#MAY I PRESENT

[llondonfog]

Out of curiosity, what's your favorite moment with Lilia and Silver? (Don't worry about spoilers, I've already jumped on them all.)

oh oh oh how could you ask me to choose!! 😭

i have to say it's a tie between silver's outburst about lilia's enabling behavior of malleus' crazy plan/their ensuing conversation at the end of endless halloween where lilia apologizes for his disregard of silver's emotions, and the flashback scenes we're treated to in ch7.5 (IDC IF IT'S BEEN TALKED ABOUT A THOUSAND TIMES, THE ACORN SCENE??? THE ACORN SCENEEEEEE.)

i love the endless halloween outburst because it's the first time that we see silver actively scold his father (and malleus too) for what he believes (rightfully so) to be rather selfish behavior that put the nrc students all in unnecessary risk of danger without considering the consequences of their actions. of course the set up here is to foreshadow the events of ch7 and demonstrate silver's willingness to step up for what he believes in and firmly defend those beliefs against people he loves and respects so dearly, even if one of those figures is both a prince and a mage who could flatten them all with a snap of his fingers. but it also demonstrates the gulf that exists between silver and lilia, a gulf firmly of lilia's own inability to accept his worthiness of love, as we see his surprise to how earnestly silver professes about how much he cares for his father— lilia is his only family, and silver worries for him more than he tends to reveal.

delicious, 10/10 event for family angst, and i'm still harboring bitter feelings towards silver's stupid papa for deliberately screaming as if he was in trouble in front of his son's door and trying to laugh it off as a joke (SIDE NOTE; the way i still roll around thinking about how silver, our notoriously difficult to wake up resident sleeping beauty, woke up INSTANTLY upon hearing lilia's scream— the way that this foreshadows how he'll wake up from his four hundred year cursed sleep at lilia's presence is making me want to eat my heart UGH.)

and then all of the flashbacks that yana fed us with for 7.5, i was WEEPING!!! and it's not just the acorn scene lmao although that audio will bring me to tears each and every time. i adore the precious snippets that we got into silver's early years, how soft lilia became for him— reading him stories, fussing over how best to ensure that he grew up healthy and strong, singing him lullabies when he cried. this is the same fae who scoffed at the notion of children, and considered killing the boy who adores him as his true father, it honestly makes me go a little insane when i think about it. like please go back and listen to how fucking soft that man's voice is when he reads that fox story to baby silver, how he instantly brightens up to accept his new title as "toto". the sheer pride when he's cooing over silver's first steps!! AND THEN THE ACORN BRACELET SCENE,,,,,

those little glimpses of their domestic bliss just made me love the two of them all the more. a fae all but exiled by his own people, fated to be the true love of his enemy's child? to be the boy's father, to be cherished and adored by a human who would dare to battle the most powerful magic user in all of their land just to ensure lilia's happiness? even if that happiness was breaking silver's own heart? i'm sorry but they are THE father and son duo for me, silver vanrouge end game always

(HONORABLE MENTION: lilia protecting silver in the dream world— WHEN HE DIVED IN TO TAKE THE SHOT FOR HIS BOY I SCREAMED AND PLAYED IT A HUNDRED TIMES)

[kai-sv]

have i gotten attached to a stray cat when my lease says no pets? maybe

[greenqueenhightower]

How can I be normal about him, tell me HOW—

also the hand flex is giving Mr. Darcy

[andi-is-bored]

I WISH THAT YOU WOULD STAY IN MY MEMORIES!!! BUT YOU SHOW UP TODAY JUST TO RUIN THINGS!!! I WANNA PUT YOU IN THE PAST, CAUSE IM TRAUMATIZED!!! BUT YOURE NOT LETTING ME DO THAT, CAUSE TONIGHT!! YOURE ALL DRUNK IN MY KITCHEN, CURLED IN THE FETAL POSITION, TOO BUSY PLAYING THE VICTIM TO BE LISTENING TO ME WHEN I SAY, I WISH THAT YOU WOULD STAY IN MY MEMORIES, IN MY MEMORIES, STAY IN MY MEMORIES!!!!!!!!….

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

*Chomp*

"What are you doing, silly pup?"

*Lovingly noms Lance's leg*

"You're so strange."

Tags:

@darkelf-7

[ileftherbackhome]

My bf: babe what should I ask my mom for my birthday

Me: idk babe, whatever you want

My bf: hmmm how about a dash cam for the car?

Me: hmm why don't you think of something else?

My bf: *thinking* I think I'm gunna ask my mom for a dash cam.

Me: no, I really think you should think of something else

My bf: but I want-

Me: yes, I know what you want but I really think you should think of something else.

My bf: babe but it's for safety-

Me: yes I know that's what you want and that's why I think you should think of something else

[fruityindividual]

oiiiiiii no one touch it don't u DARE touch it!!!!!

[incorrectpizza]

"I never dreamed of this sorrow I never thought I'd have reason to lament I hoped I'd never know heartbreak How I wish I could change the way things went

I wanted nothing but goodness I wanted reason to prevail Not this bare emptiness I wanted days of plenty

But I refuse to feel tragic I am aching for more than pain and grief There has got to be meaning Most of all when a life has been so brief

I have got to learn something How can I give her any less I want life to go on I want days of plenty

You have to believe There is reason for hope You have to believe That the answers will come

You can't let this defeat you I won't let this defeat you You must fight to keep her there within you

So believe that she mattered And believe that she always will She will always be with you She'll be part of the days you've yet to fill

She will live in your bounty She will live as you carry on your life

So carry on Full of hope She'll be there For all your days of plenty."

-"Days of Plenty" from Little Women: The Musical

[megan0013]

For the ship meme, Stricklake + going to the museum, or Abby/Akrur on a date.

Barbara smiles as she enters the museum’s brand new, state of the art planetarium to find Stricklander already there fiddling with something on the digital projector, a look of intense concentration on his handsomely chiseled face. It’s still difficult, sometimes, to believe that the gothic sculpture she’d chosen to teach her very first art class about, along with every other museum exhibit, magically comes alive each night.

Or that she’s fallen madly in love with him.

[a-lil-perspective]

How would the Batch react to Hunter's s/o having a miscarriage? (Coming from your recent post.)

OMG ANON.

This made me so sad and like I’ve admittedly thought about this before but having someone ask really got me deep in my feels and this is very sad, I cried writing this, I hope this is compelling to you. This is kind of more from Cyare’s point of view but it does briefly mention the Batchers.

Tw for talk of pregnancy and miscarriage and heavy emotional angst, please take care of yourselves.🤍

———

Surprisingly or not, she finds solace in Echo.

Maybe it’s because he knows loss, a bitter taste on his tongue but sweet and saccharine in a way that makes him soft, sympathetic to her plight.

He finds her after the dust settles, lying in a broken field of heartache, curled around herself in the co-pilot’s seat seeking respite from all those providing sympathy. She’s welcomed a thick shadow of mourn around her, a penitence to go with it.

It reminds him too much of grieving vode.

“I lost the baby,” she croaks finally, when Echo’s silence has tactfully paved the way for catharsis.

His face contorts in pain. “Damn Cyare, I am… so sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, wishing to offer more than wormy sympathy she’s heard a hundred times up until this point. This is uncharted territory for the former ARC Trooper, who suddenly feels entirely out of his element even though Death is no stranger to him.

Cyare’s breathing is slow, dormant, her eyes somewhere far from the present.

“Me too,” she says finally, with a bitter tang.

“It’s not your fault.” The words are immediate, an echo in her ears meant to soothe but merely raucous all around her.

She quivers in it. “Please.” She doesn’t deserve the pardon. “I need time.”

Echo affords her that and more.

He gets up and exits then, leaving her presumably to her sorrow until he returns some minutes later with piping hot tea and a stiff smile. It’s not much to alleviate these stressors, but Echo thinks the potent steep of lavender is a start.

“Do you have anything stronger.” It’s almost wry, if Echo really examines it; whittled humor fit through the mug between her lips. It’s all she has in this trying time, a coping mechanism Echo knows all too well.

“Later; drinks on me,” he promises with only a distant regret. It isn’t his place to endorse unhealthy habits but if it eases some of the woman’s acute suffering then it’s his galactic-given duty.

Her shoulders slump then as a full, labored breath finds her, and she looks forward to the buzz that helps her forget.

She doesn’t want to forget.

Just the pain of not having him.

Her son.

It’s an all-consuming pain; strained and carried through every member of their family, weaving through the broken pieces that she’s at a loss for how to pick up.

Crosshair is too quiet, too unsure, gauging her with a trajectory he’s not sure how to plot this time.

And so he says nothing.

(He basks in his own grief elsewhere; on the shooting range.)

Tech speaks too fondly, with scientific prowess, and an unintentional flippancy that has her thin-lipped and silencing him with a clipped plea, “I need time.” She doesn’t want to hear about the percentages of nat-born miscarriages, vexing biological components that make her fold in on herself further.

Wrecker’s padded embrace is not her savior, it’s not what she seeks, when all she can imagine is the small being robbed of hers. Because of her.

It’s not your fault, she reminds herself, and the reassurance mixes like oil and water.

It doesn’t.

She doesn’t know about Hunter these days, how he fares in the wake of a devastating loss, or if his grief has turned into something accusatory, calloused.

Towards her, she’s convinced.

And it’s a juxtaposition to his comfort laid bare in the emergence of news - he was there with her, sunken to the bathroom floor after the words “I’m sorry for your loss,” reached them in tandem.

She hasn’t seen him since.

Or she has, his soothing presence whispering at her from afar, never too far in the condensed square inches of their home that seem ever-suffocating.

She refuses to look his way.

Even at night, whilst tucking in their other precious gems - of whom a newfound thankfulness for blooms - she is careful to keep her eyes trained on these beautiful home-spun versions of him. Their children are their only vessel of conversation, of which even then is scarce. The bed dips as he moves closer, their band of girls both a bridge and a chasm between. They inveigle him for a story, and he obliges without fail.

And Cyare’s only half-listening, admiring her husband’s dedication while she wishes to be anywhere but here. It’s times like this, as she aims to slip away undetected, she’s reminded that he is strong, and she is not.

“Mommy. Stay.”

The warm, dainty hand grasping her own orchestrates a thick lump in her throat she pointedly forces down. Her eyes sting, and it takes her a moment to finally look her youngest daughter’s way.

“Stay for Papa’s story, Mommy.”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she does not seek an audience. His plea for her attention, recognition, perspires zealous in the air. She refuses to look. To acknowledge the loss.

“Okay,” she whispers, and it’s so frail. “I’ll stay.”

So frail.

So she listens to Hunter’s story, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to detect the weight of his burden slowly creeping through, giving way to a pained lilt even through the “…and they lived happily ever after.”

Something she wonders if they’ll ever have.

His sturdy sonance of words usher the girls into a blissful remiss, unassuming and untroubled by their parent’s turmoil; their minds mellow with a peace she covets.

A chaste kiss to their heads, and Cyare’s fled the room with the hopes he doesn’t follow.

He does.

Because he can’t stay away, because their pain is a shared endeavor, and isn’t that what he promised in their marriage vows?

“I want to be left alone,” she says, at the sound of his lumbering steps into the bedroom.

“No you don’t,” he absolves, moving in a furtive manner. Cyare remains steadfast with her back to him, hoping if she ignores his very presence, like some fever dream the hurt will cancel itself out.

It doesn’t - it won’t.

Hunter’s presence is a conduit of the pain made apparent in finer details; in her threadbare, vulnerable state, she wonders how much their son would’ve resembled him.

She wonders, and she bursts into tears.

It’s alarming, to Hunter; not that he has never bear witness to his wife’s tears, but that they threaten to ricochet off his own. He moves to her swiftly.

“I had a name for him,” Cyare cries.

“…‘Him’?”

It’s the final thread of grief, lilted disbelief shattering the last remnants of composure; his and hers.

As he gathers her close, Hunter also wonders if his deceased namesake would’ve taken after him in appearance.

Hunter closes his eyes and an image slides into place: a boy, with luscious curls not unlike his sisters’. Hunter shuts his eyes tighter and his son has his smile, but Cyare’s kind eyes.

He misses those eyes.

He misses everything all at once.

“Cyare…” his voice is broken and displaced, but so is she, and it’s his job as her husband, her partner, to put her back together again. “We’ll get through this.”

Even if he doesn’t believe he can.

———

Edit: This ask was sent to me an embarrassing long time ago, I’ve had it written and queued for months but could never bring myself to post it (as with most things I write lol) but in light of the recent ask revolving around miscarriages I thought it might be appropriate to just share this little thingy. Enjoy.

[ally-127]

the things lightaflame!seokmin does to me

credit @ dkS2S2, QBall_Ww + Woozizi_1122 on twitter

[thekenobee]

Because that's what SKY GODS™ do

[joycat20]

[renee-writer]

A Ghost at Colluden Moor Chapter 36 May I Present

AO3

After the baby is nursed, his cord cut and, a clot placed on him before he is wrapped in a tartan blanket, his family is invited in to see him.

 

Ian and Murtagh are escorted in by Jenny. Murtagh immediately tears up. To see the son of the lad he swore to protect laying against his own mam’s breast is an emotional thing. Ian grins at his size. Jamie’s lad indeed.

 

“Congratulations mo brathàir. He is a bawl lad. To you too my Lady. You made a beautiful son.”

 

“Thank you Ian.” They reply.

 

“He reminds me of ye when ye were just a wee laddie yerself at her mam’s breast.” Murtagh emotionally says. “Congratulations to ye both.”

 

“Thank ye Murtagh. Would you like to ken his name?” Aye’s all around. “May I present Noah Brian William Fraser. Noah, your family. Your auntie, uncle and, Godfather.”

 

“Wonderful name Jamie.” Jenny says as Murtagh looks to him with wide eyes.

 

“I am honored. Thank ye Jamie and Claire.”

 

“There could be no other.” Claire says with a smile.

 

“Aye, I ken ye will look after him when he be a man grown as ye did for me.”

 

“Aye, I will.” He walks over and gently touches little Noah’s hand. He then kneels down beside him.  “Noah Brian William Fraser, as I promised yer da when he was yer age, I promise ye. To be by yer side in every battle. To be a listening ear, a confident, a counselor, a friend, a shield against all that would harm ye for as long as I draw breath. I thus swear by the three fold God.”

 

“Oh, how lovely!” Claire says as tears gather in her eyes.  Jamie lifts his son up and places him in his Godfather’s arms. Murtagh looks down into his eyes, his da’, his grandmam's.

 

“Hello my love.” He whispers as he runs his hands down his face. “mo Godson m ’fhuil.” The child is passed to Ian.

 

“Noah.  Well named, eh as your mam saved us all.” He smiles as he softly sways him. “Yer da is my best mate. I ken all about him. If ye need to ken something about him..”

 

“That is enough Ian.” Jamie replies with a laugh. He takes the baby from him. “Dinna believe all yer Uncle Ian says mo Mac.” They all laugh. “You’ve other family too. Great uncle’s, a great auntie, cousins. They are downstairs waiting to meet ye. Yer cousins. We will write the others and tell them of yer birth. Ye bear a proud heritage, Noah. A proud name. No matter what the future holds, we will make sure ye ken that.”

[johnlock-hell-resident]

BBC Sherlock as Fanfiction Tags

Series 1 - first date, "and they were roommates", height difference

Series 2 - pining!John, unrequited love, clueless!Sherlock, miscommunication, major character death, unhappy ending

Series 3 - love triangle, mutual pining, domestic fluff, drunken confession

TAB - historical au, canon divergence, missing scenes, crack fic

Series 4 - baby fic, angst, major character death, hurt/comfort, Saw!au

[incorrectpizza]

Who needs a boyfriend when you go to a super cool college that has a Valentine’s horse party & you get to spend the evening goofing off with friends. :)