and nicotine. Fortunately, the only time the detective abused drugs anymore was when cases had him horribly stumped; thanks to you and John’s efforts, his drug use was much more controlled now.

“Five missing children. All between the ages of 7 and 9. We know that the connection is tied to their private schools. Three different religious private schools within a 10 kilometer radius — so, fairly close together. The parents reported their children coming home with expensive gifts from a mysterious donor shortly before they went missing. They referred to the perpetrator as ‘Ray’. Anyone handing out shiny trinkets to naive children is either a philanthropist or a predator. I’d like to bet on the latter.”

You sighed, mentally reviewing all of the evidence from the case in your head. “But all of the children knew basic safety protocols: don’t talk to strangers, never accept anything from strangers, the whole package. Their parents are terribly traditional. They never would have let any of them see the light if they broke any of those rules. So the chances are near impossible that they would have fallen for such typical child abduction tricks.”

“Near impossible, L/n. That means there’s still a possibility and possible is all we need to screw this up,” Sherlock tutted. He blew another large cloud of air, shaking some light snow off his curls. You frowned, “The suspects. We’ve interrogated the popes, teachers, parents… who are we missing?”

Sherlock stopped walking. You turned to check up on him, finding him with his eyes shut. “Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions…”

“Of course we’re asking the wrong questions! We have all the pieces in our hands but no instructions, Sherlock. We’re running in circles with this case,” you walked over to a public railing, leaning against it and looking out across the long white blanket that stretched to the horizon.

He joined your side shortly after, bending down to pick up some rocks to toss down the snowy hill and watch as they made skinny trails in the frosty powder. Sherlock sighed out, exasperated and worn out. “We’re not getting anywhere by mulling over it, are we?”

You smiled at him and shook your head. You pulled your coat a little tighter around yourself. “That’s why I’m here to keep you in check. It’s good to get some air, you know? Christ knows when’s the last time you did that simply because you wanted to.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow perked up and he faced you with a blank expression. “How do you mean?” Your eyes widened a little, unsure of how you should pick out your next words. “Well… you know, you don’t exactly, uh…” Nervously, your eyes flicked up to his. He was watching your expression very carefully.

“You don’t spend a lot of time for yourself,” you said simply. Sherlock frowned in disagreement. “I spend a lot of time by myself. I thought you knew me better than that,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your back against the cold railing now, crossing your arms. “In your mind palace, Sherlock. I mean you don’t do things you enjoy.”

“Who said I don’t enjoy things?” he countered your query. You found yourself forming a cold sweat, debating on how to deliver your message. “Hobbies?”

“Violin.”

“Meh. Parties?”

“You disturb me.” Your best friend’s disgust made you cackle. “See, that’s my point! You don’t know how to have fun anymore. What happened to old Sherlock?”

Now this was a personal offense against Sherlock. “What? You don’t think I’m fun?” Sherlock sounded incredibly appalled by your claim. A hot cloud of air rose to the sky when you scoffed.

“Holmes, you are probably the farthest thing when it comes to the definition of fun!”

“Well, probability-wise, that’s highly improbable when Mycroft exists.”

“His poshness makes up for it. You’re just irritating.” Sherlock puffed out his red cheeks, nudging you playfully. “Oh, come on. You must admit that I’m at least an interesting character?”

You pondered in fake thought, scrunching your face together. “Interesting is debatable. Fun? That’s foreign territory, Sherlock.” The tall man grimaced deeply at your bluntness that he clearly had issues with. “What do you mean by ‘Old Sherlock’? What was good about the ‘old me’? I consider myself much more refined in the present day.”

Old memories of the two of you hanging out with one another as teenagers came back to you. A smile melted on your face from the warm feelings of nostalgia, the chilliness from the snowfall leaving your body.

“You used to prank Mycroft all the time. Everything was always a competition with you and me; we would go from racing down the neighborhood to reach my house first or rush to finish homework and claim the telly before the other could. Oh! We would always make up fake cases, too, trying to entertain a mystery that didn’t even exist,” you laughed to yourself, “Look at us now.”

Sherlock grumbled at the reminder of your old shenanigans. He wasn’t always the fondest of his younger self. But he had to admit he was reckless, even as a child. It was a simpler time and kids didn’t have much to fret or fear.

“Now you’re all enigmatic and stoic with your flipped up coat collar and scary cheekbones. The difference is so disappointing, it’s sickening,” you gagged. Sherlock slipped off his glove and jabbed his freezing hand against your neck, making you exclaim at the coldness and shove him backward. He wore a victorious smirk at your suffering. You pointed a hard finger at him, holding back your own laughter to prove a point.

“NO, that’s not being fun, Sherlock. That’s torture- sadism! You’re just an arse!” He threw his arms in the air, tossing his glove in your face. “It’s subjective! I can be fun,” he insisted.

“You’re predictable, Holmes. You don’t remember what good humor is and it shows in your actions. You pick everything up from books and telly. You can’t surprise me anymore,” you declared. Sherlock’s expression contorted into shock as he stared at you in disbelief. You had left the great Sherlock Holmes baffled. The silence was deafening — music to your ears.

When you thought you were winning this argument, a special glint quickly shone in Sherlock’s eyes. Your expression dropped and then you were pushed backward. There was no railing behind you anymore to catch you.

As you were falling, you naturally grasped for something to hold on to. In this case, Sherlock’s coat. The evil smirk on his face was immediately replaced with shock then fear as he was crashing hard into you. Gravity did the rest of the work. With the momentum you had already begun, dragging Sherlock down with you was one of the worst possible outcomes of the situation. A crude curse slipped past his lips and both of you latched onto each other because there was nothing else to brace with.

What was initially meant to be a playful fall down the snowy hill turned into a rolling battle full of frantic thrashing and screaming as both of your bodies thumped and tangled with each other. The two of you occasionally bounced a few inches off the ground and crashed back into the ground, knocking the breath out of both of you. The wild human avalanche down the hill was finally put to a stop when you rolled into a tree. With a loud OOMPH, you and Sherlock flopped into the ground, groaning and croaking in pain. Neither of you moved for the first passing moments, unable to process what just happened.

Your fall was broken when you landed on top of Sherlock, his body sprawled out in the cold snow, rasping heavily. Some snow fell off your form and your arms shook as you propped yourself up, no longer caring about the fact that you applied all the pressure in your friend’s ribs.

“You alright, mate?” you panted, checking up on Sherlock, eyes analyzing him for any serious injuries.

“You take my breath away.” You sputtered and shook your head at his ridiculous humor. “Aren’t you just romantic?” He squinted his eyes and flashed a sarcastic smile but groaned out, “No, really. Please get off my chest.”

“Oh God, sorry,” you scrambled off of him and he rolled over into the snow, gasping for air as he clutched his side in pain. You punched him in the shoulder. “You bloody twat, Sherlock Holmes! Pushing me down a hill by Jove’s sake!”

“I remember it being much more fun when we were younger,” he grunted out, pushing himself onto his forearms. And just then, his eyes burst wide open. His face slack-jawed as his brain computed at top speed. He was onto something.

“Sherlo-”

“FUN, Y/n,” he articulated, scrambling over to you and grabbing you by the shoulders. You stiffened and backed away, startled by his abrupt realization. 

“Oh, Y/n, you are brilliant! This is why we work together!”

“What?! What are you-”

“The kids were abducted because they were having fun! ‘Ray’ is Remus Stooge, another private school kid in the area. The Stooge family owns several of the land plots around this corner of London and they’re the ones funding all three schools — The Stooge’s are plenty wealthy. The children were going to Remus’s home, ditching class time to get a personal house tour of his daddy’s money. The fancy car rides, luxurious delights, shiny sneakers and tailored clothing… Who wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity like that? It only makes sense why they were lured in so easily! Their rich best pal Remus has been the one inviting them right into the trap!”

“What- Sherlock! Where is this all coming from?! How do you even-”

“Trust me, Y/n!! I have it figured out- It all makes sense!” he interjected again. The look on your faces was bizarre. You tossed a handful of snow at him as he blocked it with his hands. “NO?? It doesn’t! This is so sudden-”

Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, brushing off the powder from his coat and yanking you up. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. “We have to go tell Lestrade, now! Call John and get over to the Stooge’s place!”

“To arrest the kid?!”

“No, the butler!” He grabbed your gloved hand and dragged you up the steep white hill. You shook your head wildly, “Holmes, you better have a bloody good explanation for this in the cab or there will be hell to pay.” Sherlock smirked triumphantly and squeezed your hand.

“Come, L/n! The game is on!”

Requests are open! <3

[teiasviago]

Hey, loaf! Based on that post from the other day, would you be up for writing something where Scully finds out she is infertile in s2?

Yeah, I can do that for you, loaf. 💓 I definitely took this prompt and ran away with it kjsdhfjsdhf. The first section fulfills the prompt but the rest leads into an AU because I decided that I don’t want to hurt my Scullybaby <3.

Branched

The doctors all agreed that once her body readjusted, her menstrual cycle would follow suit. It was irregular before due to birth control but she’s been off it since she was... Scully hates to even think the word. It’s been months since Mulder stopped looking at her as if a simple hand on her back could break her, and her menstrual cycle isn’t even irregular—she just doesn’t have one anymore.

It’s baffled all the doctor’s she’s seen. Scully writes it off as an effect of whatever experiments were done to her and accepts her doctors’ conclusions that there’s nothing to be done about it unless she’s interested in having children.

The idea hasn’t crossed her mind much, aside from a distant yearning when she’s with her godson. She always assumed that she’d have kids one day after she fell in love with the right guy. Scully doesn’t know what she wants for her future anymore. All she knows is that she wants justice, and she wants the truth—both for herself and for Mulder.

Her newfound infertility is...something. She doesn’t want more pity. If she was stifled after her—if she was stifled before, Scully can only imagine that if she tells Mulder and her family that she can’t get pregnant it’ll be worse. The—what happened to her is something she can move on from, but this is not.

—

She’s experiencing early menopause, her doctor declares. It seems so final. She cries herself to sleep and goes into work the next day as if the shards of her future haven’t been ground to dust.

Though she’d tried not to give any of this much thought, she’d somehow assumed that the chip had been inhibiting the release of her ova for an unknown reason—maybe propagation is counterintuitive to Their agenda, who knows—but to find out that she didn’t have any, that all her chances at motherhood were gone... It’s a grief unlike any other.

—

Allentown. The name sends shivers down her spine if she so much as thinks of it. Flashes of her abduction (say it say it say it, don’t let them control you, you’re stronger than the trauma) and the knowledge that all the women at the MUFON meeting had chips and fertility issues and cancer... She takes off the next day and books an appointment with an oncologist.

The scans come back negative. The women said it could take up to two years to appear, though. Scully prays to God that it never happens.

—

She’ll never be a mother. Some days it hits harder than others. Some days she wishes that she could lay her head down and wake up in a world where she and Mulder have the lives they always wanted. She feels so violated and so disrespected, some days. On those days, she lashes out at Mulder, tries to leave him and this life of lies behind, but she can’t.

He’s not someone she can just walk away from.

These are the days that she smokes. These are the days that she calls up Ellen and asks for all the gossip she’s amassed. These are the days she gets drunk over the phone with her friend and spills secrets that no one else gets to know. Trent’s turning eight, Danes. I’m infertile, El. It’s funny how the person she sees the least knows the most about what’s happened to her.

These are also the days when she hits the town and drinks until she forgets. Sometimes she’ll go home with someone for the night and leave early in the morning, Mulder on her mind. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. It would break him even though it’s not about him, even though it’s not his fucking life.

—

She wakes up to a nosebleed and prays to God that he’ll give her a few more months to live. Just until Mulder’s ready, she thinks, tears running down her face as she holds a wad of tissues to her nose. Just until he’s ready to let go. He’s been such a constant in her life, such a tether. When things get bad, they go their separate ways, but they always come back to each other and find their balance.

It makes sense for him to be the first person to see confirmation of her cancer. It feels like the final blow. First, they take away her ability to make life, and then they take away her own life. She’s made her peace with it.

Mulder hasn’t—he refuses to do so. Standing there in the hospital hallway days later, Scully lets herself love him. His lips are soft against her chapped ones and her edges feel burned and frayed, but his love keeps her together.

“I found something, Scully,” he murmurs when their kiss has faded into an embrace with her head on his chest.

Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I found your ova.” There’s so much going on in that four letter sentence that it bowls her over.

“You—you did?”

“I took as many vials as I could and got them into a freezing container. I shipped them off to the Gunmen before I came here. They can keep them safe for when you get better.”

Scully’s chin starts to tremble and she presses her face into Mulder’s chest. “What if I never do?”

He cups her cheeks and gently makes her face him. “I won’t let that happen.”

She wants to believe him with all her heart. “I want to believe...” she whispers, a tear streaking down her cheek.

“Give me your fear,” he tells her, “and believe. I need you to believe.”

She nods against his chest.

—

Scully cries when she gives him the news of her remission, pulling Mulder into her embrace and showering his head with kisses and thank yous. He’s given her a second chance at life, but more than that, a chance at motherhood.

(“Dana, I have excellent news for you: your cancer is shrinking. You’re going into remission.” And then, when the shock and the joy had run their immediate courses: “It also seems that, in due time, your menstrual cycle will resume, so no worries on that end.”)

It’ll be months before she can truly start the process but she already feels lighter than ever before.

—

She waits a week after her return to work to ask him. They’re at his apartment, Scully curled against him as the movie’s credits roll. “Mulder,” she whispers, checking to see if he’s asleep.

“Hm?” He rolls his head to crack his neck.

“Will you make a baby with me?”

He looks down at her, eyes wide. “What?”

“I’ve been seeing a fertility doctor, a friend of mine. She’s examined the ova—along with several of her colleagues—and declared them viable.” Scully can’t keep the tremulous smile off her face as she gives him the news. “She said that I just have to secure a donor to begin the treatment plan. I want that donor to be you. I mean, you practically threw yourself at me in Home last year...”

She traces her finger along the back of his hand, looking away to give him some space. After a moment, he says, “You want me to...to be part of that equation?”

Scully takes a deep breath and sits up so that their faces are level, shaking her head. “I want to have kids with you.” She maneuvers one leg between his thigh and the arm of the couch so she’s straddling him, and sits down on his thighs. “I want you to be the father of my kids.”

Mulder gazes at her like a lost puppy until she reaches out to wipe away a tear trailing along his cheek. “Me?”

She nods and cups his cheeks. “You.”

He nods with her, a smile spreading across his lips. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Yeah.”

They’ve been reduced to monosyllabic words in their joy, giving up on words all together as they fade into deliriously happy teary-eyed laughter. Scully leans forward and kisses him.

—

To no one’s surprise and Bill’s chagrin, she tugs Mulder along to her family’s Christmas gathering at her brother’s place in San Diego. Emily’s existence only reaffirms their decision to do IVF together and their relationship. They’ve been more of a team than ever, and perhaps that’s what saves Emily in the end.

Mulder and Scully put off all the major changes they were planning to make in favor of giving Em time to adjust to her new life. She clings to them until she gets familiarized with everything, until “Dana” and “Mul’er” phase into “Mommy” and “Daddy”.

He learns how to make chocolate chip pancakes with his eyes half-closed at six in the morning. They both learn car seats like the back of their hands. They get used to this new life where the only reason they wake up in the middle of the night is to comfort their daughter and not board a red-eye flight for a case.

—

Scully’s known that Mulder’s a thorough person when he wants to be since they met. What she didn’t know is that he’s also extremely sappy. He kisses her frequently for no reason in the office, and his porn mag collection has been replaced by a stack of books on IVF and pregnancy and childhood developmental stages. He has a calendar tacked to the wall next to his door with all the important dates on it.

They tell Skinner about their relationship and the IVF in confidence, filling him in on all the relevant things to their decision to leave the X-Files. The department must go on, but they can’t be the ones to breath life into them with Emily and a baby. Skinner says he knows “some excellent agents” that can fill their roles.

Mulder goes with her to every appointment, even if he can only sit outside in the waiting room until he’s called in. He holds her hand during every comprehensive pregnancy test that’s done, and kisses away her tears when they come back negative.

They look at apartments together when they find the time between Emily and their new assignments, and sometime between moving in and starting Em with her new pre-school, something wonderful happens. When the test comes back positive, they both start crying at the clinic.

“Mulder...”

“Scully...”

—

“You’re really okay with passing on the torch?” she asks in bed that night once Emily’s sacked out.

He nods against her forehead, his hand on her belly. “I’ve spent my whole life looking for Samantha, but I’ve never let her move on. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe I’ll never find out. But I can’t pursue the answer to the question of what happened to her at the cost of everything else. You’re the one who taught me that there’s more to life than trying to solve mysteries.”

Scully nuzzles his nose. “You taught me something, too.”

“Oh?”

“You taught me how to have the courage to believe.”

[princessfbi]

Hi my favourite Buckley Siblings person. I need some serotonin after reading some horrifically hot takes that basically said that Maddie and Buck is not a healthy dynamic and she has no boundaries when it comes to him.

So, I was wondering if you could give your too reasons as to why the Buckley siblings are elite? 💜

Isn't that always the curse of the eldest daughter? To be invalidated in your feelings and your trauma because you're expected to perform to an expectation that can be crippling. There's a joke somewhere along the lines of "are you an overachiever or were you just the eldest daughter?" that seems fitting this morning.

I mean let's talk about Margaret and Philip's history of invalidating their children's feelings for a second.

They forced Maddie to never talk about a brother who died that she remembered and had known for most of her life. Maddie was nine. She would've been a fourth grader! She was a kid who still had to walk in a single file line down the halls. Do you know what the big deal was when I was in fourth grade? I got to have my classes upstairs on the second floor. That was the big monumental life change for me in that grade. It was a big deal.

Maddie was a fourth grader who lost her brother, didn't even have a grasp of the concept of what death meant, was told to pretend Daniel didn't exist, and was aware enough that her whole life had changed.

That's a fourth grader being told never to talk about someone ever again. A fourth grader who is then taken away from her home, her memories, her friends and forced to pretend like nothing was wrong.

There's a reason emotional neglect has such a clear through line to later in life abuse. It's this idea that Margaret and Philip perpetuated with Maddie that there has to be this performance. Nobody understands our suffering and judges us. It both alienates a child and teaches said child that the world will not understand you if things are different. You see that with the way Maddie hides things with Doug, she makes excuses for him, it's different with her and Doug, she judges other victims of domestic abuse when they come into the hospital, and she deflects. All of this she learned from her parents.

Maddie hiding the abuse 🤝 Margaret and Philip hiding Daniel's death/their grief

Maddie making excuses for Doug 🤝 Philip making excuses for Margaret

It's different with her and Doug 🤝 Philip and Margaret crying victim about people judging them for having Buck because obviously that's not the same thing as other people who procreate children to save other children

Maddie judging other victims 🤝 Margaret and Philip judging Maddie for attaching herself onto someone who loves her (questionable but I think in Doug's own way he did)

Maddie deflecting about the abuse 🤝 Margaret and Philip deciding to move away and never talk about Daniel again

You see them do it again and again to Maddie ("You don't know what it's like you're not a mother yet") so it's no wonder Maddie does it to herself. She'd gotten used to it. You see her do it to herself with Buck, Chimney, Sue, Josh, and then for a brief moment when she's struggling with the PPD.

Maddie deflects but she also makes a point to not let Buck do that. That's why it's so meaningful that she came to talk to him after he revealed he was going to therapy because she thought he wouldn't want to talk about it freely with Chimney around. That's why she prods when Buck makes excuses for Abby's behavior towards him. That's why her scene where she calls Buck sad and lonely is so important. That sticks with Buck and instead of getting angry about it, he tries to get help. But then he does the same for her too "Because I always felt like you were sad too."

Meanwhile in regards to Buck, we see Margaret and Philip objectify Buck from before he was even born. I think a lot of people forget that objectifying someone doesn't strictly imply sexually. Being a donor baby already comes in a severe degree of objectification (you can see this as a major argument in regards to the whole concept of donor siblings ie the book Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro for example). Margaret and Philip objectified Buck from conception and when it didn't work, they didn't put the work in to shift that way of viewing Buck. He remained an object to them. He was never a baby, he was a thing. "We live with a reminder staring us in the face." They didn't just invalidate Buck. They didn't let Buck be a person.

And Buck had grown up being objectified his whole life which is why he doesn't even react when people are constantly doing it to him (people on the job, Abby, Bobby and the team to a certain extent.) I think it's interesting the way he reacts when Omar does the same thing when Maddie introduces him.

Maddie: Omar, this is my brother, Evan.

Omar: Oh, yeah, the football star.

Buck is so visibly uncomfortable when he says that it actually hurts my soul which is why that scene where Buck says "I'm going to be something... I just-- I don't know what it is yet" is so important. Because Maddie has spent her entire life being invalidated and she goes out of her way to make sure that doesn't happen with Buck. She validates Buck. She reminds him that he's a person. That he is someone.

So, when Maddie gives Buck the keys and the money to go away, she's not just giving him an escape. She's giving him permission to go be someone.

What I think people sometimes forget is that the trauma Buck experienced (the neglect which in my personal opinion, is a form of abuse though I know the technicalities are a gray point) was also what Maddie experienced. The difference is that Maddie got to be a person. She got to be their daughter. Their choice. Wanted. Buck wasn't given that consideration.

So, she did it. Maddie changed the course of trajectory for Buck.

And she started that when she was nine years old. A fourth grader decided that she was going to want this unwanted baby.

Maddie wasn't fighting her parents in Buck Begins about being able to talk to Daniel. She wasn't even fighting because they were invalidating her feelings again! She was fighting them because they were back in their lives and treating Buck like he wasn't a person again. She was fighting them because they came into town and gave a lackluster attempt at trying check and make sure Buck was fine before they dismissed him.

And Maddie wasn't going to let them do that again.

I mean just think about the "Don't be stupid, Evan"/"Don't talk to him like that" scene. It's so understated how significant those two lines are. It speaks volumes of the way Margaret in particular has diminished Buck's capacity as a human being and how she'd done it enough times that Maddie immediately jumps to his defense.

And it's not just Maddie who does it either. Because Buck knows Maddie deflects. He's seen her do it with his own two eyes (I just don't think he realized how much she deflects from him because again he thought they were on the same page). "C'mon you don't have to pretend with me. I know things aren't okay with, Doug." So Buck jumps in between Maddie and anyone who is a "danger" to her.

He does it with Margaret: "She's going to nursing school. You should congratulate her."

He does it with Doug: "Standing in between you and anyone who thinks they can hurt you is exactly where I want to be standing."

He does it with Gloria: "Want me to talk to her?"

And he does it again in the big build up at the infamous dinner scene with his parents. Buck has seen Maddie just take it, so he puts himself in the middle. "It was a compliment, Evan!"/"Oh, was it?"

"A united front."

"You and me in the world."

"Us vs them. That's what we always said."

I agree that I don't think it was Maddie's place to tell Buck's parents about his therapy (though, I know why she did it). But Buck is such a firm believer in the "People make mistakes. Doesn't mean you give up on them." and that came from Maddie and grew from his experience with Bobby, Hen, Chimney, Eddie, and Athena.

Buck and Maddie are never going to give up on each other. If they had, Maddie wouldn't have given him an escape. Buck would've stopped trying to contact her. Buck and Maddie show such a capacity of love and forgiveness towards one another it's maddening because they so easily could've not.

It's not Buck tolerating when Maddie "hurts" or "upsets" him. It's Buck loving Maddie so completely that he loves her in spite of her flaws. The same way she has loved him in spite of his failures.

I think that's really the saddest part about the people who don't quite understand the Buckley siblings relationship. It's people who don't get or haven't gotten to experience the profound love that comes from being forgiven for something. Forgiven completely and not just stated. I think to be forgiven, really forgiven, is maybe one of the greatest gifts a person can give you. Because to be forgiven is to be seen. It's be seen for all your faults and still accepted. Whether a person deserves forgiveness or not is really just a moot point if you think about it. Because to make the choice to forgive someone is a liberation of yourself by saying "I am not going to hold this baggage for you anymore." It's all you can control at the end of the day. How people respond when you say that is when you really get to see the true value you hold to a person. Like my sibling and I grew up hating each other. HATING each other. It wasn't until we were older that we started to connect. But I have never once, nor have they, questioned whether or not we would go to the mat swinging for each other. And yeah we have a lot of baggage we're still holding onto but one by one we're letting things go and we are still around for one another.

That's why I think it's fascinating Buck's capability for forgiveness and it stems from Maddie because Margaret and Philip I don't think have ever forgiven Buck. They may not have blamed him but they never forgave him either.

François Duc De La Rochefoucauld has a really amazing quote about forgiveness.

"One forgives to the degree that one loves."

Buck's capacity to love and forgive is because Maddie loved him so completely. She saw him as a person. She treated him as a person. She forgave him for being a person and she loved him for being a person.

They survive major childhood trauma together. It has created this codependency that is shifting for the better because Buck and Maddie are getting better. They're surrounded by people who love them the way Margaret and Philip should have loved them. They are surrounded by people who validate them the way Margaret and Philip should have validated them. They are surrounded by people who see them for who they are the way Margaret and Philip should've seen them.

"Cause it's hard to feel betrayed by someone you didn't really think you could count on anyway... and easy to lash out one the person that you know is always gonna forgive you."

So that's my top reason why they're elite. Buck and Maddie forgive one another the same way they love one another. Completely and entirely with their whole hearts.

[baronessblixen]

Can you write some William fluff and cuteness? William/MS parent fluff ?? Your choice ☺️☺️☺️☺️

This is a fluffy (read: cheesy) post-Existence ficlet. Hope you enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic

One Day We’ll Save The World

He doesn’t even want to blink, afraid he’ll miss something. His eyes are trained on this perfect tiny human being with ten toes, ten fingers, and a tuft of sweet, soft hair on his head.

His son.

Mulder has never felt this calm, this content, in his whole life. It’s as if his son’s birth has made him a new man, too. In many ways, he is. He is a father now. The thought of becoming a parent never even crossed his mind. Not until Scully asked him to be her sperm donor.

From then on, the thought took root in his mind, grew. By the time Scully had her first injections, Mulder couldn’t stop thinking about it. He bought - and read - all the books. He found himself in the park, after a run, watching parents with their children, feeling a tug in his gut. One day, he thought, this could be him.

His fantasy baby crib and alien action toys vanished into thin air with Scully’s negative pregnancy tests. After, he no longer went to the park for his runs, chose quieter neighborhoods, stopped paying attention. The books gathered dust, disappeared under magazines. And then, much like their shared dream, Mulder died.

“You’re a miracle,” he whispers, smiling at William. “Your mom prayed for you. For me, too. Your mom is good at making things happen.”

“Oh, am I?” Scully, her voice drowsy but amused, joins him, sliding her arm around his waist. She is heavy against him, warm and soft. He holds her close to him and kisses her temple. She smells like sleep, like love.

“You know you are,” he says against her temple.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” She says with a sigh.

“Of course, he is,” Mulder says, for once tearing his eyes away from his sleeping son to look at her. “He’s your son.”

“Mulder.”

“I never want to leave,” he says, surprising them both.

Scully turns to him. “You don’t have to. There’s… enough space here.”

“What about my fish?”

“I think we could even fit in your fish.”

His heart beats faster as he looks at her. Are they ready for this? They’ve never been a conventional couple. Mulder doubts they ever will be. They’ve more or less lived together on the road, sharing long car rides together, meals in dingy diners, and sometimes even a hotel room. They can do this. There’s nothing they can’t do. Their son is proof of that. The corners of his mouth twitch. He doesn’t know if he’s ready, or if this will work, but he knows he wants to be here. His apartment hasn’t felt like home in months. This is where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m gonna ask the fish if they’re okay with moving. Can’t make that decision without them.”

“No,” Scully says, smiling gently. “You can’t.”

“You should be sleeping, Scully. The book says you should be sleeping when he is. Did I wake you?”

“You didn’t. I- I know this sounds crazy, but I missed him.”

“Crazy looks good on you.” He chuckles softly, squeezing her side. “But you should try to get some sleep.”

“What about you?” She asks, stifling a yawn. Mulder looks at their son, at his small hand balled into a fist as if ready to fight. He is a fighter. Like his mother, like his father, too. And Mulder is going to fight every day, every waking moment, for William to have a good life. A safe life.

“Mulder, I can hear you thinking,” Scully says, taking his hand. “We can save the world tomorrow.”

“I think it’s already tomorrow.”

“Then later today. Come on. You said I need to sleep, but so do you.” She tugs at his hand and drags him over to the bed. He glances over at the crib; William is unbothered, continues to sleep. Trusting them to keep him safe.

Scully pushes at him until he’s flat on his back. She snuggles into his side, putting her hand on his chest, right over his heart. Without her, it wouldn’t be beating. Without her, he wouldn’t be here.

“I love you, Scully.”

“Love you, too.” She’s already falling asleep again. And Mulder, he’s falling deeper in love with her. Who knew that was even possible?

“You and William,” he whispers into her hair, hoping she’ll have sweet dreams, “you’re my whole world. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Nothing else matters.”

“M’ller,” Scully mumbles. “Close your eyes, please.”

“How do you know my eyes aren’t closed?”

“Your mouth is still moving.”

“But my eyes are closed, I promise.”

“Mulder, I mean this in the nicest way possible but… shut up.”

He grins into the darkness. He stays quiet, waits until her breathing evens out. He’ll sleep later. There’s time. There’s so much time for them, now.