#being a celebrity has some really DARK consequences

[alltoofuckingwell]

I have so much secondhand embarrassment for those complaining about the fortnight performance

[gffa]

Jedi culture & community fics, my beloved! They're a bit of a rare breed for what you're specifically looking for, specifically focusing on positive Jedi worldbuilding, so if anyone has genfic recs outside of the ones I know, please feel free to add them! But these should help scratch that itch for you, each of them has at least some focus on Jedi philosophy or how Jedi interact with each other or the lessons they teach! It's been awhile since I've read some of them, so there might be some that aren't quite as in-line with how I see the Jedi these days, but they're all ones I felt portrayed them pretty positively and they're all genfic (except one that I made an exception for) and all really lovely fics I remember enjoying for the Jedi worldbuilding aspects! And there are some that will make you absolutely melt with how much you love these characters and their beautiful culture, because by god if canon's not going to give us as much detail as we want, fandom will step up. And fandom made sure to not just focus on the disaster lineage--we love Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, we always want more of them, please don't stop writing Jedi worldbuilding with them!--but also Mace and Yoda and Quinlan and Qui-Gon and even some Jedi OCs get some love in these fics, which makes me want to explode with joy to see! So, come cry about how much we love the Jedi with me, I WILL GIVE YOU A CRAPLOAD OF FIC TO READ. STAR WARS & JEDI CULTURE & WORLDBULDING RECS YOU'LL FIND HERE:

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH

MID-LENGTH

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH

NOVEL AND NOVELLA LENGTH: ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k     Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 8.7k     During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ eat well; be well by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & yoda & depa & shaak & quinlan & aayla & cast, 18.6k     Or, (almost) all of the Jedi High Councilors (plus Ahsoka) gather to eat dinner together. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & ahsoka & palpatine & yoda & quinlan & cody & cast, 126.3k wip     By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ Pragmatics of the Jedi by aroacejoot, ghostwriterofthemachine, loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & jedi, 31.3k     A series of fanfiction exploring the consequences and results of the Jedi having their own language, and speaking it still. ✦ light by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & mace & jedi, 56.1k     Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi and being a part of their Order means that he is protected and accepted. The war is over and the Republic has to recover from the crimes of the Sith Lord, the Jedi have to figure out what it means to be peacekeepers again and the Clones have to learn how to be more than expendable soldiers. ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ocs & cast, 94.9k wip     After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance.

✦ Knightrise by Deviant_Accumulation, obi-wan & yoda & satine & ahsoka & asajj & cast, 89.4k wip     "Strong enough to fight the Sith Lord, you are not.“ And just like that the fight drained out of Obi-Wan, the barely scraped together agitation running out of him like water from a broken glass. He looked at Yoda, the other Master already hobbling towards one of the back exits, his presence burning with focus, obviously expecting Obi-Wan to follow. ✦ Make a Brand New End by Batsutousai, obi-wan & anakin & feemor & qui-gon & yoda & mace & dooku & jedi, 118.6k     Feemor, Qui-Gon Jinn's first padawan, did not survive Order 66, but the Force granted him a boon: A chance to go back to days before Qui-Gon's death. He doesn't know why the Force picked him to remember that terrible future, but he's going to do what he can to change it. And if he can heal the rift fallen between himself and Qui-Gon, and finally get the chance to know Obi-Wan, well, he's not about to turn that down. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & bruck & feemor & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by orphan_account, obi-wan & anakin & jedi, 61k     Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ The Moments That Time Remembered by CallToMuster, obi-wan & mace & vokara & bant & quinlan & garen & depa & jedi, 82.4k     Obi-Wan’s first memory was not his own. Rather, it was a vision steeped in darkness and flashes of red and choking heat and you were my brother and the harsh crash of lightsabers striking one another. He woke up sobbing in the arms of the crèchemaster, Master Kitaddik, who was hushing him and gently stroking the top of his head with her furry hands. Obi-Wan hid his face in the soft folds of her tunic and, still crying, fell back asleep. The first time Obi-Wan collapsed due to a vision was not long after that. [Or: in all the various iterations of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life, the Force spoke to him. But in this one, it never stopped.] ✦ Starrunner by orpheus_under_starlight, obi-wan & jedi & oc, 80.2k wip     In what would have been the year 17 BBY, Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine is found slumped over his desk, dead to rights and emitting a foul odor. The coroners declare the body victim to a heart attack and the smell a result of a lack of a timely embalming—a bit of bowels humor, the head coroner says with a nervous laugh when interviewed by the Galactic Enquirer.

MID-LENGTH: ✦ 飽了嗎? | Have you eaten your fill? by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & quinlan & yoda & dooku & mace & bant & jedi, 13k     The Force is the first language that Obi-Wan learned to speak, the brush of one mind against another. But food is the second language that Obi-Wan learned to speak with, and he talks, he talks, he talks. A collection of fics about food and how food is an articulation of love. ✦ We Will Abide by naberiie, plo & shaak, 10.3k     Light. Dark. Balance. Beneath the Jedi Temple, far below the chaos of Coruscant's Galactic City, ancient halls and corridors sleep in silent darkness. Padawans Shaak Ti and Plo Koon are determined to explore them. ✦ What Is My Heritage? by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda, 7.7k     Qui-Gon, age 13, tries to find a place to belong. ✦ Coming Home by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda & dooku, 18.1k     A story telling how Qui-Gon comes to be Dooku's apprentice. ✦ Master by CJinn, obi-wan & anakin, 27.5k     Obi-Wan Kenobi had always wanted to become a Jedi Knight. What he didn't expect was to become a Master merely days after his own Master died. Adapting to his new role as the mentor and Master of the quite unusual Padawan Anakin Skywalker became a bumpy road.

✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cin & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Cave by Ria Talla (ronia), anakin & ahsoka & cast, time travel, 10k     Ahsoka Tano, post-Star Wars Rebels/? And there was something else, more important, though Ahsoka found herself loath to do it. Her lightsabers drawn, deep in the labyrinth formed by the stone warriors and the crumbled temple. Yet the words broke certain into her mind. Your eyes can deceive you. Her heart pounded, as though warning her otherwise. But Ahsoka withdrew her sabers, and closed her eyes. Rather than her weapons, she let the Force be her light. ✦ A Candle in the Night by phoenixyfriend, anakin/luminara & obi-wan, time travel, 12k     In which Luminara finds a heavily injured Jedi, nurses him back to health, and falls in love. Then they get back to the real world, and she just can't figure him out... ✦ Found Clan by silvergryphon, boba & ocs & obi-wan & anakin & cast, 25.3k wip     After the Battle of Geonosis, a Jedi Healer discovers young Boba Fett mourning the loss of his father. Not about to leave a ten-year-old boy on his own, she promptly adopts him with the full collusion of her Padawan. ✦ the heart of kyber by outpastthemoat, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & depa & kanan & jedi, 32.7k     Tales of the Jedi: Stories about lightsabers, masters, and apprentices. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & mace & kanan & obi-wan & rex & cast, 10.5k     After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye), obi-wan & qui-gon & yoda & cast, 17.6k     A few months after being taken as a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi faces a challenge: meeting his Master's first apprentice. ✦ Familes Found by fyrefly, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & mace & plo, 8.2k     In a universe where "The Wrong Jedi" never happened, the war ends under different circumstances and perhaps everyone will get a chance at a happy ending after all.

SHORT AND YET SO GOOD-LENGTH: ✦ The Mathematics of Repair by panharmonium, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.6k     For raw teachers and rough-edged students building in the rubble: tiny steps are enough, provided they carry you in the right direction. Immediately post TPM, in short snippets. ✦ The Living Force; Parables for Padawans by glorious_clio, obi-wan & cast, 6.1k     Since infancy, younglings are taught the Jedi Code, “Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.” Obi-Wan Kenobi learns these tenets backwards and forwards again. But even as a child, he is interested in nuance. And so his teachers tell him parables. ✦ A Jedi's Cloak ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cody & rex, 6.4k Jedi cloaks are made for children. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a year and a half old when he first sees this principle in action. He is fourteen, twenty-five, twenty-nine, and thirty-six when he gets a reminder.     Or: Jedi cloaks are weird. Here's a series of events showing why they're made that way. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, kanan & depa. 1.4k     Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ For the Future of the Order by thetorontokid, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.9k     There are important lessons to be found in the Jedi Temple creche.

✦ Memories of Peace by Margan, obi-wan & clones, 2k     It's not quite flash training, but the Clones are used to learning fast. It helps that this is something that they actually look forward to learning, to putting into practice. Obi-Wan teaches the Clones how to make dumplings in the middle of war. ✦ Liberosis by Be_Right_Back, anakin & mace & yoda & jedi, 2.2k     The war is over, the Sith are gone, and there is now Anakin Skywalker's secret marriage to deal with. While love is a wonderful thing, some truths are hard to face, and letting go is the destiny of all Jedi. Or: the Council and Anakin clash. It doesn't go as terribly as it could have. ✦ Accepting Emotion by LazarusII, obi-wan & ahsoka, 1.1k     Dealing with the stress and anxiety of being a prospective Padawan, Ahsoka Tano struggles to manage her emotions. Obi-Wan Kenobi finds her practicing in the dojo, confidence in tatters. His words make all the difference. ✦ A Long, Long Time Ago by ruth baulding, dooku & qui-gon + qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 5.8k     A wisdom tale handed passed down through the generations poses troublesome questions for a line of masters and Padawans, from Dooku to Ahsoka Tano.

✦ Duet by Silver Sky 1138, oc & cin, 2.3k     Asha Scarsi, the Jedi Padawan who feels the Force through music, isn't half as good at lightsaber combat as she is at singing and mindtricks. So she's a little nervous when Battlemaster Cin Drallig calls her to the training room after class. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by GirlwithCurls98, anakin & ahsoka, 1k     Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k     One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently.

✦ Night Shift at the Temple by ReneeoftheStars, oc jedi & cast, 1.8k     A Jedi Temple Guard sees all, speaks to few, and has attachments to no one. One must be prepared for any threats that may arise, especially at night, while most of the Temple sleeps. ✦ The Orchards by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.6k     When young Obi-Wan Kenobi is injured on a previous mission, Qui-Gon Jinn refuses to accept further off-planet missions until his Padawan's recovery. Yoda assigns the pair an in-Temple mission of utmost importance while Obi-Wan heals. Master and Padawan welcome the change of pace. ✦ Tipping Point by Ria Talla (ronia), adi gallia & finis valorum & eeth koth, 3.3k     "I believe that if what's happening on Naboo is allowed to continue, the other member systems will wonder what they owe to a Republic that can no longer protect them." ✦ A Personal Touch by DragonHoardsBooks, obi-wan & anakin, 6.2k     New jedi padawan Anakin Skywalker realizes that there is more to being a jedi then he tought. Discovering a completely new culture will take time and effort, but maybe he'll make some friends along the way.

✦ Jedi Parables by Peppermint_Shamrock, jedi, 5.8k     Values are often passed down generation to generation through stories, parables, and fables. What stories might the Jedi teach their children? ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & jedi, ~1k     The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ a thin thread of hope by wrennette, shaak & clones, ~1k     Shaak Ti introduces some cadets to one of her favourite crafts, under the guise of training. ✦ rah kat by js71, obi-wan & anakin & aayla, 1.6k     "Aay’shee," Obi-Wan murmurs into her ear, rocking her gently, like when jaieh was off on a mission she couldn’t go on, so her jaieh-raheniel would take turns having her over at their apartments. ✦ Lessons on Attachment by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin/padme & cast, 2.7k     "Anakin once told me that a Jedi is actually encouraged to love." She said after Obi-Wan had settled. ✦ Straw Dogs by Cymbidia, obi-wan & jedi & cast, 2.9k     An old Jedi Master imparts some wisdom concerning Mercy, Balance, and the Will of the Force to young Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and a gaggle of other younglings. It is a lesson that haunts Obi-wan for the rest of his life. ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra.

✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures. ✦ yellow, you're a dreamer by nightdotlight, jocasta & anakin (& obi-wan), 2.6k     Normally, it wouldn’t be unusual, but— Jocasta did not earn her post without listening, and from where she stands in the aisle, gaze fixed upon the back of the young child’s shaking shoulders, she can hear a sniffle reverberate around the space. There’s a child curled up in the corner of the Archives— and they’re crying. ✦ once upon a time (a long, long time ago) by thebitterbeast, barriss & mace & shaak & ki-adi & bacara & trilla & cere, 2.3k     The Jedi love children. Children love stories. This changes some things. ✦ not the place that I was born in (doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong) by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin, 5k     “What were you consulting Master Obi-Wan about?” “Tea!” says the other Padawan brightly. “I’m performing a tea ceremony for my Master, one that originates from her home world. It’ll be the first time I sit foveo with her!” She says that word— foveo— as if it should mean something to Anakin. It does not. ✦ A Friend Indeed by ExtraPenguin, plo & ahsoka, 3.3k     After their rescue of the colonists of Kiros, Ahsoka Tano's Master asks for her to be sent on a mission away from the front. She ends up being sent to the Deep Core with Master Plo Koon to investigate one of the first known locations of the Jedi Order, since abandoned. ✦ In which we burn bodies as bridges by GraceEliz, obi-wan & ahsoka & depa & kanan & ezra, 1.4k     Lineage mantras, and the processing of grief. ✦ Five Times Mace was There for Obi-Wan, and One Time Obi-Wan Returned the Favour by wrennette, obi-wan & mace, 4k     five of the many times Mace Windu offered Obi-Wan comfort over the years, and one of the many times Obi-Wan returned the favour

✦ as the dust settled around us by thebitterbeast, finn & jedi, 5.2k     Bravery has never been the absence of fear. Prompt: There is no emotion, there is peace. ✦ Adi Gallia, Master of the Order by Perspicacia, adi & jedi, 7.2k wip     Palpatine didn't expect it. It was too soon for that in his plans: which Jedi would have left the Temple under assault? But Adi had. Ashes in her heart, she had left the younglings and the elders and the wounded for her duty to the galaxy, choosing to stop the Sith instead of protecting her people. ✦ “The Padawan Chooses The Master” by lurkingcrow, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 3.6k     prompt: AU - The Jedi say “The Padawan Chooses The Master” Qui Gon lives, Obi Wan is very preoccupied, and Anakin is put into the creche as an Initiate to learn what he can until Qui Gon wakes up from his coma and gets yelled at by the Council. In the meantime, Anakin meets other Jedi Masters and when the Council asks him who he wants to be his teacher, his answer isn’t Qui Gon. Instead it’s *insert your fav Jedi here* ✦ The Only Home We Know by ReneeoftheStars, katooni & petro & ganodi & byph & gungi & zaft & cast, character death, child death, 2.4k     The Jedi Temple is under attack. Determined to fight for their home, younglings Katooni, Petro, Zatt, Ganodi, Byph, and Gungi make their way to aid the Jedi Masters in defense of the Temple. But the situation is far graver than they expected. ✦ Obi-Wan and the Force by AwayOHumanChild, obi-wan & cast, ~1k     One of the first things Jedi Initiates learn is that everyone experiences the Force differently. ✦ The One Where Anakin Tries to Be Serious by Mini_and_Might, anakin & ahsoka, 1k     Even though they're fighting a war, Anakin finds the time to lead his apprentice through one of the Jedi's sacred ceremonies. Might become part of a series of missing scenes from the Clone Wars. ✦ Markings by wabbajack, ahsoka & plo, 1.6k     In which it is revealed that Master Plo Koon has always had a difficult time putting his foot down when faced with his Little 'Soka. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knigh, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k     Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum.

✦ Arrival by CJinn, obi-wan & yoda & jedi, 2.6k     Little Obi-Wan was only a few days old when he was brought to the Jedi Temple. His arrival caused some confusion among the Jedi. ✦ The Spire by skatzaa, obi-wan & jedi, 2.4k     The galaxy was on the brink of war, and Obi-Wan Kenobi had been assigned a new room. ✦ Room Arrangements by skatzaa, obi-wan & anakin, 2.2k     Anakin has some concerns about room arrangements at the Temple. Obi-Wan does his best to reassure him. ✦ Lineage by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, 1.5k     Anakin is new to the temple, and he does not yet understand that these are his brothers and sisters, his cousins, his uncles and aunts. He does not know yet, but he will learn, Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k     Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire's sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader's identity. ✦ Emotion is our Shared Tongue by virdant, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & quinlan & jedi, 2.1k     There are thousands of different species, with different languages and voices and hands, but what all Jedi have in common is the Force, and with the Force, they have language. ✦ To Know by Armin_05, obi-wan & anakin & shmi & kitster & fives & cast, 4.8k     Nearly all Jedi love learning. Anakin Skywalker is no different. Or, how Anakin found a love of learning and shared it with others. ✦ Shatterpoints and Students by soft_but_gremlin, mace & depa, ~1k     Depa always has shatterpoints hovering around her.

✦ Home-onym by virdant, jedi, 1.1k     Jedi younglings, like any other children, enjoy playing. Playing with lightsabers and playing with words. ✦ Threaded Lineage by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & kanan & ezra & luke & rey, 2.9k     The journey of a single river stone through many generations of Jedi, allowing the Jedi of the old and the Jedi of the future to be threaded together. ✦ the river and the rock by nightdotlight, anakin & luminara, 1.8k     Lightsabers clash, and Luminara Unduli holds her ground. She doesn’t move, doesn’t lock her muscles, just makes herself an immovable object and lets her opponent strain against the lock. ✦ Five Meditations of Jedi Depa Billaba by skatzaa, depa & mace & yoda & kanan & kit, 5.3k     What is says on the tin. (Plus one more, for good measure.)

[vismoney]

- LIKE HIM.

Pairing :: Charles Xavier x Female!Reader, mentions of Father!Erik Lehnsherr x Daughter!Reader.

Summary :: After 8 years of asking Charles the same questions about your father, Erik Lehnsherr, you finally asked him the one question that had been plaguing your mind the most.

Warnings :: Brief mention of smut at the end. Some angst, some fluff. Charles is weird for sleeping with a former student that he used to teach one-on-one, no use of y/n (there will never be on my blog), reader is over 18+ (but then again she was his student for the past 8 years), and reader's mutation is not specified.

Note :: I literally didn't know how to end the story as a whole, so I tried my best 😭 Currently obsessing over Like Him by Tyler, The Creator right now, so this story is inspired by that. Set before the events of X-Men Apocalypse, so Erik is very much still in Poland with his wife and daughter. I'm very nervous since I don't know how to write broken familial relationships, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

“I don’t know where he is.”

Charles had repeated that exact sentence to you for the past 8 years of your life at his school everytime you asked if he knew where your father was, but you were 95% certain that everytime he answered your question, he did know where he was located.

At exactly 8 years after being enrolled at the school by your human mother as soon as the Institute reopened after the Vietnam war, you sat right across Charles at his office, as you two celebrated the anniversary of your enrollment over a competitive game of chess and some reminiscing of some nostalgic memories. The warm lights of the lamps and the soft glow of the fireplace gave the environment a warm setting, in contrast to the cloudy darkness of the night sky outside, it had been raining a lot in Westchester after all.

Being the affair daughter of one of the greatest mutants living on this planet automatically granted you the terrified respect of the people around you, one that you abuse endlessly without consequences, especially with the Professor. You did wonder if he only answered your many questions about your father because he knew if he didn’t, you would either figure it out yourself by leaving the school and endangering yourself, or you’d give him the silent treatment, the latter being the most likely.

You could feel his eyes on you as you debated what move would grant you an easy win with the least amount of chess pieces sacrificed. To most people, Professor Charles Xavier was a serious man who would stop at nothing if it meant it protected mutantkind, or the students at his school. Before you graduated, you had certainly held that opinion of him, even though you were one titled as one of his special students, the kids who had the privilege of chatting with him on the daily and received one-on-one lessons with him, like Jean.

As you moved your rook to take his knight, you leaned back onto your seat and met his gaze. You wondered again if you were only one of his special students because you were Magneto’s daughter or if your powers were truly special and powerful enough that he felt the need of having private lessons with him. 

“I thought you’d have more newer questions about him tonight.” He remarked as he took a sip of his whiskey out of his glass, while retaining his intense eye contact with you. “I thought you wouldn’t ask me again where his location was.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know that I would immediately tell you first if I had information on Erik’s whereabouts.”

“Really? I thought Hank would have the privilege of that first.” 

Charles quirked up a small smile at your sarcastic remark. He downed all his whiskey at once and placed his glass back at the table. “The last time I checked, he isn’t related to Erik at all; unless Erik has some more unknown children that I don’t know about.”

You smirked as you considered the thought of your absent father having more unknown kids somewhere. “Well, you know him better than I do, Professor, what do you think?”

Charles chuckled and shook his head as he moved one of his bishops to take your rook. “I bet on it, my dear.” He said smoothly.

The discussion about Magneto was quickly forgotten as the night went on, the quiet and peaceful atmosphere of his office was disrupted by quiet grunts and groans filling up the room as you and Charles entangled yourselves in a passionate exchange. 

The early rays of the sun shone in the room as you drew lazy patterns behind Charles’ back as he  laid asleep. The quickly turned innocent celebration to the intense encounter had quickly worn him up, something that you had teased him about multiple times before. As you watched him sleep, the thought of your father crossed your mind again, sending you down into a spiral of endless unanswered questions. Did he know that you exist? How would he treat you if he found out that you are his daughter? Would you look like him?

For an enemy of the US Government, they sure don’t hold any pictures of him at all. From searching the web, or going to the library, there were many accounts of who Magneto is, not what Magento looks like. Even when you managed to sneak out of your dorm in the past after curfew to look around the mansion for any pictures that the Professor might have of his former best friend, he had nothing. Out of all the questions that you had repeatedly asked Charles about, asking “Do I look like my father?” was the one you dreaded the answer for.

As if on cue, the man laying in front of you slowly stirred awake and met your gaze. “Good morning, darling.” He whispered softly and leaned in to kiss your lips. “How long have you been awake?

“Just a few minutes ago.” 

He hummed and brought your head to rest on his bare chest. “Thinking, again?

“When have I ever stopped thinking?” You chuckled against his chest and sighed in contentment. Comfortable silence filled the room as he caressed your hair with such gentleness, that a newborn baby would be jealous.

“Do I look like him?” You asked suddenly, as if your mouth had a life on its own.

He stopped caressing your hair and tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Look like who?”

“My father.”

He paused, his eyes looking over your face; from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips. “..No. You don’t look like him.” He answered honestly but bluntly, not sugarcoating his answer in any way, shape, or form. “You look much more like your mother.”

[makingspiritualityreal]

Development of Cancer Sign through Nakshatras

As a Vedic Astrologer who uses Tropical Mula Ayanamsa, I have a unique perspective into the development of Astrological signs, and the subtle differences occurring in the process between the Nakshatras.

It can sometimes be really hard to spot the Nakshatra differences in someone's life, especially if they all belong to the same Rashi. That has become more and more confusing, as Vedic Astrology has become popular and people label celebrities wrong Nakshatras according to the Lahiri Ayanamsa.

However, whenever I see something unique about certain signs and Nakshatras, I publish it, since I believe there is no one else putting it out there.

I have a lot of experience with studying the Cancer Rashi as a side effect of discovering my own Moon Nakshatra. That, however, has extended to understanding of the Nakshatras I'm not personally concerned with. It has also led me to a very important conclusion for all signs.

The key to spotting the Nakshatra ruler in someone's story is observing whether that influence is malefic or benefic. You will see with benefics, over time, a softening, with malefics, a hardening. You will see contrasting approaches to difficult situations, you will see life making its mark on a person's face.

As the first Cancer Nakshatra, Ardra focuses a lot on abandoning naivete, something that was very present in the previous Nakshatra of Mrigashira. Ardra represents the final end to being sheltered, and all the consequences that come with that stage, when there is no more room for unconsciousness. It is the "hardest" of all Cancer expressions, as it moves from one type of hardship to another, between Mars and Rahu.

As a result, we get stories of women that embrace a more rebellious attitude after suffering many betrayals and having their needs taken for granted. Violence, angst or punkish themes are presented in the context of justice, a freeing agent, means to get one what they want. That is a response to struggling so hard to break out in Mrigashira. Sometimes, the stories take a dark turn and Ardra focuses entirely on a painful reality check ending in brutality and enduring oppression.

By the time we move on to Punarvasu, we almost always start with stories of degeneration, how the attitude of going for one's needs at all costs has led to selfishness and internal emptiness, or how the characters become destroyed by the prolonged pain of some form of abuse. When we watch Punarvasu characters, they can actually get quite dark and the theme there is discovering a silver lining, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the ability to feel good and be good despite having a painful past, more than a fully positive story. The basis is hard, but it develops into a softening.

By the time we move on to Pushya, there is yet again a reduction, as Saturn takes away the hopeful, positive family influence, and even in stories where some positive influences survive, faces the native with issues, that the protection they used to be provided with cannot solve. These women often come from families that had some good in them on an emotional or spiritual level, but were unable to constructively help them face the harsher side of reality, so they face the world unprepared and learn it through difficult experiences. On the way there, they suffer disappointments, but gain self reliance and understanding of their own strength of character and internal, unshakeable positivity. The basis is softer, but the face hardens over time.

[anonymooseforever007]

Ring Around the Roses

(Alfie Solomons x female reader)

Summary: Attempting to get away from the Shelby party chaos, Alfie and his wife sneak off into Tommy's garden for a little fun. It isn't until the next morning they discover the consequences of their actions and Alfie has to remind his wife what their marriage is really about.

A/N-Hi Y'all! Possible TW's for only the end of this include Mentions of death, Unhealthy coping habits and self blame! Also this is for K's (@runnning-outof-time) 3K celebration! Congratulations you're amazing and I love seeing you on here❤️❤️❤️ I hope you like this! I haven't done a celebration before really but I saw your theme and the idea spring into my head. Despite the warnings it's mostly fluffy until the time skip! Also there's one part that implies smut but none actually written! Enjoy ❤️

WC- 6.6k

Main Masterlist

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"Are you sure we can do this out here?"

"Do what dovey? I'm just taking a nice little stroll with my darling wife aren't I? Letting her get a quiet break from all those heathens inside."

You scoffed, knocking into your husband's side gently as the pair of you walked through the garden. For a man who seemed particularly fond of dark colours, Thomas Shelby's garden was particularly vibrant. 

"Oh hush, you only call them heathens because you're too scared to use the word friend."

"FRIEND!" Alfie scoffed while kicking at a particularly beautifully tulip that just happened to be nearby, just to prove his point. "No no no Dovey, THEY are not my friends, yeah. If I were to pick anyone to be my friend it certainly would not be ANY of them." 

You only rolled your eyes and shot a knowing smirk in his direction. For all your husband's spite and trickery, you knew he really did have a soft spot for the Shelby family.

"Alright love, I believe ya. That's absolutely why you immediately declined the invitation to come here tonight isn't it. Burned it in the fireplace correct? Told me not to put it in the calendar? Because you don't have plans at being anything other than vicious enemies is that right? The pie I brought tonight was a death threat wasn't it? Did you slip in some arsenic into the powdered sugar?"

Rolling his eyes at your teasing, Alfie couldn't help but smile as he watched you laugh at your own joke. Continuing your path through the garden you mindlessly reached back a hand for your husband a few steps behind. A clear indication of what you wanted. What you always wanted. Slipping his hand between yours, he let you drag him through the bushes, further from the party. With each step he could see you relax a bit more, as you enjoyed the scene around you.

"Is it quieter out here Dovey?"

Smiling softly, you only nodded your head before reaching out gently to touch the leaves of a nearby bush. Though the party was fun, it had gotten a bit loud and in the growing chaos you needed some air. So while Tommy and Polly were distracted trying to convince Arthur and Finn not to throw Michael in the lake, you and your husband had slipped outside. 

"Alfie, we should plant a garden of our own I think."

"Is that right Dovey? Does my lady want some bushes of her own to trim doesn't she?"

"I think we could get some nice rose bushes. I've always loved those."

"Roses, is that it? You got a feeling about those prickly little parasites don't ya Dovey? I never got why you liked them."

Chuckling you sat on the edge of a nearby wall as your husband dug his feet in the ground. You knew exactly why Alfred hated roses, and it still amused you to this day. 

It happened years ago, around the time you'd first gotten together. This was before Alfie was even able to grow a beard, and all his kisses resulted in a scratchy scruff that prickled your face. Way back when boxing was still his main pastime instead of "baking", both kinds actually and these days your husband finally knew how to make a decent muffin. In an effort to be romantic, he'd shown up at your work one day with a nice bouquet of roses. They were lovely flowers and you were immensely elated by the gesture, and especially amused since he'd bought the flowers from that very shop only the day before too.... However it was a shame you never got the chance to put them in water. See, somewhere between the ten steps it took to get from the door to your table, he had tripped and fallen flat on the ground. Don't worry, his face hadn't hit the hard ground, it was cushioned....by the thorny roses. Maybe it was a good thing the thorns had left so many bloody scratches. It meant you weren't able to tell his face had turned as red as the roses petals now surrounding him. Instead of the romantic date he wanted to take you on, the evening was spent with you dapping the cuts on his face with a damp cloth while he started at the wall, contemplating every life choice he'd ever made. That was the night Alfred Solomons decided he'd never trust a rose ever again. Not even the ones his darling wife sought to plant in her gardens.

"Alfie, come on! Roses aren't that bad, just because you had a little slip up years ago doesn't mean they all hate you."

Standing by up again, you held out your arms towards Alfie as music began to reach the garden. Shaking his head lightly, he set down his cane and took your arms, fully confident you'd be there to support him if his hip got too bad. You and Alfie had yet to dance tonight, caught up talking with others (which was really just your doing) and pointing out everyone who'd gotten too drunk and was trying piss in the plants. It wasn't something either of your minded to badly, the large crowds of people tended to make you feel a bit nervous and Alfie occasionally had a hard time keeping rhythm because of his hip. So most of your dancing was done in the back corners of the ballroom or privately in your kitchen, waiting for the midnight snacks to be done. 

However tonight, it seems you'd be dancing in Thomas Shelby's garden. Slowly but happily, you waltzed closely with your husband, stepping around the fountain and laughing as he stopped to twirl you ever few seconds. Other than the music from the house and the gentle crunches  of your shoes beneath the gravel path, the world was silent. When the song ended your husband gave you a gentle kiss and stepped back, though he was still holding you in his arms. Looking up above yourselves, you saw the constellations fitting the night sky.

"Ohh Alfie! Look at them! Aren't they beautiful?"

Beaming, you grinned up at the stars twinkling down on you before moving from your husband to a smaller empty plot of ground. You suspected that something was to be planted there soon, but paid no mind to the grime that would get on your skirt as you settled down to sit in the dirt. It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. 

"What are ya doing now Dovey? Is this the thing you said we shouldn't be doing?" Alfie teased you from where he was still standing.

"I just wanna sit and watch the stars for a bit. Come," remaining seated you patted the spot next to you, "Join me."

Alfie walked over to the spot but when he got there, he only raised an eyebrow at you and tapped his hip with the cane. You stared for a moment and then it clicked. Laughing slightly at your forgetfulness, you stood up, bowing dramatically, and held out your arm. 

"Right right, I forget you have the hip of an overworked, ninety seven year old parlor dancer. Shall I assist you to the ground my dear sir?"

Alfie only grumbled, but his eyes twinkled as you teased him. If anyone else had made the comment they'd have been dead before they blinked, but you were different. Alfred Solomons was capable of many things, but some nights when his hip got bad, he needed help moving around more, especially if it meant going from standing to sitting on the ground. You were happy to help of course, but being married for over a decade didn't mean the pair of you were above lightly poking fun of the other. Only two years ago, you had accidentally scratched part of your eye and needed to wear an eyepatch for five weeks. The first thing Alfie had done when you walked out of the examination room and asked if he could get food for dinner, was reply with "does patchy wanted a cracker" in reference to the one eyed parrot you'd seen in a film the month before. It was just something you'd always done together even before you started dating. A dark humor you both shared, as if joking about the hurt could make it better. 

Holding his other arm, you gently helped your husband lower himself to the ground, squeezing his hand comfortingly when he let out a small groan. After helping your husband take a seat, you settled into your own again, leaning your head on his shoulder as you looked to the heavens. 

"You aren't really gonna plant roses are ya Love? What if something happens to them?"

"Like what? You assault them with your face again?"

"....Maybe? But like why do you really enjoy them? I still don't see the charm."

Sighing, you shifted your gaze and looked your husband in the eyes.  One of your hands moved up to his face, as you gently caresses the one spot on his face that refused to grow hair like the rest of his beard. You knew it was another old war wound, but this was actually one he had yet to tell you the story of. Gazing into his eyes a few moments more, you then changed positions so you were seated across his lap, one leg in either side of his.

"Why do I love roses?....Their petals are as soft as their thorns are sharp and given the right hand, their climb up any wall in their path. Not only that but their petals can have many uses for food or paint or even my blush. That means they are able to change their usefulness based off their situation at hand. They are able to adapt, nor are the helpless. Some people say the point of the thorns is to choke out anything else threatening to take the roses' livelihood." you gently held your husbands face between your hands as you continued, "I like roses because they remind me of you Alfie. Because they are beautiful, and strong, and dangerous. You are a gorgeous and strong man, and I know how badly you try to protect me every day. You are so kind to me, but I know how far you'll go for me. I would go just as far for you. You are my rose Alfred Solomons and so I love them as all they remind me of you."

Alfie was quiet for a moment, observing what you'd said. His hands sat on your waist, thumbs rubbing gently in your sides. 

"You saying I'm like a fucking flower Dovey, is that it?"

"Yeah, you're my flower though."

"....Alright."

"....You know why else you're like a rose love?"

"Why poppet?"

"Because it can be a pain in the ass to keep you alive sometimes."

Alfie only put his hand to his chest in mock offense, while your grinned up at him mischievously.

"Oi, now you better watch your words there Dovey."

"Make me Rosie," you whispered, grinning as your leaned closer to your husbands face, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Gently Alfie leaned back, taking you with him until his back was on the ground. Hands, still on his face, you could feel the smile on his face. Slowly one of his hands moved to your head bringing you down so he could kiss you again. Sweet at first but it quickly increased in passion and vigor. Though eventually you had to pull back for breath, and it was then you realized his hands had already rearranged your skirts in a way overnight you both.

"Alfred? I know we can't do this out here?"

Your husband only laughed, reaching towards his belt as he pulled you close again.

"Slide down a bit farther and I think you'll see we definitely can Dovey. It's only a matter of being quiet enough to evade capture."

It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. And luckily, the music was loud enough to hide the sounds of rustling bushes...

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It wasn't until the next morning when you realized what went wrong...

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After making it back to the house last night and finding half the dog food "mysteriously missing", the pair of you had decided to call it a night. And since business was going so well Alfie had elected to take a few days off, hoping to spend more time with you. It also meant he'd finally be able to sleep in.....or so he thought.

A sudden crash woke Alfie from his slumber the next morning. 

Shooting up, he automatically looked to his right, and his heart stopped for a moment realizing you weren't there. Another clatter from downstairs and a frustrated scream from you had him practically jumping out of bed and grabbing his gun. You usually like staying in bed for a few more hours, especially when he was there, so the fact he could hear your distress from upstairs made him worry. 

Carefully Alfie snuck down the hall, peaking in rooms to make sure no unsavory figures were lurking behind the door. Another annoyed groan accompanied by various curse words hurried him to his final destination. 

"Love, are you alright?"

It was a stupid thing to ask as you were very much not alright. The kitchen was a mess, looking like every cabinet had been opened and all the contents pulled out. Pots and bass were laud hurriedly across the counters as you rummaged through every nook and cranny. A quickly glance into the living room told Alfie it was scattered in a similar state. But you hadn't responded to your husband, not the first time or even the second. It wasn't until Alfie stepped right up behind you, putting his hand on your shoulder, and turning your around to face him when you responded.

"I can't find it."

Your voice wavered as you admitted the truth. Looking down like a small child about to be told off, you averted your face from your husband's. Alfie was still confused, but he could tell whatever you were rallying about was obviously important.

"Can't find what Dovey? Whatever it is it's probably isn't too bad. I can help ya find it righty?"

"No Alfie you don't undertstand."

"Then help me understand Love. Let's get through this together like we always have yeah? Come on, tell your husband what we're looking for." Carefully cupping your face in his hands, Alfie guided you to look at him again. He could see the tears welling in your eyes as you spoke.

"....I.....I lost my wedding ring Alfie."

"Oh."

It was the simple oh that broke the dam. Stepping back from your husband, tears began to stream down your face as you shoved your fingers in you hair as if trying to hold in the stress.

"SEE I told you it was terrible. I...I woke up this morning and went to the bathroom and noticed it missing when I went to clean my hands. I figured I'd just taken it off la... last night but it wasn't by the bed table like I usually put it. Then I went through the bathroom and it wasn't there. I've gone through every room in this hours and I can't fucking find it!!! I don't ....I don't know where it is Alfie. I just... oh god." 

Covering you mouth with your hand, you realized where you lost the ring. 

"Alfie the fucking garden."

"The garden? Love you haven't made the garden yet, how could it be there?"

"No, TOMMY'S garden. It has to be there. It fell off last night when we were rolling in the dirt. I've been meaning by to get it resized. Oh fuck this is awful"

Alfie actually chuckled at your realization. Of course the ring would fall off in the most inconvenient place possible, but he wasn't about to tell you that.

"Thats alright Dovey we can just..."

Throwing your hands in the air you interrupted your husband, frustrated at yourself for a number of reasons. It stung Alfie's heart to see you like this. Carefully he dragged your hands from your face and pulled you into a hug. Soothingly his hands ran up and down your back as he tried to comfort you.

"We can just what Alfred? Waltz back over and demand he let us dig up the plants for it? He'd probably ask why and what are we suppose to say then huh Alfred? Oh you know, we lost it in the garden you see...Well what were you doing there Y/N? ...Nothing much just fertilizing the soil, pollinating the flower, playing like the rake and ho, rustling the bushes, sowing seed in the garden, FUCKING IN THE FLOWERBEDS!!!! No we can't do that Alfie we just can't! It's probably gone forever... I'm so sorry."

Alfie was the one to hide his face this time. He knew you were in distress but he was amused by one of your last sentences. You always were good with the innuendos. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get you to calm down. He knew at this point you weren't so mad about the ring, as just overwhelmed by the lack of success you'd had in finding it.

"Yes love, we can tell him all those things and if he'd got any sort of romantic bone in his tiny, banged up little body he'd offer us shovels to dig if we need them. And if not then I'd wager every deal I'd ever have with his lot is out the fucking window isn't it. We've been married since before the little one of them was teething haven't we? It's not like they don't think we're fucking. Besides it's a decent fucking garden, Tommy should have know what he was doing when he made that little hidey spot didn't he? It'll be fine. And if I find it then I'll get to propose to you all over again won't I? I think if I got one wish left in the word it would be to do that again. Ask if you'd be mine forever and let you know I'll always be there. Love I promise. It's alright Dovey, it's ok. No need to get worked up about it's not such a big deal."

Thought he was trying to help, his last sentence only made things worse. Stepping pack from Alfie you threw your hands up again.

"IT IS OUR MARRIAGE ALFIE! And I've practically lost it like it means nothing at all! How can you say that!"

There it was. The really reason you were so worked up. Not because you'd lost the little ring. It was because somewhere in your mind, over the years you'd been together, you'd gotten the idea that if you didn't have it on your were almost betraying everything you held dear. As if you thought without the ring, all the vows you'd mad together were nil. Alfie couldn't help but laugh at that. He laughed hard too, like you'd told the funniest joke in their world. 

"You think that ring is our marriage?"

Stepping closer again Alfie took your arms and pulled you closer.

"Our marriage is so much more than that fucking ring love," he said, cupping your face between his hands again. "Our marriage is me stealing Ollie's shirt before every lunch date because his is cleaner than mine and wanna look my best for the best, that's you by the way. It's you grinning at me through the glass window at fuck O'clock in then morning when I've taken the dog out for a piss since you thought it'd be funny to lock me out in the cold in my fucking skeevies again. It's me paying a fuck ton of money to the flower shop down the street so you could get a rose every week I was away fighting. It's you spending hours patching me up after I had a bad fight even though blood makes you gag yeah. When you refuse to give me dinner until I give you a kiss and when I won't give you a gift until I've gotten a hug? Sharing a bath after a hard day? That's our marriage. You interrupting my meeting because you're so excited to show me a new book? Me interrupting your book club because I've just gotten back from a business trip? You demanding I come to bed and cuddle up, only to shove me off of you later when you're too hot? Me tightening jars in the pantry so you have to get me to open them? Making fun of each other's injuries, patchy? Don't you see it? You. Me. You. Me. You. Me. WE."

"Alfie..." You couldn't help but smile at your husband's words realizing he was right.

"Dovey, It isn't defined by a thin piece of metal with a tiny fucking stone that I stole off a rich toff at a boxing match one day. Our marriage is YOU and ME and every little moment in between. And I promise it's always gonna be just that. And do you know why that is Treacle?"

Alfie had moved his hands again, now resting them on your hips. Gazing at you lovingly he waited for your answer.

"Why Ally?"

"Because I'm your flower remember? I'm your fucking rose.... and you're fucking my sunshine, Dovey. I have no chance of living without you."

Wrapping your arms around your husband, you buried your face into his neck. Losing the ring you'd worn almost every day for years didn't seem so criminal anymore. 

"Alfred Solomons when did you learn to say something so romantic."

Your husband only chuckled as he step away, grabbing some of the boxes you'd pulled out in your panic. 

"A master never reveals his secrets Dovey. Now come on. Let's clean this up and then we'll go get you a new ring eh? Wouldn't want any gangly miscreant thinking they've got a chance with you would we?"

Looking at the damage you'd done, you couldn't but sigh, maybe it would have been better to wake your husband immediately before diving head first into your expedition. Now you were kicking yourself since you'd just redone all the work you'd don't last week reorganizing every thing.

"I'm not sure the jewellery shop will still be open today by the time we finish Alfred. I'm not even sure we'll be able to finish this in a week with the mess I've made."

Your husband just bonked you lightly with the broom he handed you and nudged you in the direction of the living room.

"That's alright Dovey. Because unless you've got some nefarious little plans I haven't heard of to steal my dog and run off, I don't think either of us is going anywhere anytime soon aren't we?"

You could only smile and kiss him on the cheek.

"I suppose you're right. We've got all the time in the world...."

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Two years later...

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"Shelby, I want my dog."

The Shelby in question turned around, eyeing the woman before him. He knew this day would come. Only he expected it to be sooner, a few days, maybe even a week later...but now it was four months. Four months since he....despite his feelings towards the man, Tommy couldn't help but feel slight regrets for what he'd done. Especially seeing the state of her now, standing in his garden.

"He's just gone on a walk with Charlie and Finn. They should be back in an hour or so."

"I'll wait... I see you filled in that empty plot of ground. They're lovely flowers, I don't remember them being there two winters ago."

Tommy averted his gaze to the bushes you were pointing at. Indeed the small alcove where you'd hidden with your husband had been filled. In its place grew a thick rose bush, blooming with life. You smiled, and to anyone else, they might have thought your look truthful. And some of it was, thinking of the happy memories connected there. But Tommy could see deeper than that. Behind the smile he could see the same pain he had when he looked in mirrors. The pain that came from losing the thing you loved most. For as different as you both were, he knew the tactic you played, though the mask you wore was much brighter than his. And for now he decided he could respect that. He could pretend just for a moment, if only to help you. It was the least he could do, seeing as he was the reason you wore it... He was the one to pull the trigger.

"You're right. The gardener put them in almost two years ago, right after the party where Arthur and Finn tossed Michael into the lake. Do you remember that one? I saw you talking to my sister but never saw you leave that night."

A genuine chuckle left your mouth hearing his words. You played with the ring on your left hand. Only two years old and very expensive, but in that moment, it felt like you were wearing another ring again. One that was much older and worn, that you hadn't seen in years. 

"I do. That was certainly a night I'll remember forever. It's a shame you got rid of that little alcove. It was a nice little spot away from the world wasn't it."

Tommy could only nod and take another drag of his cigarette.

"Did Alfie ever tell you about the first and last time he gave me roses in person. I mean, of course he probably didn't and I'll have to tell you sometime, but I think you might find it funny. There's a lot about him I'm sure he hasn't told you. But then again, knowing him there's probably a lot he did..." You trailed off, staring at the flowers a bit longer, remembering that day over a decade ago, not really meaning to tell Tommy that, doing so anyway. After all, no one had heard from you in months, so it made sense to him, that you'd be eager to talk to anyone. Even the man you should hate most in the world.

Silence descended on the pair standing tense in the garden. There was so much to be said, but neither knew where to start. Truthfully, you'd only talked to Tommy a handful of times, but he felt like he'd already known you like his sister. He couldn't help but scoff, thinking of all the times Alfie had gone off on a tangent about you during a meeting. Sometimes, your mention had nothing to do what was being discussed at all, Alfie just liked to brag about the good he had. In the end it was Tommy who spoke up first, the guilt of his past actions finally caving in on him.

"Y/N, I'm sor..."

"Don't. Thomas, I don't want you to say sorry," turning from the vibrant blooms, you faced the capped man. "I don't want you to say sorry, because you know what? I don't blame you. You're completely alright. I'm not mad at you.... It's my fault I suppose. I could have stopped it."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, curious to what you meant, and also concerned. There was something in your eyes that made his stomach turn slightly hearing those words. But he couldn't exactly place why.

"What's that suppose to mean Y/N?"

You only let out a bittersweet laugh and stared out into the garden again, sitting on the edge of a familiar fountain before you revealed the truth.

"It's my fault he's gone I think. I should have known. I should have never left that day and I could have stopped it."

Tommy's brows furrowed as he sat down next to you. 

"What's that mean? You couldn't have known what his plan was? It's not your fault."

Absentmindedly, you picked at the leaves of a nearby bush. Though your voice was even, Tommy could practically see the war inside your head.

"It's how he kissed me when I left that day. I was only going to be gone a few days to visit my friend who was suppose to have her baby soon. Nothing dangerous. But it's the way he kissed me that should have tipped me off. He kissed me the way he did when he got on the damed train, in that damned uniform. He kissed me like he didn't think he'd see me ever again, going to die in the war. And I guess he didn't."

Tommy didn't say anything. He just let you continue. Something in his head told him, he needed to let your speak, he needed to keep you here tonight. If he let you leave today, no one would ever see you again and something in Tommy told him not to let that happen.

"You know I still haven't admitted it to myself just yet... The truth," standing up you began to pace around the fountain, circling the water. "Since I first got the call I haven't picked up the phone anymore, I'm scared of what I'll hear. I haven't opened any letters, because I don't want to see what they'll say. I still haven't even gone home yet. I've been paying for a hotel room by my friend's house and only leaving by when I need more food. I know it not good for me, but it's all I can find I can do. I've been telling myself it's just that. He's gone to the war again and he'll be back in a few months." Though you spoke with a smile as if talking about the weather, it was easy to see the pain in your eyes. You thought denying the truth would make the hurt go away. But it wouldn't, Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before you broke. And like with Cyril, he felt like he was the one who needed to help. So he decided to play along for now, letting you keep your act up. Atleast until he could figure out the best way to fix the mess he still felt he'd made.

"You tell yourself it's the war eh? Do you write him letters."

"Yes, I write him one almost every day. But I haven't sent any. Did you know that I was rarely able to send them to him during the war. Something about his post being secretive, and no one should know where it really was. So I'd just... write a letter everyday and when I got a letter that his squad was resting at a safe camp every few months I'd just send the packet of them.... If I was lucky I'd get one back, but most of the time I just had to wait. I learned a lot about waiting then. I learned it was better to laugh too. Laughing helped me stay sane."

Standing up, Tommy began walking with you as you stepped deeper into the gardens.

"Laughing eh? Well I guess it's better than what I did. Almost drunk myself to the grave and then fucked off in a caravan with my son for a month. Seems you're handling it better than me."

You could only scoff at his response.

"Oh don't worry, there's been plenty of drinks for me too. I'm a happy drunk though, so I guess it helps my plan. After all, as long as I'm laughing, I don't have time to cry. I don't think I'll be able to stop crying the day I begin. So I'm just trying to hold off as long as I can."

"Aren't we all."

Silence fell in the garden again, and the two widowed souls walked back to the house. It was starting to get back and Tommy had noticed Finn's car pull up a few minutes ago. When you reached the back door you were met with a fluffy beast knocking you over as soon he'd caught sight of you. Cyril was happy to have at least one of his masters back. The man taking care of his now treated him well, but he still missed life with his old owners, even if he couldn't express it in words. 

While you reunited with Cyril and applauded Charlie on the tricks he taught the dog, Tommy went to gather some of Cyril's things and have Francis prepare a room for you. Tommy had no clue where you'd take the dog, but seeing as you seemed adamant about staying away from Margret, and apparently didn't despise Tommy (somehow), he thought it made sense to let you stay the night for a bit. And something still told him to convince you to stay even if just for one day.

On his was back down the stairs he noticed something sitting on the table and there was a click in his brain. He remembered the curiosity brought to him that morning during breakfast, and suddenly a lot of odd business meetings made sense. He finally realized who'd messed up the empty dirt patch that night two years ago. Grabbing the object off the table, Tommy headed back to the drawing room. Inside you were still petting your beloved dog, even though Finn had taken Charlie to get ready for bed. 

"Y/N, I went up to grab some of Cyril's things, but I think it may be better for you to spend the night here. It's getting late and I don't think either of us wants the dog getting hurt if you were to crash."

You laughed gently at his words, not caring to ask about the hand behind his back. Not thinking much about his words, you accepted his offer. You knew you should be mad at him, hate him, even what to kill him, but you couldn't. You were too tried to be mad at anyone right now. Besides, it wasn't like you knew where you were going anyway. You just wanted to see your...his dog again. Maybe if you had that little piece left, it would make it easier to move on. It would make it easier to pretend you weren't alone now.

"Alright. I'll stay. But only so Charlie can give Cyril a proper goodbye. I'd hate to tear them apart, it seems they've made close friends."

"They have," Tommy smiled, genuinely happy thinking of how closely his son had bonded with the dog. "Cyril's stuff is in Charlie's room now infact. They've taken such a liking, I can't keep them apart. We can get his stuff tomorrow, but I do have one thing I think you may want now."

You looked towards the Shelby man curious. "What is it?," you questioned.

Silently Tommy extended his hand to give you the object he'd snagged from the table.

It was a single rose... But something was different about it. The stem seemed to have grabbed something buried within the dirt to take along as it began to grow. Twisting and turning all the way out of the dirt, outwards towards the sun, as if offering the shiny object up. An ages old promise from the rose to the sun of an endless truth, never broken even in death...

The rose was offering his sun a ring.

And not just any ring. A wedding ring. Simple and worn, it had been stolen off a rich toff from a boxing match many years ago. It had survived work and war, seen blood and lust, and so many other things. And while the ring didn't define the marriage it represented a promise you thought you'd never see again. But here now, seeing how tightly the rose stem had grown around it, you knew you'd never have to worry about that again. Not even death could stop the love the rose proposed to his sun. Even in death he'd still offer her life.

You couldn't even take the rose from Tommy's hand before you finally broke. Laughing at the irony, Tears streamed down your face as you sunk to your knees, all the pain you'd been bottling up coming out. And thus you sobbed, hard. So hard in fact, it felt like you couldn't breathe. And you sobs were still mixed with laughter of disbelief as a million memories ran through your head, but none as loud as the one of that night and the morning after. 

Two years ago you'd lost that ring. Alfie promised that he'd look multiple times whenever he went back to the house, even if it meant having the meeting in the garden like "a bunch of prissy ladies at a fucking tea party" as he'd called it. And for two years he'd had no luck until now. But today, your rose had finally found the lost ring, even if you'd lost him months ago. 

Setting the rose gently on the table, Tommy sunk to his knees too. Letting you grab onto him, for a shoulder to mourn on. He knew you needed it. For so long you'd shut yourself away, denying the truth and trying to act like it didn't affect you. You wanted to pretend your world wasn't falling apart and now you couldn't any more. He'd been he same way, except he didn't have anyone to help him. He couldn't burden his one year old son with his grief and he knew most of his family still resented Grace to some degree. They hadn't been as destroyed by her passing as he had. He didn't want you to be alone like he had. For as many terrible thing as Tommy had done, he couldn't bring it upon himself to leave you alone now. And so he sat on the floor, holding you in his arms as the cracked dam finally broke. 

That night, until the early hours of the morning, Thomas Shelby sat comforting the wife of the man he'd killed. And he would until she'd fallen asleep, finally worn out from her grieving. In the morning he'd offer breakfast and they'd get to talking about the loves they lost. They were still both hurt and broken and mourning what they'd lost, but they weren't alone now. For two people so different they both knew what the other felt so deeply. Little snippets and stories about happier times, while watching a little boy play with a big dog, laughing as the pair rolled in the grass. And while both still grieved, there was a peace to be found in being with someone who knew how they felt. 

And while they talked, Y/N played with the ring on her finger. It was new and expensive and fit just right. This one was only two years old and didn't have many memories but she loved it just the same. And upstairs by her bed sat another ring, but this one was held tightly by a rose she'd placed in a vase. This was the ring that she loved more, and the one she really wanted to wear, but she couldn't bear to tear it from the rose just yet. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to. Maybe she'd let the rose dry out and preserve it like she use to do someone's at the flower shop when she was young. But for now she's let it live as it was.

Holding on tightly to a promise that not even death could divide...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While all this happened a mailman was headed towards Birmingham with a letter from a dead man, asking about his dog and looking for his wife....

[cinnamonest]

//breeding, very heavy focus on impreg + pregnancy/motherhood stuff, sort of in conjunction with [this post] as well as [this post]

Happy (one day belated) Mother's Day, let's celebrate the joys of motherhood :)

------------------------

Childe has no concept of a small family. At least, not of it being acceptable.

It's part of the culture of certain nations' rural areas, Snezhnaya being one of them. Everyone in the rural, smaller town regions strives to have big families. Maybe it originates from a rougher climate leading to a need for ensuring the survival of one's lineage, or something like that, but regardless, for Snezhnayan men, having a lot of kids is one of those masculine pride things, and by contrast, not having lots of kids is unthinkable, shameful even.

So, of course, he's long since decided on having a large family. He's wanted it for so long, but his work has prevented him from following the other tradition that rural areas and smaller towns in all nations are known for... you know, marrying and starting to have kids practically the millisecond one reaches adulthood.

He's young, sure, most people would think him too young for that sort of thing, but in his mind, he's grown up seeing people marrying and starting families at very young ages to be normal, expected. Which means he's missing out on what he's more or less entitled to. He knows from visits home that all the kids he grew up with are already marrying and having kids at his own age. But is he going to let his position stop him? Of course not. So, truthfully, he had this in the back of his mind for some time, and he just so happened to take the opportunity that presented itself.

In other words, you were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and just so happened to not only fit a list of physical preferences that caught the wrong person's eye, but also just happened to be so defiant, so resistant, and far too often cold and mean. Perhaps if you hadn't been, he might have left you alone. If you had just entertained his fantasies, even in word only, he might have had a bit of pity on you, felt a shred of guilt at the thought of tearing you away from your life.

How ironic that a defense mechanism you intended to deter him, would have ignited the very urges you wanted to extinguish, an unintended consequence of applying normal tactics to a sick mind.

But regardless, you just happened to meet, and thus now you're here. That's what he tells you, after whisking you away and bringing you to live with him, constantly pulled from one dark room to another between his room on the ship, Fatui bases, hotels in various regions, and every other place he spends the night. Not with that exact wording of course, no, he's got that excitable, almost childish romanticized view of things, he portrays it as aligned fates, that you were destined to cross paths at the right time.

It's part of one big long spiel you get. The whole you're going to stay here and nothing you can do will change that part is spoken very quickly and nonchalantly, while he treats the other parts with much more importance, namely his intentions for the future.

That being, you're going to have a big family and have lots of his kids. That you'll be a mother. He says it very happily, like you're a young just-married couple or something, like the living scenario you have is normal, like you're here of your own volition.

It does take you by surprise at first — you had thought you were being taken as more of a sex slave than anything, but quickly find you're being treated more like a spouse, in a... really odd way. That, too, is done with a blissful but casual attitude, as if he's almost unaware of the gravity of the crime being inherently committed by having you here... although you suppose people like him are more or less above the law. He announces his arrival when he returns each day, is very affectionate towards you, laughs off any hostility from you as if it's a grumpy little kitten making a fuss, not a human being with a very justified reason for vitriol.

He's very transparent and straightforward with you, it's not like he's trying to slowly ease you into it or enact his wishes without telling you what will happen, no. No deception. No avoidance of the topic. And not a single shred of willingness to compromise.

No consideration of how you may feel about that matter. It's not a discussion, it's telling you. Merely communicating information that is already set in stone. The information is laid on you so fast and suddenly that your mind is left reeling. First you're forcibly fucked and dragged here, now you're being told it's permanent and oh by the way get ready to start the rest of your life as some mother-slave-wife amalgamation?

It's too much for you to handle. What's even more baffling is that even as you protest, he just blows it off like it's nothing, like this isn't an incredibly grave, serious ordeal.

B-but... I don't want--

Ah, you think that now, but you'll be happy, promise.

But... but you can't just do this to me!

Yeah? What are you gonna do to stop me? Haha....

That all still doesn't give you quite the same extent of nausea compared to the next set of information you're given.

Even if you were familiar with the cultural norm, you didn't realize the sheer extent. You knew he had like, what, six or seven siblings? That strikes you as a large number, so it fits with what you're aware of regarding the norm.

You didn't realize that was an average number to them. Not until he told you so, in the midst of his ramblings about your future, when you gathered the courage to ask what he means by "big" when the words big family come out of his mouth.

He pauses, looks up pensively. Well, anything less than five is small, he says, anything from five to eight is about the median, and anything above that is when you finally get to be considered to be "above average". So his family, with seven or eight or so kids total, is kind of in the middle, about average, in his own words.

But he wants a big family. So, you know, gotta at least hit double digits.

He says it very casually, like it's no big deal. He's too excited to notice the look on your face, at least not for a few seconds, finally turning to you after realizing your stunned silence.

Mm? Something wrong?

...That... that's... I can't...

But your protests are quickly brushed off again. Sure you can. Your body is perfectly capable, so what would be stopping you? You're just worrying too much. Don't think about it so much, just... lay back and let it happen.

In most regional cultures of any nation, people do tend to at least plan families — they save up a bit first to make sure they have enough money, they calculate the gap between when they have a first and second child, often not wanting to wait too long so that the children will have more time and similarity to bond, but not so soon that the added responsibility overwhelms the parents.

That's not something that crosses his mind. He has no reason to worry about finances, sure, but he also pays no mind to questions like is this really an environment to raise a kid in? Is the tsaritsa okay with that? Where will they stay?

Eh... that's all stuff that can be dealt with another time. He tends to take the philosophy of crossing bridges when he gets to them. Baby-planning later, baby-making now.

And nothing you can say deters him. Yes you'll be a good mom (don't worry, he'll make sure you behave exactly like he thinks a good mother should), yes you'll be fine, the Fatui has some of the best doctors in the world, so you'll be great health-wise, actually. Yes he has the resources.

And no, he's not waiting. You have this weird insistence on this idea that you should have a period of time where you just... aren't even trying to have kids. Is that normal, where you're from? Do people really get together, get married and live together and not immediately start trying for a baby? Won't that detract from the maximum number of kids you can have in the end? Then why would anyone do that?  When he asks that very question, though, you don't really have a good answer, to him at least. You can't just rush something like that, is what you say.

But... of course you can? That's what he's trying to do, rush it so you can go ahead and get a head start and have more and more kids in the future. It's like talking to a brick wall. He cannot process, cannot fathom how people can exist for whom making as many offspring as possible isn't the number one priority in life. Well, whatever, it seems you just have these weird cultural ideas you're not going to let go of, so there's no point in trying to reason with you.

His determination is somewhat obsessive. Even when he's inside you, hips bouncing off the back of your thighs, he keeps talking about it, words slurring as he mumbles something about putting a baby in you, knocking you up, so on and so on, all the while, gripping at your hips and making sure to slam all the way in as far as possible when he finally cums inside you. Maybe he's already accomplished that, who knows, but he has to just keep trying until it's certain, so you only get a few minutes of respite before starting back again.

No condoms. No pulling out, even though you beg for him to do so. Whimpering and pulling at his hair, pushing at his chest, all night long, over and over.

N-not yet, please, I'm not ready, I can't...

Your pleas are partially just for the very sake of not wanting that, but of course, there's also the fact that you realize it will be a death sentence to any hope of escaping him. You've been looking for ways to do it since you were dragged here a day or so ago, you can't let this inhibit you. You just need some more time, just a little bit of time...

You don't get that time.

It doesn't take long. He's young and virile, so, perhaps that's why you don't even get a single cycle from the time you get brought to him. The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach. At first, you don't say anything, deciding not to bring the matter up unless he does, partially out of your own denial, and partially because seeing him get inevitably excited will irritate you.

Apparently, they must have some rather atrocious reproductive education out in rural Teyvat too (or, rather, you realize it's probably just fine, and it's more the fact that he probably paid no attention), seeing as he had no idea that that is the standard tell, instead asking you hey, is there a way you can tell if you're pregnant? Do you just wait for your stomach to get bigger or...? and thus, you had to reluctantly explain that.

You can sort of see the gears turning in that otherwise empty head of his. You've been here two months now... you haven't bled at all in that time (he would know, he's been fucking you multiple times a day)... so that means...? You can practically see his eyes light up before he reaches out and wraps his arms around you. He's ecstatic for the rest of the night, won't shut up about all the things you're going to do. You feel sick.

Not that this information in any way impedes him from continuing to empty his balls in you on a daily basis, no. It doesn't slow down in the slightest. In fact, you were sort of hoping he would get turned off the further along you got, since you know that happens with a lot of guys... but not him. No, if anything, you're pretty sure you have more rounds per day the further along you are, sometimes he'll just look you up and down, staring at your belly for a few moments with a haze in his eyes before more or less dragging you over to bed -- and it's not like you can resist much, you're all wobbly as it is...

And, of course, any negativity from you is shut down on the spot. At first, he mistakes it for nervousness -- don't worry! It'll be fine! He can recite those words with ease, over and over, telling you to just not worry about it is his default answer to any concern you have. But once you start getting a bit more openly negative, making it clear it's an attitude issue from you, and finally crossing a line when you outright state you never wanted this, and thereby implying the most heartless and callous thing he can conceive of, that you're going to be resentful of him and your child... it's one of the few times you ever see him not all smiles and sunshine about the whole thing. A complete change of expression, face going dark, eyes narrowing. He grabs your jaw with a grip so firm it hurts.

Don't say that.

It's one of the few times you've seen him so serious and firm. It makes your heart skip a beat.

But almost as soon as he says it, he's back to being cheery... ah, you're just grumpy because you're hormonal and all that. You're lucky he has thick skin. Besides, you're too cute to take your grouchiness seriously, haha... what's that look for...?

And soon, you find yourself in a state of dissociation, having to process and accept reality once you have a living, breathing infant in your arms. It's not until that moment that the reality truly sets in, that you can feel your fate being sealed, that you realize this is actually, genuinely the beginning of the rest of your life.

You try not to dwell on that.

It's hard not to, though, considering that you barely get any time to rest, being pestered each day with questions of how many more days left until the doctor said you can have sex again?? Because he's suffering and miserable. He was devastated to find out you can't go back to it in less than 24 hours, no one ever told him about that part. And you don't even seem to sympathize with him, are you heartless? Yes you gave birth five days ago and he's been very loving and taking care of you and all but haven't you thought at all about how this is affecting him? Yes you sucked him off because the whining was getting annoying but it's not the same, he needs pussy you don't understand, why are you looking at him like you're mad— did you just say "weeks?" As in plural? As in more than one week? Surely you didn't mean that, it can't be that long, right? Why aren't you saying anything. It can't be that long, it can't—

So he fucks you like a man starved when you finally give a green light. It does burn a bit, after having gone a while without getting so ruthlessly stretched and pounded as he always does to you. You're pretty sure he doesn't know his own strength, doesn't realize the sheer intensity of the force with which he grips your hips and arms and throat and presses your face into the mattress and fucks into you with such strength the whole bed creaks as it rocks back and forth. You'll be covered in bruises and sore spots in the morning, just from the grip.

And you notice the way his fingernails dig into your hips, holding your bodies as close as possible, the closer and closer you both get. You feel a sense of dread. You try to reach up and tap on his arm.

D-don't cum inside, it's too soon... I need more time, I'm not ready yet, please—

Just a little bit of time, just some time to feel like you can finally breathe, but once again, you don't get that time.

Shh... don't think about it... just focus on how good it feels, okay?

You whimper, but you're incapable of pushing him off, only able to make soft little sounds of protest when he stops fully inside, making sure not a drop goes to waste when he stuffs you with cum. He stays inside you for some time, not pulling out so as to prevent any from spilling. Just like he did before. And he holds you, rubs your back, says soothing little mumbled things about how you worry too much while you sniffle and tremble.

And then there's two.

He does take quite a bit of pride in it. That applies when you're alone too, he likes to lay his head on your stomach laying in bed and will just relax there for a while, grinning like an idiot. But it applies to others too; it's somewhat of an ego boost to have other people see what he views as an accomplishment. He likes showing you off in general, but he's especially happy to parade you around whenever you're very heavily swollen up. It's some sort of ego thing, you guess.

He likes getting to show off the kids too, a testament to a sort of success. It's a very simple-minded sort of pride, almost humorously so, you often think to yourself. A simplistic mentality of look at these! I made these!, almost a childish pridefulness.

Which, frankly, gets on your last nerve, how he loves to run around forcing his reluctant and rather annoyed coworkers to look at his offspring and listen to him ramble, so beamingly proud of the kid that you carried and you birthed and you care for and you feed and bathe and put to sleep, so proud of their existence as if he did anything to contribute to said existence other than being a sperm depository.

And then there's three, and then there's four, and then you get the special blessing of two at once. You think to yourself with bitter humorousness that you're over halfway to the set standard. And then there's another... and another... the realization even strikes you, a few years in, that since beginning your "new life," you've spent more time pregnant than not pregnant, information that you spend far too long taking in the weight of.

It's an incredibly awkward living situation — you basically were granted what used to be a few interconnected rooms they'd house a few bunk-bed-fuls of soliders in, turned into a sort of apartment-esque dwelling. It's where you carry out most of your tasks and live your life. You never get a break, always getting another one pumped into you as soon as it's physically possible again.

With him gone most of the days, and you having no job to speak of, you've essentially taken on a housewife role, and spend most of your day caring for the increasing number of offspring, each and every one of which, to your dismay, quickly proves to have inherited a rambunctious, hotheaded, and far too energetic nature. You will reluctantly admit, he does actually help you out quite a bit when he can, and genuinely enjoys doing so. You suppose you can admit he's actually more involved and enthusiastically helpful than a lot of fathers are... you don't give him the satisfaction of such praise, though.

Still, he's just gone for most of the day on most days, so you have to do it by yourself, or enlist whichever unfortunate newbie soldier has not yet learned to not go wandering around that one area, lest they be roped into helping out that poor slave-mother-girl that lives in that section with all those energetic kids, so they try to warn newcomers... still, some actually still offer to help, if nothing but out of pity.

Most of the time, though, it's just you and the ever-increasing number of children. You felt bad the first time you called one by the wrong name. They all look so much alike — and each one is so close together in age to the next immediate older and younger one — that you get confused sometimes, and it quickly becomes a habit, but they're quick to correct you. And you do end up loving them — you suppose that's just instinct — but sometimes... it's just too much. You can't get a spare second. You feel exhausted.

You're constantly moving, taking care of something. This one fell and scraped his knee and comes crying and blubbering to you, and you're still bandaging that up and mumbling words of comfort when you get a tug on your sleeve from behind you — Mama, I'm hungry — and you barely finish saying just a minute, I'll get you something before another one is calling for you from another room — MamaaaaAAAAAA — and soon you're holding one in each arm (a more difficult task than usual considering you're heavily pregnant again), waddling over to go check on the one that called you, and then another one comes softly shuffling over with a look what I found!, and you know it's going to be something very simple like a cool-shaped rock or leaf like always, but you don't want to hurt the poor thing's feelings and want him to be happy so you stand there smiling and feigning interest and awe and pretending it's the neatest thing ever while your arms start to tremble from the strain of holding two heavy sacks of flesh in each arm -- still trying to soothingly bounce the sniffling one up and down a bit -- and the other one is saying something but you can't make it out because three of them are talking at the same time and oh god where's the fifth and sixth ones because you told them to hang on when you went to bandage the first one and now you don't see either one and is the seventh one still asleep where you left him or not and you start to panic and -- hang on just a second, ______ -- no, I-I mean, ______ -- no, wait, uh... which one are...you're -- uh --

You feel like you're going insane. Each and every day wears you out in full.

When you finally get that rare, wonderful moment in which you can get all of them asleep at once, finally go lay down to try and get a much needed rest yourself... you always seems to have such precise timing, you barely close your eyes before the door opens and you get the announcement that your lover who you certainly must have missed is home, and what do you know, everything is so quiet, this gives you two an opportunity to make another one!

The only downside for him is that sometimes, the existing offspring have a habit of interrupting the sibling-making process... so, sometimes some poor underling (rather, usually, they need at least two or three to control them all) gets saddled with a command to entertain and herd the harbinger's offspring when he takes a day off, giving you two a day to yourselves... not to go out or anything, no. You usually spend the entirety of those days in bed, going at it like rabbits again and again.

And again. And again. Sometimes you get summoned by some underling to follow because his superior needs you for "something important," which you both know is just getting fucked over a desk or in a hallway closet because he has needs you know, and it's torture to have to wait until he can come back for the evening. Stuffs you full of cum and rests his head on your chest for a moment to recharge (they're so nice, all soft and swollen, more or less perpetually so these days), before sending you back, promising to hurry and come back for the night as soon as possible.

Oh, and you don't even get the respite of having him gone at times whenever he has to go abroad. No, he brings you with him... yes, all of you. He insisted, and eventually the few authorities above him gave in and now reserve a few extra rooms all next to each other on the ships and hotels. You don't mind that too much. It's basically just a vacation for the lot of you, and that's what you tell the kids it is too... at least they're more easily entertained than usual by looking out the window, which gives you chances to rest.

Ajax likes those trips too. He's usually more worked up and frustrated by the end of the day, and what better way to blow that steam off than to come back and breed your wife-pet again and again? He smiles when he tells you you should use these trips to set a new goal of making at least one kid in every nation. You know better than to think it's a joke.

When the people you're allowed to interact with and meet ask you how many children you have, you often have to pause and recall what number you're on now. Regardless, the answer always makes people's jaws drop. At least most of them know not to ask you why, since they seem to be well aware it's not a choice on your part. Sometimes people commend you for it, say something about how it must be so hard. Your eye twitches. You have no idea. Haha.

Everything happened so fast, the full weight of it all doesn't really dawn on you until one day, for seemingly no reason. Woken up in the early morning by crying, the same way you're woken up roughly 9 out of 10 mornings, groggily shuffling out of bed, tending to whatever the issue is before shuffling back to bed... you catch a glimpse of yourself in the window, the dark circles under your eyes, and for once, the rare sight of yourself not heavily swollen up. Still, your face is exhausted, the sort that sleep can't fix.

The reality of it settles in — you've been so busy with everything happening, you never really got to process how much time has passed, how deep into this life you've settled... you supposed in the back of your head, even after accepting the current reality, you kept this mentality that you'd still find a way out one day, but in that moment, you realize all too late that that will never happen. Even if you had the chance — and looking back, it occurs to you now you've had many chances to run — you could never bring yourself to abandon them... you get the sense that's part of his intention. It's just never really settled in in full until this moment.

Still, all you can do is stand there, trying to despair, but almost too numb to do so... you let out a heavy sigh and let yourself fall back into bed, pulling a blanket back over you and settling back into the warmth. Your weight falling onto the mattress makes it bounce a bit, causing your bedmate to stir, groggily moving closer to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

He murmurs something asking you if the kid is okay, you say yes, and then it moves onto asking what time it is, you say you don't know but it's definitely not time to get up just yet... on it goes, both of you with your eyes closed and words coming out groggy and mumbled. You can almost sort of enjoy the soft tenderness of the moment, if you forget a lot of what went into this life you live.

The exchange draws quiet after a moment, and you begin to drift back off to sleep, slowly breathing in and out in time with the rising and falling of the chest pressed to your back. You're just about to slip into slumber once again when you feel the arm wrapped around you move, hand coming to rest on your hip and slowly trail down your thigh.

Hey, I want another baby....

[greyias]

I really don’t want swtor to shut down it’s the only eu thing that’s active we have left

I knew these asks were going to start coming in.

So for those who haven't heard, it was reported, and then later confirmed by Keith Kanneg on the forums, that EA is "selling" SWTOR to another developer, Broadsword. For those who want to read the article discussing it, you can read here: https://www.ign.com/articles/star-wars-the-old-republic-development-third-party-bioware

TL;DR -- It's not shutting down. The servers are going to stay active for a while

There's a few points to note here:

If I understand things correctly, EA actually owns Broadsword. So EA is in fact not actually offloading a property, I think what's actually happening is BioWare Austin itself is being divvied out and would not be surprised to see if that branch is shut down

At least half of the SWTOR dev team is part of this move, so the key things to keep an eye on is which members of the dev team are moving. If the narrative staff is kept intact, then we have more story ahead of us beyond what's been written, and they've confirmed we're getting 7.3, 7.3.1, and 7.4. It's important to note that their production timeline is generally a year out from things being written, so story-wise, if they have narrative staff, we'll likely still have some story drops ahead of us

SWTOR is profitable (it hit over $1 billion in profit several years ago), and I will admit I don't have the best understanding of video game finances, but my impresion it was far into the black and maybe not an enromous cash cow, but a decent consistent revenue stream. EA is a publisher that is about profits, so as long as the game is profitable, even if there's not new story drops, the game will stay online

Disney has seemingly taken a recent interest in SWTOR after mostly ignoring it after its acquisition of Star Wars, even going so far as to finally acknowledge the general KOTOR/SWTOR era in their presentations last year at Celebration. Does this ultimately mean anything? I don't know, but SWTOR is one of the longest running current properties with a stable player base. They're just as interested in profit as EA. Probably another indicator that the game will keep running for a while.

Other properties that Broadsword operates, such as Dark Age of Camelot and Ultima Online, are old games. Ultima Online was released in 1997, and the servers are still active. So like, I think regardless of what happens in regards of the story, we're not losing the ability to log in and play the game

Long term subscriptions - I remember reading, and forgive me, because I've long forgotten the source, that a key indicator if the servers are going offline is to also keep an eye on the six-month subscription option. Basically, if suddenly the only option for subs goes down to one month, that's when to worry about being able to actually play the game.

This is probably not about SWTOR, but BioWare as a whole. It seems there's a leadership issue at the main Alberta office that's causing issues. This is likely an Anthem issue all over again, but Anthem this time happens to be the Mass Effect and Dragon Age properties. Unfortunately, BioWare Austin looks like it's going to suffer the consequences of that, even though they've been running a tight ship overall compared to the rest of the branches. I feel for them. This sucks.

Now I'm not an oracle, I have no idea if this is ultimately a good or bad thing for the game itself. There's a lot of evidence for both sides of the coin, so right now the best thing is to wait and see. We at least have the promise of the next two patches. Let's focus on enjoying that, and celebrating what we love about our silly space game.

If you love the game, keep playing it. Spend money on it, and keep it profitable and it will stay around. Be kind and supportive of the devs, who regardless of how this shakes out, are going through a major transition. But immediately decrying an active game's death and going into doom and gloom is not going to help things.

Will we get more story beyond 7.4? I do not know one way or the other. I hope we do, but it's hard to say for certain on that front. But I do believe we'll still have our toons and be able to replay all of the released content for quite a while to come. Again, for now I'm just going to enjoy my favorite game, and support it as long as I have it. Even if this inevitably means it's going to change.

[dixieconley]

In Which Anakin Was Chosen To Fuck Shit Up

Idea courtesy of @justafanwarrior: What i'm seeing is Anakin calling Padmé in panic because "I took down the Senate! It was an accident! Well not really they were allowing slavery, but I didn't mean to like, take over the Galaxy! Please help me manage things and uh not having to be in charge? Please Angel?" and @vaugemessenger: He would probably also take down the senate in the process for allowing the zygerrian slave empire to exist without consequences

Sequel to:

Rex (the one with the brain cell): You do realize that by killing the chancellor, we've essentially declared martial law, leaving you in charge of the Republic right now, sir? Anakin: ::anakin.exe has stopped working:: Rex: Sir? They want to negotiate a surrender. What do you want to do? Fives: Overthrow the patriarchy! Establish a fast food empire! What? I could really go for some fries right now. Echo: We're free and in charge. I guess that means the general really *is* the Chosen One.

[Flashback to two months after arriving at the temple: Obi-Wan: I want you to visit the creche, Anakin. The initiates there are your age and it would really be best if you had friends that aren't droids. (Everyone really hates C3P0. Vos is considering going dark side. 'Just to violently dismember it then melt its metal in the nearest sun. Then I'll come back. We can go to Dex's after and celebrate. It'll be fun!') Anakin: I really hate you right now. ::at the creche:: Initiate: ::::pissed that this dickhead somehow has a master and she's maybe never going to get one:: How do you rate a master, pipsqueak?:: (Yes, it's Barriss. Of *course*, it's Barriss.) Anakin: I'm the Chosen One! Initiate: Chosen for what? Fucking shit up? Anakin: … Initiate: Yeah. Thought so. Get back to me on that.]

Anakin: ::panicking:: Angel, Angel, I really need you. You have no idea how bad I need you right now. Padme: Well, okay, but this is a strange time for a booty call. Anakin: No, listen-- wait, what? …uh, what are you wearing? ::twenty minutes later and relevant explanations issued while relaxed and no longer panicking:: Padme: I was born for this.

Anakin: Master, please! I really need your help! Obi-Wan: What did you accidentally on purpose destroy this time? Anakin: Hey! That's so not fair! I… okay, so I *did* kinda take down the chancellor, but only 'cause he made me a slave master, and now Padme says I'm technically in charge of the Republic because he had all these powers and for some reason made me his heir plus they're kinda scared of what I'll do since I blew up half the Senate building. And Dooku called and I kinda maybe ordered the GAR to glass Serenno and guess what? Dooku, um, made *you* his heir which makes you technically in charge of the Separatists, so… Obi-Wan: … Anaking: Master? Obi-Wan: What I'm hearing is that the war is over and I can finally get some sleep. Anakin: Master?? Obi-Wan: ::already snoring:: Anakin: I really hate you right now.

Anakin gets named emperor and nopes out of the day-to-day side of running an empire. Padme's his wife, which makes her the empress, she can do this. She was a queen once, right? How different could it be?

But being emperor *does* give him power to give the GAR orders and a LOT of sway with the Jedi council. So Anakin takes up slaver hunting as a hobby. (Senator Free Taa, I'm looking at you.) The Zygerrians and the Hutts go on the endangered species list. So do the Kaminoans. Most of the GAR joins in gleefully. (They take holos for everyone who isn't be there when Tipoca City is destroyed then exploded then vaporized. They may be holding a grudge. There's a huge viewing party. And a yearly celebration.)

Fives is named the duke of fast food. Dex's becomes the official caterer for the royal family and entourage. And if that entourage coincidently happens to be officially defined as the 501st? He isn't the one who determines such things. (Echo is, and is in on it for the milkshakes.)

The Force bubbles with delight. It chose the right person to fuck shit up.

[transbookoftheday]

🧛 Trans Vampire Books 🧛

Can't get enough of What We Do In The Shadows? Read some trans vampire books!

A whirlwind romance between an eccentric archivist and a grieving widow explores what it means to be at home in your own body in this clever, humorous, and heartfelt novel. When archivist Sol meets Elsie, the larger than life widow of a moderately famous television writer who’s come to donate her wife’s papers, there’s an instant spark. But Sol has a secret: he suffers from an illness called vampirism, and hides from the sun by living in his basement office. On their way to falling in love, the two traverse grief, delve into the Internet fandom they once unknowingly shared, and navigate the realities of transphobia and the stigmas of carrying the “vampire disease.” Then, when strange things start happening at the collection, Sol must embrace even more of the unknown to save himself and his job. DEAD COLLECTIONS is a wry novel full of heart and empathy, that celebrates the journey, the difficulties and joys, in finding love and comfort within our own bodies.

In becoming a vampire, I’m less than a girl. And more. Or maybe I’m becoming what I always have been, deep inside. A blade. When nineteen-year-old Fin volunteers to take her secret love’s place in their village’s Finding, she is terrified. Those who are chosen at the Finding are whisked away to Castle Courtsheart, a vampire school where human students either succeed and become vampires, fail and spend the rest of their lives as human thralls…or they don’t survive long enough to become either. Fin is determined to forge a different path: learn how to kill the undead and get revenge for her mother, who was taken by the vampires years ago. But Courtsheart is as captivating as it is deadly, and Fin is quickly swept up in her new world and its inhabitants - particularly Gavron, her handsome and hostile vampire maker, whose blood is nothing short of intoxicating. As Fin begins to discover new aspects of her own identity and test her newfound powers, she stumbles across a string of murders that may be connected to a larger ritual - one with potentially lethal consequences for vampires and humans alike. Fin must uncover the truth and find the killer before she loses her life…or betrays her own heart.

ARC 1, IN WHICH: A cute punk-rock vampire and a disabled firefighter-turned-mall-cop with a dark past join forces to battle the forces of evil. Jude used to leap out of helicopters to rescue/protect people from terrifying infernos. Now, by day, he protects the local mall from rowdy teenagers who ride their skateboards inside. By night, he protects the the parking lot, and the rest of Portland, from undead, bloodsucking creatures of the darkness. Or would if he could find them. But he’s just about ready to give it up (living with PTSD and pain from the traumatic event that cost him a leg, a friend, and a lot more is hard enough), when something crashes into his life. And his window. It’s one of these creatures of the darkness - and he’s a lot less scary than expected. More cuddly, with dark fuzzy wings, and neon-bright hair. His name is Pixie, and he refuses to bite anyone. Assault/murder/draining fluids isn’t punk, even if being a vampire really kind of is. He’s very hungry by now, and the much bigger, meaner, deadlier vamps kick him around on the nightly. Jude would love to find and fight some actual undead bullies. And Pixie could use some help staying… ‘alive.’ Time to make a deal. Of course, life still sucks when you’re a vampire who refuses to suck blood. Fortunately, there’s a really interesting new barbecue restaurant in the mall, with an intriguing new recipe. (We hear that the secret ingredient is… love. No, really.)

Darren is your average half-human, half-fae trans teenager, busy figuring out his powers and puberty while trying to survive finals. When Vlad, a newly turned vampire, moves in with the witch down the street, he and Darren get off on the wrong foot. Darren is always one to give somebody a second chance, though, and as they become friends, he realizes Vlad is just lonely and struggling with his new powers. That’s something Darren can definitely relate to, and he’s happy to lend his support. But while he coaxes Vlad out of his shell, Darren ends up learning about Vlad’s past… and the danger Vlad is in. Darren only wants to help—help Vlad feel comfortable in his own skin and help him feel safe. He hadn’t planned on falling in love.

Book titles:

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Court of the Undying Seasons by A.M. Strickland

Stake Sauce, Arc 1: The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really by RoAnna Sylver

Showers, Flowers, and Fangs by Aidan Wayne

[karatekels]

Mediation - Chapter 4 - TIGmas Day #9

I was initially worried about this chapter being too short, but we ended up with over 7500 words, so... crisis averted, I guess!

I blame the very fluffy smut. Speaking of which...

TW: graphic sex, oral sex (female receiving), questionable dubious consent (she's rather emotionally vulnerable but I believe she consents)

Enjoy, everyone!

Previous Parts: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

---

Mediation

Chapter 4: Causation

---

Reader's POV:

You emerge from the warehouse just as the sun is starting to set, the flashing red and blue lights of the cop cars that surround the building casting shadows of the action unfolding.

No one had sustained serious injuries in the operation – officers or suspects. The worst that you had was some bruising across your body and a small cut on your right temple, the bleeding long since stopped. The bust had been even more successful than you and Cash could have hoped for: a dozen thieves, a half-dozen of the supposed brains behind the operation, hard drives and shipping containers full of evidence… this one would go down in the history books.

You catch a flash of movement underneath the underpass next to the warehouse, still on high alert from all the adrenaline. Heading towards it cautiously, you recognize Cash’s silhouette in the shadows. Looking over your shoulder and seeing that everyone is still busy, you dart into the darkness.

“Cash! What the hell are you doing here?!” you hiss, shoving him further out of view. “You know you aren’t supposed to be this close to a crime scene; what if they think you’re in on it?”

“Oh come on. I’m far enough away. Besides, I’m sure the department’s rising star would vouch for my innocence,” he replies casually, unbothered as usual with the potential consequences of his actions. “Looks like everything went off without a hitch?” he asks, looking over the top of your head to observe other officers carting out perps in cuffs.

“It went perfectly,” you breathe, feeling like you’re nearly floating as you ride the high of the operation’s success. “I don’t even think Terry’s stubbornness will be able to hold out in the face of all this. This is huge, Cash.”

“I know. If this works, I…” he trails off, a slightly pained look flashing across his features before he looks down at you with a smile. “I really don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for this.”

“Well, I do,” you inform him with mock arrogance. “You can get the hell off the premises and stop risking your parole!”

“Alright, fine – on one condition,” he amends, looking down at you with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

“I don’t think you’re fully grasping the concept of showing gratitude; it’s not typically a negotiation.”

“We should do something to celebrate tonight,” he says, ignoring your sarcasm. “Why don’t you come for dinner at my place when your shift is over.”

You mull the idea over. It’s not that you don’t want to accept his invitation; on the contrary, you think you want to more than is wise for your current situation. The two of you haven’t spent time together without the goal of working towards Cash earning Terry’s forgiveness. This would be the two of you, in his home, without the weight of responsibility on your shoulders. You don’t want to betray Terry, but then, who was he to decide who you could and couldn’t spend time with? He could have input as your partner and best friend, sure, but you were a damn adult.

“I’ll order a dozen spring rolls and let you eat them all.”

Well, that settles it.

“You drive a hard bargain, Cash Ewing, but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He scrawls his address in your tiny notebook before you can change your mind, whistling as he walks away from you – you think you see his truck off in the distance.

You turn and head back to the crime scene without another word, intent on finishing up quickly.

You’re interested in finding out what the rest of the night has in store for you.

---

You arrive at Cash’s place just before 8:00, the Captain letting you off early and with strict instructions to rest for the next few days. You’d gone home to shower and patch yourself up a bit, confirming that the cut to your head wasn’t anything to worry about, and changed into a fresh set of clothes.

Choosing an outfit had taken some time – this wasn’t a date, and you want to make that perfectly clear, but you are still celebrating together. You eventually settle for dark jeans and a pretty blouse; a safe enough option for dinner at a friend’s home.

You have to park down the street, his small driveway not having room to accommodate your vehicle as well as his truck. You walk down the sidewalk to his house, a surprisingly large detached home, and the front door opens just as you approach. You’re struck with devilish inspiration, hiding behind a hedge to try to scare him.

“Yeah, I can meet you there no problem.”

You freeze, confused by his words. Sure, you were a little early, but where could he be going on such short notice?

“Yeah, the plan went off without a hitch. I’m really looking forward to seeing the payoff.”

Your whole body goes cold, and you find it hard to breathe as you watch Cash end the call on his cellphone as he hops into his truck, the engine thrumming to life.

Cash had… he had lied to you? Had this whole thing been a set-up, a way to get another player out of the way so that whatever shady business he was running with would have less competition?

Terry had been right the whole time.

You watch his truck drive down the street, feeling horribly betrayed and used and hurt, like your insides have been cut open and hollowed out. It takes you a moment to regain control of your body, but the moment you do you’re flying back down the street, throwing yourself back in your car.

You start driving before even consciously deciding where you’re going, just trying to push past your numb state enough to be somewhat aware of the road in front of you. When you park, two blocks away from the Deja Vu jazz club, you’re only half-surprised at where you’ve ended up. You don’t even know if Terry is back yet, but if anyone can understand what you’re going through right now, it’s him.

It’s a Sunday night, so the club isn’t in full swing, just a regular bar with jazz playing on the radio. You walk in feeling wooden, trying to keep yourself together for just a little longer.

“You look like you’ve had better days, Y/N,” a voice says from behind the bar. Turning your focus to the man, you give him a weak smile.

“H-Hi, Jake. Is Terry back home yet?” you ask, hoping that your desperation isn’t too evident in your voice.

“No, not yet, I’m afraid,” the older man replies, looking uncomfortable with your obvious emotional distress. “Can I get you a drink?”

You shake your head violently, unable to speak, your lips pressed together tightly to keep from crying. Jake surveys you with pity for a moment, before seeming to come to a decision.

“Right, come with me.”

He walks around the bar, wrapping a fatherly arm around you and guiding you through the bar to the stairs at the back.

“He got home a few hours ago,” Jake informs you quietly as he leads the way, presumably up to Terry’s room. “He’s out grabbing groceries right now, and asked me to tell anyone that came by that he wasn’t coming back until tomorrow if they asked for him. But I’m willing to bet that you’re exempt from that rule,” he says knowingly, and you manage to give him a grimace somewhat resembling a smile. This wouldn’t be the first time you crashed at Terry’s place – it was common to celebrate closing a difficult case with a late night at Deja Vu, and it was no secret that Jake wanted you and Terry to settle down with one another.

He reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his keyring, unlocking the door to Terry’s apartment and gesturing inside with an arm. “Make yourself comfortable, Y/N. He should be back soon, and I’ll send him right up.”

“Okay, Jake. Thank you so much,” you choke out, trying to hastily close the door behind you without being rude.

Turning on the light overhead, you take a look around Terry’s sparse apartment, eyes lingering on his travel bags at the front door. You assume he was only here long enough to bring his stuff upstairs before heading out again; he must be exhausted. You walk to the kitchen to look out the window at the city street down below in the hopes of distracting yourself from the guilt of bothering Terry with your problems that he had warned you about on multiple occasions. But before you can start mentally spiraling down that unpleasant train of thought, a couple of photographs on the kitchen counter catch your eye and, being nosy, you decide to investigate further.

You immediately regret your decision, even as you can’t take your eyes off of the pictures of Cash and Terry.

They could be brothers, with their twin blue eyes and their tall, strong builds. You notice that in one photograph, Terry has his arm wrapped around his partner’s shoulder in a friendly hug as they pose for the camera, a horseshoe ring on his finger just like Cash’s. There is something so beautifully carefree in their expressions, and it makes you ache. You’ve only seen flickers of the light and happiness reflected on both of their faces in these pictures, and you’re again overwhelmed with frustration and sadness at this messy situation.

You force yourself to look away from the pictures, unable to stomach the pain of seeing how much had been lost in this years-long predicament, not to mention where you stand in it all.

Hopefully Terry will be home soon, and hopefully he won’t hate you when he finds out what you’ve been up to in his absence.

---

Terry’s POV:

Terry arrives back home at 9:00, his arms laden with grocery bags. He still has a few days off before he needs to go back to work, and he doesn’t want to have to leave the apartment anymore than he absolutely has to. Working on the farmhouse had been no easy task, and he’s looking forward to a few days of rest before heading back to work.

As he enters the club, he heads over to Jake at the bar. Maybe a nightcap would help him get some restful sleep, or at least ease his aches and pains.

“Hey, Jake! Could I get a –”

“No.”

He goes to glare at the man, not in the mood for his snark, only to see a serious expression on the man’s face. Something is wrong.

“You need to go to upstairs; she’s waiting for you.”

He doesn’t even take a moment to thank the man, jostling his bags as he all but sprints through the bar and up the stairs. You were the only person on earth that Jake would let into his apartment without asking him first; the only person he still trusted or cared about beyond the scope of a typical friendship.

The only one he loved.

He tries not to anticipate the worst as he struggles to fit his key in the lock, opening his front door. He sets the groceries down on the counter by the front door, scouring the room for you and finding you curled up in a tight little ball on the couch, seemingly asleep. His gaze softens as he quietly closes and locks the door behind him, taking off his coat and shoes before slowly approaching you for a closer look.

You’ve taken the small trashcan out of his bathroom and put it in front of the couch, used tissues in and mostly scattered around it. Your eyes are red from crying, and the bags beneath them look like you haven’t slept in a week, but you look relatively unharmed. He can’t think of a time in the five years he’s known you that he’s seen you like this, and he can’t even imagine what has caused you to look like this now. Had someone died? You look heartbroken.

He immediately regrets leaving you by yourself to go work on something as insignificant as renovations, the guilt eating him alive. Desperate to be of use, he gently drapes a blanket over your body; you look like you need the sleep, and he’s not going anywhere.

He sets about tidying the place up, picking up the tissues and returning the trashcan to the bathroom before moving to unload the groceries. His travel bags are mostly filled with dirty laundry, so he doesn’t bother to unpack them yet; that could wait until after he figured out what was going on with you.

When you still show no signs of waking – he knew from experience you were a rather heavy sleeper – he decides to take a quick shower, hoping that it would help him be fresh and alert to help you with…whatever it is you needed. He rushes through the process, not wanting you to wake up without him there, quickly toweling off and changing into some of his last clean clothes, grey sweatpants and a black sleeveless muscle shirt. He’s in the middle of towel drying his hair when he hears you stir.

“Terry?” you call for him groggily, and he flies out of the bathroom, quickly coming over to you. He pulls one of the kitchen chairs over to the end of the couch that you’re curled up on, sitting next to you and hunching down to search your expression, your body for anything that might give him a clue as to what the fuck happened.

“I’m here, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he says softly, watching you blink up at him through your bleary eyes. His hands itch to hold you, but he keeps himself under control. He’s had years of practice, after all.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asks, gently pushing the question when you fail to do or say anything for several long minutes. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong, Terry!” you exclaim, though your voice seems incapable of the volume at the moment. “I fucked up, I was so stupid, and I’m so sorry!” you wail, hiding your face in your hands as you start to cry again. He immediately slides off his chair to his knees, his chest brushing your legs as he wraps his arms around you to grip your shoulders.

“Hey hey, none of that,” he tsks, wishing he could just scoop you up into his arms and squeeze all of your hurt out of you. Instead he stands, quickly moving to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and holding it out for you. You take several gulps, the glass shaking in your grip, and he gently takes it from you to set it on the coffee table.

“Look at me, Y/N, please,” he pleads with you, and after a moment you lift your head, your watery red eyes locked with his. “I promise, whatever you did or think you did isn’t going to be as bad as you think –”

You cut him off, keening loudly in a piercing, heartbreaking note that sends his heart up to his throat and down to the pit of his stomach all at once. Unable to refrain from comforting you any longer, he moves to sit next to you on the couch, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side. You feel uncharacteristically fragile, so different from the fierce, confident woman that he’s come to know and love.

He gives you a few moments, and you manage to get your tears and your trembling relatively under control. He’s not exactly sure when he did it, but at some point his hand had guided your head to rest in the crook of his neck, and was now stroking your hair slowly, feeling you relax under his touch. He tries to stay focused on the matter at hand, but he can’t deny how incredibly natural it feels to hold you like this, to take care of you. Neither of you liked to be vulnerable, especially with one another, but he knows that the two of you had tiptoed around the issue more and more as your time working together had gone on.

“Terry?” you say his name in the quietest, most broken voice he’s ever heard, and it makes his heart twinge painfully. Instead of responding he releases you, turning you both so that you’re facing one another so that he can try to convey just how willing he is to do any-and-everything for you through his gaze alone. You seem to receive the message, taking a deep breath.

“Before I tell you, can you please promise that you’ll let me finish explaining myself before doing anything… rash?”

The request has his guard up, but he nods tightly. He’ll give you whatever you need.

“I’ve spent the last week working on tracking down the crime ring running that operation on scrap metal in the area,” you begin, your eyes watching his for any hint of a reaction even as he does the same to you. “We arrested nearly twenty perps today, and have secured a ton of evidence.”

“That’s… incredible, Y/N,” he says, more confused than ever. Why did this have you so upset? Had you been promoted as a result of your work? Were you leaving? “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you; that’s a lot of progress to make all by yourself.”

Guilt washes over your face, and you break eye contact with him. “I had a team of six with me today during the bust; I was covered, no one was seriously hurt on either side.”

“But?” he presses, losing patience now despite his best efforts to remain calm.

“I… I wasn’t working alone this week. I was working with Cash.”

Your eyes fly up to his to gauge his reaction, but Terry finds that he’s nearly going numb, staring out into nothing. You’d gone behind his back and lied to him? About this of all things? After everything he’d said and done to dissuade you from listening to that corrupt, lying piece of –

“How is that even possible?” he asks hoarsely, interrupting his own train of thought. He doesn’t want to get angry yet. He promised you, and unlike you – unlike everyone else, apparently – he kept his promises.

“Terry, I didn’t go looking for him, I promise. When we talked about it last month, I kept my word. I didn’t speak to him or so much as see him until the beginning of last week. We ran into each other while I was in pursuit of a suspect and he helped me get the guy down. I didn’t even know who he was at first, I swear…”

He bites his tongue so hard that he worries it might bleed, but nods at you to continue. You’re cringing away from him as though you’re worried he’s going to hit you, and while he is very upset with you right now, he knows himself well enough to know that he would never lay a hand on you in anger.

“He came to me the next day with some intel, that he thought he knew where the crime ring’s base of operations was. He wanted to report the crime to me directly, so that I would be able to tell you so you would see he had left all that crap behind. We got to talking and he offered to help me work the case since I was doing it all mostly on my own while you were gone. Everything went perfectly, Terry, until tonight. I thought that together we would be able to prove to you that he’s cleaned up his act, so that you would give him a second chance, but…” you stop, seemingly unable to continue past the lump in your throat.

“What happened, Y/N?” he growls, his temper starting to rise. If that fucker had laid one hand on you…

“We were going to get dinner tonight, to celebrate the break in the case, and I got to his house early. He didn’t know I was there, but he was on the phone with someone else and I overheard him talking about payoffs and plans. He left to meet someone, and then I came here.”

A part of him feels guilty for the relief that flows through him. Cash hadn’t hurt you physically or tried to seduce you – he’s rather surprised, the latter would be fairly par for the course for the bastard – but had deceived you rather similarly to how he had lied to Terry. His anger towards you all but evaporates; sure, he was disappointed that you hadn’t listened to him, but your intentions, as always, were pure and good. You were simply too trusting.

However, he’s still unsure of why the other man’s deception is hitting you so hard. If you were telling the truth, which he believes that you are, then you had only worked with the man for a week. Why was Cash’s betrayal so devastating for you?

“I’m so sorry, Terry! You were right and I should have listened to you. I j-just… I figured I owed it to you to tell you the truth myself, rather than you hearing about it some other way. I understand if you h-hate me, I really do, and I promise –”

He stops listening, his hearing disappearing completely as he tries to process what you’re saying. You were so upset – nearly hysterical – because you were worried about what he thought about you? That he would hate you for being lied to be the man that had done the same to him?

For such a brilliant detective, you could be so oblivious sometimes.

He suspects that that fucker has put it into your head that he would lash out at you for the smallest infraction against him. What other reason could there possibly be for you to be so wary about how he’s going to react to your confession?

“Right, I’ll be back in a bit,” he says abruptly, rising from the couch and moving to the front door. His temper had reminded him of its presence, and this time it wouldn’t be ignored. Cash lying to him all those years ago was bad enough, but doing the same to you was absolutely unacceptable.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask in a panic, clearly confused by his sudden shift in demeanour.

“I’m going to go try to beat some sense into him, at the very least,” he snarls, throwing his coat back on and digging through his pockets for his badge and gun. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

“Terry no, don’t! Please,” you beg, stumbling as you try to cross the room to reach him, your eyes brimming with concern. “This was my fault –”

“He took advantage of you, Y/N, of you and your kindness. He knew exactly what he was doing,” he insists angrily, speaking more to himself than to you at this point.

“I gave him the means, the motive, the opportunity!” you babble. “I encouraged us working together to solve the case, I made this mess! I was stupid to trust him, but I did, and I’m sorry. Please don’t throw your career away by confronting him about this. You’re all I have left.”

That gets him to stop in his tracks, frozen between you and the door. He glimpses the photographs of him and Cash on the kitchen counter. The two of them had been inseparable, closer than brothers… He couldn’t let what happened with Cash happen with you.

He doesn’t think he could endure it.

Terry turns back to face you, your small frame visibly trembling from the combination of emotion and fatigue, and he acts on instinct, closing the distance between you and gently taking your hand in his as he leads you back to his couch.

“Sweetheart, you need to calm down, alright? We’ll both stay here, okay? I promise. Just take a few deep breaths for me,” he croons, and sets about spending a few minutes helping you calm down and clean up. Soon you are breathing normally again aside from the occasional stuttering gasp, your eyes teary but dry.

“T-Terry, I’m s-s-so sorry. I should have believed you, I should have listened, I just wanted you to be h-happy again,” you stammer, and he can tell that you’re working hard to keep yourself from sobbing again. You were always so selfless, always prioritized him first. He knows that you’ve seen how affected he’s been from the way people have screwed him over, and he doesn’t like the person that he’s become, but to say he hasn’t been happy is patently untrue. Working with you, getting to know you… it’s been his greatest source of happiness.

He can’t say that he was planning on doing this at all, let alone now, let alone like this, but something is pushing him to be open and honest with you, maybe to set himself apart from Cash.

“You were right too, Y/N,” he says gently, lightly caressing the side of your face, needing to confirm that the small cut he sees is nothing to be concerned about. “We should give people second chances. Maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have gone back to that life, and he never would have hurt you like this. You just have more good in your heart than I do. Hell, you have more good in you than most people do…”

You smile up at him through your tears, and his heart takes off like a hummingbird’s, thrumming against his chest. He’s cradling your face in his hands now, and he doesn’t think you’ve really noticed.

“It’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

Your sudden intake of breath at his confession is the only thing that breaks the silence in the apartment, the two of you leaning in towards one another as though pulled by a magnetic force.

He gently presses his lips to yours, feeling your whole body shudder against him before you gasp into his mouth, kissing him back needily as you wrap your arms around his neck. Moving slowly – he doesn’t want to rush things and spook you, despite the unbridled joy thrumming through his veins as he’s finally able to kiss you the way he’s wanted to for ages now – he lifts you up off the couch, just long enough to sit down himself with you in his lap, your lips never parting. He brushes his lips against yours again and again, wanting to absorb your pain with every kiss, wanting to distract you from your hurt, wanting to do whatever it took to make you happy.

“Terry,” you whimper against his lips, and a part of him wants to interpret it as permission to continue, but he knows from your tone of voice that you’re having second thoughts. Reluctantly he pulls away, checking your expression for an indicator of what you’re thinking. He can’t resist kissing your forehead as he leans back, his arms still locked around you, one at your hip and the other tangled in your hair at the back of your head.

“I – we – should stop before we get carried away,” you breathe, unable to meet his eyes. He thinks he hears reluctance in your tone, and latches onto it with hope.

“What’s wrong with getting carried away, honey?” he asks, curling his arms to press you against him more firmly. “You’re safe with me,” he coos reassuringly. Give him the opportunity, and he would spend the night showing you just how much he cares for you with every single move he makes. He just needs a chance; he isn’t sure he can keep himself from you now that he’s had a taste.

“Terry, I’m exhausted, I’m an emotional wreck…I don’t want to do this if there’s even a chance I could lose you for good. If we go down this road and it doesn’t work out, I...” you trail off, unable to voice even the possibility of the two of you not being in each other’s lives.

“This doesn’t need to be anything but two people that care about each other being there for one another. Just for tonight,” he coaxes, feeling your doubt melt away. So the sex might mean more to him than it will to you; he’s more than okay with that, so long as you don’t regret it in the morning. He’s a simple man; he’ll take what he can get. “But you’re never going to lose me, Y/N. Let me prove it to you.”

He kisses a line from your temple down to your jaw, letting out a pleased growl when you tilt your head to the side to give him access to your neck. He lavishes the sensitive skin between your neck and your shoulder with lush kisses, finding a spot that makes you whine and honing in on it, sucking and nibbling the delicate flesh until you’re moaning his name, writhing in his arms.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, surveying the dark hickey he’s left with a primal sense of dark satisfaction. You arch your body, your hips rolling against him as he runs his hands up and down your sides possessively, wanting – no, needing to feel you. Call him selfish, but he’s going to have all of you tonight, especially since he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to have you again.

“Take me to bed, Terry, please!” you plead with him, and if you only knew the number of times he’s fantasized about hearing you say those words…

He stands, his hands at your waist, lifting you up with him until your arms and legs naturally wrap around his body tightly, your face buried into the crook of his neck as you pepper him with feather-light kisses that have him swearing he’s died and gone to heaven.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he teases as he carries you over to his bed. He gently lowers you onto it, taking a moment to look down at you: hair fanned out around your head on his pillow, face flushed, eyes gazing up at him with lust.

You sit up as he takes a seat on the bed next to you. Terry watches you intensely, unblinking, his eyes noticing everything as your small hands brazenly trace the muscles of his bare arms up to the back of his neck to play with his still-damp curls, nibbling your lip shyly as you explore his body.

You take a brief reprieve to build your confidence, and he’s happy to grant it, then your hands slowly move down from his neck to his collarbone, your dainty fingers eagerly exploring his firm pectorals. He does his best to stay still, to be calm and patient, but as your hands wander down past his ribs to his abs he can’t help the groan that escapes him, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You let out a nervous giggle.

“Sorry, am I moving too fast?” you ask nervously, and he bites back a bark of laughter. Instead he silences you both with a passionate kiss, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. He doesn’t let up, intent on kissing you breathless as he lays you down on the bed again, keeping his weight off of you as he comes to lay on top of you.

“It’s been more than five years, Y/N; I don’t think we could move any slower,” he jokes once he’s let you up for air. You giggle, holding his face in your hands as you look up at him with a soft smile. “But I’m here for you sweetheart; have your way with me however you want!” he adds with a lopsided grin.

“So generous of you, Mr. McCain. Always the pinnacle of chivalry,” you tease, twining your hands back around his neck. He tightens his grip on your small waist in return, wanting to memorize this moment so that he can cherish it forever.

“Only for you, doll,” he replies in a husky voice, moving back as you sit up slightly, leaning on your elbows as you rest your forehead against his.

“Terry, I… it feels like so long since I’ve been able to think about us. Just us,” you clarify, and it’s clear you’re referring to Cash. “I don’t want to think about anything except you and me. Please help me forget.”

If he has his way, you’ll never think about Cash Ewing or any other man ever again after tonight.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you, always,” he promises, and he can feel you melt at his words. “Just relax, and let me make you feel good.”

You let out a wordless moan of consent that he captures with his lips, kissing you passionately as he pins you against his mattress. His hands trail down your body to your hips, his fingertips exploring the soft skin of your belly where your shirt has ridden up. You arch against him with a mewl, and he grips the hem of your shirt to pull it up and off of you, his eyes greedily roaming your torso. Your ample cleavage is too tempting to resist, and he buries his face between your breasts, kissing the bare skin of your chest above the cups of your bra. You throw your head back, letting out a wanton moan, your legs wrapping around his hips as you grind yourself against him, your fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Terry, please!” you cry, writhing beneath him and even in this moment he knows he’ll never forget those words coming from your lips with such need.

“Don’t you worry, babygirl,” he coos, laying kisses all over your collarbone, his hands gently but firmly gripping your hips and holding them down. “I’m going to give you everything tonight, I promise. But let me take it all in, honey – I’ve been dreaming of this for ages now.”

You pout at him teasingly, and he takes the opportunity to suck on your lower lip until you groan at the throbbing ache. Smoothing his hands back up the sides of your body, he slides them beneath you to unhook your bra, tugging the garment down your arms and tossing it on the floor behind him. The instant your hands are free, you’re tugging insistently at the hem of his shirt, making him chuckle lowly as he takes the hint, pulling it over his head. Your eyes darken with lust as you take in his bare chest and you lick your lips, making him growl low in the back of his throat before bringing his hands down to cup your breasts. Your nipples are peaked and prominent against his palms, and he can’t resist the temptation any longer, bowing his head to take one into his mouth, one hand teasing the other.

“Fuck, Terry! You’re way too good at this,” you groan, and that stroke to his ego sends a jolt of desire right to his dick. He redoubles his efforts, teasing your breasts with his fingers and lips and tongue until your voice is hoarse from begging, your hands fisted in the sheets after you realized that clawing at his back wasn’t going to get him to let up on you. He’s feeling dizzy from the way you’re coming apart at the seams for him, his straining erection throbbing with need. He’s never wanted anyone so much.

“God Y/N, you feel amazing. I can’t get enough of you,” he moans, grinding against you as you lock your legs around him once more, pressing your centre against his cock.

“Try,” you demand sassily, looking up at him with a teasing smirk that has him growling and reaching for the button on your jeans and pulling your zipper down before tearing the pants down your legs. You gasp from the rough treatment, wantonly allowing your knees to fall open as you look up at him, breathless with need. His nostrils flare as he takes you in, eyes drifting to the scrap of silk and lace between your legs, the only thing concealing your body from him. He spots the damp patch on your underwear and it shatters his remaining resolve.

Lunging forward, he buries his face in the apex of your thighs, laving his tongue along your slit and up to your clit through your underwear. You shriek with surprise before clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle your cries of pleasure, and he groans against your pussy, dizzy from the heady, musky scent of your arousal. You buck up against him, your free hand tangling in and tugging at his curls, and he grips your inner thighs in his large hands, squeezing them possessively as he holds them spread open.

Your muffled pleas take on a higher and higher pitch as you reach your peak, and he chases after your orgasm hungrily, parting your panties to the side and delving his tongue into your tight channel. Your grip on his hair tightens, and he slips a finger inside of you, moving his mouth to suckle on your clit as he curls his finger up against your g-spot, your thighs clenching around his head as you come hard for him. You’re barely coherent at this point, but he manages to pick out a few words amidst your screams, ‘fuck,’ ‘Terry,’ and ‘so good’ among them. Eventually, he feels your muscles relax, and manages to slide up your body while you catch your breath.

“You taste better than I ever could have imagined,” he purrs in your ear, laying hot, open-mouthed kisses along the slope of your neck, feeling your pulse thrumming under his lips.

“Oh my God,” you pant, squirming beneath him as he squeezes your hips, wanting to claim ownership of as much of your body as possible. “Terry, that was… you were amazing.”

“Just giving you a taste of the worship a woman like you deserves,” he croons in a light, teasing voice, moving himself around your body to lay gentle kisses on top of every bruise he sees; the day’s events had left you rather battered, though he sees no sign of serious injury. He would happily get on his knees and show you the depths of his devotion every day if you would allow it. He’ll do everything in his power to see to it that you do.

Unfortunately, you seem to have other plans, your hands moving to the drawstring of his sweatpants, one hand trailing down to stroke him over his pants while the other dips into his waistband, tugging him towards you.

“Your turn,” you inform him coyly, and he feels like a teenager again, getting close just from you fondling him over his clothes.

“God, sweetheart,” he groans, hips thrusting into your palm. “Feel how hard you make me,” he commands in a rough voice, and you squeeze his length in a way that makes him hiss with pleasure.

“I need to be inside you, Y/N,” he confesses, and you shudder against him. “Let me have you, let me make you mine, baby, please,” he begs, watching your eyes roll into the back of your head at his smutty words. You nod frantically, your eyes now scrunched shut, seemingly unable to speak. He hooks his thumbs into his waistband, pulling his pants and briefs down in one fluid motion and kicking them off. When he looks back over to you, you’re staring at his cock with hooded eyes, your mouth agape.

“Terry, I…” you trail off, trying to find the words. “You’re so big.”

He can’t help the smug grin the spreads across his face at your words, and you giggle, rolling your eyes at him and rolling onto your side to bury your face in his pillow. He slides himself behind you, spooning you, his length insistently prodding between your thighs. You whimper, grinding your butt against him at the sensation.

“I’ll be gentle, honey; I promise,” he murmurs soothingly, running his hands up and down your arms as he clutches you to his chest. “Let me give you everything,” he coaxes, leaning down to kiss you as you turn your head to face him.

Occupying your mind with his tongue, he trails his hand down your body to your knee, lifting your leg up and back to wrap around his, allowing him to open you up. His other hand slides up your waist to your chest, his palm on top of your heart as he pulls you back against him. Guiding the head of his cock to your slick entrance, he slowly pushes inside you, swallowing your moans into his greedy mouth. You’re so fucking tight; it takes everything in him to keep from pounding into you.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons approvingly as you start to rock your hips back against his, letting out little mewls as you slowly take more and more of him. Your pussy feels like heaven, just as he knew it would.

“Mmmhhhnn, Terry!” you cry out, and he knows he’ll never get tired of hearing you moan his name. “M-m-more!”

“You want more, Y/N?” he asks in a low, harsh whisper, biting back a snarl as he grabs your knee possessively, bending it up towards his chest to spread you open more. “You want to take all of me?”

“Yes yes please!” you beg, and it’s music to his ears. He pulls out of you slightly, hearing you whine at the loss before thrusting his hips forward, sinking his cock fully inside you until he’s pressed up against your ass. He groans, your body gripping him tightly like it was trying to keep him there, sheathed inside of your tight heat forever.

“Oh fuck, baby, you feel amazing,” he pants in your ear, his arms wrapped around your torso as his hips set a slow, deep pace that has you nearly sobbing.

“Oh God, Terry baby, you’re so deep,” you whimper in his ear, still rocking your hips back and forth as much as you can in this position. “Your cock feels so amazing, fills me up like it was made to!”

He fucks you harder, spurred on by your dirty talk, and you let out a wanton wail in response, your fingernails digging into his forearms as you cling to him.

He pulls out before he loses himself completely, sitting up and kissing your ankle before rolling you onto your back. You hook your feet around his ass, pulling him towards you impatiently and making him chuckle at your enthusiasm. He eases himself back into you, resting his weight on his forearms to either side of your head and gazing deeply into your eyes.

Every time he’s fantasized about being with you for the last five years, he’s climaxed to the thought of your face looking up at him the way it is now. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t come in you for the first time while gazing down at your beautiful face, twisted into a mask of ecstasy because of him.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart,” he breathes, looking at you with reverence. “You feel so good, I wish I could stay inside you forever.”

You hold his face in your hands, stroking his cheeks as yours flush from his praise. So innocent and shy, even while he’s balls deep in you.

“I want you to come for me, Y/N,” he purrs, trailing a hand down your body to where your hips are joined to play with your clit, watching every slight reaction you make with fascination. “Come on my cock, sweetheart – let go for me.”

Those seem to be the magic words; your eyes roll back into your head as your whole body clenches and twitches around him. You chant his name like a mantra, and he chases after his own orgasm, pumping his hips into you fast and deep as your cunt flutters around him, releasing inside you with an animalistic grunt of your name.

The two of you stay locked in an embrace as you both catch your breath, every inch of your bodies pressed together. He savours the feeling of bone deep satisfaction coursing through him, pressing kisses to every part of your body that his lips can reach.

Reluctantly, he twists himself free of your grip, smiling softly at your incoherent whine as he pulls away from you. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment and returns with a warm, damp cloth. You had been so tight, so much smaller than him, and he doesn’t want you hurting in the morning.

Tenderly, he takes the washcloth to your entrance, feeling your body relax under his ministrations. Finished with his task, he lifts you off the bed, holding you with one arm while he bends down to pull the blankets back before sitting you back down on the mattress.

“You’ll stay tonight?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting to push for anything more than you wanted but desperately wanting to spend the night holding you. You give him a shy smile and nod, wordlessly holding your arms out to him. He crawls into your embrace, sliding under the covers with you and taking you into his arms, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair and kissing your forehead.

He’s completely exhausted, but he fights to stay awake until after you’ve drifted off in his arms. The moonlight illuminates your face, and he’s pleased to see a soft smile curving your lips. Unlike when he’d walked in on you sleeping fitfully hours before, you now look completely serene. He feels a surprising amount of pride and pleasure at the fact that he was able to give you exactly what you’d asked for. He’d helped you to forget.

But he hadn’t forgotten.

At least one good thing came from knowing Cash Ewing: he had pushed you right into Terry’s embrace. Now that he’s finally got you, he’s not keen on letting you go.

*boos Anna Gilmour*

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Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

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[transsexualgriffith]

what *is* berserk? i've heard about it/heard the title, but have like 0 clue what it's even about other than potentially "grimdark medieval-esque fantasy"

sexual repression.

okay that was my meme answer, reyni i cannot even begin to tell you how happy I am you asked this. I will be very upfront and tell you that truly even after all the praise I will sing it, i consider it highly unlikely that berserk is a story you personally would enjoy, but I am so glad I get to tell you about it anyways.

the question of "what is berserk" is kind of..infinitely complex. none of the assumptions you have are wrong, infact they're right on the money, and you would be far from the first to have never known berserk to be anything but those things. i don't believe that I knew very much of anything at all about berserk before I myself chose to watch (and then read) it. I went into it basically completely blind and I believe i was better for it, because nothing anyone could've told me about berserk would've been able to prepare me for what I was about to read.

berserk is, first of, and I believe you're interested in manga as how it exists as a medium and of course japanese culture associated with it, one of the most influential manga of all time. it is essentially a manga equivalent of classic lit, and rightfully so. berserk has some of the most incredible art work I have I have ever seen. berserk is extremely thought out and detailed and it changed a million perspectives on manga as an art form by its existing. set an impossible standard for seinen forevermore. it has immense value in being looked at through this lense alone.

and berserk is dark. and edgy. and a product of its time. berserk is incredibly violent, in all ways that a story can be violent, sometimes smartly, sometimes poorly, rarely apologetically. berserk has possibly every trigger warning in existence, it has an abundance of things that are nasty and inappropriate and should not have been written in the way they are, and should not be celebrated for it the way that it is.

and then, berserk is queer. this shocks many people to find out, because in fact the common consensus is otherwise, and berserk has a horrible cishet-male dominant fandom who cannot comprehend even the basic themes of the story, and its queerness is the antithesis to all that berserk is largely understood to be.

but reyni, berserk is so queer.

berserk is one of the queerest stories I've ever read and i really don't say this lightly. queer readings of classic lit are possibly all I have been doing for the past nine years or so of my life and I count berserk among them. berserk is more queer than alot of stories with ""canonically"" queer rep could ever aspire to be, because in berserk the queerness is the driving force of the plot. everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in nearly four hundred chapters of this manga, has occurred in consequence of two men being unable to reconcile their (sexual) trauma with their emotions, primarily their feelings towards one another. and berserk is not subtle about this. it is honestly the least subtle thing I can imagine.

berserk is the story of an ex mercenary called guts on his quest for both revenge and personal growth, and more importantly it is the story of a young mans struggle with repression, apathy, anger, deep feeling, and desire. berserk is, in this at least, very clever about utilising guts csa trauma as his reason for succumbing to violence. in general I think berserk if treated the right way, is a great case study for the anatomy of male emotion. berserk is the tale of a mercenary bands falling head first into glory and then doom, it is a high fantasy with incredible cosmology lore behind it, it's about political intrigue, its about religion, it reaches the darkest depths of what fantasy can be and sometimes brings it to the highest; there are parts of it I think you might detest and there are whole arcs I think you would love, there are chapters you would never know were from a seinen because its being intentionally written like a shoujo; you forget the darkness for all the light just as often as the other way around; there's a cursed amulet, and there's even bishies. (also they've got blue haired elves which I think u could appreciate.)

i know this has gotten a little long, but I really wanted to give u a real impression of the wonderful immersive hundred-fold that berserk is to me. I dont think I can ever truly put it down into words. I doubt you'll be surprised to learn of my love of white haired bishounen since you have known me rather some time now, and certainly that's a driving motivator but I earnestly didn't expect to ever get as much out of berserk as I did. it's maybe the most I have ever fallen for a story. ty for ur askkkk don't read it

[vintagetvstars]

Hot Vintage TV Women’s Bracket - Mod Thoughts

As promised here are my thoughts on what went down in the hot vintage tv women’s bracket! I organized them by round to focus on the ladies I was sad to see eliminated each round and then added my overall thoughts at the end. Hope these are fun and enjoyable to see my internal bias’s and who I was rooting for and screaming about being eliminated throughout the fierce competition 😊. Also I know mod violet is working on getting their own thoughts written down as well so those will hopefully be up in the future as well.

- mod vintage 💚

Thoughts below the cut

Round 1

- I was so sad to see Holland Taylor go out so early! She’s such a delight and it was such a close race! Wish we could have sent both Holland Taylor and Joan Collins through. It was certainly a match up that was hard to make but it fit so well and I must bear the consequences 😔

- I know Rachel Bilson was a controversial person to let in given The OC is barely in our time frame but clearly it wasn’t an issue as she didn’t make it out of round 1. I don’t mind letting people so close to the cut off through if they fit our criteria cause I do think it’s fun to recognize some of those very early 2000’s shows since it was such an interesting period in TV, a real turning point. But also because I had faith that the vintage tv lovers probably wouldn’t vote anyone from too late in our timeframe too far in the competition. Heck we had people upset the 90’s were included and while some of them did become finalists we still ended up with too certifiably vintage queens as our top two.

- Y’all I am so sorry Angela Lansbury fans. I really didn’t want to do it to you but someone had to go up against Eartha Kitt in round one 😔. On the bright side Eartha Kitt can’t compete next year so I certainly hope Angela will make it further next year!

- Alex Kingston Vs. Julia Louis-Dreyfus…y’all….we were not prepared for how controversial this was going to be! This was the beginning of a continual wave of comments every round about how upsetting it was that we included the 90’s in this tournament 🙃. This wave inspired the creation of the FAQ cause we were so tired of it. I don’t mind that not everyone recognizes the 90’s as vintage, that’s fine, you definitely don’t have to. I just wish people wouldn’t feel the need to yell about it in the tags. It wasn’t just disheartening as the person running the blog but like it’s really disheartening for the people that nominated their favorite 90’s star to see comments like that over and over when they just wanted to celebrate an actress they really enjoy. I know because mod Violet wasn’t part of the blog yet and Alex Kingston in ER was their nomination and it genuinely sucked to see them apologizing for nominating her and feeling so awful about that. So please in the future, if you don’t think someone is sufficiently vintage…please try to chill about it. This competition is supposed to be a fun escape and celebration for people and that really was not a fun way to start things off.

- Oh Sherilyn Fenn…I am so sorry we put you against Gina so early, clearly if the graveyard polls are to go by, you should have gone further. I will not put you against Gina in round 1 if you both come back next year 😅

- Joan Bennett Vs. Grayson Hall, I am so sorry Dark Shadows fans…I did not mean to keep putting y’all through it during this competition 😅 it was honestly completely unintentional, I shoulda guessed doing some match ups based on vibes would lead to people from the same shows occasional doing match ups…which I am overall fine with…it just happened to y’all a lot…apologies

- Mira Furlan I am so sorry! I have seen Babylon 5 in its entirety now and I get it! Y’all! Mira Furlan is stunning! She has that energy and presence that completely stops you in your tracks and commands attention! She is powerful and beautiful and elegant and just all around stunning! She absolutely kills it as Delenn in B5 and has certainly earned her spot as one of my all time favorite sci-fi characters! She is as beautiful as a Disney princess with the presence of the moon itself! I love her!

- Lucy Lawless Vs. Claudia Black…okay so I was warned so heavily against this one…I still argue that it was a valid match up…but mod Violet was totally correct to argue against it and I sincerely thank them for giving me the heads up that the tumblr lesbians would NOT like this match up 😅….mod Violet was very correct as usual. If it’s any consolation I do really like Claudia Black…while I still think my match up was valid, I am sorry and I sincerely hope she goes further in the next tournament…I will let mod Violet pick her match up next time 😅

- …I am so sorry Red Dwarf fans that both your girls went out in round one…I genuinely thought at least one of them would win their match ups, they both had my vote

- I’m gonna be honest, I knew Carol Burnett Vs. Elisabeth Sladen would be a hard match up but I thought it would have been much closer. I clearly overestimated the amount of Carol Burnett fans on tumblr and underestimated how many of the Doctor Who fans would show up (and since I’m currently working on the men’s bracket I will definitely keep this in mind as there are a lot more Doctor Who nominees now)

- So we actually had Jennifer Aniston Vs. Courtney Cox originally…would people have been mad about that cause neither of them made it past round 1

- Ah round 1, we only got a taste of things to come with Itatí Cantoral Vs. Audrey Meadows

Round 2

- Looking back this round had some surprisingly tough match ups that were really close…like I know I made the match ups but looking back at some I’m like damn….round 2? Like we had a much smaller group of ladies so it had to happen but…yeah I get why it was shocking now…terribly sorry, had to happen but still, sorry 😅

- Fran Drescher Vs. Jackée Harry…this one hurt so much 😭 I predicted what would happen even as I made the match up but it was a fair match up so it had to happen even though the results hurt so much 😭. I rewatched Sister Sister so much growing up and Jackée Harry was just like the beloved tv mom for me! I thought she was one of the prettiest women in the world as a kid and I still think she is absolutely gorgeous! I adore Fran and I’m glad she kept going on but damn if I didn’t want both of them to move on so badly 😭

- Farrah Fawcett Vs. Eva Gabor this one hurt so much! Y’all it’s Eva Gabor?!?! Have you seen her?!? She is stunning!!!! She was the definition of glamorous Hollywood lady to me growing up!

- Kellye Nakahara Vs. Lily Tomlin, so I didn’t know Kellye Nakahara before this tournament (M*A*S*H has been on my watch list for ages, I just don’t currently have the streaming service it’s on) but boi did I fall instantly in love with her through your propaganda! Not just me but my partner too! He was walking past when I was reviewing the video propaganda for her and stopped in his tracks to watch with me, only saying “I like her”. And yeah! We like her a lot and I can’t wait to see her in M*A*S*H one day!

- Itatí Cantoral Vs. Loretta Swit, this was the true beginning of the Itatí sweep. I am so sorry M*A*S*H fans that both your girls went out in round 2 (I’m rooting for you in the men’s round!) but as I had not previously seen Itatí’s work I had no idea she had such a passionate fanbase on tumblr 😅. However while I was sad to see the M*A*S*H girls eliminated so early, It was an absolute delight to see such a passionate response for Itatí and get to witness the power of her fandom full force! The Itatí fandom certainly won most passionate fans in this competition! Thank you all for so passionately engaging with her polls and letting us know how much you love her! It was so delightful to watch, your joy was contagious! I’ll definitely be rooting for Itatí next competition!

- Alex Kingston Vs. Terry Farrell…oh this one hurt so much 😭 I think this was the first one that elicited the “I hate you” response from my partner when I ran it by him (lovingly of course but he was genuinely upset to see this match up). This one was painful for both me and mod Violet. Like we knew it was a really good match up which is why we went through with it but oh boi was it a win-lose situation 🙃. Alex Kingston may have been one of mod violet’s nominations but they love Terry Farrell too! I am a huge DS9 fan, it is one of my favorite TV shows and by far my favorite trek show and sci-fi series. And I just absolutely adore Terry Farrell as Jadzia Dax in that show! She is so stunning and so talented, like she genuinely makes you believe she actually has lived that many lives, you totally buy she was Sisko’s old man friend a few years prior, and she’s just an absolute delight! I will forever be upset about her leaving the show and the reasons behind that. Mod violet may be a newer DS9 fan (We have been doing a first time watch of DS9 and X-files together both sharing our fav sci-fi shows with one another) but they still love Terry Farrell in that show and boi was this round painful for all of us 😔😭

Round 3

- Ah the round that took down all the golden girls (except Estelle Getty who wasn’t nominated and yes I’m still a bit miffed about that! SHAME! She shoulda been nominated too!). Y’all put up a valiant fight! I’m sorry they didn’t make it further as they were all beloved and stunning in their own ways! I’m so glad they were in the competition tho so thank you to everyone who nominated them and provided propaganda! I adore the Golden Girls and it was such a delight to see so much love for them and all your delightful propaganda! Needless to say I look forward to seeing them again next year and you bet we’ll be blogging about them all in the meantime 🥰

- Carolyn Jones Vs. Julie Newmar we thought this was gonna be the round where Carolyn Jones finally went down but y’all surprised us in the most delightful way! Sincerely thank you all for keeping her in! Carolyn Jones is mod violet’s childhood crush and just so important to them! That crush and watching the Addams Family was a defining moment for them, it’s so fundamental to who they are as a person in the most delightful way so it was so special to have this delightful surprise and get to see their favorite keep going forward in the competition when we thought for sure she wouldn’t. Sincerely thank you for making my best friend smile 🥰 this was one of the best moments in the competition for me and a great example of why I don’t mind putting in the work necessary to run this competition. It makes people happy, and it makes them smile. Y’all made my best friend so happy here and to me that makes the whole competition worth it 🥰

- Diana Rigg Vs. Nichelle Nichols, I didn’t really know Diana Rigg before this competition but y’all made me fall in love with her with the overwhelming amount of propaganda we received for her! She had some of the most propaganda in the whole competition. I was genuinely sad to see her go.

- Nana Visitor Vs. Gillian Anderson, Oh! This one was even more painful than Alex Kingston Vs. Terry Farrell 😭. This one hurt my soul! Neither me nor mod Violet wanted this match up but neither of us could justify any other match up…we had to make the sacrifice and damn was it fucking painful 😭. Pretty sure this was the one that got the strongest “I hate you” reaction from my partner when I showed him (again lovingly but he was just as upset as me and mod violet were and rightfully so). Like this was my impossible choice! This was the hardest match up for me in the whole competition! I am a die hard DS9 fan and Nana Visitor as Kira Nerys is my favorite Star Trek character of all time if not my favorite sci-fi character of all time! Nana Vistor absolutely knocks it out of the park as Kira! She delivers a stunning emotional, real performance, and she’s absolutely gorgeous while doing it! I love her! I adore her! I am a fan for life since the moment I watched Deep Space Nine for the first time! And one of the only people that would make me even consider not voting for her is Gillian Anderson. I am a new X-files fan, I’ve been watching it for the first time with mod Violet as they introduce me to their favorite sci-fi show as I’ve been introducing them to mine. And damn if the x-files doesn’t constantly remind me that I am indeed a bisexual 👀. Have you seen Gillian Anderson and (male co-Star who may be nominated for the men’s round) just….Aaaaaaahhhh!!! I feel like I’m having my bisexual awakening again every time I watch that show! Gillian Anderson is so stunning! And I was already a fan. While it’s not remotely eligible for this completion, I first encountered her in Hannibal and absolutely fell in love! She is a phenomenally talented actress and one of the most beautiful women on the planet! I adore her! I voted for Nana cause she will always have my heart and soul for her depiction of Kira but damn if Gillian didn’t make me think long and hard about it. Couldn’t think of a more worthy opponent to defeat one of my all time favs.

- Alex Kingston Vs. Penny Johnson Jerald, y’all I can’t reiterate how absolutely delighted I was to see that Penny Johnson Jerald was nominated for this competition! I adore her in everything I’ve ever seen her in and she is in a lot (she’s one of those actresses that I feel like I see her in everything!). She is just such a delight and I find myself hanging on her every word anytime I see her. She is a phenomenal actress and just so beautiful! I was sad to see her go but overall I was just so happy to see her included! Thank you to whoever nominated her and anyone who sent in propaganda for her! You made me very happy!

Round 4

- Nichelle Nichols Vs. Carolyn Jones, this was the most painful match up to put together in the whole competition. This was literally pitting my favorite against mod violet’s favorite. We tried so hard to come up with other combinations to see if we could avoid this for a bit longer but any other combination we had just had even worse match ups. It was the fairest match up so even though it was painful to us on every level…we had to go forward with it 🙃. If this isn’t an example of us doing our best to be fair and reasonable and keep our personal bias’s out of it then I don’t know what is. This one hurt 🙃

- Itatí Cantoral Vs. Lucy Lawless, I know this one was controversial but genuinely this one was so exciting to watch! At this point they were both established power houses and it was so fun to get to see them battle it out especially cause I genuinely think they both probably could have been finalists in their own right. I’ll say we were genuinely surprised that Lucy lost this one, I may not run in tumblr lesbian circles like mod Violet does but even I know that Lucy Lawless is tumblr royalty! This was probably one of my favorite polls in the whole competition and definitely the biggest upset we had! Definitely can’t wait to see how things go for them both next year, especially if we reach more of the die hard Lucy Lawless fans cause she’s definitely one I could see winning in a future tournament.

Quarter Final

- Lynda Carter Vs. Gillian Anderson, the round that defeated tumblr’s local celebrity, Lynda Carter. It was such a delight to have her in the competition! What can I say that the rest of tumblr hasn’t? She seems like an absolutely lovely person and she is stunningly beautiful! A very worthy finalist and I definitely won’t be surprised if she wins the crown someday! Also genuinely thank y’all for not bothering her with this. We were genuinely worried that people might tag her in this and we really didn’t want to bother her with our silly lil competition. While we all know that ultimately this competition is about celebrating these amazing performers, we can totally see a competition that is titled with the word hottest being seen as just an shallow objectifying thing and we really do not want to offend her or anyone else with that. It really is just a fun way to show our love and respect for some amazing performers that also happen to be very beautiful. So thank you all for respecting both Lynda Carter and us and not bothering her about our silly little competition. I hope she’s having a lovely day.

- Itatí Cantoral Vs. Diahann Carroll, the end of the Itatí sweep. It was so much fun while it lasted but apparently even the waves of Itatí fans couldn’t stand up to the might of Diahann Carroll! I couldn’t think of a more worthy foe to go out to.

- Gina Torres Vs. Nichelle Nichols, I’m gonna be honest, y’all had me scared with this one but luckily my girl Nichelle pulled through! I was however, sad to see Gina go as I sincerely think she is one of the most beautiful women alive today! She is just stunningly gorgeous, has a beautiful entrancing voice, and is an absolutely phenomenal actress all around! Can’t wait to see her return next year and see how far she’ll go! Certainly a worthy finalist!

Semifinal

- Gillian Anderson, we figured this was as far as she’d go cause at least for us Nichelle Nichols, Diahann Carroll, and Eartha Kitt all could have been the winner. And while Gillian is absolutely stunning and a favorite of both of ours, I think this was a really worthy place to go out! She did so well! Can’t wait to see how far she’ll make it in future tournaments! I won’t be surprised if she wins one year!

- Diahann Carroll, it truly was a complete toss up and luck of the draw with who ended up against Eartha Kitt. And I genuinely think Diahann absolutely could have won! But what a worthy rival to go out against! I would have been disappointed had she been defeated by anyone other than Eartha Kitt or Nichelle Nichols.

Final

- Nichelle Nichols Vs. Eartha Kitt, I mean damn! Talk about a dream final! This really did end up being the perfect final match up! And what a nail bitter of a final it was! It was so damn close! I loved seeing the push to get it for a tie! And I fully would have honored it and given a double crown cause to me this is deciding between two of the most beautiful women to have ever lived! What can one say about Nichelle Nichols and Earths Kitt that hasn’t already been said?! They were both phenomenal performers, absolutely captivating, drawing you in, if they were on screen you weren’t looking at anything but them! They were both extremely remarkable women that made significant contributions to history! Just absolutely stunning women in every aspect! Truly evenly matched and both equally deserving of the crown! I couldn’t have asked for a better final! As a huge Star Trek and Nichelle Nichols fan, she got my vote and I won’t lie, I was disappointed that she didn’t win but I couldn’t have asked for a more worthy person to beat her. Eartha Kitt absolutely deserved the double crown as the hottest vintage lady in all of tv and cinema! And while I’m sad that Nichelle didn’t win, I have a feeling she won’t have to wait too long for a crown of her own, at least I certainly hope so.

Overall Thoughts

What a doozy of a competition this was! It was such a blast! It had its highs and lows and plenty of scandal and drama! Every single one of the ladies nominated are lovely and I am so happy I got to help people share their love for them and shine a spotlight on them all! It was a delight to be introduced to so many new amazing hot vintage tv ladies and the shows they were a part of and I look forward to watching the shows they were on in the future. And it was so delightful to see so many of my long time beloved favs loved by so many others too!

Genuinely thank you to everyone who participated in any way! I knew this would be fun but yall really made this such a blast and completely worth all the time, effort, and extra back pain (I am disabled and some of those long nights at the computer I completely overdid it 🙃 but worth it!)

I can’t wait to see what happens in the men’s bracket! I am bi but I usually have a preference for men or masculine presenting people so I am already going absolutely feral while looking through submissions 😅. Truly a blessing that mod Violet agreed to join the blog cause together our preferences balance each other out and we are able to help keep each other’s bias’s in check. That and while we have a lot of overlap in tv taste we run enough in different circles that we were able to together cover pretty decent ground on knowing tumblrs preferences which helped a lot in trying to make fun and fair match ups.

I really hope even after this year’s tournament is concluded that we can continue this lovely community of vintage tv and media lovers going. It’s been a blast interacting with all of you and hearing how much you all love your favorite vintage tv stars and vintage tv shows! Can’t wait for the men’s bracket and to do this all over again with you all sometime next year after that!

Sincerely,

Mod Vintage 💚

[bloodlegacies]

I saw so many people's little thoughts on Hayden and their MC's futures which are so cute. Especially grandpa Eleazar so please pleaseeeee can I get a drabble or a headcanon of Eleazar reaction to the pregnancy announcement at a party or The King.

Sure! Here's the headcanon.

Eleazar was holding a chalice in his hand, with wine in it, and he was wearing a dark blue doublet, with a white shirt underneath and pants of the same color. He was at a party, with no idea why he was there. His son/daughter had said he should attend because they had an important announcement to make, and even the king was unaware of what it was, only that the heir prince/princess had said there would be something to announce.

He stood next to the throne, on the steps below but alongside it, while the king was sitting and waiting as well. Some nobles were walking around, some standing, drinking, eating, and talking amongst themselves. Eleazar couldn't help but find it tedious, no battle, no news, he was just waiting and he hated it. It made him very restless.

To his delight, he didn't have to wait long, as soon his son/daughter appeared through a doorway in the hall, followed by Hayden, who was holding their child's hand in theirs; it made Eleazar grimace, and he internally kicked himself because he promised to be at least calm in relation to the heir to the throne, which is not easy. He really wanted to go over there and separate them from his child…

But he didn't, and waited for them to approach. People around them bowed respectfully and stepped back to let them pass, and that pleased Eleazar, who even raised his chin in pride to see the nobles of Petrus acting this way towards his child, although he understands that it also has to do with the heir to the throne.

His son/daughter bowed before him and the king along with Hayden, who smiled widely before speaking. "My father." Said Hayden, and Eleazar immediately narrowed his eyes and so did the king. They were being so courteous without a hint of something else in their tone of voice? Hmm… something fishy was going on. "We would like to announce to all here that the kingdom has a new successor on the way." Ah, there it was, the tone in their voice of…

Wait, what? "What?" Eleazar blinked his eyes, momentarily forgetting that he shouldn't speak before the king.

Hayden smiled even more. "That's right, you heard correctly, you two will be grandparents."

Eleazar broke the cup in his hands.

A silence followed as the nobles waited for the king's response, although some had already begun to whisper.

Until Eleazar replied. "What good news, another heir." Even the king noticed Eleazar's grinding teeth and cold, threatening stare towards Hayden and stood up, clearing his throat and clapping his hands together.

"This is wonderful, my people, look! What wonderful news! The kingdom already has its newest successor!" he exclaimed, and many nobles began to clap and congratulate them, although some more slowly and softly than others, while the king gestured to the musicians. "Play a happy tune, and please, enjoy and have fun tonight! Today is a day of celebration!" The king said with a smile, although it was more forced.

Hayden couldn't help but give a crooked smile, and his child gave them an elbow to the side and a look, which they only smiled more softly at before taking their hand and turning to join the nobles who were congratulating them and wanting to talk.

Eleazar stared at the heir/heiress to the throne's back so intensely that it could have made a hole in it, briefly wondering if he could now strangle them since the kingdom already has a successor and consequently his grandchild…

But he needed to at least meet his grandchild before that, surely his son/daughter wouldn't want him to strangle their spouse, much to his dismay.

What a shame.

[ckret2]

Looking at all the stuff you said in that recent reblog of yours and just nodding my head in so much agreement. Like, the Gravity Falls canon is so fun but if you (the royal you) poke at some of the more conspiratorial elements of it...it can SO very easily veer into 'Not Okay' territory, depending on how one approaches it in their fanworks.

Especially the fact that Bill is literally based off the triangle symbol that is often used to represent the Illuminati, and...well, there's a lot of Not Okay stuff tied to them that we don't have time to unpack.

It's just good to be VERY careful and find a balance between the borderline Not Okay stuff canon gives us and finding an approach that is...let's say CLOSER to okay. This is a long winded way of saying I agree with the stuff you said 👍

Yeah, especially with Mr. Illuminati-Face here, so many of the ideas that are very lightly brushed over duck so close to some really awful real-world ideas—but in most cases, what's actually presented in canon is so quickly passed by that like... it only really works because you don't think about it too hard. Wading any deeper into it is like walking into a minefield. (Here's the part where I guiltily confess that one of the lines that always gets a wheeze out of me is the super fleeting mention of "Ronald Reagan's masters," and I think the reason it always gets me is because it's SO blink-and-you'll-miss-it, combined with a heap of dark comedy "OH NOOO PLEASE DON'T HAVE HIM SAY THAT". But do I want to engage with that idea? God no.)

If you give serious credence to half the claims Bill makes or that are made about him (much less the things without him that get peppered in), then you're essentially saying that Gravity Falls is the kind of world with secret globe-spanning history-controlling government-running overlords that's being espoused by, most prominently, right wing q-anony antisemitic racists... and like, that's not the kind of world I want to celebrate and play around in. I don't want stories about the kind of world the worst conservative politician believes is real.

And all those more serious issues aside—just from a sheer characterization perspective, Bill is a goddamn liar. Mr. Illuminati-Face Overstuffed-Resume Dress-For-The-Job-You-Want. If all his big claims are treated like unadulterated truth, that ignores a lot of opportunities to say he was lying or distorting the truth in a way that makes him more interesting.

Read up on the actual real Illuminati that actually existed before their name got hamfistedly shoved into every gross conspiracy theory you can imagine, and they're just... such a not a big deal. It was like two dudes that used the mystique of LARPing as an ancient secret organization to dazzle a handful of people into reading a few mildly politically spicy pamphlets, and then got shut down. They didn't do anything but talk to each other about how important they were (they weren't) and wank off to their own sense of intellectual superiority.

I feel like that's a good metaphor for how to treat Bill Cipher's position in human history. The conspiracy theory talk has to be treated like self-congratulatory hot air. Yeah, he's like the Illuminati—in that, like the Illuminati, he wildly oversold his importance to the people he was trying to recruit, and his actual influence has been consequently overblown compared to the underwhelming truth. His face is everywhere, signifying nothing of any real importance. The echo of his historical bark is much worse than his historical bite.

If we're leaning into Bill's conspiracy theory vibes, then let's really lean into them: and the truth is most conspiracy theories, like Bill Cipher himself, are full of bullshit. He's a gold-foiled nothingburger.

[firegirl888101]

The Halloween special was so nice!also I'm not sure if you celebrate it but Happy Choti Diwali!💗yk how ppl make memes abt the 9/11(which is a very bad thing to do) and call it dark humor?similarly do you think ppl would make memes about the McDonald's Massacre?

(I clearly have too much free time lol)

Hiya again <;3 @dottoreandcolumbinaslovechild

Thank you so much for enjoying it, next year I'll include some ideas people have recommended me in my inbox ;)

I forgot to reply to this on the day you sent it, but I hope you had a nice time!I had to Google what you meant because I didn't know what you were talking about and it sounds really cool! All the candles and colours look really cute! <33

If people want to make memes for Insatiable Madness then I would feel honoured, I've never had people express enjoyment about anything I've ever created or written before - so I'd feel really happy if someone were to show something they spent their own time creating! x

kind of serious talk underneath:

If you're not talking about Insatiable Madness, then I'm not sure what you mean by 'McDonald's Massacre'. Personally, I find making memes about tragic historic events as morally wrong considering many victims were affected and could be affected further if they read it today. But, I always have to remind myself at the end of the day it's still spreading awareness about what happened. Like, because I'm from the U.K and relatively young, I first found out about 9/11 and the Twin Towers existence from memes and eventually did my own research.

Does this mean all memes taking the mick of historical events are justified? Of course not. There's a line you don't cross, and I'm glad most of the time people don't act like dicks and post things that offend others without consequences online or in real life. I believe that as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, people are free to do whatever they like. An example I can give is a meme about the Holocaust a Jewish person posted - which was recorded in a lighthearted way, and taken in a lighthearted way from viewers. This, in my opinion, is what dark humour is. It talks and jokes about a situation in the past, and doesn't harm anyone in the future. This doesn't mean only Jewish people can joke about the Holocaust - but what I am saying is as long as nobody affected by the joke is offended or causes an uproar, I'm pretty sure it's okay.

As a British person, I and a lot of people across the globe make fun and talk about our Monarchy due to its history and current representation in the media. It's not hurting anyone, and talking about our Monarchy in this country in both positive and negative ways has been happening for hundreds of years. With that in mind, I personally see nothing wrong with pointing and making jokes - as long as it's not pulling and/or offending someone in the process.

Thank you all for reading if you made it this far. If you have any questions regarding anything I've said I will do my best to explain further - and if anybody would like to educate me on anything I might have missed, once again, feel free to tell me! I love learning about new things and being aware of events all over the world - good and bad.

edit: got rid of the sentence which was wrong, so sorry about that!

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Every comment is valuable

Recently, I received a comment for one of my works I couldn't make quite sense of at first. It wasn't the first time that happened and I believe every writer makes this experience more than once, but it was the first time in 11 years of posting fanfiction across various archives that I came to fully understand and appreciate the value of a comment that does nothing but confuse the hell out of me.

The comment was for an early chapter of my canonic Yuri!!! On Ice novelisation Can You Hear My Heartbeat. My first instinct was to shrug it off as I had absolutely no idea how to deal with it. But as the day progressed, I found my mind returning to it, trying to figure out what its writer had tried to convey. I ended up reading the scene the comment referred to and soon figured out that the scene had failed its purpose to examine the feelings and motivations of its POV character.

In said scene, I explore the reunion of the two main characters Yuuri and Viktor at the end of episode 1 from Viktor's perspective. The comment quoted Viktor's final dialogue line in that scene and claimed that he was being "most extra". I had no idea what that meant, but I deeply felt that it stood in stark contrast to the (canon) Viktor in that scene.

This is the scene as it was on AO3 when I received the comment:

Strange noises inside stirred him, ripping him out of his daydream. The door banged open. A figure stumbled through in a flurry of brown parka and dark hair, slipped on the tiles, and fell face-first in front of the spring. “Ouch.” The young Japanese man propped himself up. Behind blue-framed glasses, his brown eyes widened as he spotted Viktor. “V-Viktor?” It’s him! Viktor’s heart stopped, then went into overdrive. Suddenly, all weariness was gone. The story of longing and despair that had made no sense was finally coming to its glorious conclusion. As he saw Yuuri now with his messy hair, his soft features, and his gentle brown eyes, it was as if no time had passed since Yuuri had clung to him and begged him to be his coach. “What are you doing here?” Yuuri breathed. Why’s he asking? Here as in the spring or in this place? And with that, the nervousness was back. Viktor took the towel off his head and stood, flashing Yuuri a dazzling smile. “Yuuri,” he said, holding out his hand. “Starting today, I’m your new coach.” He winked. “I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.” Yuuri’s mouth popped open. “What?” he spluttered. “WHAT?” Still smiling, Viktor kept holding out his hand, waiting for Yuuri to take it and step to the edge of the spring so they could embrace. Instead, Yuuri spun and bolted back into the house. Viktor stared after him, not understanding. “Huh? Was this too much of a surprise?” he murmured. “Did I overdo it?”

(Note that in the anime, Yuuri doesn't accidentally prostrate himself in front of Viktor. In the anime, he stumbles several times on his way to the hot spring, but as this happens where Viktor can't see it, I added this detail to make the scene more humorous.)

This scene ignores the ramifications of Viktor being nervous about their reunion (as any human being would be!) and his confusion when Yuuri asks why he is here because he doesn't know that Yuuri forgot their encounter at the Grand Prix Final banquet four months earlier. Speaking superficially, it's from Viktor's POV, but it doesn't really explore what is going on inside his head.

As an international celebrity, Viktor has gotten into the habit of acting like a star, especially towards the press and his fans. Viktor is used to wearing a mask in public and as a consequence, he unlearned how to be himself. However, this scene disregards these central aspects of his character. When I wrote it, the Viktor living inside my head wasn't yet fully fleshed out. After I finished the draft of Thousand Spotlights, this scene was one of those I revisited to make adjustments, but I still missed some aspects because I already had adopted a certain "blindness" for my own text.

This is one of the reasons I often ask whether the scenes from the anime are well-embedded into my novelisation.

After contemplating the scene based on that comment, I revised it in my Word document and updated the respective chapter on AO3:

Strange noises from inside the building ripped Viktor out of his daydream. Snowflakes were still tumbling from the sky. The door banged open. A figure stumbled out in a flurry of brown parka and dark hair, slipped on the tiles, and fell face-first in front of the spring. “Ouch.” The young Japanese man propped himself up. Behind blue-framed glasses, his brown eyes widened as he spotted Viktor. “V-Viktor?” It’s him! Viktor’s heart stopped, then went into overdrive. The story of longing and despair that had made no sense was finally coming to its glorious conclusion. As he saw Yuuri now with his messy hair, his soft features, and his gentle brown eyes, it was as if no time had passed since Yuuri had clung to him and begged him to be his coach. “What are you doing here?” Yuuri breathed. Why’s he asking? Here as in the spring or in this place? Viktor struggled to process the implications. His heart was fluttering uncontrollably in his chest. Had Yuuri forgotten that he had extended the invitation? Something felt off, but Viktor struggled to put a finger on it. However, two decades of being a public figure had trained him to navigate unclear situations. After all, Yuuri was his fan, wasn’t he? Viktor took the towel off his head and stood, flashing Yuuri one of his star-smiles. “Yuuri,” he said, holding out his hand. “Starting today, I’m your new coach.” He gave a playful wink that regularly brought even people not liking men to their knees. “I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.” Yuuri’s mouth popped open. “What?” he spluttered. “WHAT?” Still smiling, Viktor kept holding out his hand, waiting for Yuuri to take it and step to the edge of the spring so they could embrace. Time stretched on to a taut eternity. Viktor’s heart was hammering in his ribcage. Snow kept tumbling down from grey skies. Two metres across from him, Yuuri spun on his heel and bolted back into the house. Viktor stared after him, not understanding. “Huh? Was this too much of a surprise?” he murmured. “Did I overdo it?”

This second version expands on Viktor's feelings like his nervousness and his confusion as well as on his thoughts when he greets Yuuri. It shows that he reverts to taking on a persona to navigate through life (we see him do that in abundance until Yuuri asks him to be himself and saves the celebrity-persona for press and fans). There's nothing "extra" about his behaviour, he's just applying what he learned and what he seems to be comfortable with in unclear situations. So far, he has been successful with that, and he has yet to learn that this doesn't work with Yuuri.

The additions I made to flesh out Viktor's character are still subtle enough to leave space for interpretation while making sure that he stays in-character.

I'm really glad that this reader alerted me to a problem I wasn't aware of, although it took me a while to get to the solution. I thanked them and told them that I was able to improve the scene (and I really hope I didn't scare them off!)

Writers, if you receive a comment that doesn't make sense to you at first glance or that might even annoy you, it's worth taking a closer look. It might help you find errors no one else noticed and improve your writing and deepen the understanding of your characters.

Readers, please don't be afraid to let us writers know what you think about our works. If you hesitate to comment on a story because your think that your thoughts are silly, take heart in knowing that every comment is valuable to us and can help us write better stories that in turn bring you more joy.