#and they'd both be mature about it knowing she's engaged but I don't want to write sad love triangle stuff help

[basingstokemercury]

Trying to find a way around Starfleet temporal displacement regulations because if Julian doesn't intervene I have no story for him, the Cartwrights are in big trouble, and Peter and Harriet have a murder to investigate rather than an attempted one

I think it will be a lot easier to push him into breaking the rules with Sisko not there to rein him in + the person injured a very young man with frantic brother right there + Peter and Harriet (the ones who know Julian's also from the future) would probably be in favour of intervention

But I'm not certain

[mixelation]

"I wish you would write a fic where" Karin ends up in the Founders era (location up to you) and causes Problems

"I wish you would write a fic where..."

Okay, bullet point fic:

Karin is like 20-22. slightly matured from canon but still Silly, has confronted the fact that sasuke and her aren't going to happen, and looking for fun new employment opportunities but for now stuck in mom's basement oto

[insert generic jutsu accident for time travel]

karin doesn't know what the fuck is happening but she's 1000% sure there's not a chakra signature she knows and also there's no.... plumbing. is this hell? she hasn't done anything wrong in her LIFE

she goes to bother the uchiha clan because Beautiful Men. duh. also blah blah old school social rules about hospitality mean that big clans will take on unaffiliated wandering-nin. like in an old novel. what the fuck

it HAS occurred to her she could go to uzushio and claim she's a bastard or something and they'd probably take her in-- but that's far away and she'd have to dodge through multiple battle zones and like. what if she took a break and looked at pretty men? there's so many of them. *-*

hashirama and madara are both young sexy new clan leaders and the clans are at a temporary standstill while they try to negotiate an actual peace agreement and also maybe. a union? into a village? where they invite OTHER clans????

madara is experiencing Insane Feelings about hashirama 24/7 which range from "i should put his head on a pike because this is STUPID" to "if only he were a woman and then we could just unify our clans by getting married--"

anyway hashirama announces he's engaged to uzumaki mito and this triggers Extreme Jealousy in Madara except Madara will never admit this but also HE MUST MAKE HASHIRAMA JEALOUS BACK

madara and karin have had like three conversations but she dedicates a lot of time mooning over izuna because Duh. so like. madara's seen her scuttling around, fluttering her eyelashes and just HAPPENING to be there when izuna comes home or comes out of the bathhouse. he knows she's uzumaki because Hair.

anyway madara announces he is now engaged to karin in an insane LOOK I'VE GOT ONE TOO move. no he hasn't talked to anyone about it, least of all karin

(mito: uzumaki w h o m s t?)

all of the uchiha elders are like, "it's not an alliance unless we've actually TALKED TO her family??" and when pressed karin deflects by throwing a fit that she can't be engaged to izuna. it's mostly her playing up dramatics to distract from the fact that she came out of nowhere and no one can vouch for her identity, but also she's like 20% serious. izuna pretty!!!

here i also want to introduce a plot mechanism we'll revisit later, where uchiha engagement rituals involve one or both sides (non-ninja don't have to do this) going out and completing some sort of task to show off their ninja prowess. in peacetimes it's usually like grabbing an object from a difficult location or bringing home a very deadly animal. during wartimes it might be killing an enemy or stealing something from them. the more insane the thing, the more fortuitous it is for the future marriage

madara hasn't ACTUALLY done this because he doesn't ACTUALLY want to marry karin. he gives her something stupid he already has and she's like. kind of annoyed about it. hello if you're forcing her into engagement, at LEAST be romantic about it!!!!

anyway the surprise engagement doesn't phase hashirama and now madara is stuck engaged to someone he doesn't even LIKE and the uzumaki are confused but there's a bunch around for mito's wedding and so they're like "idk who this is but she's obviously one of us" and so madara has created a stupid situation where he'll offend them if he breaks off the engagement but also she's not actually important to them and therefore isn't politically useful??

also. and madara cannot stress this enough. she's horrible. she acts like a ditzy flirt on purpose but then turns around and is MEAN TO HIM and she talks back and stop looking at his brother like that

here is my vision for how they resolve the stupid situation. okay. madara is like "you have to give me a Reason to break up with you" and karin is like "okay but only if you let me marry izuna" and madara goes away and sets several things on fire and then comes back and is like. fine. if you do this, AND you can get izuna to agree, i'll let you marry him.

karin cracks her knuckles and reviews the oto playbook of how to be the most dramatic bitch in the room. it will be really hard to outshine madara, but she was trained by orochimaru himself--

here is the vision. karin, standing on the back of the kyuubi, using her chains like reigns, crashing the hashirama-mito wedding

karin: IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOUR STUPID UCHIHA ENGAGEMENT RITUALS???

karin can't actually control the kyuubi with her chains, so all hell breaks loose immediately. madara and hashirama can both individually take the kyuubi so no one actually gets hurt, mito seal it into herself a decade early, etc. overall the senju-uzumaki guests are freaked out but hashirama laughs it off as a weird wedding gift. karin is 100% sure that if madara were like "she's a lunatic, take her back" then the uzumaki clan would accept. maybe she can hitch a ride back to uzushio. she never got izuna to fall madly in love with her but maybe madara will let her take him with her--

unfortunately now the uchiha elders are like. holy shit. you H A V E to marry her now

[doe-eyed-disaster]

Cw: sex, compulsory allosexuality, messy consent

“I don't hook up on first dates.”

You're really glad you said that before you met up, huh? You weren't sure why you'd said it at the time. Maybe you were just trying to prove something to yourself, like your slut era was totally optional and you stop any time you wanted. Maybe you knew you weren't planning on smoking before and weren't sure you could perform without it. Maybe you were hoping to come off as mature and sophisticated. Or maybe you just wanted to show yourself that you had acting range beyond “slutty trans girl”. Who knows?

Whatever the reason, you're really glad you said it beforehand. You'd said you didn't give a fuck about the date, told your roommate it’d be ok if it didn't go anywhere, told yourself that you had some latitude to fuck up your concealer and that it was fine to go au naturale as if indifference was a good alternative to self-love in the anti-anxiety department. Not giving a fuck meant you could walk away from a date or from sex guilt free, right? Right? Not giving a fuck was liberating. You thought you didn't give a fuck and you said you didn't give a fuck, but you gave a lot of fucks when she walked in and the world stopped.

She's gorgeous, you thought as the floor came out from under you, sending you helplessly free fall dropping into Big Gay Feelings. And then her eyes locked on you and didn't leave you once for the next two hours and you knew she was feeling the same way. The conversation flowed naturally. Maybe too naturally, though that poor beleaguered waitress was very patient when she returned for the fourth time and neither of you had bothered to even look at entrees. You felt a connection there, not the special You'll Know It When You See It brand of true love that you keep hearing about, but something magical precisely because of its mundanity. You were both smitten, normal Big Gay Feelings kind of smitten, classic It'd Be A Mistake To Uhaul But I'd At Least Consider It kind of smitten. In the back of your head, something started to bounce around about all this, but you didn't notice. You were distracted by nice, big, uncomplicated feelings: you liked her and she liked you. That part was new.

You knew what desire usually felt like. You'd have a lovely time, get to know the person a little, but then there'd be a shift in tone, a glint in their eye that signaled that it was time to start disconnecting from your body. Usually it was a compliment: “that's a nice top, but I bet it'd look better on my floor”, or “you've got such a pretty face; I bet it looks nice looking up from my lap”, or “oh Millie, what nice tits you have”. Whatever it was, you knew where that was going and somewhere deep inside your head, you'd start frantically pulling the plug on those pesky feelings. You'd smile, agree, then start figuring out where they lived and how late you could stay out and how you could make an excuse not to stay the night. Then you'd go and fuck, make them cum, sometimes manage to disconnect enough that they could make you cum, and other times have to get them worked up enough that they'd believe it when you acted like you had. You'd feel good, validated, secure in the knowledge that you were hot, desirable. You were good at sex, after all. You liked telling all your other Cool, Good at Sex friends about your escapades, about your slut era. You were sex positive and kinky and you had great orgasms like you read about other girls having. You were pretty. People wanted to fuck you. You knew that girls are more than fuck toys, that it's wrong to sexualize women and femininity and specifically trans girls’ bodies, and you dutifully refused to ever do that to anyone else , but you're fair game because you're into that shit and nothing's ever bad if it's consensual. Besides, it's easier to play that character than it is to engage in genuine introspection. And why should you have to do all that thinking? Can't a girl get away with not thinking deeply about herself every second of every day? Get away from the dictates of transmisogyny that you know everything about yourself so you could defend from attacks that came from all corners? Can't a girl just want to go and get fucked? Besides, it's what they wanted, and you wanted connection and validation, and maybe orgasms are just the currency of secure relationships. No one ever wants to quit a girl with an ass like yours, not a girl who can fit their whole cock in their throat, who bobs dutifully up and down until they blast their load right into your mouth and swallows because spitters are quitters and momma didn't raise no bitch, never mind the tears that come from brushing up so many times on that ever-weaker gag reflex you're so proud of. You are proud of it, right?

Of course you are. You said so yourself. And who cares if some of those tears are about something else that you can't bring yourself to admit? No one ever leaves a pretty girl like you who does exactly what she's supposed to do and never whines about the taste or touch or texture and never, ever says that she's secretly relieved when it's finally over. Who doesn't like it when your mascara runs at the edge of your eyes? It looks good. Hot. Fuckable. Especially with the drool and cum leaking out of your mouth. "Chin up, pretty girl," you'd say on the inside before looking around for something to drink or smoke or put up your nose to drown the bad feelings before Round 2. "You'll start to want it one day."

You knew that experience just fine. You knew that normally you would be pretending you were distracted by your date, not the sense that you were seeing your body move through the rest of the night in third person. And this time, you felt something new. The ground was under your feet. Her hand was so warm in yours walking back to your cars. You didn't half jump out of your skin when she invited you to sit in the back seat with her. You didn't panic and pick an appropriate personality to download when she leaned in and closed her eyes. You were you.

You were you, which meant you felt her and her body's heat and her warm breath on your chest and her hand in yours, her fingers tracing the palm of your hand and around your wrist. You were you, and that meant it was you asking permission to kiss her, your heart leaping when she smiled easily and said yes, your lips pressing up against hers and your tongue dancing with hers. You were you when you chose to keep your shirt on and not move her hands to your tits. You were you when you felt relieved that she asked permission to touch you, and when you felt safe saying “no” to some things, and when you knew it meant something when you said “yes” to others. You got to meet this gorgeous girl, to babble stupidly because she was so distractingly pretty, to drive your waitress up a wall with your utter indifference to the notion of ordering dinner, to feel safe enough with another woman to get into her car and to kiss her passionately until you were both senseless and gasping like you were gay or something. It felt good to say goodnight, to get out of her car and into yours, to drive home. There was a spring in your step going up those stairs, not the usual shame-hunched slut walk you hated that you did. You slept well and didn't have to cry before you did. You woke up feeling uncomplicated and fine and you were glad that she had texted you back, that she wanted a second date. You couldn't escape the thought that she'd liked you for you. There hadn't been anyone else there to fall for, no one but your cute and bubbly and loveable self, unencumbered by the pressure to put out. She liked you, girlie, and maybe she only got to meet the real you because you knew you said you weren't having sex. She liked you and it felt good.

Revolutionary shit, sister.

Let's pause. Take five. Look me in the eye. Or don't; default eye contact is ableist and you know that but it's a turn of phrase and we don't have to investigate whether leaning on cliche is problematically reinforcing neurotypicalism right this very moment because you're here and you're listening and I think we're onto something. Is it ok if we go further? Can we take a second to play What If?

Yeah? Ok, let's go.

What if you got to feel that way more often? What if that was on the table every time you went out?

What if what if you always said you don't fuck on first dates? Second dates? Third dates?

What if you mattered as something besides a machine that turns cocks into sucked cocks?

What if you weren't scared to say “no”? And what if you weren't scared about what would happen if the answer was never “yes”?

What if people would still love you even if you don't put out? What if the people you love wouldn't leave you over something as inconsequential as an orgasm?

What if you didn't feel like you had to bemoan the failure of your nightly progesterone to awaken your inner goddess?

What if it was safe to be yourself? What if you mattered enough to stand up and say who you are?

What if - and really hear me out on this, girlie - what if you never had to fuck anyone ever again?

Would you like that?

I felt that shiver go down our spine. I felt the way the hair stood on our neck and arms. I feel the queasy feeling that tells us we're being brave.

Would you like that? Take your time answering. You don't need to know right away. I'll be around. But I'll tell you what:

I think I would.

[doublestandardlove]

i don't think i've talked about this, but i friggin' love the prom like y'all i'm so aghh- yeahh freshman me related a little too hard to alyssa greene ;_;

anyways, here's my thing ig (headcanon??) eh here (it's a tad long, sorry :/)

alyssa's mom, mrs. greene's name is veronica. just learned that btw lol (how canon is that? idk)

my personal headcanon for veronica greene is that she was never married to alyssa's father.

they had been dating for three years, and veronica was hoping that he'd propose soon. they had engaged in premarital sex a few times, but not enough to raise suspicion when veronica started getting concerningly sick in the wee hours of the morning.

it wasn't until veronica's coworker suggested getting a pregnancy test that she even entertained the possibility. while they'd been dating for a considerable time, her family had been anxiously waiting for marriage, and so had she.

when she found out she was pregnant, veronica was overjoyed. she scheduled a doctor's appointment immediately, planning to tell alyssa's father as soon as he got home. maybe this was the push they needed to get married.

besides, she was only slightly ashamed for engaging in premarital sex, and marriage would make the sin go away.

but he was not elated. at all. he hadn't wanted a child, especially not so soon. veronica was disheartened by his reluctance, but he promised that they would talk about next steps in the morning.

when the sun rose, he was gone. veronica was absolutely devastated. she texted and called him a million times, begging him to come back. when he eventually picked up, he claimed that he wasn't ready to be a father, but he would send money every few months.

veronica went to live with her family, who were just over the moon to have another greene. her parents were slightly disappointed in her for not abstaining (virginity rocks!), but took her in nonetheless.

when alyssa greene was born, she was raised by a village. her grandparents, aunts, uncles, family friends, cousins, etc. the entire extended family rose out of the woodwork to help raise this baby. with such a strong family and a small town, alyssa was well supported.

veronica hoped that one day, alyssa's father would mature enough to realize that he's ready to be a father to alyssa. so, she tried her best to raise alyssa as the best, hoping her father would hear of his daughter's achievements and be proud.

maybe if alyssa was perfect, a good, polite girl and an academic achiever, he would come back. he would see the daughter that he made and want to come back to meet such an accomplished girl.

veronica held on to this hope for years, posting alyssa's achievements on facebook and twitter, hoping for some outreach. she prayed that the Lord would bring him back to her, and he'd want to marry her and see their daughter off to college.

but it never happened. veronica blamed herself for not having enough faith, blamed her parents for not steering her hard enough in the right direction, blamed alyssa for not trying hard enough.

nothing was ever enough for her.

alyssa knew that her father wasn't coming back. she'd heard the whispered gossip from her nosy cousins and the conversations behind closed doors. she grew resentful of the hope her mother harbored, knowing they were suffering in vain. she resented her father for leaving them. leaving alyssa with her perfectionist mother.

it was unfair that they both had to suffer because her father was a coward.

alyssa never told her mother about these feelings, repressing them like she repressed everything that wouldn't fit her mother's expectations. she learned to act, how to smile even though all she wanted to do was cry. alyssa learned how not to feel, so she couldn't feel the pit in her stomach or the scream building in her throat. she learned how to hide and deny, going through every motion like clockwork.

it wasn't until one summer at bible camp that she learned how to love.

[pod95]

Pairing: Finn Balor X OFC (Ciara)

Word Count: 1135

Warnings: Mature to explicit as the story goes on.

Description: After moving to the USA from England to start her career as an NXT superstar, Ciara gets to meet her long time crush, NXT champion Finn Balor. It's clear the pair have chemistry, but when tensions start to rise, will they find they want more than a no strings attached relationship?

So this is the first piece of fanfic I have written literally ever. I will be posting them here periodically, but I already have 6 chapters out on my Wattpad, AO3 and FanFiction pages.

This series will involve romance, drama and (although it will take a little while) some smutt too. Hope you enjoy it! 😊

Chapter 3: Teasing the Prince

My taxi pulled up outside the hotel the orientation party was being held at, and I made my way inside. The hotel was beautifully decorated, definitely out of my price range but WWE has money to spare I guess.

Upon entering the bar, I immediately recognised most of the people there. Superstars from Raw, Smackdown and NXT, as well as coaches and backstage crew sat in their own groups, engaged in various conversations. It was incredibly intimidating to an outsider. After trying and failing to insert myself into different crowds, I ordered a glass of water from the bar and took a seat at an inconspicuous table in the corner of the room.

I tried several times to abandon my comfort spot and introduce myself to my colleagues, but lost my nerve everytime. After half an hour of sheepishly sipping my water, I was startled out of my haze by the sound of a glass being placed on my table.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare ya," came a smooth, Irish accent.

I knew Finn would be here of course, but I'd specifically avoided seeking him out. I certainly didn't expect him to approach me after I made such a mess of our first interaction. And yet...

"It's fine," I chuckled, nervously. "I was just in a world of my own. Sorry"

"No offense meant, but you look like you're shittin' yourself."

"Well everyone is already in their own groups. It's like high school all over again"

Chuckling, Finn slid the glass over to me, "This should help. It's vodka."

I hadn't intended to drink tonight, but that intoxicating smile was hard to resist, and it would be rude to turn down a gift after all.

"I'm Fergal. Your name was Ciara, right?"

Hearing him use his real name made this conversation feel much more personal somehow. The way he said mine sent tingles down my spine. Speechless, I nodded.

"That's an Irish name. Do you have any Irish in ya?"

"I don't," I confessed.

"Well, would you like some?"

At this I choked slightly. Not daring to look at his smirking face, I tried to regain my composure.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," he giggled, mischievously.

"Has that line ever worked?"

"No, never. Usually I just flash the abs and the rest is history."

"Right, right, because you're just SO irresistible," I teased, rolling my eyes slightly.

"Well... You couldn't seem to take your eyes off of me earlier today, so I guess I must be doing something right." He'd stopped laughing and leaned in closer, now staring intensely into my eyes. Every instinct in my body was telling me to break eye contact, but at this point the alcohol was starting to kick in and my nerves were unusually steeled.

"The only way you could possibly know that is if you were watching me too," I smiled sweetly, feeling proud of my retort, though internally my heart was racing.

To my delight, he seemed surprised by my new, unabashed attitude. Looking down at the table, he smiled coyly. I swear I detected the hint of a blush as he bit his lower lip and leaned back in his chair.

"So how long have you been wrestling?" he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

"About 6 years. Started in the indies before I worked for Progress."

"So did you try out or get scouted?"

"Scouted. I thought they'd got the wrong girl at first. There were so many other more talented women there. I don't really know why I stood out and they didn't."

Noticing my dejected tone of voice and my eyes glassing over, Fergal placed a kind hand over mine and softened his tone.

"Those scouts have a real eye for talent. You really should believe in yourself more. Even Paul seems impressed with you. That's not something to take lightly love."

He had this peculiar way of being able to make me feel so anxious and unsure of myself one minute, yet completely calm the next. My heart was doing backflips from the warm, tender touch of his fingers, which were currently tracing pleasant patterns on the back of my hand.

We sat like that in silence for a moment, before he cleared his throat and left to get us more drinks.

I wasn't waiting long before I heard a voice I recognised calling my name.

"Ciara? When did you get here?"

"Saraya!" I screamed, excitedly standing to give her a hug.

"Did they FINALLY sign you?" she asked. I nodded in response, and she playfully slapped my arm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I guess I didn't wanna jinx it until I got here."

"Oh my god I'm so happy for you! It's gonna be like old times!"

Fergal returned with our drinks and nodded politely at Saraya.

There was something about the way she looked at him, or rather, the way she glared at him. I sensed some animosity there. As Saraya and I had a catch-up, she would break eye contact with me now and then to throw a scowl towards Fergal, and whenever she did, he'd respond with a smug grin, clearly amused at how much his presence was bothering her.

"So Fergal," Saraya started, "how are things going with Elayna. Oh wait, Ashley wasn't it. Or was it Steffanie... Aw damn, I can never keep track of who you're seeing..."

Fergal smiled wickedly and took a sip of his beer before responding.

"You know damn well who I'm seeing, and you also know how it's going. So why don't you cut the crap and tell me why you're still here."

"Hey, I'm just looking out for my girl here," she placed an arm around my shoulder, "wouldn't want her getting hurt."

Satisfied that she had pissed him off, Saraya grabbed her purse. She gave me a goodbye hug and flashed one last death stare at Fergal before making her leave.

I left Fergal to stew in his own frustrations for a few minutes, taking the opportunity to buy us both a drink.

"Are you OK?" I asked, setting the beer down in front of him. Upon my return, he quickly removed the scowl on his face, returning to the cocky smile he had on earlier in the evening. It was as simple to him as putting on a mask.

"I'm marvelous love," he winked, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened, "so whereabouts in England are ya from?"

* * * *

A/N - Hey guys! I found this chapter really hard to write, because it's the first proper interaction you get with Finn and I wanted to do him justice. I hope I managed to. Anyway I'm back at work now so will update when I can. Really enjoying writing this and hope you enjoy reading! 😊

[sarunohadaki]

Thinking about my self-indulgent luminerik kidfic again and what their kids would be like... (note: under read more is literally almost 1.5k words of rambling)

Liz: She/her. Black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and Octagonian accent. The oldest. Adopted from Octagonia when she was six. (But has Hottish roots.) An ambivert. Very type A personality. (Or just highly competitive and results-driven. Analysing personality tests makes brain hurty.)

Takes a while to warm up to people and def needs to work on her people skills. Does a lot better in a crowd or with older adults. (Maybe she just wants/likes to look mature? Wants to be adult already.)

Favorite weapons are sword, then bow and arrow. Doesn't really know anything about magic. Keeping her fighting skills sharp is just as important as doing well in school! Thus, she's naturally top of her class, too.

I imagine her busting into a meeting in her adventuring gear, excited to show off her newest discovery to her dads. But I can also imagine her rocking a ballgown at a fancy event. (Lots of Jade energy.)

Loves Erik and Mia the most. (El is not sour about that at all. You really can't too much when you factor in that he's the one she goes to for all the comfort-seeking, since Liz wants to look strong in front of Erik.) She looks up to Jade and Hendrik a lot.

Really appeals to the idea of being an older sister, primarily because she likes being someone others can look up to or confide in. Idris doesn't really jibe with that but Lief appreciates it!

Idris: He/him. Black hair, gold eyes, brown skin, Gallopolitan accent. He's a little shit. Adopted from Gallopolis when he was ten, primarily at El's behest. Doesn't really know what he's doing in Dundrasil but he's trying to figure it out.

Good at a mixture of fire spells and knives. Doesn't have a favorite parent— both spoil him an uncomfortable amount, though he confides in Erik the most.

I still have to figure out what his motivation/aspirations are. I feel like he'd be an extrovert! Once you lean into the whole "prince" thing, I think there's a layer of him that really likes living in a castle. ...And another layer that still won't ever get used to it.

Gets into arguments with Liz on the regular, but she only puts up with his shit for so long before refusing to engage with it anymore. (Ideally in a more mature manner than Veronica and Erik.) They'll eventually reach a common ground where Idris acknowledges/respects Liz's strength and she stops treating him like a little kid.

On that note... appreciates people who don't treat him like a child. Favorite person is definitely Sylv! Then, hmmm... Rab or Faris. People who are a little goofy but genuine, you know? A plus if they're strong. So I guess he'd like Ronnie, too.

Lief: He/him -> she/they. Pink hair, blue eyes, slightly tan skin, weirdest conglomeration of dads' accents. The baby!!! Was adopted when they were days old; a carriage on a rainy day was uhh met with some complications.

El spoils this kid so rotten. All he's ever wanted was to have a baby wake him at two in the morning and make him rock it to sleep for three hours straight. There might be sleep deprivation in his eyes, but there's also extreme pleasure in cradling a lil baby in your arms and seeing it grow up into an adult.

I have considered writing... thousands of words of El just reveling in the baby-rearing process and Erik standing off to the side like, "I'm happy you're enjoying this so much babe, you do you."

A little, shy introvert. Looks up to the older siblings a lot, who are both really kind to Lief in return. Lief definitely prefers El the most out of the parents. (I wonder if Liz or Idris would be jealous?)

Prefers magic and books. Finally, we also get a good Mia/Jade/Gemma/Serena/Veronica lover. Lief really likes her female role models! (Of them all, though, I think they'd like Gemma or Serena the most.)

Definitely goes on a gender journey somewhere along the way. I feel like I need more research to get into that but it's there. Lief likes wearing dresses and the dads are very supportive! Liz excitedly lends her some.

There was something about a piano room once but I don't remember the details. I think the plot went that Liz was growing older and wanted to move to a new bedroom, where she discovered there was a room down the hall with a piano in it. Liz ends up getting Lief's bedroom, which is larger, and Lief moves into the piano room. Lief learns how to play piano and really enjoys it.

Last note: Finally we get a kid who feels right at home in fancy garb and has dinner manners! Their accent is Drasilian but also a healthy heaping of a (fucked-up) mixture of El and Erik's accents.

———

I'm considering whether it would be reasonable for Liz to go to speech therapy since I've given her more of a Derk dialect, but I can already imagine El and Erik diving into a deep pro/cons list and concluding she is perfect the way she is and it's not worth possible harm to her self-image...

...But she might end up trying to perfect her dialect anyway, as she wants to be a proper future queen with a fancy Heliodoran accent or something.

At dinner parties, Liz has a lot of fun socializing with guests. She dresses up fancy and schmoozes well.

Idris finds the whole thing sorta annoying — if he has to be there, he might spike the punch bowl or sneak slimes under the tables — but he'll do it for appearances and the rare fun conversation. More often he'll sneak out with his equivalent of Derk and return before curfew at the end of the night.

Lief, too, prefers to read in the corner. But they were raised in this weird fancy shit, so they don't mind acting every now and again if it's for appearances. Eventually, she'll get more confident with it and maybe find a romantic interest or friends to support her.

I struggle to imagine all the kids in a room together getting along, but I think if I wrote it enough the dynamics would start to make sense together. They all have little places where common interests overlap; it's just a matter of finding them.

El's been assigned some of the more maternal features of being a parent, mostly by choice. I feel like of the two men, he's definitely the one who's already overanalyzed what the kids need, and worried that not having a mom is going to result in some sort of emotional deficiency.

Erik scarcely cries as it is, so El shows them that it's okay to express how you're feeling and definitely leads by example. Idris probably finds the whole thing awkward. Liz is really expressive and Lief lands somewhere in the middle.

I have it written somewhere that El cuts his looong hair down to shoulder-length and regrows it again. I think it'd be cute if he and Lief grew their hair out together and El showed them that guys can have long hair, too!

The dads take turns playing tough cop but Erik arguably does a better job because El always carries around guilt/discomfort for having to play the role. I don't think the kids would get a lot of the "go ask your father" situation where they keep getting sent to the other dad when asking for permission to do something. El/Erik both feel comfortable enough to put their foot down when needed, though the bigger decisions require dual consideration before reaching a decision.

My favorite dynamics are: Lief & El, Liz & Erik, and Idris & Erik. I cannot express to you how many times I have imagined El cradling a lil baby and singing it songs and loving it oh so dearly... 😭 If Lief ever got into an argument with El I think it would destroy him. (So naturally that happens at least once. Kids are little shits.)

Thinking about it now, there has to be at least ONE time where Idris and Lief join forces against Liz for one reason or another. Jealousy? Resentment? Wanting to knock the oldest sibling down a peg? I don't really know but I think it's one way Lief and Idris would bond.

Idris and Liz would bond over orphan life together and their thougths about living in a castle. Lief and Liz would have fun trying out pretty clothes.

[buffysummers]

I sent that ask about [redacted] and idk if we can get into this without giving any spoilers so maybe any newbies just stop reading hahahaha but I always felt that Xanders decision to do that kind of undid the growth he'd shown? Like he got a good job, became resourceful and was a stable pillar to the gang (esp Buffy after what she'd been through) and then he handled it in the most childish way, I just thought he'd outgrown that side of him. He obviously did love her for who she was but his entire reasoning for proposing was kind of trash and I just think mature Xander would have told someone that he had cold feet and it was very selfish to Anya, even though he tried to act like he was doing her a favour. But I love ur brain and very curious on how u see this 💕

I don't really think it undid any of his growth. Yes, he grows, becomes more understanding, less judgmental, patient, great with words. But he's still human, and humans tend to regress at times, ESPECIALLY in very high-stress situations. I view it as him loving Anya so much and simply getting caught up in that. Like, he loved her so much that he took a step he wasn't ready for - marriage. And there's so much evidence to support the fact that he wasn't ready for marriage before he gets the strength to speak his truth.

Xander has a lot of self-image issues, and I think one of the reasons why he didn't speak up about not being ready for marriage was his fear that people will look down on him and think he's less of a man. Like, he basically had to admit to all his friends that he got in over his head and wants to run away from something that is too serious and too scary for him. He probably thought they'd think he was a coward, and as a result, ends up handling the situation in the worst, most selfish way possible.

The thing is - and believe me I am the first person to call out Xander for being selfish - I don't think his action was selfishly motivated. I think he truly believed, in that moment, that even though what the demon showed him wasn't real, he believes that one day it will become their reality. Because he's terrified that he's like his dad, he's terrified that he will never amount to anything, he's terrified he won't be able to be "man enough" to provide for them both or make Anya happy. He’s just... well, broken. 

I do agree that the circumstances surrounding their engagement weren’t the best. It’s very much a “seize the moment, ‘cause tomorrow you might be dead” situation. I think a small part of Xander really thought they weren’t going to survive, and that it didn’t matter that he felt incapable or too immature to follow through with this kind of decision. Because in that moment, he does not hesitate, he does not look nervous, he looks like he knows what he’s doing, he looks like he’s in control of the situation. It’s only until after the world doesn’t end that you see him start to get nervous and a little unsure. 

It’s important to note that this uncertainty had NOTHING to do with his love for Anya. Like, I’m not really an Anya/Xander shipper, I don’t feel much for them. But I never for a second thought Xander didn’t love Anya, and I never thought that Anya thought he didn’t love her. Like, yeah, there was a period in season six where she felt insecure (who wouldn’t... he left her at the altar hjsdgsdg) but in season seven, I think she understands. Like, she knows he loves her. He just wasn’t ready, didn’t communicate, freaked out and acted immaturely and impulsively, very similar to the circumstances surrounding the proposal.

tldr: I don’t really think that Xander leaving Anya at the altar diminishes his development, but that it was a very human thing to do... To run from something you aren’t prepared or ready for. He definitely should’ve spoken up sooner, but his lack of self-respect and awful self-image got in the way of properly communicating his feelings.

[katedrakeohd]

Cordonia 1885

Word count: 2470

Catch up on previous chapters

Author's Note/Warnings: Rated Mature.

Mentions death, blood, violence, and nudity.

............

Drake felt cold and lifeless in Bastien's arms as he swiftly carried him down the stairs. In the parlour below a wooden bathtub lined in a linen sheet was waiting, the water steaming. In the back of Bastien's mind he was hoping they weren't too late to revive him.

Meanwhile for Drake his own confused mind was telling him he was floating. Am I dead? Am I dreaming?

In his stupor he couldn't open his eyes, but muffled sounds filtered through to his ears. His mind tried to conjure an image, a reasonable thought of what was happening, but then it drifted away like a fog.

Then suddenly the floating feeling changed and he was falling through space, and he was powerless to break his fall. His mind reeled, his stomach roiled, and his muscles clenched painfully all at once, making him flinch.

His body was suddenly enveloped in an intense heat that pricked his skin and brought feeling rushing back into his limbs, causing Drake to let out a low groan.

Bastien stepped back after lowering Drake into the bath.

In his lethargic state, Drake slumps forward, his heavy head dropping his chin to his chest and his face splashing into the water.

Mary gasps, “Bastien, fix him before he drowns!”

Bastien cursed as he leaped forward, reaching under Drake's armpits to sit him back upright.

Tipping his head back, Bastien mutters, “Time to wake up, Son.” And then gives him a hard slap on the cheek to revive him.

The impact hits Drake like a kick to the face and he gasps, coughing the water out of his throat, his eyes opening wide with surprise. Startled to find himself naked in a bathtub, he draws his knees up and grabs the walls in an attempt to get out, causing water to slosh over the sides.

Bastien shakes his head, and places a hand on his shoulder to force him to sit down again. “Now, now Drake. We can't have you running around naked with a Lady present.”

Mary giggles as she holds Drake's bundle of clothes to her chest. “Oh, I don't mind at all.”

Drake raises his hand to his stinging cheek, and then glares at Bastien with indignation, “You..you struck me!”

Mary sits down on the nearby sofa, “Well it was either knock you about or let you drown in your own bath, so you're welcome.”

Bringing both hands up to his face, he realizes he's had a close shave too. He'd lost his own razor long ago and had resolved to just let his beard grow. The newfound smoothness of his skin spoke of a practiced and steady hand, and he assumed it had been Bastien's work.

He looks back and forth between Bastien and Mary and points an accusatory finger at her as a recent memory comes rushing back, “And you..you..she bit me!”

Drake's sudden anger makes his heart start to falter, and he brings his hand to his chest. At the same time he feels a dizzying sensation in his head, “Wha..what's happening to me?” he slurs his words as his eyes close and his body goes limp.

Bastien levels a piercing, disapproving glare at Mary and then raises his thumb to his mouth, he mumbles around it as he bites down. “You're dying, that's what's happening.”

Rushing forward to wrap his arm around Drake's chest, Bastien hauled him upright to prevent him from sinking back down into the bath water. Tipping his head back against his shoulder, Drake's jaw goes slack and Bastien lays his bleeding thumb across his lips.

���Just a taste is all we'll need to bring him back.” Bastien insists.

The dark blood pools around Drake's tongue, and trickles out of the corner of his mouth. Bastien frowns at Drake's inability to swallow it, giving him a gentle shake by the shoulders, and holding his mouth shut. “Come on, now. There's plenty in your mouth, swallow damn you.”

Drake sucks a sharp breath in through his nose, and then his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He was expecting the blood to be warm, but it was cold and thick like syrup. It burned going down his throat like some awful elixir from the apothecary shop, and it stung his nostrils as he coughed. Unlike the whiskey that he’d swallowed last that brought a welcoming warmth to his stomach, the blood caused an uncomfortable chill and queasiness that sent a shock to his lower gut. He didn't want to swallow any more of it, repulsed at how the rotten taste and feel of it in his mouth had assaulted his senses. If this was what drinking blood was like he wondered how vampires could thirst for it. But as soon as the queasiness passed, he strangely felt better, and his strength began to return.

Scooping up a handful of bathwater, Drake washes the blood off his face.

“I think it's time for some answers,” he says, angrily pointing a finger at Bastien. “What the hell do you two want with me?”

Bastien hands Drake a bar of soap and cloth to clean himself. “Get washed and I'll explain the best I can.”

Mary looks on eagerly as Drake lathers up the cloth, “Do you need any help, I could..wash your back for you?”

Bastien shakes his head as Drake stares at Mary in disbelief, “No, thanks. I think I can manage on my own.”

Mary's face falls in disappointment as Bastien makes a dismissive gesture to shoo her away. “Why don't you finish preparing your father's bedroom for Drake, and dispose of his dirty clothes. Make sure the curtains are drawn so the morning light doesn't leak in. After the events of tonight he's going to need several hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

Mary sets Drake's new clothes aside with an angry huff and then leaves. “Once a chamber maid, always a chamber maid,” she mutters as she stomps barefoot up the stairs.

Drake nods his gratitude to Bastien, hoping finally they could have the man to man talk he’s been waiting for. “Ok, then. Start talking.”

Getting up from his seat, Bastien starts to pace the room, turning his back on Drake to give him some privacy as he bathed. He clears his throat and then begins his story.

“As you know, I'm employed by the Beaumont family at the Ramsford Estate.”

“Uh huh,” Drake replies, using the cloth to wash his face and neck again. The smell of his blood was finally being overpowered by the soap, and he lathered the cloth repeatedly to make sure he neutralized all traces of it on his body.

“But I'm more than just their head of security. I belong to a secret society of night watchmen and stewards that have been in service to the noble houses of Cordonia for centuries.”

Drake crosses his leg over his knee to scrub at his foot. “And have you watchmen always been, you know..”

“Vampires?” Bastien finishes, as he goes over to the window to take a peek outside through the curtains. The inky darkness of night was giving way to the weak grey light of early morning. “No, only for the last 285 years.”

Drake frowns as he continues his bath, “That's an oddly specific amount of years, you sound as if you've been around long enough to count each one.”

Bastien sighs as he closes the curtains again, “That's because I have.”

Drake pauses to look at Bastien, still wanting to disbelieve the idea of vampires despite what he's already seen and experienced. “So what's Mary's part in all of this? She hardly seems like night watchman or guard material.”

Bastien sighs, looking up to see Mary sitting at the top of the stairs. “She was an unexpected, but surprisingly useful addition to my plans.”

“Oh, how?” Drake answers, cupping water in his hands and dumping it over his head to rinse the soap from his hair.

“I needed bait to lure you in.”

Drake blinks the water out of his eyes and wipes his face with his hands. “Why me? What am I to you, a meal or a recruit? And what makes you think I want to be either?”

“Did you honestly have any job prospects or any money in your pockets?”

Drake looks down at his boney bent knees jutting above the grayish water of the bathtub, ashamed and embarrassed to be so hopelessly destitute with nothing to claim as his own. “Well, no.” he says, quietly.

“Where were you going to sleep tonight, or what was to be the source of your next meal?”

Drake shrugs, remembering the dark alley next to the tavern where he often slept among the other drunks passed out in their own filth. He recalled the cool roughness of the brick wall that he'd lean against, and the ever present smell of piss and puke.

He looks over gratefully to the fresh clothing they'd picked out for him, down to his clean hands and body and then around to the comfortable home that was being offered for the night. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had afforded him such a kindness. But his gratitude was soon tempered by the fear that they were intending for him to give his life in exchange for this brief kindness.

“Ok, fine. I admit to having nowhere else better to go, tonight or tomorrow for that matter. Which explains why I might be tempted to accept whatever life you're offering. But it still doesn't explain why you chose me over any other poor lonely guy in the tavern tonight.”

Bastien snaps his fingers as Drake answered his own question. “That's just it Drake. You were alone and not engaged in talking to anyone. I'm assuming you have few if any friends and that you would hardly be missed if the tavern patrons never saw you again.”

Drake frowns at the implication that he couldn't make friends with people if he really wanted to. He liked being alone, and only engaged in conversation with people if they had something to offer him. Getting a drink from a bartender, the company of a willing woman, or the chance to finagle a few coins from some guys in a poker game was about as friendly as he wanted to be. All were limited interactions that required no commitment to being anyone's friend. He saw Bastien's point. He was a nobody and could easily become someone else entirely if he wanted to. Totally anonymous.

Drake looks around outside of the area of the tub, searching for something to blot himself dry so he could get dressed. As he stands up, Mary gasps at seeing him naked again. Bastien hands him a sheet to wrap around himself as he steps out of the tub. After quickly drying himself under the watchful eye of Bastien and the under the uncomfortable gaze of Mary, Drake pulls on the new clothes.

“Do I necessarily have to die to become part of this night watchmen society you belong to? Couldn't I be more useful on the day shift?”

Bastien waves off his concerns, “Any man off the street could be trained and become a day guard. But the worst threats to noble safety come at night. We move silently to neutralize threats before they breach the outer walls.”

“And if the moment arises to make a criminal your next meal, then it benefits the nobles and the watchmen alike.” Drake offers.

Bastien nods, “But we mustn't be sloppy or overly obvious that we’re feeding on any intruders. Any dead bodies are to be properly disposed of with minimal fang marks.”

Drake rubs his bottom lip feeling uneasy, “So does fresh blood really taste like what you gave me?”

“Oh, not at all,” Mary interrupts as she comes down the stairs.

“Living blood is much tastier. What you had was second hand, and quite dead.”

Drake looks from Bastien to Mary, scared all over again. “So..what happens now?”

Bastien places a hand on Drake's shoulder, the dead weight and strength in his grip was far from reassuring. “Your body needs to officially die before we can give you the gift of a new life.”

Drake's eyes go wide and he tries to swallow the sudden dry lump in his throat. “Bu..but I feel fine. Do we have to do this now?”

Bastien chuckles, leading Drake toward the stairs. “You're not dead yet, but after losing consciousness three times this evening already, death can't be far away. Based on the pallor of your skin, the hollowness of your cheeks and belly, you strike me as someone who drinks his meals more often than chewing them. If we hadn't found you tonight I wouldn't have expected you to live more than a few more months at best. Your body was already failing you and you weren't even aware of it.”

As they reach the bedroom at the far end of the hall, Drake panics feeling like a sacrificial lamb and tries to get away. Bastien wraps his arm around his shoulders and redirects him into the room. “If you bolt now, you won't get far. Would you rather die in the street? You’d probably stumble and injure yourself painfully as you wait to die.”

Drake stands nervously and waits for his alternative, “And if I don't run? What happens?”

“Just make yourself comfortable in bed and get some rest. You have 12 hours left at the most to make peace with this world and enjoy whatever daylight you can after you wake up. While sleeping will rejuvenate you somewhat, don't be fooled into thinking you can return to the life you once had. By sunset you'll be dead.”

Drake sits down on the end of the bed, “And if I were to go to the police and try to explain everything that happened to me?”

“I'd avoid the police, considering that the hotel housekeeper will be discovering you're missing any moment now. You're a wanted man, even if the blood you woke up in was actually your own.”

Drake sighs, running his hands through his damp hair, “Oh right, you have a point there.”

Mary sits down next to Drake on the bed, laying her hand on his knee. “We'll leave you some coins on the dresser. Go watch a show, get a last drink of whiskey, a last meal, but don't stray too far from the house.”

“Why not?”

“You need to be back here in time for sunset, so Bastien and I can help you finish your transformation. A little bit of Bastien's blood was enough to bring you back to this life, but it will take a lot more to get you to wake up into the next one.”

:::

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