#but he married little miss peaceful protest?????

[infectiouspiss]

my grandmother held sit down protests in the middle of the streets to force the local council to put in crossings???? holy shit ?????

[pandapetals]

Healing

Something shifts in you after Jean and Scott have their baby making you wonder if you and Logan should have kids.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair, trying for a baby, angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of blood, triggering topics, self-loathing, healing

a/n: been sitting on this one for a while. Not going to lie this fucking hurt to write. I cried so much. I have never been through this but i know a few people who have and i can’t even imagine the pain and strength they have.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Jean beamed, her face glowing with a soft pride, as she held her baby boy close. His tiny hands curled around the fabric of her shirt, his chubby face peaceful as he dozed off in her arms. Over the past few months, you’d watched him grow from a fragile newborn, all soft whimpers and sleepy eyes, into a curious, squirming infant. It seemed like only yesterday he was swaddled and still, but now here he was, wide-eyed and alert to the world.

Scott stood beside Jean, his posture softer than usual, his typically intense gaze almost watery as he watched her gently rock their son. He looked at them both like they were the center of his universe. A quiet awe in his expression that made something tighten in your chest.

"He’s so precious," you said quietly, unable to tear your eyes away from the little family in front of you. The warmth between them radiated out, a kind of contentment that was hard to describe but impossible to miss.

Jean glanced up at you with a knowing smile, one that made you feel as though she could read you like an open book. "He is, isn’t he?" she said, her eyes sparkling. Then, almost without thinking, she added, "Makes you wanna have one, I bet?"

The words hung in the air for a second too long, and you felt your breath catch, an awkward chuckle slipping out before you could stop it. "Oh, kids aren’t really my thing," you blurted, your voice a little too quick, a little too high. "I mean, I love kids—who doesn’t—but, me... well..."

You trailed off as both Jean and Scott turned toward you, exchanging a quick, subtle glance. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and mild confusion, like they hadn’t expected that answer, like maybe they were wondering why someone like you—someone married to Logan, no less—would feel that way.

The truth was, you’d never really discussed it. Not in depth. Sure, it had come up in passing a few times, but it was one of those conversations that lingered at the edges of your relationship, something neither of you had pushed too hard to figure out. Logan, with all his complications and dark past, never really seemed the type to want a family. And you? You weren’t sure if you did, either. It was easier not to think about it, to enjoy the life you had now—the two of you, perfectly in sync, no added weight of expectation.

But something had shifted recently. Maybe it was watching Jean and Scott, the way they orbited around their son like he was their entire world. Or maybe it was something deeper you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now.

"Do you want to hold him?" Scott asked, his voice gentle, trying to break the tension he had sensed creeping in.

You shook your head quickly, hands coming up in protest. "No, it’s fine, really—"

Before you could finish the thought, Jean was already moving, carefully transferring her sleeping son into your arms. You froze for a moment, a rush of panic flooding through you as the small, warm weight of the baby settled against your chest.

"There you go," Jean said softly, stepping back with a smile.

For a heartbeat, you felt a strange rush of anxiety—what if he started crying? What if you held him wrong? As the baby squirmed lightly against you, something softened inside. His small face scrunched up for a moment, but he didn’t stir, and before you knew it, the panic eased into something warmer, something you weren’t sure you were ready to name yet.

"You’re a natural," Jean whispered, her smile widening as she watched you gently cradle her son.

You glanced down at the tiny face, his soft breathing rising and falling steadily, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. There was something so... peaceful about it. The weight of him in your arms, the delicate rise and fall of his chest. It was calming in a way you hadn’t expected. Your mind drifted, just for a second, imagining what it would be like to have a child of your own, one that looked up at you with Logan’s piercing eyes, with his stubbornness and strength.

The thought caught you off guard, making your chest tighten. You had always been so certain that kids weren’t part of the plan, or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Now with this small life cradled in your arms, you weren’t so sure.

Logan’s low, familiar voice broke through your thoughts. "There you are," he muttered, stepping into the room. His eyes softened immediately when he saw you holding the baby, though he tried to hide it behind his usual gruff expression. "Didn’t know I was married to a babysitter now."

You smirked, though your heart was racing a little. "Jean practically forced me."

Logan grunted in response, but there was a subtle shift in his expression as he watched you. His eyes lingered on the baby for a moment longer than usual, and you could see something flicker there. He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your lower back, warm and reassuring.

"Doesn’t look like you mind too much," he said, his voice softer than usual, his eyes meeting yours.

You shrugged, feeling the baby shift slightly in your arms. "It’s... nice," you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself with the truth of it. "Holding him, I mean."

Logan didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel him studying you, the way he always did when he was thinking something over. Finally, he nodded toward the baby, his voice low. "You look good like that."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Like what?"

His eyes dropped to the baby in your arms before meeting yours again. "Holdin’ him," Logan said quietly, his voice rough but filled with something more. "You look... happy."

You smiled, but there was a knot forming in your chest now, a new kind of weight pressing down. You couldn’t shake the image from your mind—Logan, holding a baby of your own, the two of you together as parents. It wasn’t something you had let yourself picture before, but now that it was there, you couldn’t unsee it.

Later that day, as you watched Logan outside, talking to Jubilee with that soft, fatherly look he sometimes wore, it hit you again. The way he was with her, with Rogue or the younger kids at the mansion—it was so natural, so instinctive. He had this way of guiding them, protecting them, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

You started to wonder if maybe Logan would make an incredible father. As much as you tried to deny it, the thought made your heart ache.

When Logan caught you watching him, he smirked as his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What’re you lookin’ at?"

You shook your head, smiling softly. "Just you."

Logan came closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, his usual smirk softening. "Yeah?" he murmured. "What’s that look for?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Just... thinking."

"‘Bout what?"

You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t brush the thought aside. "Logan," you started softly, your voice unsure but steady, "have you ever thought about... having kids?"

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the question. He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. Then, after what felt like forever, he sighed softly, pulling you a little closer. "I dunno," he admitted quietly, his voice rough. "Never thought I’d be good at it. But... maybe." His gaze met yours, something unspoken lingering between you. "What about you?"

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "I think... maybe I’m starting to."

Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand slipped into yours, his calloused fingers curling around yours. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his silence saying more than words could at that moment.

𓂃

In the days that followed, you couldn’t shake the thought from your mind. It was as if a switch had flipped inside you, and now you were noticing every little thing Logan did—the way he spoke softly to one of his students who was struggling, the way he offered a stern but patient lecture to one of the kids running down the hallway, his voice rough with that familiar gruffness but still carrying a warmth that hinted at something deeper. Every time, your heart tightened, as though it was trying to tell you something you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

The idea of having kids had never seemed urgent. It was like a vague notion floating somewhere in the distance, something other people did after getting married. For you and Logan, it hadn’t felt like a natural progression. You liked your life the way it was—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Lazy evenings spent tangled up on the couch, quiet mornings with coffee and teasing banter, spontaneous trips to the city where you wandered hand-in-hand without any real plan.

Now, with every small act of kindness, you saw Logan show, you couldn’t help but imagine him as a father…and it scared you.

The thought of having a child felt like a seismic shift—one that would change the landscape of everything you loved. It wasn’t just about the sleepless nights or the endless responsibilities. It was deeper than that. You worried that the closeness you shared with Logan, the way your lives intertwined so effortlessly, would somehow slip away. That all the little moments you cherished would be replaced by the constant demands of a tiny person who needed everything from you, leaving little room for the quiet intimacy you had now.

Most of all, you worried that your love for each other would get... lost. That Logan, with all his quiet strength and unspoken fears, would pull away when faced with the weight of fatherhood.

It was late one evening, the two of you curled up in bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Logan was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other draped over you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your shoulder. You were nestled against his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, but your thoughts were racing.

You hesitated before speaking, your voice barely above a whisper. "Logan," you began, your tone uncertain. "Can I ask you something?"

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with those piercing hazel eyes, his expression softening as he nodded. "Always," he said quietly.

You swallowed, trying to find the right words. "Do you ever... do you ever feel like we might lose what we have if things change?"

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes. "What do you mean, darlin'?" His voice was low like he was afraid to push too hard.

You took a deep breath, your fingers absently tracing the outline of his chest. "I mean, if we had a kid," you whispered, the words feeling strange on your tongue. "If we became parents… I’m worried that we’d lose... us. The way things are now."

Logan was silent for a moment, his hand stilling on your shoulder as he considered your words. "You think a kid would take that away?" he asked, his voice gruff but gentle.

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I just—everything would be different. We wouldn’t have these quiet nights or our spontaneous trips. We’d have to give up a lot." You paused, feeling the weight of your confession settle between you. "I’m scared that I won’t have as much time for you. Or that… you’d pull away."

Logan’s gaze softened, a deep sigh escaping him as he pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your shoulders. "I get it," he murmured. "I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought about that too." He hesitated, his eyes drifting to the ceiling for a moment before returning to yours. "Hell, I’m scared of a lot of things when it comes to havin’ a kid. What if I’m no good at it? What if I… pass on the worst parts of me? All the anger, the darkness?"

You reached up, your hand cupping his jaw as you turned his face toward you. "You wouldn’t," you said firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering certainty. "You’re more than that, Logan. So much more."

He looked at you, his expression raw. "I try to be," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "But there’s a lotta things I can’t control. And I don’t know if I’d be any good at raisin’ a kid. I’ve spent most of my life tryin’ to protect people by keepin’ ‘em at arm’s length. How do I protect someone I can’t keep away from everything bad in the world?"

His words sank into you, and you could see the fear in his eyes, the way his past haunted him in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn’t just about fatherhood—it was about feeling worthy of it. Of deserving that kind of joy.

"You protect me," you whispered, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. "Every day. And you do it without keeping me at a distance. You let me in, Logan. That’s not easy, but you did it. You do it. And if you can do that, then I think you’d make a great father."

Logan’s eyes searched yours, his breath hitching slightly as your words settled in. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there like he was drawing strength from the contact. "I’m not sure I deserve you sayin’ that," he murmured against your skin. "But it means more than you know."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your hand slipping down to rest over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your touch. "I’m scared too," you confessed. "I’m scared of everything changing, and of not being able to handle it. But I’m also scared of… what if we don’t even try? What if we let fear decide for us?"

Logan’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles as he held your hand. "If we do this," he said, his voice low and steady, "we do it together. No matter what. It won’t always be easy, but…" He hesitated, his voice breaking just slightly. "I’d rather face that with you than spend the rest of my life wonderin' if we shoulda tried."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and suddenly, the idea didn’t seem as overwhelming as it had before. It was still scary, yes, but knowing that Logan was just as unsure, just as scared, made it feel more... real.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, letting it linger, your fingers curling into his hair as you drew him closer. "So… we're gonna try for a baby?" you whispered, the words slipping out softly.

Logan’s arms tightened around you like he was anchoring himself to the moment. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of uncertainty and quiet determination. There was a heartbeat of silence before he nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, the sound almost lost in the space between you. Then, with more conviction, he added, "Yeah, why the hell not." His lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

𓂃

Trying for a baby had started out exciting—a new chapter to explore with Logan. You’d always had an active and passionate sex life, and the thought of intentionally building a family together made your heart swell. 

It wasn’t the act of trying that was hard—it was the waiting, the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. You had been so sure, so confident at the start. But now, after months of trying and nothing to show for it, doubt had begun to creep in like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Standing by the window in the quiet library, you stared out at the sprawling gardens, but your gaze was unfocused. Your mind was too busy unraveling itself. Why hadn’t it happened yet? Was it you? Was something wrong with you?

Your thoughts drifted back to the last four years of marriage with Logan. You couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t gotten pregnant sooner, even by accident. Not once had there been a scare, not even a close call. The questions swirled in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. Was it my body? Did I do something wrong? Am I broken?

“Hey.” Logan’s familiar voice broke through the haze. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

You felt the warmth of his arm as he wrapped it around your shoulders, his touch gentle, steady. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You stiffened slightly, shrugging his arm off and taking a small step away. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” you whispered, your gaze still fixed on the window.

Logan hesitated. He wasn’t the type to push when you didn’t want to talk, but this—this distance, the way you’d been pulling away lately—was starting to worry him. He could see the weight you were carrying, the exhaustion etched into your face, even though you tried to hide it behind small smiles and quick deflections.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice almost a plea, “you don’t have to talk to me if you’re not ready. But… you gotta talk to someone. You can’t carry this by yourself.”

His words broke something loose in you, and you bit your lip hard to keep it from trembling. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. “I just don’t understand,” you finally said, your voice cracking. “I thought I’d be pregnant by now. I thought it’d be easy… but it’s not, and I can’t stop feeling like—”

“Like what?” Logan pressed gently, stepping closer but keeping his distance enough to not crowd you.

“Like a failure,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, as if speaking them made them more real.

Logan’s expression softened instantly, his brow furrowing with a mix of concern and heartache. “Darlin’,” he said quietly, closing the gap between you and gently cupping your face in his hands. He tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’re not a failure. Not even close. Don’t you dare think that.”

“But, Logan,” you choked out, your tears now spilling freely. “What if it’s me? What if there’s something wrong with me? You deserve someone who—”

“Stop,” he interrupted firmly. His thumbs brushed the tears from your cheeks, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t put all this blame on you. We don’t know why it hasn’t happened yet, but it sure as hell isn’t because you’re not enough. You’re everything to me.”

Your knees felt weak at the raw sincerity in his voice, and you leaned into his touch, letting his warmth hold you together. “I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Logan pulled you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel shielded from the weight of the world. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured into your hair. “Together. However long it takes, whatever we have to do—we’ll figure it out. But I need you to promise me somethin’, okay?”

“What?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Promise me you’ll stop beatin’ yourself up over this. You’re not weak, darlin’. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. And if this doesn’t happen the way we planned, it doesn’t change a damn thing about how much I love you.”

His words wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket, soothing the ache that had been gnawing at you for weeks. You tilted your head back to look at him, your hands resting on his chest. “You always know what to say,” you whispered, a faint, watery smile tugging at your lips.

He gave you a small, lopsided grin, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Guess I’ve got a good reason to.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope reignite in your chest. “You know, sometimes I wonder if this is harder on you than you let on,” you said softly.

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before he looked back at you. “It’s hard,” he admitted. “But not because of me. It’s hard seein’ you like this. You’ve always been the one who makes things feel right, and I hate seein’ you doubt yourself.”

Your heart swelled at his honesty, and you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I love you so much, Logan. No matter what happens, I’m just glad I have you by my side.”

His hazel eyes softened, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you more, darlin’. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, letting the warmth of his embrace settle over you like a safety net. The quiet hum of the library wrapped around you both, cocooning the moment in a kind of stillness you hadn’t felt in weeks.

𓂃

It was a few weeks later, and life had settled back into its usual rhythm—teaching classes, grading papers, and the occasional chaos that came with living in a mansion full of mutants. But something was… different. At first, you didn’t think much of it. Everyone felt off sometimes, right?

The fatigue came first. You yawned at least five times during one of your lectures, earning amused glances from your students. “Long night, Professor?” one of them teased, and you waved it off with a laugh, though you were secretly confused. You’d gone to bed early the night before, and yet you still felt like you could curl up under your desk and sleep for hours.

Then, there was lunch. Your usual favorite—whatever Logan had grilled up the night before—suddenly turned your stomach. The smell alone had you rushing out of the dining hall, your hand clamped over your mouth as you tried to breathe through the nausea. Jean had given you a concerned look, but you waved her off, blaming it on some "bad leftovers."

By the third day of these strange symptoms, you couldn’t ignore them anymore. Your mind began to piece things together— the fatigue, the nausea, the way your favorite coffee suddenly tasted too bitter to drink. A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but you tried to push it down. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you told yourself. It could be anything.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave you alone. That night, after Logan had gone to bed, you slipped out of your shared room and quietly headed to the mansion’s lab. You grabbed a pregnancy test, your hands trembling slightly as you tucked it under your arm and snuck back to the bathroom.

What if it’s negative again? What if this hope I’ve been holding onto is just… nothing?

But then, something shifted. A small voice in the back of your mind reminded you of Logan’s words. We’re in this together.

Finally, you took a deep breath and glanced down at the test. Your heart stopped.

Two lines.

Tears welled in your eyes, your hand flying to your mouth as a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped you. Positive. You were pregnant.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the test as joy bloomed in your chest, spreading through you like sunlight breaking through clouds. The months of waiting, of disappointment, of wondering if it would ever happen—all of it melted away in that instant.

You couldn’t wait to tell Logan. He deserved to know right away. But you wanted it to be special, something he’d never forget.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual, your excitement too much to keep contained. While Logan was still asleep, you snuck into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for supplies. If there was one thing Logan loved as much as you, it was breakfast—specifically pancakes.

You whipped up a batch, taking extra care to shape them into letters. The smell of warm batter filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile as you arranged the pancakes on a large plate, spelling out: You’re going to be a dad.

By the time Logan wandered into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction and his usual gruff morning expression on full display, you were practically bouncing on your toes.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he headed for the coffee maker.

“Morning,” you chirped, barely containing your excitement.

He turned, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. “What’s got you so chipper this early?”

You gestured to the table, where the plate of pancakes sat waiting. “I made you breakfast.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious as he stepped closer. But the moment his eyes landed on the pancakes, his entire body stilled.

His gaze moved slowly over the words, his expression unreadable at first. Then, his eyes shot up to meet yours, wide and filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope. “Darlin’… are you serious?”

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes as you whispered, “Logan, we’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he let out a shaky breath, a hand running through his hair as he took a step toward you. “You mean it? You’re… we’re…”

You smiled, nodding again as tears slipped down your cheeks. “Yes. It’s real.”

Logan’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you tightly against his chest. You felt his body tremble slightly as he held you, his face buried in your neck. “I don’t even know what to say,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just… be here with me. That’s all I need.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. “I never thought I’d get to have this,” he said softly. “A family. You’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved.”

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had slipped from his eyes. “You deserve everything, Logan. And I can’t wait to do this with you.”

A soft, genuine smile curved his lips as he leaned down, capturing yours in a kiss. His hand cradled your cheek, his touch warm. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead lightly against yours. 

Logan’s gaze flickered downward, his expression softening even more as his roughened hand moved to rest on your stomach. His palm was warm against you, and for a moment, he seemed almost in awe, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your shirt.

A chuckle rumbled through him, deep and affectionate. “Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying both wonder and a touch of that familiar, teasing tone.

Your lips curved into a smile as you rested your hand over his, fingers threading together as your eyes followed his gaze to where your hands now lay. “Yeah,” you whispered, the word carrying a quiet awe of your own. “They really are.”

The world outside the kitchen faded away as you both stood there, the enormity of what was to come settling in. Logan’s thumb idly traced circles over the back of your hand, his expression a mix of pride, love, and something almost boyish—like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“You know,” he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours, hazel and filled with an emotion so raw it made your breath catch, “I’m not sure how we’re gonna do this, but… I can’t wait to figure it out with you.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you held his gaze, your hand squeezing his. “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but full of certainty. “Together. Like we always do.”

Unable to resist, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms slipping around his waist. He held you close, his hand still protectively resting on your stomach as the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” you murmured into his chest.

Logan let out a low, soft laugh, his chin brushing the top of your head as he pressed a kiss there. “I’ll try, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. “But with you beside me… I think I might just figure it out.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes again, a tear slipping free but your smile unwavering. “You already have,” you said softly, your fingers gently brushing along his jaw.

𓂃

Everything was going great—or, well, as great as could be expected when you were juggling teaching, mutant chaos, and the excitement of being newly pregnant. You’d gone to the doctor for a check-up, double-checking everything was on track, and Logan had been, well… different.

Attentive wasn’t even the right word for it. Logan had turned into an overprotective force of nature. He refused to let you lift anything heavier than a book, shot you a look of warning anytime you so much as bent down, and always seemed to be hovering nearby like he thought the baby might need saving from a falling bookshelf or something.

Not that you minded. In fact, you found it… sweet. Especially when his rough hands would slide under your shirt at the end of the day, his palms brushing over your barely-there bump as if he could somehow connect with the life growing inside you. The way he looked at you—at both of you—made your heart feel like it might burst.

But of course, Logan's changed behavior didn’t go unnoticed.

You and Logan stood outside on the mansion’s back patio, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The fresh air wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and you leaned back into his chest as his hands gently rested on your stomach, his thumbs absentmindedly brushing little circles there.

“I like that it’s just between us,” Logan murmured into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it as his arms tightened around you.

You hummed in agreement, resting your hands over his. “Me too, but… we can’t hide it forever, you know.”

Logan chuckled low and warm, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Pretty sure Chuck already knows,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “And Jean. She’s probably just sittin’ on it, waitin’ for you to spill.”

You tilted your head back to glance at him, a knowing grin on your face. “Oh, she’s definitely sitting on it. Jean loves a good secret almost as much as she loves saying, ‘I told you so.’”

He grunted in agreement, lowering his head to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “If you wanna tell everyone, darlin’, just say the word. I’ll follow your lead.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as his lips trailed down your neck in a way that made you forget about anything other than the warmth of his embrace. “Should we do something special? Oh! What if—”

“Is there any place you two won’t get freaky in?”

The voice startled you both, and Logan quickly yanked your shirt back down as you peeked over his shoulder to see Scott and Ororo walking toward you. Ororo had a toolbox in hand, presumably for the greenhouse, and Scott, as usual, was looking far too amused for his own good.

You burst into laughter, unable to help yourself. “We were just—”

“Just about two seconds from Logan ripping your clothes off,” Scott interrupted with a smirk.

Logan shot him a glare, his arms still loosely wrapped around you. “I was not,” he growled, though the faintest hint of pink dusted his cheeks.

You grinned, turning in Logan’s hold to face them. “We were enjoying the fresh air, Summers. You should try it sometime. Might do wonders for your sunny personality.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his expression grew suspicious as he glanced between you and Logan. “Something’s… different.”

“Yeah,” Ororo chimed in, narrowing her eyes at Logan. “He’s not acting like himself. He didn’t even make a sarcastic remark about Scott interrupting his make-out session.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to will away their nonsense. “I’m right here, you know.”

Ororo gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “No witty remark again? What in the world is happening? Is Logan… soft now?”

Scott snorted, crossing his arms. “What’s next? Is Logan volunteering to help with art class? Baking cookies for the kids?”

You bit back a laugh, looking up at Logan with mock seriousness. “You have been oddly chipper lately. You’re not sneakin’ cookies out of the kitchen again, are you?”

Logan shot you a look, though the faintest twitch of a smirk betrayed him. “Real funny, sweetheart.”

“Actually,” Ororo interjected, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion, “maybe it’s not the cookies. Maybe you’re the reason Logan’s gone all soft and smiley.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Ohhhh, I think ‘Ro’s onto something. Spill it, you two. What are you hiding?”

Logan sighed, running a hand down his face as he grumbled, “Can’t a guy just be happy without you nosy lot diggin’ into it?”

Ororo and Scott exchanged knowing looks, but before they could press further, you took pity on Logan and looped your arms around his waist. “Honestly, I think Logan’s just been spending too much time with you two,” you teased. “It’s rubbing off on him. Maybe we should keep our distance, huh?”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. Whatever’s going on, I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Logan muttered, shooting Scott a glare as he led you back toward the mansion.

Once you were out of earshot, you rose up on your toes, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Well, that went… better than expected. Look at you, handling things so maturely.”

Logan glanced down at you, his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone low and teasing. “I’ve still got plenty of gruff left in me.”

“Oh, I know,” you quipped, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you leaned into him. “But maybe you should save a little of that charm to keep them from growing even more suspicious. You’re practically glowing, Logan.”

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest as his fingers brushed absentmindedly over your stomach. “So, let me get this straight—you’re tellin’ me to be grumpy? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “Hey, mister, I love you and all your grumpiness. You can’t just go soft on me because we’re having a baby.”

His lips twitched, but he wasn’t listening anymore. His gaze had shifted, fixating on your stomach with a quiet intensity, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you—and the life you were carrying. His fingers stilled, brushing softly over the fabric of your shirt as if he could feel the baby beneath it.

“Logan,” you said, trying to stifle a smile as you reached up to cup his jaw. You tilted his face back up toward yours, catching his hazel eyes. “Eyes up here, tough guy.”

He blinked, snapping out of his daze, though his lips curved into a sheepish smirk. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “Kinda hard to believe, ya know? That it’s… really happening.”

Your heart squeezed, and you ran your thumb gently along the scruff of his jaw. “It’s happening,” you murmured, your voice tender. “And you’re already doing so much. You’re gonna be the best dad, Logan. I know it.”

His hand slipped up from your stomach to rest against your hip, grounding himself in your touch. “Dunno about the best,” he said, his voice low and raw, “but I’m sure as hell gonna try. For you. For them.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you leaned up, brushing your lips softly against his. “You’ve got nothing to prove, you know,” you whispered against his mouth. “You’re already everything we need.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just let his forehead rest against yours as he closed his eyes. His hand found its way back to your stomach, resting there protectively. “You make this gruff old guy believe in things he never thought he’d have,” he finally murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Good,” you replied with a small smile, threading your fingers through his. “Because we’re not going anywhere, Logan. You’ve got us—gruffness and all.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple before wrapping his arm around you and guiding you back toward the mansion. “Guess I better start practicing my grumpy dad voice, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, leaning into him as the warmth of his presence surrounded you. “You’ve got a reputation to maintain, after all.”

𓂃

A few days later, you stood in front of your class, pacing slowly as you explained the finer points of literary symbolism. Your voice was steady, your gestures fluid, but the dull ache in your lower back that had been nagging you all morning suddenly sharpened, sending a jolt of pain through your abdomen.

You froze mid-sentence, your breath hitching, one hand instinctively moving to your stomach.

“Mrs. Howlett?” a girl in the front row asked hesitantly, her wide eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

You forced a smile, straightening up despite the discomfort clawing its way through you. “I’m fine,” you replied, your voice gentle but strained. “Just… give me a moment.”

The room felt too warm, the air heavy, and the students’ curious gazes only amplified your unease. You gripped the edge of your desk to steady yourself, taking a slow breath.

“Claire,” you said, turning to the girl who had spoken up, your tone soft but firm. “Can you keep an eye on the class for a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded quickly, her concern etched into her features, and you grabbed your bag, clutching it tightly as you made your way to the door.

The hallway felt endless as you walked, the sharp pain twisting in your abdomen with every step. You tried to focus on your breathing, on the soft click of your shoes against the tiled floor, but panic was starting to creep into your mind.

By the time you reached the bathroom, your hands were trembling. You pushed the door open, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow as you stumbled toward the sink. The pain was intensifying, and a sense of dread settled heavily in your chest.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you echoed in the silence, but you barely heard it over the pounding in your ears. Something was wrong—very wrong. Your hands trembled as you stumbled into a stall, the sharp pain in your abdomen making it hard to catch your breath.

You fumbled with the clasp of your bag, searching desperately for aspirin, though deep down, you knew no pill was going to fix this. Then you felt it—a warm, wet sensation and your heart plummeted.

“No, no, no…” you whispered, your voice cracking as you yanked open the bathroom stall door and hurried to the sink.

With shaky hands, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to calm your racing thoughts. But when you glanced down and saw the crimson staining your pants, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Panic clawed at your chest, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Please, no… please…” Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled back, your legs giving out beneath you. You crumpled to the bathroom floor, clutching your stomach as sobs wracked your body.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

In the hallway, Logan was walking back to his classroom after helping a student with a project. He’d been in a surprisingly light mood—until he heard it. The sound of your sobbing carried faintly down the corridor, and his entire body tensed.

He broke into a sprint, following the sound to the bathroom door.

���Darlin’, you in there?” His voice was urgent. The sound of his voice only made you cry harder. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t find the strength to tell him what was happening.

Logan didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed open the bathroom door, and the sight before him made his heart stop.

You were curled up on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as you sobbed uncontrollably. The crimson streaks on the tiles told him everything he needed to know.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice breaking as he rushed to your side. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure where to touch without hurting you further.

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “Logan… I think—I think we lost—”

Your words dissolved into a fresh wave of sobs, and Logan’s chest ached with the weight of your pain. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, holding you as if he could shield you from the cruel reality of what was happening.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

You clung to him, your fists gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Logan’s hand found its way to your hair, stroking it gently as he rocked you back and forth.

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

“I… I wanted this so badly,” you choked out between sobs, your face buried in his chest. “I wanted this for us, Logan. And now it’s… it’s gone.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He hated how powerless he felt—how he couldn’t fix this for you, couldn’t take away your pain.

He gently scooped you up into his arms, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Let’s get you outta here.”

You buried your face against his neck, your tears soaking into his shirt as he carried you down the hallway. Logan’s usual gruffness was gone, replaced by a quiet, tender resolve to be whatever you needed him to be at this moment.

When he reached your shared room, he gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. He sat down beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles.

Your words were barely a whisper, fragile and heavy. “I’d gotten used to the idea of us… us being parents.” The tremble in your voice made Logan’s chest tighten, and he couldn’t stop the pained expression that flickered across his face.

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. “We… we just have to find a way to keep going.”

You gave a small, broken nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as your fingers reached out, trembling slightly, to cup his cheek. “I just… I wish I could fix this, Logan. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear. “There’s nothin’ to fix, darlin’,” he said quietly, though his own voice cracked at the end. “This ain’t on you. It never was.”

But you shook your head, your voice breaking into a sob. “It feels like it is. What if—what if my body just… can’t? What if this is because of me?”

The words spilled out, laden with guilt you couldn’t seem to shake. Logan’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He hated seeing you like this—so vulnerable, so broken, carrying the weight of something that wasn’t yours to carry.

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his tone was still soft, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. His hazel eyes, glassy with his unshed tears, locked onto yours. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

You shook your head again, unable to stop the wave of tears that came. “But what if it’s me, Logan? What if I can’t—”

“Enough,” he cut in, his voice barely above a whisper, but the rawness of it stopped you in your tracks. “It’s not your fault. You hear me? This… this is just somethin’ that happened. And it hurts like hell, but it doesn’t mean you failed.”

His words cracked something inside of you, and you turned away, burying your face into the pillow as another sob wracked your body. Logan didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his hand rubbing slow, steady circles on your back, his presence grounding you even as your world felt like it was crumbling.

After a moment, Logan’s voice broke the heavy silence, softer now, as if he was speaking to himself as much as to you. “Darlin’, we’re not givin’ up. We’ve faced worse. We’ll get through this, too. But you gotta stop thinkin’ this is somethin’ you did.”

Your muffled voice came from the pillow, shaky and raw. “But I wanted it so badly, Logan. I already—I already pictured everything. The nursery, the little shoes… us holding—now it’s been ripped away from us.”

Logan’s chest ached at your words, and he let out a shaky breath, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted it too. I already saw you as a mom, sweetheart. I still do. I always will.”

You turned your head slightly, your tear-streaked face meeting his gaze. His honesty—his vulnerability—broke through the wall of guilt you’d been building. “You still…?”

“Always,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing away another tear. “I’m not gonna let this define us. We’re more than this pain. And I know it feels impossible right now, but we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

A shaky sob escaped you as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you close, holding you tightly against him, his hand tangling in your hair as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “We’re in this together, no matter what. You and me.”

You allowed yourself to lean fully into him, your tears soaking into his shirt as he held you. His arms were strong and steady, and the way he cradled you made you feel, just for a moment, like maybe things could be okay again.

“I love you,” you whispered into his chest, the words muffled but heavy with meaning.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion as he rested his chin on top of your head. “More than anything. Don’t forget that.”

𓂃

Life was supposed to keep moving, but for you and Logan, it felt like time had stopped. The days blurred into weeks, and while the mansion hummed with the usual chaos of students and X-Men missions, you both drifted through it like ghosts.

The weight of the miscarriage hung heavy between you, unspoken but ever-present. You couldn’t bear to talk about it, not yet. Not to anyone except Logan, and even then, words often failed. Nights were the only solace, the quiet hours where he held you tightly in his arms as you sobbed until exhaustion finally overtook you. In those moments, he didn’t say much—what was there to say even as his own grief simmered just beneath the surface.

Logan hated feeling helpless, but this was something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t fix. He saw the pain in your eyes every time you avoided his gaze, the way you masked your tears with a smile that never quite reached your face. And it scared him. His mind spiraled into dark places late at night when he couldn’t sleep. What if this broke you? What if it broke your marriage? What if you left him because he couldn’t give you what you wanted?

The others started to notice. It wasn’t just that you both were quieter than usual—it was the way Logan didn’t bite back as much during arguments or how your laughter, which used to light up any room, had grown rare.

“You two seem pretty... off lately,” Scott had commented to Logan one morning in the kitchen.

Logan barely glanced at him, too tired to muster a sarcastic reply. “We’re fine,” he muttered, his tone gruff but unconvincing.

Scott frowned, crossing his arms. “Fine? You’ve barely said three words to anyone all week, and she’s not much better. Is something going on?”

Logan clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the coffee mug he was holding. “Drop it, Summers,” he growled before walking out, heading upstairs to check on you.

But Scott didn’t drop it.

It was a Friday night, and the team had gathered in the living room for what was supposed to be a relaxing evening. Someone had put on a movie, but the dialogue barely registered as you sat curled up on the couch next to Logan. His arm was draped around your shoulders, protective as always, but you could feel the tension in his body. You weren’t much better, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket you had pulled over your lap.

“Alright,” Scott said, breaking the lull in conversation. “I can’t be the only one who’s noticed something’s off with these two.”

You froze, your fingers tightening on the blanket as all eyes turned toward you and Logan.

“Scott,” Jean warned, her tone cautious.

“What?” Scott pressed, looking around the room for support. “They’ve been acting strange for weeks now. Don’t tell me none of you have noticed.”

You forced a smile, trying to deflect. “We’re fine, Scott. Just busy, that’s all.”

Scott wasn’t convinced. “Busy? Come on. You guys are like the most annoying, lovey-dovey couple in this place. Now you’re quiet and avoiding everyone? Something’s up.”

“Scott, maybe—” Ororo started, but Scott cut her off.

“No, I’m serious. If something’s wrong, we can help, but we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. He leaned forward, his jaw clenched, his voice dangerously low. “I said drop it, Summers.”

“Why? What’s the big deal? We’re just trying to—”

Before he could finish, Logan shot to his feet, his voice breaking as he shouted, “Because we lost our baby, alright?”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Logan’s chest heaved, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stood there, raw and vulnerable in a way none of them had ever seen.

You stared up at him, your heart breaking all over again as you saw the tears streaming down his face, the anguish he’d been holding back finally spilling over. Logan, the man who never cried, was now sobbing in front of everyone, his shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—to pull himself together.

“Logan…” you whispered, rising to your feet and reaching for him.

He shook his head, his voice cracking. “I—I couldn’t protect the baby. I couldn’t do anything. It’s my fault, sweetheart. I let you down.”

“Stop,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around him despite the way he tried to pull back. “Logan, stop. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He collapsed into your embrace, his head resting against your shoulder as he clung to you, his sobs muffled against your skin. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice broken.

Tears streamed down your face as you held him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you whispered, “You didn’t let me down. You could never let me down.”

The others sat in stunned silence, their initial shock giving way to quiet understanding. Jean wiped at her tears, her hand resting on Scott’s arm to keep him from saying anything more.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmured into Logan’s ear, your voice trembling under the weight of your uncertainty. The words felt hollow, like trying to patch a dam with a handful of sand, but you needed him to hear them, to believe them.

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hazel eyes brimming with unspoken pain. His rough edges, the walls he so carefully built, seemed to crumble in that moment. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and raw, each word a struggle.

“You don’t have to know,” you whispered, your fingertips brushing a tear from his cheek, the small gesture grounding both of you.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was searching for something—hope, strength, maybe even forgiveness. Then, with a shaky exhale, he let himself lean into you, his weight resting against your shoulder as though surrendering to the vulnerability he so often avoided.

You guided him back to the couch, easing him down with gentle hands. Logan found your hand gripping it firmly, almost desperate, as if letting go would make the pain worse. You stayed by his side while the rest of the team sat in stunned silence. Their usual chatter and banter were gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding that this was something fragile that required care.

Jean broke the stillness, her voice soft but resolute. “Why don’t we give them some space?”

One by one, the others stood, their footsteps hesitant as they left the room. Scott lingered near the doorway, his expression conflicted. He seemed rooted to the spot, torn between leaving and staying.

“I’m sorry,” Scott finally said, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. He took a step closer, his gaze darting between you and Logan. “I didn’t mean to push earlier. I didn’t know…”

Logan lifted his head slightly, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable, but there was no anger in his gaze—just a quiet exhaustion.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I was out of line,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize… I just thought something was off, and I pushed when I shouldn’t have.”

Jean stepped into the room, placing a steadying hand on Scott’s arm. She looked at both of you, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Scott didn’t mean to make things worse,” she said gently. “We’ve… we’ve been where you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Jean hesitated, her fingers tightening on Scott’s arm as if drawing strength from him. “Before we had Nathan, we… we lost a baby.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her confession filled the room.

You felt your chest tighten before glancing at Logan, who looked just as surprised as you. Scott’s usual stoic demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw vulnerability that you had never seen before.

Scott cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the floor. “We didn’t tell anyone. Not even the Professor. It was early… and we thought we could handle it on our own.” He let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides. “But it was hard. Harder than we ever expected.”

Jean nodded, her eyes glistening as she looked at you. “We blamed ourselves. Blamed each other. But eventually, we realized… it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just… it happens.”

You blinked, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill over again. “I didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Scott let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No one did. I thought if I buried it deep enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But seeing you two...” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I’m sorry for pushing earlier. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Jean stepped closer, her hand reaching out to yours. “It’s going to take time,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. If you ever need to talk… we’re here.”

Her words, simple but heartfelt, broke through the wall of grief that had been suffocating you. You nodded, a small, grateful smile breaking through your tears. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Scott extended a hand to Logan, who hesitated for a moment before shaking it. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the beginning of an unspoken understanding, a bridge between two men who had rarely seen eye to eye.

As they left the room, you turned to Logan, your hand squeezing his. “That… helped. A little.”

Logan nodded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Guess even Scott has his moments.”

You managed a weak laugh, leaning into him as he pulled you close. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt slightly lighter even if you knew this was only the beginning of trying to find a new normal. 

𓂃

Months had passed since the miscarriage, and while life had begun to find its rhythm again, the pain lingered like an uninvited guest. The grief wasn’t as sharp as it had been in the beginning, but it still loomed over you and Logan, casting a shadow on your once-effortless connection. You both knew it wasn’t your fault, but knowing and feeling weren’t always the same.

Logan, always the protector, had become even more so in the aftermath. His hand rarely left yours, as if letting go for even a moment might cause something else to slip away. He hovered constantly—not in a stifling way, but in a way that spoke volumes about his fear and guilt. While you appreciated his care, you could see that he was holding something back, burying his pain in the only way he knew how.

It wasn’t until one late night, when you reached out for him in bed and found his side cold and empty, that you realized just how much he was struggling. Pulling on a robe, you wandered the quiet halls of the mansion, searching for him. It didn’t take long; you heard the familiar snikt of his claws in the training room.

Peeking inside, your heart broke at the sight of him. Logan stood shirtless in the dim light, sweat dripping from his forehead as he lunged at the sparring dummy. His movements were wild, full of rage and frustration. His claws tore through the dummy with brutal efficiency, slashing and stabbing until it was shredded to pieces. When the dummy finally collapsed in a heap, Logan dropped to his knees, his claws retracting with a metallic hiss. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

You stayed in the doorway for a moment, debating whether to give him space or step in. But as you saw his shoulders slump, the weight of his grief almost palpable, you couldn’t hold back.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

His head whipped around, his eyes wild for a second before softening when he saw you. He wiped a hand across his face as if trying to compose himself. “What’re you doin’ up, sweetheart?” he asked gruffly, his voice low and strained.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, walking closer until you stood in front of him. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Just needed to… work some things out.”

You knelt in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can’t keep doing this, Logan. Pushing it all down, burying it in anger. It’s not going to help.”

His eyes flickered back to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t… I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. I don’t know how to make it right.”

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t have to make it right,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “We can’t fix this. We just have to accept it and move on.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head, his hands coming up to cover yours. “I just wanted to protect you. To give you… everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I couldn’t even do that.”

“You did,” you insisted, your thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “Logan, you were there for me every step of the way. You held me when I thought I wasn’t worthy of it. You loved me through it. That’s everything. But you have to let yourself grieve too. You can’t keep punishing yourself like this.”

He looked up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours as if trying to find some kind of answer. Finally, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You felt his chest heave as a sob escaped him, and it broke your heart all over again. You stroked his hair, whispering soothing words as he finally let himself feel the weight of his grief.

After a while, when his breathing steadied, you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Logan,” you began gently, “we need to get out of here. Just for a little while. Go somewhere quiet, just the two of us. We need time to heal.”

He hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You think runnin’ away’s gonna fix it?”

“It’s not running away,” you said firmly. “It’s giving ourselves a chance to breathe. To remember who we are together. We’ve been so caught up in the pain… we need to find our way back to each other.”

He considered your words for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Where do you wanna go?”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Somewhere peaceful. Maybe the cabin up north? Just us. No distractions, no one else.”

Logan exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “I think that’s exactly what we need.”

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips feeling a flicker of hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you could find a way forward.

𓂃

The secluded cabin was tucked away in a quiet corner of nowhere, surrounded by towering trees that swayed softly in the breeze. The air smelled of pine and earth, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. It was peaceful, untouched, and exactly what you and Logan needed to find each other again.

The calm of the place had worked its magic over the past week. The tension that had weighed heavy on your shoulders began to ease, and you could see the same was true for Logan. His usual gruffness was quieter here, softened by the stillness of the forest and the warmth of the cabin.

As you laced up your hiking boots near the fireplace, you glanced out the window at the sun filtering through the trees. “I’m gonna walk the trail,” you announced casually, straightening up and brushing your hands against your jeans.

Logan’s voice rumbled behind you as he walked into the small living room. “Do you want to go alone?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as a small, warm smile played on his lips.

You turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow as you stepped closer. “Depends… are you gonna be good company, tough guy?”

That earned you the smallest huff of laughter, his smirk tugging wider. “There she is,” he murmured, his tone warm and teasing as he reached out to pull you into his arms. His lips brushed against the bridge of your nose, lingering for just a moment before he tilted his forehead against yours. “I missed those little remarks,” he admitted quietly.

You chuckled, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “And here I thought they annoyed you,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes.

Logan rolled his eyes, though the grin that spread across his face betrayed him. “Darlin’, I’d be lost without ‘em,” he said, his voice softer now. His hazel eyes searched yours for a moment, and his hand came up to gently cup your cheek. “I love you,” he added, the words quiet but weighty, as if they held the sum of everything he couldn’t quite say.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, and you leaned into his touch, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words spilling out like a promise. Then you grinned, breaking the moment with a playful nudge to his side. “Now hurry up, or I’m leaving you behind.”

Logan smirked, dropping his hand to give your hip a playful squeeze. “Don’t get cocky. Let me grab my boots.” He turned toward the door, muttering something about you always keeping him on his toes, but there was no bite to his words—just affection.

A few minutes later, the two of you were walking side by side down the dirt trail, surrounded by the serene beauty of the forest. The sunlight trickled through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the faint trickle of a nearby stream.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply exist in the quiet of nature and each other’s presence. Logan reached out to take your hand, his fingers wrapping securely around yours. You glanced up at him, catching the way the golden light softened his rugged features. He looked more at ease than he had in months, and it made your heart ache.

“You know,” you began, a teasing lilt in your voice, “I didn’t peg you for the hand-holding type.”

Logan glanced down at you, one brow arching. “Don’t start,” he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“What? I think it’s cute.” You swung his hand slightly, earning a quiet groan.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he muttered, but the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You laughed, leaning into his side as you walked. “Admit it—you like it.”

He let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Can’t say I mind when it’s with you.”

Your chest swelled at the admission, and you stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. “Thank you,” you said, your voice earnest.

Logan frowned slightly, confused. “For what?”

“For bringing me here,” you explained, gesturing to the forest around you. “For… letting me have this time with you. I needed it.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I needed it too,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t know how much until now.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You know, this whole reconnecting thing looks good on you, Logan.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you teased, slipping your arms around his waist. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up, old man.”

Logan let out a bark of laughter, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice full of playful challenge.

“Promises, promises,” you shot back with a grin, taking off down the trail as Logan chased after you, the sound of your laughter carrying through the trees.

Eventually, Logan caught up to you, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waist as he pulled you to a stop. Your laughter echoed through the trees, a sound that seemed to brighten the peaceful forest around you. “I was so sure I was gonna win,” you teased, still catching your breath as you squirmed halfheartedly in his grip.

Logan let out a low chuckle, the rumble of it vibrating through you. “Guess I’m not as old as you think I am,” he shot back, his smirk smug as he held you against his chest.

“Oh, you’re definitely old,” you teased, leaning back into him. “I mean, just look at your white—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, gorgeous,” Logan warned, cutting you off with a playful growl, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him.

You turned in his arms, grinning as your fingers reached up to play with the strands of his hair. “You know I love you,” you said softly, letting the teasing drop for a moment. “Pretty sure if I met you… say ten years from now, I’d still fall for you. Still, marry you.”

Logan’s expression softened, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I don’t doubt that,” he murmured. “But for the record, darlin’, I’m glad it didn’t take ten years.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck. “Me too,” you whispered. The peaceful silence of the forest wrapped around you both, and for a moment, everything felt still, like the world had paused just for the two of you.

Logan’s hands settled on your hips. “You’ve been thinkin’ about the future a lot lately, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice quiet but full of understanding.

You hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I mean, with everything that’s happened… I guess I just wonder what’s next for us. Like, are we supposed to keep trying? Or are we supposed to let it go?”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested on your waist. After a moment, he sighed and looked back up at you, his eyes steady and sure. “I think… maybe we don’t need to push so hard. If it happens, it happens,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “But what we’ve got right now? It’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

His words hit you like a warm wave, washing away the doubt and guilt that had lingered for weeks. “Logan…” you began, but your voice caught, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. You swallowed hard and managed a smile. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I don’t need anything else, sweetheart. Just you. The rest? That’s just… bonus.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh, leaning your forehead against his. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

He smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Well, for what it’s worth, I feel the same way. I don’t want us to lose ourselves trying to force something that’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

Logan’s arms tightened around you. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t want to miss a single second of us, just the way we are.”

[lightan117]

Mourn Watch Headcannons 2

I had to make more now that I've finished the game....

As a reminder - this is based on the character that I've used, but I've mostly tried to keep Rook's gender natural.

Mourn Watch in general:

Students 100% ship Myrna and Vorgoth together. They also have little betting pools on which professors sleep with whom. Many students also end up as couples that eventually lead to the next generation.

Speaking of students - the students are the entire gossip pool of the Necropolis. The teachers get their information from the students.

Nevarran beetles are 100% pets (think Scarabs). Mourn Watchers will try to have different colors and species. Golden beetles are rare, but green ones are common.

More on the Grand Necropolis is Hogwarts - first-year students ALWAYS get lost, and search parties always stand by the first few months to find the ones who are. Spirits who are restless might "lure" people away and just peace out when they are well and truly lost (Vorgoth is never happy when this time rolls around)

If students get in trouble, their punishments are to deal with the gentry and clean their tombs. Ever want to hear a spirit complain about how students are not cleaning their tomb correctly? No, didn't think so.

Everyone knows that Markus Pentaghast is dead or undead. It may not be confirmed, but low-key, everyone knows that man is not really "alive." Emmrich confirms it with Lucanis, but we all know Mourn Watchers just know in general just by reading the news. The king was poisoned again? Of course, it didn't work—the man is already dead, guys. Take a hint.

They love to throw any type of fancy party to one-up each other. If someone is having a fight, they don't brawl - they throw the biggest party to show off.

Mourn Watch Rook:

Mourn Watch Rook, when traveling to Treviso, will always look to see if there is anything that they can bring back for Myrna and Vorgoth (Big sister and brother energy). Def will try and get Vorgoth and Viago together to talk about paintings.

There is a scene where Harding mentions Rooks' speech not being as proper unless they are talking to a fellow mourn watcher—THIS IS ON PURPOSE, NO ONE CAN KNOW THAT THEY ARE VERY PROPER IN SPEECH! They worked really hard that first year with Varric to be "normal." They can switch back and forth really easily.

Minrathous is the place they dislike the most due to their view on spirits and power. Feels bad for those in Dock Town - hate everyone up top. Politics are almost the same but not as bad I feel.

Would pester Emmrich (in the best way) about what they missed in Nevarra and any lessons he could teach them. Lessons from one of the top professors in the Mourn Watch? Why the fuck not?! They can also nerd out together about all things undead.

Assan and Manfred are the favorites of the whole group

Rook has beetles in their room - fight me - everyone knows and thinks its weird when they show up at the lighthouse with a glass case full of beetles. Spite thinks they're cool.

(End of Game) Mourn Watch Rook and dating:

If Mourn Watch Rook is dating Lucanis, they would have a hard time once everything is...normal I guess? I'm sure the Mourn Watch would give the nobility the middle finger if they protest Rook coming back to Nevarra (they would be welcomed back with open arms - Rook just made them fucking famous). Their role, they take seriously, but they would find some common ground to meet in the middle. I could see that the Mourn Watch would allow Rook to work out of Treviso but have to make trips home for rites/reports/gossip. Rook is the only exception tho, everyone is shit out of luck until Rook decides to put forward change. Lucanis and Rook do end up getting married and having a bunch of kids (adoption or by natural).

If Mourn Watch Rook is dating Emmrich, they would move back to Nevarra to live together. Rook would be allowed back into the Mourn Watch cuz why the fuck not...

(Spoilers!)If Emmrich became a Litch - I would feel things would be difficult due that the man is undead and would outlive them (there is no going around that topic; it will be rough). There will be arguments and such, but after about, I would say, a year, things will die down into a routine. The topic of marriage might come up and there might be one. (Lots of convos about what happens when Rook does die). Emmrich might try to stay teaching students and opening up conversations with Litchs still having relationships with the living as per his relationship with Rook being an example. An uphill battle if you choose this route.

(Spoilers!) If Emmrich did NOT become a Litch - this route might be a tid difficult but not as much as if Emmrich is a litch. Since he's human with Manfred (Manny as I call him) you two are in your perfect little bubble that no one can pop. Emmirch would go back to teaching and Rook could do whatever they want. They could teach if they wanted, become an instructor, or even help Myrna. Emmrich does have fears of his death still but Rook would be there to help him along with Manny. When the time comes, Rook would not be left alone.

[chroniclesofajewishteen]

How my Jewish identity came to be:

I always thought my eye shape was a little weird.

I have a very large crease on the upper lid. I thought oh, that's kinda like east asian eyes. But my eyes look different.

I saw that there was a lot of under-eye puffyness. I thought oh, people use cucumbers to get rid of that. I must be tired. But it was mid-day. The puffyness never went away.

My friends have pretty wide eyes. I thought oh, that's strange. But my mom always told me that society likes big wide-eyed white women. But does that mean society doesn't like me? Does that mean I'm not white?

I had always been told I was white. Well, my mom always told me. My dad shrugged and said "It's complicated. But people will see you as white." I didn't understand why. I knew at some level that being Jewish was an ethnicity, that Jews are from Israel, and that Israel is in the Middle East, but when people saw me they thought I was white. Because I have pale skin and blue eyes.

I have blue eyes because my Dad has blue eyes. His Irish Dad has blue eyes. But my dad's Mom is Jewish. She speaks some Yiddish, and never puts up Christmas decorations, but I had no reason to think that was strange. I knew she gave us presents, even though she doesn't celebrate Christmas like my goy friends do.

We celebrate Christmas because both of my Jewish grandmothers get FOMO during the season. They didn't want to miss out. So when they were kids they would get a little present and say they celebrated it. When they married goyim they had a tree. Now my direct family has a tree.

My mom was told she was ethnically Jewish, but that all religion is dumb and the Quakers were probably onto something with all the acceptance and peace...etc. My dad was told "You are Jewish. Society will either see you as a rich white man or a sneaky brown man. You do not get to choose. The minute you say your grandfather was a man named Murray Goldstein, they will know. You do not get to choose, because society has chosen your race already and the left and the right will never agree on who is right." He never told me exactly this, but it was implied.

On certain tests and forms, they ask you for your race. It always said the same thing: Asian, Black, Native American, White, Mixed, and sometimes they said Pacific Islander. What did I put? My parents put white, but I always knew on some level that wasn't the full truth. I would write "Ashkenazi Jewish" at the bottom and let them decide.

Then October 7th happened. People on the streets said, "Go back to Poland". I was never Polish. My family lived in Ukraine. Did they want me to go back to Ukraine? There is a war there! I would not be safe. I don't have any relatives in Ukraine. My family left at the start of the 20th century. Who would I go to? Where would I go?

When October 7th happened, I thought the world would stand for Israel. I knew it was the Jewish homeland, and I had already been researching Birthright trips a few months before. On my favorite TV show, Black-ish the main character, Dre Johnson said "Jewish kids get to go to Israel, why can't my kid say the N-word?" in that horribly out-of-context quote, I knew it was my homeland. Why did these people say it wasn't?

My younger sister had a babysitter who was Palestinian. Let's call her Fatima. I didn't know that was an ethnicity until I met her. Her mom was a politician there. All Fatima was doing was saying "Get my mom out of Gaza. It's not safe for her." She knew I was Jewish, and she was always nice and supportive. I still follow her on Duolingo.

Fatima had a friend who was also one of my sister's babysitters. I'm going to call her Charlotte. Charlotte was a white British woman. She heavily supported the Pro-Palestine cause. She marched in protests and boycotted businesses. She was a goy, and we both knew that. Fatima never protested and was always happy to buy from Starbucks and other Zionist businesses. Charlotte would always listen to me explain B'nai Mitzvahs, but it was clear I was the only Jewish person she knew.

I don't say these things to say that Palestinians can't support the cause, I'm saying this because Fatima didn't, and her white friend did. The fact that Fatima was brown and trying to finish her PhD definitely played into it.

I read Chaim Potok's The Chosen. Its end plot was about the creation of the modern state of Israel. In the end, the characters agreed that after the Holocaust, we deserve to call the land of our ancestors our own. My family agreed with that.

At the time I was really into Pinterest. More specifically, Tumblr screenshots on Pinterest (definitely influenced my decision to come here). After a while, I got more pins on my dash saying "All Zionists are evil. Come to the good side!" That definitely sounded like a cult, so I looked more into it. I saw a lot of people saying "Zionism is killing Palestinians", but I also saw people saying "The official Jewish definition of Zionism is the belief that Israel should exist. 80% of Jews want Israel to exist." The comments were either "Thank you! This is what I have been saying for months!" or "fuck you zionist rat you are killing Palestinians." I looked into it on more trustworthy websites. They usually agreed that it just meant wanting Israel to exist. They also said that Khanisim is the belief that Palestinians must die for Israel to exist. I didn't like that idea. In my Pinterest bio, I put yellow ribbons to support the hostages. I started getting hate messages.

I am here now, and from my bio and previous posts, you can assume my stance on the situation. This post started with me complaining about my eyes and to give you an epilogue, it was today I realized they were Jewish eyes. I love them and would never change them for the world.

If you have any questions regarding this post or me in general you can privately message me. I am a minor though, so don't be creepy. Have a good day!

Also: my other blog is @jewishbiancadiangelo. It's mostly Percy Jackson stuff.

[mothraantics]

Crimson Born

Note: Ive had this idea for basically a few days and bunched the first chapter together, im honestly very proud of it and I hope that this will become better and better in the future :D

Summary:

Regulus was born a pureblood black prince. Second born heir and all he wasn't even close to being the talk of the town, His brother sirius, was first in line, with a whole crowd of young ladies ogling over him, but of course his dear brother had to swing the other way, escape the binds of their parents and be with a man. If the crowd didn't protest in his name Regulus would be the heir to the throne by now. He hated the world for that.

His cousins? Bellatrix, married a duke from another land and is having some unknown affair with whom they call these days the dark lord. Her sister, Narcissia is betrothed to Lucius malfoy and their other sister is missing. No doubt he was the last one to be thought of.

That was all until he decided that the crowd had to focus on him, become entranced with him, so he followed his brother and did one better, have an affair with the blood prince known as James potter.

Of course…with this he has to keep the blood curse hidden from his brand new boy toy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57660256/chapters/146730271 - Find the book also on Ao3

Chapter One - Prince Regulus of Lissara

If life were not extravagant parties, and balls, banquets and fancy little get togethers, Regulus would have no clue how he would escape away from his family. Maybe some boarding school, but in another life he doubted if the magic of their world would even exist? A world where humans can wave silly little sticks and cast spells? It sounded preposterous, where would they find the phoenixes if it weren't for the hole of Vulca, or the unicorns tucked away in the forbidden forest, far off into the north.

He wouldn't have a clue where to start if their world was not this one, then again if it where he would be stuck living a pretty little life just like he was. Possibly. Banquets were his getaway, running off sitting in the gardens were his favourite pastime, he had done his entree a few hours prior and made some small talk with some noble families, but that's all he will try doing. It wasn't worth it, he wasn't the lead heir, his brother was and even so, he wasn't even  near the public eye, his cousin bellatrix married a man from the Lestrange Duchancy and she got her fame through dark power, his other cousin, Narcissia, is going down the same route as malfoy with their wedding on the horizon next spring.

Andromeda? She was still missing, and ran off with a peasant, a muggle. They weren't taught magic these days, peasants, they were too weak to harness magic, and so were the squibs of the noble families, although they can still have a taste of the ravish lifestyle and go off to marry an Earl. Muggles as they called them were just yellow trash to the aristocrats. There would be the lucky one that can harness magic and get adopted into society, but what did they know? They can't even see magic if you waive a wand in front of their eyes and cast serpensortia In Front of them. 

“Regulus?” the cold shrill yell of his mother's voice rang throughout the garden, there goes his peace. “Regulus! There you are!” She says as he picks himself up, her demeanour was cold, “yes mother?” He replies, dusting himself off, “Have you been out here? Mingling with the birds? Get inside we have yet to serve the cake”

Cake? What cake would they mention, Regulus didn't know any important event was happening. It wasn't a holiday or anniversary, nor was it someone's betrothal, and unlike his brother he's less keen on starting his own just yet, unless they started the arrangement process without him. Why would they need him to be there to serve the cake??

He was dragged away by Walburga, soon enough and as they neared the green hall she released him and he followed blindly. By this time he was thinking what had he missed? What family milestone had he missed?

“I'm so happy” Walburga said with venom, “finally it is fine for you to come of age my son” she gives him a half fake smile. “excuse me?” Regulus' stops in his tracks, “Mother I don't come of age until..June!” He points out, what was going on? She stops and looks back at him. “Regulus darling it is june, you are of age” the boy stopped, “oh”

Salazar's saggy balls, how could he forget?! If he was aware it was his 17th he would have stayed longer, made some small talk, against his will sure, but this was already a bad step towards society, the debate was soon, all those who turned 17 by the middle of the year and those who turn 18 of the last half of last year would debutante. His brother being one of them. 

Mabey the golden prince of the Black Empire will overshadow him enough that people won't care. Again. 

—

“-And a toast!-” 

The banquet was full that night, every sitting in their chairs they were brought out, the dark lord was speaking. He was a new upcoming figure in Lissara, many knew him as Lord Tom M. Riddle, the lord of the Parliament that buddied up with the nobles. In high noble society, the snake like-serpentine speaking man was known as Lord Voldermort.

“-To the two Black princes who are debuting with many of your children next week, and a very happy coming of age to the second born prince” 

The crowd clapped, it was filled with dark nobles, evil, corrupted. They kill peasants with a flick of their wrists using one of the curses,  some of the other nations called them death eaters. Herre it was a compliment, in other nations? It's immediately a death trial for you and your family. The world was fucked like that. Very fucked but who was to blame them? The biggest empire made of Purely magical individuals threatened to eradicate the lower class? The class that does all the work? Regulus' would be concerned as well. 

The ball went on throughout the night, with the nobles spinning around nobles. Firewhisky going down like it's water, and a whole new boring world for Regulus. “Something wrong brother?” Sirius asks slipping up near Regulus, “No, I'm okay”

“Is it too rowdy? You can request to go back up?” 

“And leave all of the guests to listen to you? You wish” he laughs as Sirius shrugs, “your loss”

—--

Shrill shrieks ran through the echoing halls. Regulus' cringed as another one rattled his windows. The ink from his quill splattered on his parchment reducing his now ruined homework to just ink, “fucking damnit” he cusses grabbing the paper and trying to dry it with no avail. 

“Useless being! Crucio!” 

Regulus' cringed as he heard those words being screeched from the other room. He sighed giving up, his potions essay can wait another day, the tutors weren't supposed to return till next week anyways. 

He heard the door next to him being slammed shut before his own door swung open, he jumped, Walburga stood at the door. Blood splattered on the hem of her white nightdress, “Rest dear, we have the debutante dinner tomorrow” she says before closing the door. Regulus sighs, he knows that this dinner wont be the usual dinner, just another political agreement, another death eater meeting being covered up, and another way for him to be overshadowed by his older brother.

Because every event he had to be overshadowed. If regulus was overshadowed he would be the second prince, but when theres the second prince there's a first, and that's his older brother Sirius.O Black the heir and now, from discoveries by a certain Bartemius Crouch Junior, that the same heir is with a man from the Crimson Court, a well known as Remus Lupin. 

Regulus sighed and blew out the candle as he sat on the floor, the room darkened as the red light of the moon shone through the window, in other rooms the screams of some family members could be heard, he himself was situated away from the red beams of moonlight, he stared at them, nextdoor he heard sirius shatter a glass nearby, he was probably left near the rays of the blood moon. 

They werent as common as full moons, but unlike the werewolves that roamed the forests and some in higher society, blood moons came in every shape or form, unless new, and they came every two months. Regulus took a sharp breath as he felt his body bubbling as the red streams of moonlight hit his bare feet, and then the night of agony begun.

[jedipoodoo]

Soldier in my Dreams (Sergeant Hunter & Daughter!OC)

Notes: nothing I write is ever beta read we die like tech (but not really). Father's day, dad batch. Hunter is married to my OC, Saachi, they adopted Omega and Jasper together, and had five children after that (one son, and a set of quadruplets). Nightmares, comfort, Hunter likes being a father more than he ever did a soldier.

Hunter woke as blasterfire echoed in the corners of his mind. The frizzing of droid poppers rang faintly in his ears as he looked around the room. Smaller than the bunks on Kamino, but bigger than the crew's quarters on the Marauder. The night was a dark blue, casting the room in a hyperspace-like glow, peaceful and serene

He wasn't a soldier anymore. He was home.

The bed stirred beside him. Saachi grunted in her sleep and turned on her side, arms tucked beneath her pillow. The strap of her nightdress had slipped over her shoulder in her sleep, so Hunter tucked it back into place and leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek. Sleep settled back over her as her breathing evened out.

Hunter heard the pitter patter of tiny feet just outside the door to the room, so he stood to answer it before the creak could wake up his wife.

Standing there, with her beloved Lala the tooka in one arm and the other rubbing sleep from her eyes, stood Poppy. The youngest of his girls, and the second youngest overall. Hairs stuck out of her little braids at off angles, giving her a fuzzy halo as she frowned up at her dad.

"Where's Momma?" she demanded, unsatisfied by his appearance.

"She's fine, she's just sleeping." Hunter knelt in front of Poppy, trying to keep her from moving into the room, "What's up, sarad'ika?"

Poppy's bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Wan' Momma," She insisted.

But Hunter hadn't learned nothing from his time as a Sergeant. He knew plenty of redirection tactics.

"C'mere," he scooped Poppy up into his arms, Lala and all, "Let's take a look at your brothers and sisters now, huh?"

"Quinn's snoring!" Poppy complained loudly. Hunter reminded her to be quiet.

"Is that what woke you up, then?" He chuckled, closing the door to his room.

Poppy shook her head vehemently, "I had a nightmare."

"Oh," Hunter said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Poppy shook her head again. She wrapped her arms around Lala's head tightly, and rested her head against Hunter's chest.

Sure enough, when they peeked into the girl's room, Quinn was snoring softly. Her own Tooka, Tutu, had fallen off the bed as she lay splayed over her sheets, so Hunter picked Tutu up and placed him in Quinn's arms again.

In the boy's room, Andi was sound asleep with his tooka, Pinkey, but Reed was missing from his bed. Hunter knew he couldn't have gone far, though. As he checked the older boy's bedroom, they found that Reed had crawled into Gray's bed again. Jasper was only pretending to be asleep, Hunter could see the faint glow of his datapad beneath his flimsy pillow.

"It's goodnight, Jaspa!" Poppy protested, pointing an accusing finger at her biggest brother.

"Shh," Hunter told her, hoping Reed and Gray would stay asleep. He tiptoed over to Jasper's bed. Jasper remained on his side, his back to Hunter, and too still to actually be asleep. Hunter slipped the datapad out from under Jasper's pillow and switched it off, tucking it in his back pocket.

"Good night, Jasper," He whispered, gently kissing his forehead. Jasper mumbled something unintelligible in return, muffled by a yawn.

The last bedroom, while the smallest of the rooms in the house, belonged to the oldest.

"You sleeping, 'Meega?" Poppy sounded almost disappointed.

Omega indeed was asleep, though like Jasper, her own datapad was not far out of reach. It had fallen on her face mid-message, and had typed out a random smattering of numbers and letters. Thankfully, it hadn't sent, but before Hunter could turn it off and set it back in the charging dock, he couldn't help but read a few of the messages. She was messaging Echo again. And Emerie, too. Hunter didn't know how much he trusted Emerie, but he trusted Echo, and Echo vouched for her.

Hunter's heart beat painfully in his chest. They were telling her about the Rebellion, the successes and the losses. He kept himself from reading anymore. Omega was growing up. She wasn't that innocent little child he met on Kamino anymore, she was allowed to grow up and make her own decisions, even if they might put her in danger.

Poppy leaned forward and almost fell out of Hunter's arms, reaching for Omega.

"Woah, Woah, Woah!" he hissed.

"But I wanna say goodnight!" Poppy pouted. Omega grunted, and rubbed her eyes.

"Hunter? Poppy, wha-?"

Hunter sighed, "Sorry, kid, Poppy had a bad dream, so she wanted to say goodnight. You can go back to sleep now."

Omega chuckled softly, and held out her arms, "It's alright."

Poppy launched herself into Omega's arms, knocking the wind from her lungs.

"Poppy," Hunter sighed again, running a hand over his face.

Poppy hugged Omega all the more tighter, "I love you, 'Meega."

Omega wrapped her arms around Poppy, "I love you too, ad'ika."

"Alright, you little womp rats," Hunter gently yanked Poppy out of reach from Omega so that he could give her a kiss good night, "Back to bed with both of you."

He managed to slip out of Omega's room and back into the hall before Poppy started to protest.

"Don't wanna," She insisted, "Wanna stay with 'Meega!"

"No, it's time for you to go back to your own bed, now."

"But Reed sleeps with Gray!" I wanna sleep with 'Meega!" Poppy said.

Hunter had to place a few fingers over her mouth, hushing her gently. When she was quiet again, he slowly removed his fingers. "You gotta go to bed, sarad'ika. Omega, and Momma, and everyone else is asleep now."

"Even ba'vod'u Tech?" She asked hopefully.

"Even ba'vod'u Tech," Hunter nodded, "He's tired. Papa's tired too. Aren't you tired?"

Poppy's fingers twisted tighter into the material of Hunter's shirt. He was afraid she might rip a hole in it.

"Scared." She whimpered at last, hiding ashamedly behind her tooka.

"Oh," you're scared," Hunter whispered in understanding, "From your nightmare?"

Poppy nodded.

Hunter's heart broke as he tilted his daughter's chin upwards so he could see her face. Her delicate eyes were wide with unshed tears, and her little bottom lip trembled. He would do anything if it meant any of his little ones would never feel the way that Poppy looked right now.

He sighed, and cradled her against his shoulder, "Come with me, you can sleep with me and Momma tonight."

She perked up at that. "Momma?"

"Shh," Hunter urged, "You have to be quiet. Remember, Momma's asleep now."

"I be quiet," Poppy said, and yawned promisingly.

Hunter brought her back into his room, where Saachi lay just as he had left her. He opened the window, letting in the soothing salt air and the calming sound of the distant waves wrap around them like a warm blanket. Poppy could barely lift her head from Hunter's shoulder.

"Papa?" She hummed as Hunter sat on his side of the bed.

"Yes, Poppy?" he asked. He paused, keeping Poppy against his shoulder so that he could listen to her tired, sleepy voice.

Poppy yawned again, and it nearly made Hunter yawn too.

"You keep me safe?" She asked.

Hunter smiled to himself and kissed her forehead. Not too many years ago, keeping his children safe would have required bloodshed and danger, along with almost certain death. But now, with the Clone Wars long behind them, and the Empire far from Pabu, safety meant things like watching so that they didn't fall off a rock, making sure they ate healthy, providing warm clothes during the colder months, and promising that the uncertainty of the night couldn't reach them.

He much preferred this fight.

"I will always keep you safe, sarad'ika." he whispered. Poppy's eyes fluttered closed, but hunter caught the glimpse of a satisfied smile as he lay her on the bed, nestled in between himself and Saachi.

He lay next to her, listening as Poppy's heartbeat slowed to keep time with Saachi's. His heart was slowing too, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

Poppy's arms flailed back and forth, which meant she was finally starting to settle down to sleep, but they also hit Saachi, just enough to nudge her awake.

"Mmm, nightmare?" she asked, rubbing one eye with her fingertip.

Hunter nodded, brushing Poppy's bangs from her eyes. her little eyelids twitched, as sleep claimed them, and Hunter prayed that she'd have better dreams now.

"Oh, sweet girl," Saachi sighed and kissed the back of Poppy's head, "Good thing you have your Papa to help you, huh?"

She took the elastic from the end of the braid that wasn't pinned beneath Poppy's head, and rebraided it. It was more of a habit than a necessity. Saachi loved being able to help their daughters with their hair, and both Quinn and Poppy loved how pretty the braids were.

Hunter sat up, just as the door opened with an ominous creak.

"I hadda bad dream," Andi said, rubbing at his eye with his fist.

Hunter tried not to sigh, and Saachi placed her hand on his arm.

"I got this one," she mouthed, nodding to Poppy. She met Andi at the door, scooping him up into her arms, and as Hunter finally let his eyes drift shut, he could hear Saachi humming a lullaby to their son.

[somegirlontheinternet135]

Looking at old posts, I realized that I don't really post ocs anymore, maybe it's because of how many of them flopped, maybe it's how some were made in gacha club, I'll never know why. . . But that all changes today! I have created a whole batch of ocs just waiting to be posted, most of them I plan writing an actual original story for!! Unfortunately if I'd talk about them, we'd be here all day, so for now, we'll keep it simple!

Everyone. . . Meet Dandelion Cookie🌼✨

Everything you need to know about her is already in the images, but I'll happily explain some of the newer headcanons I thought up:

• She has a surprising amount of connections all across Earthbread due to being kinda a social butterfly & also helping cookies and their animal friends

• Her father had the dream of opening an animal sanctuary ever since Dandelion was a baby, and thanks to her, they're getting closer to achieving the goal!

• Remember the little cakehound that kicked off the entire story? Well it has a happy home within her father's clinic, and was promptly named Prince!(If you know you, you know) Alongside, there's always Sweetpea, a friendly cockatiel that loves to sing, a bunch of other inhabitants that live in the clinic

• Speaking of singing, Dandelion has an absolutely enchanting singing voice, and often sings to her little animal friends, as motivation or just to make them happy! And if she's really into it, she'll sing and accidentally start a flash mob(So yeah, her and TK would get along XD)

• She actually did go to Beast Yeast once(yeah, no joke-)

• Dandelion is a daddy's girl a hundred percent! Her mother is still very much in the picture, but the two aren't the closest, although Dandelion does like her enough to stay with her when she returns to the Creme Republic

• Dandelion's own dream is to make a better world for beasts, a world where animals & cookies can get along in peace. But right now she isn't too successful. . .

• If a cookie misses a planned vet date or multiple, Dandelion will go out of her way to scold them

• Dandelion Cookie has a mostly positive reputation in the Upper City of the Creme Republic, due to her cheerful & kind hearted nature, and for what she does. As for the Lower City, views are pretty mixed, some are quite fond of her while others find her annoying

• Dandelion's power of having all animals and beasts adore her isn't something she picked up overnight but rather a blessing that was passed throughout her family for generations. The only catch is that only one cookie from each generation can receive this ability at random. In this case, Dandelion's father passed down the ability to her!

• At the back of her hat, there's a blue gemstone broach, presented in a red ribbon. The broach is as old as her family and was given to anyone lucky enough to receive the blessing. Though, it is unknown how their family managed to get their hands on it, it's unknown to them as well. No one seemed to mind or notice it, but those who do always point out one thing. . . Its uncanny color resemblance to Pure Vanilla Cookie's souljam. . .

While writing Dandelion into both the og & Starlight Starbright, I might have accidentally written a love triangle with her & three canon characters(no joke-) So I'll explain:

Clotted Cream: Ever since meeting at 18, Clotted Cream always had the biggest crush on Dandelion. They were originally arranged to be married by House Custard, but that was quickly shut down by both Dandy's parents, to which Custard Cookie protested but failed miserably. Now as proper adults, the two have an amazing friendship, with Clotted visiting Dandy as much as possible. When she returns to the Creme Republic, he helps alongside her in her dad's vet clinic, Crumbs & Critters, usually helping clean or preparing meals for the animals, he never helps with the animals themselves due to fear but Dandy couldn't be more thankful! Of course, she's completely oblivious to Clotted Cream's true feelings, which causes a lot of self-doubt on his end. It leads him to question if he's good enough for her, especially after finding out about her previous crushes

Red Velvet: Speaking of that, when Red was still living with The Ancient Heroes, and way before Dandy was introduced to Clotted Cream, Red Velvet was Dandelion's first real crush. They met on accident as preteens; while exploring the Pure Vanilla Kingdom with her father, Dandy stumbled onto a herd of sheep, who all immediately surrounded her for pets once they found out she was there. As Dandy & her father desperately tried pulling her out of the cute yet very suffocating cuddle pile, in came Red Velvet to the rescue! pushing through the herd of sheep and used his cake arm to pull her out. They exchanged some introductions, and she'd been smitten with him ever since. During this time, everyone was sure the two would end up together, they had the same interests & goals, they supported & respected each other, the fact they spent so much time together, it's literally perfect! So, imagine everyone's surprise when Dandy's crush dissolved, allowing the two to stay friends. In adulthood, they're still best friends, helping & hanging out with each other whenever they can. Heck, Red is the reason she has the nickname "Dandy!" But despite them being super close as friends, some cookies can be a little jealous, Clotted Cream is no exception. He always felt self-conscious around Red Velvet, especially with Dandelion, and he kinda has every reason to (I mean c'mon, Red Velvet literally swept Dandelion off her feet, he's basically the guy she tells you not to worry about!) Thankfully, Red is aware of his feelings for Dandy, and tries to remind him that they're just close friends and nothing else, which does make him a bit better. . .

Butter Roll: If we go even further back in time, Dandelion actually knew Butter Roll of all cookies, well, not entirely. . . They briefly met as children & hardly talked after. Though, this didn't stop Butter Roll from gaining an interest in Dandelion, not a romantic or even a platonic one, just an interest, a curiosity if you will; Where did this ability even come from? How did her family come across it? And why has been in her family for generations? All questions Butter Roll wanted & was determined to know! From the vibes Dandy got from him as a child, she found him very unsettling & kept her distance, despite him always approaching her. Now, as adults, their conversations are quick & brief; neither are in the Creme Republic a lot due to work, but Butter Roll is usually the one that approaches her, asking her questions that make Dandy uncomfortable & disturbed. Unfortunately, Dandelion is much too polite to turn him down nor ask him to leave her alone, so she tries dodging the questions and keeps their "talks" short. . .

As for her other relationships, they're all fairly simple:

Financier: Her & Financier are quite fond of each other, not outright friends but they do get along, as they know each other quite well. Though, she does find herself talking for Clotted Cream to Dandy when he's too nervous to ask her something, which she kinda hates doing so is just honest with her. That's another thing, Financier is fully honest with Dandelion and tells her things for her own betterment, saying how she's much too polite, that she should toughen up and set boundaries, but Dandy unfortunately doesn't listen most of the time, or she tries to make excuses for it. . . All & all, they have a good relationship!

Wildberry: Despite not knowing Dandelion as well as Clotted Cream or Red Velvet, Wildberry is quite fond of her. What made Dandelion so interesting to him was her different connections, and the cookies she befriended across Earthbread; they relate to each other a lot, so they talk a bit about their jobs. Dandelion's stunning and often reckless bravery is always something that scares the heck out of him; How can anyone just walk up to wild beasts like that!? Regardless if it's her job or not! And Dandy's power just confuses him even more. Wildberry is one of the only cookies who questions her little quirk, but makes sure that she doesn't get upset; he views Dandelion as sweet & naive so keeping her safe & comfortable is a priority. Speaking of that, he's more than happy to shoo away creeps like Butter Roll away from her, which she's forever thankful for. Overall, the two have a very nice friendship!

Crunchy Chip: Chip presents himself as this strong, tough as nails, warrior, so it's not surprising that he found Dandelion annoying at first. It wasn't entirely the same on Dandy's end, she found his nature to be rather problematic, but nothing too bad. What made Chip turn the other cheek was Dandelion's extensive knowledge on beasts, especially creme wolves, and how to properly treat them; so, the first time Dandelion addressed Crunchy Chip's wolf as a "creme wolf," had him taken aback due to being to use to having to correct cookies. They both have a deep respect for each other's jobs, as they both work with animals, they too also share stories about their several experiences, giving each other helpful information as well. Dandy & her father are the only vets that Chip trusts with his wolves, which is a big honor on his end, a privilege which they Dandy & her father gladly accepted. Chip (in Starlight Starbright) throws a lot of parties once he's out of the mountains, and often tries to invite Dandelion to them as rewards, though her attending usually depends on how busy she is. And that's not the only way he tries to reward her either, usually providing her with money or protection from the Creme Wolves, which Dandelion tries to reject but almost always fails miserably. Although they didn't start off in the best of ways, they made for a pretty nice friendship!

(Bonus Headcanon: Wild & Chip are very aware of Clotted Cream's crush on Dandelion, and try to be his wingmen. With Wildberry actually giving him good advice, and Crunchy Chip. . . Not so much. Financier is also aware, but does want to be involved, and thinks the others shouldn't be either. . . But can't do much about it)

Gingerbrave: This brave little lad has always been willing to help anyone he meets & is just a joy to be around, which can be perfectly said with Dandelion! Like Clotted Cream, Gingerbrave tries to help Dandy & her father at the clinic as much as he can, mostly from the kindness of his heart. He even helps with the animals! Though he can't help but recognize a few of them from his travels. Dandelion & her father are of course forever grateful for any help with the clinic, but despite that, their relationship hasn't really become more than that, just Gingerbrave being his helpful self & Dandy being thankful, mostly due to them both being busy. And they're ok with that for the most part

Custard III: Clotted Cream mostly keeps his visits to Crumbs & Critters a secret, and for good reasons too, one of them being Custard Cookie III's constant insisting to come along, to which he's always forced to say yes. As many children his age are, he's quite pushy with the animals in the clinic, not respecting space or boundaries. His ego also doesn't help, as he believes he's the greatest animal tamer in the lands & gets upset when they don't listen to him. Of course, it causes a lot of embarrassment of Clotted Cream's end, and frantically tries to apologize to Dandelion for his nephew's ignorance, which fortunately she fully understands. She's very patient with kids, and Custard Cookie III is no exception, so she usually teaches him proper etiquette around the animals. Alongside his ego, like most children, Little Custard is filled questions on the critters, their behaviors, and much more, question which Dandelion are more than happy to answer. Custard Cookie III has no idea why his uncle enjoys being in Crumbs & Critters so much, nor why he likes being with Dandy so much, all he does know is that it makes him happy, so why question it?

Pure Vanilla: Since Red Velvet & Dandelion basically meant through the Pure Vanilla Kingdom, so it'd only makes sense that they have a good relationship. Whenever she visits the Pure Vanilla Kingdom, it is almost always animal-related, as she often helps Pure Vanilla with animal check-ups. Other than that, the two are often seen feeding the birds, or taking strolls to the royal garden, talking about life. Pure Vanilla sometimes talks about his desire to visit Crumbs & Critters, and Dandy always tells him every time he's completely free to visit when he's able to, which always makes him happy. To cut things short, they went from work-based, to a more grandfather & granddaughter relationship. . . Which is both perfectly ironic & sad✨

Hollyberry: Likes with everyone, Holly welcomed Dandelion with open arms! And for good reasons too. Admittedly, Dandelion was a bit overwhelmed by Hollyberry but got around to it. Hollyberry knew she'd like Dandy the second they met, from the passion towards her job, to her undying bravery when helping wild beasts in need, and the fact she was good friends with two of her sons, so it was perfect. Like Crunchy Chip, she regularly rewards Dandy for her ventures, mostly through giving her barrels of berry juice, parties, and many other gifts, which Dandelion always tries to decline. Till Holly offered her & her father something they could refuse. . . Hollyberry gave them full permission to build their animal sanctuary in her kingdom, even land to build it on, which made them overwhelmed with gratitude, and try to pay her back; which Holly more than happily declines, she is helping a friend

Pitaya Dragon: Yeah, against all odds, Dandelion is weirdly close to Pitaya Dragon Cookie(aka The Red Dragon) How!? well let me explain. . . Dandy's relationship with Pitaya is a little bit complicated, as her extensive knowledge wasn't what got them interested; cause dragons don't care about knowledge, you silly goose! It was Dandy's ability that got them curious. How so many animals can be drawn to one cookie is something they wanna know, but instead of actually asking, they observe, watching Dandy help creatures from a distance. Other than that, Pitaya Dragon does have the habit of teasing her, as they do with all cookies; ever since the two met, they're always belittling and condescending towards Dandy, calling her "a weak & simple cookie," and regularly makes fun of her job, calling it pointless. And despite all of this, Dandelion is nothing but kind & sweet to the Red Dragon, cause trust her, she knows better than to let comments like that get to her! It's only when Pitaya got sick themselves & Dandy rushed to help them, did they realize just how important & impactful her job is; but knowing Pitaya, they refuse to admit it. Now, the two are kinda in a weird patch, creating this one-sided frenemies type relationship where Pitaya tries getting under Dandy's dough, and Dandelion still being as nice as ever!

Dark Cacao: At first, Dark Cacao didn't really know what to feel about Dandelion, and pretty much wanted to dismiss her right off the bat; she was from the Creme Republic after all. . . It was only her relationship with two of his sons, did he let her stick around. Unlike most of the Ancient Heroes, Dark Cacao was kinda taken back by her politeness, immediately not trusting her because of it. He even sent some of his watchers to look after her, and was pretty baffled & surprised they had nothing to report, in fact only praising her & her ability. Upon realizing King Dark Cacao's distaste for her, Dandy tried everything in her power to get him to trust her, through all she did & knew, in attempts to impress him, but they always fell flat. One day, Dandelion was finally able to earn King Dark Cacao's trust when helping him deal an infestation of smaller creatures "invading the kingdom." Nowadays, their relationship is in the middle; not the worst or the greatest, Dark Cacao developed a sort of "Let em cook" mentality when having Dandelion deal with animal-related problems in his kingdom, while Dandelion is always happy to help; Dark Cacao's even completely willing to do favor or two for her. Overall, despite starting out rough, they're in no way close, but they get along!

And that's all I made! Dandelion's an oc I've been cooking up in my brain for awhile now, so she has a lot of lore! Including some other things I left out. . . Since I'm on summer vacation now, I have the full opportunity to make a pt.2! I hope you love her as much as I do! 💞💖✨

💫For now, be on the lookout for my other projects

🌼✨And as always, stay tuned^^!✨🌼

[starlit-summer-nights]

No More Pain- Mother! Reader x Son! Butters (fluff)

TW- Infertility, Child Abuse

hey everyone! so this is a little outside of what I usually write. I recently watched South Park again and I realized there is absolutely no fanfiction on a mother reader adopting butters as their son. so here’s a wholesome lil story about you adopting butters and taking him away from his evil parents :)

The cold, hard rain pounded on the hills of the Colorado Soil. The same little peaceful mountain town you always knew.

You recently had moved here from Denver. Denver was only about an hour away so you could still see your family frequently and they were very close by. You recently had gotten married with your husband Lee Johnson. Lee was a wonderful man and treated you like absolute royalty. All you could’ve ever hoped and prayed for.

You had a nice little cottage a little ways from town. It seemed almost too perfect, a little cottage for you and your husband to spend the rest of your days in.

Except, there was a piece missing.

“I’m sorry Mrs.Johnson, it seems that your eggs are.. infertile.” The doctor spoke softly, laying down his clip board.

The doctor had actually been an old friend of Lee’s, they had gone to school together for a while and became close. His name was Dr. Rick Morrison.

You felt everything in your world absolutely shatter. The world had felt like it stopped turning for a moment.

“What.. no! There has to be a mistake!” You protested, immediately going into denial.

The doctor looked at you with sympathy in his eyes, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do. I know you both were very excited to have children. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to support you both through this.” He looked sad too, and grieved with you.

You thanked him and he hugged you. He was a great man and he always had looked out for you when you needed a check up.

You got in the car and tried to compose yourself. This was not something you easily could recover from.

On the way home, you worried how you were going to break the news to your husband. He was going to be just as, if not more devastated than you are.

You let a few tears slide down your cheek. You were trying so hard to hold it together, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel of you car.

You looked at the picture you had of you and Lee on your wedding day, sitting on the stairs of the local church.

And then to the baby clothes you had bought on sale that your friend was giving away, just in case the miraculous day finally would happen for you too.

You looked up to the sky.

“Why couldn’t it be us?” You questioned, as if asking God why.

You pulled over on the side of the rocky road. There was already one bad thing about today, you didn’t need another to happen.

You let everything out. You screamed, you cried, you hit your dashboard.

You finally had calmed down. You had accepted it. You and Lee would never have a child.

And maybe.. all you needed was eachother after all.

You started the car back up, driving away from the side of the road.

You had entered back into town, a few minutes away from your house.

Just then, you see something that makes your heart lurch.

A small, young boy, huddled next to dumpster.

His head was hung.. almost like he was crying and weeping.

Your flight or fight response set in. What if it was a trap to lure you in? You were a lone woman, after all.

But.. he was so small and frail..

Well.. if you were gonna die, you were gonna die trying to save a child, at least.

You parked your car a little ways back, so you wouldn’t scare him.

You gently closed your car door, making sure that wouldn’t scare him off either.

You finally got to the dumpster, a few feet away from where he was.

He was indeed crying. Sobbing, in fact.

His cries absolutely broke your heart. No little boy should be crying like that.

And then you looked to his body. His body almost seemed lifeless, so emancipated and thin. Like he hadn’t eaten in years.

He looked to be dirty too. His skin was covered in dirt.

You finally mustered up enough courage to speak.

“H-hi there.” You spoke gingerly, not wanting to spook him.

The boy immediately jumped, letting out a scream.

“No, no! I’m not here to hurt you I-I promise!” You defended yourself, throwing your hands up.

He calmed down and looked at you for a minute. He seemed to be.. at ease, almost.

“Who-who are you?” He questioned, curiosity in his voice. He had a light little voice with a touch of a southern drawl.

You stuck out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N Johnson. What’s your name?” You gently smiled, trying to show him it was okay to approach you.

“Uh-uh.. Butters, ma’am. Butters Stotch.” He replied nervously, cautiously taking your hand.

“Nice to meet you Butters,” you smiled at him gently.

“What are you doing out here on a cold rainy night like this?” You sat down in the snow gently next to him.

“My-my parents locked me out of the house. They told me I should never come back. I don’t know what I did.. I was just playing action figures in my room and then my dad came in and slapped me and then my mom told me I was never allowed back in.” He began to cry, the hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

You felt your heart break, a huge pit in your chest. A sweet, precious boy like him should never have to go through something like that.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that,” you spoke softly.

“Would you like a hug? I know that has to be very scary.” You opened your arms out for a hug, you just wanted to comfort him until he stopped crying.

He finally looked up at you. He was a beautiful little boy. Baby blue eyes, light blonde hair, a small, little button nose, long eyelashes, and a few freckles here and there.

His eyes held so much emotion. You could almost feel like in that moment he finally accepted that you were trying to help him.

“S-sure, Miss.Johnson.” He moved closer to you, wrapping his little arms around you.

You made sure to gently hug him back. He was so thin, you were scared to even touch him.

“Hey.. it’s kind of cold out here and wet.. I have a car parked over there with a heater and I have some stuff I could dry you off with, would you like that?” You looked down at him, he had his little head leaned against your shoulder for support.

He looked up at you with pure innocence in his eyes.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind doing that?” He almost seemed shocked that you would do such a thing to take care of him.

“Of course not.” You smiled back at him.

“Come on. It’s over here.” You stood up gently, him not letting go of you.

You carried him to your car, sitting him in the back. He felt so light.

You took all the baby blankets and clothes you had and tried your best to remember how to swaddle. You also had some towels in your car too so once you had swaddled him with the blankets and clothes, you draped as many towels as you could on him.

“That alright, Butters?” You questioned, looking at him.

He snuggled into the warmth.

“It’s very nice. I’m starting to feel warm again.” He replied.

“Good. Hang tight, okay? I’m going to take you to my house. We have lots of food and a place where you can sleep, okay?” You smiled at him again, buckling him up. You also had a booster seat in you car from when you had babysat your cousin’s kids and she wanted you to have it just in case.

“O-Okay Mrs.Johnson.” He replied softly.

You finally saw a little smile spread across his face.

What a truly angelic sight.

You gently kissed his forehead and got in the driver’s seat.

You dialed up your husband and told him what was going on.

He was ready to help too.

You finally got to your cottage. You carried Butters inside and sat him down on the couch.

You ran a hot bath, with your husband monitoring Butters.

You both helped give him a nice, warm bath, which helped him warm up immensely. He finally was clean too.

But, another sight that broke your heart.

There were scars, littered all over his back. Some big and some small.

You spared a sad glance at your husband, almost with a few tears in your eyes. Your husband shared your sympathy, with him wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

Butters was fast asleep on the couch, under a big, warm, fluffy blanket.

You had given him some warm, fuzzy pajama’s your cousin’s son accidentally left over at your house.

He looked like an absolute angel fast asleep.

Poor thing probably hadn’t slept well in a while.

Your husband had already started the fire, which helped him warm up.

“Well, darling, what do we need to do now? He’s fast asleep and the poor thing probably hasn’t slept in ages.” You looked at your husband, who eyed the boy sadly.

“Do you think he’s hungry? He looks like he hasn’t eaten in a while.” He questioned, looking back at you.

“It’s worth a shot. I’ll go wake up him if you could get the food.” You nodded.

“Done and done, sugarplum.” He kissed your forehead before walking off to the fridge.

You softly put your hand on Butters’ shoulder.

“Butters, sugar, wake up for just a minute.” You spoke softly.

He stirred and fluttered his eyes open.

“Are you hungry?” You smiled, looking into those sweet, innocent blue eyes.

“I am a little.. the last time I ate was right before you found me. I found a bag of 2 half eaten donuts. I figured.. that would have been enough to last me for a little while.” He explained, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

Your heart absolutely broke into pieces for a third time. How long had he been doing this?

“Well, we have some food that you can have. What would you like?” You smiled.

“W-well, I like pancakes.. but it’s 12 in the mornin’.” He rubbed his fingers together nervously again.

“Well sweetheart, we’ll make those for you if you want them. My husband here is actually amazing at making pancakes.” You encouraged, you really wanted him to eat.

“O-okay. If that’s okay with you.” He softly said back.

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you like tv? While he makes those for you we can watch TV together if you want.” You sat next to him.

“Uh.. sure. I like Terrance and Phillip sometimes and sometimes Little Bunny Foo Foo.. (I’m making it a show lol).”

You remembered looking up that show for your cousins you babysit.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me look that up for you.” You smiled, grabbing the remote.

Yup, exactly as you remembered, channel 444.

“Here you go, Butters.” You smiled, laying down the remote.

“Thanks.. Ma..Ma..” he drifted off back to sleep.

You felt your heart absolutely flutter in delight. You wanted nothing more than to be called Mama. A few tears escaped your eyes.

“You heard that too, right?” You whispered to your husband in the kitchen, who was cooking pancakes in the kitchen.

“I did, baby.” He smiled, serving the pancakes on a plate.

“So what did Rick tell you?” He turned, hugging you from behind.

“Uh.. uh.. yeah.. I was gonna tell you.. before I.. I got back..” you stuttered, afraid of what his reaction was going to be.

“I’m infertile, honey.” You looked up at him, tears threatening to spill again.

He held a shocked expression, but immediately ran to your side and held you.

“I’m here, I’m here baby. We’re going to get through this. I love you.” He repeated, holding you tight.

“I love you too.” You sighed, holding him just as tight.

Butters eventually woke back up and ate, like a wolf that had just caught it’s piece of prey. That poor boy was absolutely starving, but you felt so grateful you could help him eat again.

It was way past his bed time, so you had decided to put him back to sleep on the couch so you could keep an eye on him.

Your husband had gone to bed and asked you to let him know if Butters had any problems. You told him you would keep an eye on him.

Eventually, however, you had fallen asleep, with Butters propped up on your right shoulder.

Morning had come. Butters was reported missing. You wondered how that could work, because his parents had shut him out of his own house.

Eventually, the police had been called to find him. Butters parents had their house investigated and they were questioned thoroughly before being arrested on charges of child neglect, premeditated murder and child abuse.

The next few months, everything began to fall perfectly into place. You and your husband volunteered to foster Butters until he could find a new home. Butters had been eating regularly, had made art for you and your husband to hang on the fridge, and seemed to be getting his personality back.

“Honey, I think it’s time.” Your husband smiled at you, beaming with glee.

You were confused. “Huh?”

“I emailed the foster care place. They said we can come in to sign the adoption papers later today.” He smiled, taking your hands gently.

“R-really? Are you sure? It’s only been about 3 months..” you replied nervously.

“I think we’re more than ready. Look how we’re worked together as a team that night. We’ve waited so long for this and we’re on the brink of it.. do you really want to wait that much longer?” He questioned, care in his voice and his forest green eyes.

You felt determined. That child was going to be yours and your family would finally be complete.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You grinned at your husband.

You had taken Butters with you too the foster care place, walking up to the front desk.

You signed the papers inconspicuously, making sure Butters didn’t see. You wanted this to be a complete surprise to him.

Once you signed the papers, you thanked the lady at the front desk and went out to the car, but not before a cheerful smile and a “congratulations” was said.

You and your husband smiled to yourselves, but a confused Butters looked at you curiously.

Your husband held Butters while you got his little shirt. You had it in your closet just in case you decided to ever adopt a child.

And lucky you, today was that day.

Butters read the shirt.

“Happy.. Gotcha Day..” he read softly.

He immediately began to tear up.

“Are.. are you my parents now?” He questioned, looking up at you and your husband.

You and your husband both grinned ear to ear.

“That’s right. Welcome to the family, Mr. Butters Stotch Johnson.” Lee smiled, kissing the little boy on his forehead.

“Welcome home, my beloved angel.” You walked up to him, kissing his forehead.

From then on, Butters was the answer to your prayer, the angel sent from the heavens. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. ❤️

[fantasyroyalfamily]

The Sims 4: The Little Mermaid Part 2

Ursula bumped into Ariel and at that instant knew who she was. Ariel was her only link to her sister, Athena, as she had been searching for her ever since their father died. Ursula decided to help Ariel and investigate what had happened to her.

Queen Regent Gayla and a mystery man, known as Prince Eric, argued because Gayla wanted Eric to marry a royal princess. However, Eric begged his mother to give him a chance to find the woman who saved him and marry her. After some protest, his mother caved in and allowed the search.

Ariel was unable to speak, and Prince Eric was unaware of her condition. Despite her muteness, Ariel provided comfort to Eric, and he was glad to find a friend in her. He promised to find a solution to her muteness. At the same time, Ursula was searching for answers to help Ariel in her endeavors.

Nine months have passed, and still no true love's kiss. Ariel is scared that her deadline is almost up. One day, Prince Eric arrived from his tour of the kingdom and went to his mother, stating that he found the woman who saved him. Unbeknownst to his mother, he was under a spell forcing him to listen to the commands of this mystery woman. Ariel was distraught and upset. She left, bumping into Ursula from her journey, and it was there that Ursula confessed who she was and that she knows who was behind Ariel's second curse.

Ursula was able to defeat the mysterious woman with her magic and obtain a confession that Ursula's mother, Carina, was behind everything because she wanted the throne for her daughter. Ursula attempted to restrain the woman, but she was able to escape."

Ursula united Prince Eric and Princess Ariel, and they had their true love's kiss, breaking both curses. Ursula explained Ariel's origin, the curses, Lady Carina, and the events that occurred. Ariel forgave Ursula, but Ursula received the bad news that Athena and her other nieces were lost.

Ariel went to the ocean to inform her father of everything. At first, he was upset, but then overjoyed that the curse placed on him and his family was broken.

Prince Eric and Ursula bowed to King Triton out of respect, and King Triton agreed to the union of Prince Eric and Princess Ariel to unite the kingdom and bring about peace.

5 years later, Arial and Prince Eric got married at the age of 20. Nine months later, she was due to give birth to their first child. However, unexpected news reached the palace.

Princess Arial's maternal grandfather, Duke Gael Tolman, approached her with troubling news. He informed her that Lady Carina, Ursula mother, was expecting a child after a relationship with Arial's uncle. This revelation deeply upset Princess Arial and Prince Eric, who is now the King and Queen. In order to maintain peace within the royal family, Duke Tolman suggested that the children of Arial and Carina should be wed in marriage. In return, Carina would disclose the whereabouts of Arial's missing sisters and mother, of whom Carina was aware. Arial had no other choice but to accept the arrangement in order to finally locate her missing family. Both King Triton and King Eric agreed to this proposal.

A month later, Queen Arial gave birth to her daughter Melody.

Carina gave to her son Lord Leo.

Will this be a happy union or will it cause more chaos in the family?

Will Arial find her sisters alive or in unhappy situcation?

Will be see in the future! To Be continue.

[flimflamfandom]

Mordecai Heller’s Perfectly Normal Stroll Through the Park.

in which Mordecai walks through the park and doesn’t meet anyone who could make things awkward in any way, shape, or form.

Maybe it was the warmth of the day that did it. That got Mordecai to finally leave the apartment, and just...walk for a moment. Maybe it was the fact that none of his good jackets were left, so he had to leave the house in a shirt and vest without one. Maybe it was the small songs of birds.

Maybe it was just that it was a Saturday, and he couldn’t work, and he couldn’t focus, and he had to do something to occupy the time so Asa Sweet wouldn’t forget what Shabbat meant.

So, Mordecai walked. He paced, almost, before finally settling into a decent rhythm of steps - not too fast, or too anxious. Just...walking.

It was calm.

It was the most calm he’d been in ages, really. He softly smiled. The breeze was nice, and cooling, and the sound of children playing was, remarkably, not as annoying as it typically was. Perhaps there was something to be joyous about these day-

“Mordecai?”

Mordecai’s peaceful experience was shattered by his name. Not a lot of people around named Mordecai, probably - must’ve been him.

The voice was light, and soft. It belonged, very clearly, to-

“Miss Pepper.”

“What’re you doing out?” Ivy Pepper asked.

“I don’t work Saturdays.”

“I thought you didn’t do ANYthing on Saturdays.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Is that...not the point?”

“The point is to rest. This is...restful.”

“You look restless.” Ivy said. “I’ve never seen you in the park before! Or dressed down.”

“Well...” Mordecai looked at his outfit. “...it’s quite suitable, isn’t it?”

Ivy giggled. “Sure it is. Mind if I walk with you?”

“People will get ideas.”

‘Pfft, please. You look like my dad or older brother or something. Let’s catch up!”

“We are from rival firms.” Mordecai said.

“Ahhhh, that sounds like work talk.” Ivy crossed her arms, and smirked. She leaned in. “Please? Been itchin’ t’hear about stuff!”

“...fine.”

And so, Mordecai, who was planning on a peaceful walk, let Ivy tag along. He spoke.

“How are your studies?”

“Fine. Math’s getting to be pretty interesting! We’re doing non-linear algebra these days.”

“I see...” Mordecai smirked. “I’m glad you’ve gone into a more enterprising field than my sister Esther.” He sighed. “Entertainment.”

“...hehe, yeah.” Ivy, who was taking acting classes and even considering switching majors, tugged her collar. “Eeeeentertainment.”

“...oh, goodness, you’re not considering it, are you?”

“Well, I...i really like acting! I enjoy it, it’s fun!” Ivy protested. “Besides, it’s not gonna end up being my main thing...just...community theater and such. It’ll probably be nice...something to do when I inevitably end up as a stupid housewife.”

“I fail to see you ending up as a housewife, Ms. Pepper.” Mordecai said. “You’re far too...” He stuck his hands in his pockets, “far too...aggressively yourself. Wife, sure. Housewife, no. Absolutely not.”

“Heh, well...who knows?” Ivy shrugged. “...say, Mordecai, you never told me if you were married or not?”

Mordecai blushed. “There was...a girl. At one point, in Brooklyn.” He said.

“Ooooo,” Ivy cooed, “:She have a name, this girl, in Brooklyn?” She asked.

“She was named Alte.” He said.

“Pretty!”

“It’s Yiddish.” He said. “...then I found I was...not particularly keen on women. Or any sort of marriage or relationship at all. By that time, i had come to St. Louis.”

“...oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well,” Ivy laughed, “I just like the idea of there being a cute little Miz Heller running around the place.” She chuckled a bit more, and spoke, “ ‘evenin’, dearie, how was work?’ ‘oh, terrible, Asa is a chump and I wish i worked for the Daisy again.’ ”

Mordecai...laughed a little. He tried hard to hide it.

“Hah! I made you laugh!”

“You...” He laughed a little more. “You did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not.” “Did  too!” She stuck her tongue out at him. He sighed, and smiled. he put his hands in his pockets. “...I...I will admit, the idea of a spouse has been...entertaining. But truth be told, I think I am far too specific and peculiar a person.”

:”Nah. You just know what you like.” Ivy said, patting his back. “And that’s not having a spouse.”

“Hmm.” He walked.

“...I gotta get going...speaking of relationships.” Ivy checked her watch. “I gotta meet Calvin.”

“...Ivy.” He spoke. “About the Daisy...” Mordecai turned to face her as she walked away. She saw him, the sun peeking over his head. She looked.

“Yes, Mordecai?”

“...nevermind. I...lost it.” He said. He waved. “Stay safe. It is a dangerous business, yours and mine.”

“Will do, Mr. H!” With that, she was off.

Mordecai stood for a moment, and sighed.

He walked back home.

[leffee]

As promised the vinnie’s Mom’s

A key for you to look at

Mom- is good but also corrupted and complicated

Mama- is horrible and only cares for herself

Vinnie grew up with these two moms he calls them mom and mama let’s start from the beginning though shall we. mom and mama were in love totally obsessed with each other the picture perfect couple the spent the next few years moving in together getting married but there was one thing missing a child. Mom really wanted a child of her own something she could poor her love into she wanted the perfect male doner to help that happen she wanted mama involved. But mama wanted none of that and like every picture perfect relationship there were cracks forming to break it apart. You see mama had over the years formed some habits involving drugs,alcohol, partying and worst of all cheating and a bad attitude to go with it. But his mom tried her best to keep her picture perfect relationship from falling apart she had to stay in it she had to fix it a baby is definitely going to fix it. So she got a doner got pregnant and did her best to coap with her situation..during that time mama just ignored it as if it had nothing to do with her. Once Vinnie was born his mom was elated she spent all her time and love on her new pride and joy it made mama jealous and resentful toward him. Vinnie’s life was good as long as mom was around up until he turned 12.. he started to notice that mama was taking his mom out more he’d see her less she started acting much weirder then usual. Little did Vinnie know that while he was growing up his mom was mentally going down hill and that gave mama prime opportunity to manipulate her into her life style to show her that drugs will make her feel better and she wouldn’t suggest it if she didn’t loved her right? Over the years mama would have her way.. vinnie ultimately started to take care of himself and would often not see his parents for days at a time. He tried his hardest to talk to them to try and fix things but ultimately mama would verbally, or physically abuse him if she stood in her way in any way shape or form. As for mom she mentally checked out and fell into a depression she became nothing but a door mat a shell of a person and even though she loved her son she didn’t do anything to change the situation because or her fears and addictions. Vinnie would often come to school upset,late,tired his friends noticed the change. Sunil was the only who really knew what was going on because Vinnie could trust him he didn’t want to be taken away.. Sunil kept his word and promised not to say anything as long as Vinnie spent more nights at his house so he knows that he’s safe and that he calls or comes over if he needs him for any reason which Vinnie did do on occasion showing up and tapping on sunils window for a night of peace or help to study. One day after returning home from sunils house vinnie noticed that mom was gone her stuff was to when he asked mama she cussed him out and told him to get out her sight. He never saw her again and was told many different things when asking about her disappearance by mama“she left because of you” was the one she repeated the most with killed Vinnie every time he heard it. Eventually Vinnie just stopped coming home doing everything he could to avoid it and staying full time with Sunil and his parents though graduation. Sunil and Vinnie stayed dating and moved on with life momma ended up on the street because of her choices Vinnie sees her from time to time her still tries to have a relationship with her despite the protest of his boyfriend and friends urging him not to and every time they see each other he gets upset with the visit because she takes the opportunity to tell him how much he ruined her life and that it’s his fault their family is broken and how he couldn’t help her out because he thinks he’s better then her now it happens less and less nowadays. As for mom Vinnie still thinks that she’s out there and has tried to look her up.he still loves her but would find it hard to forgive her for leaving him so easily.

What Vinnie doesn’t know is that she left to better herself. She knew she wasn’t getting better and wouldn’t be able to say goodbye. She disappeared and wanted nothing to do with mama. She hoped that she would find her son again one day and have a better relationship that didn’t involve addiction and abuse.

All right, so that’s basically a gist of how I see them Basically I’d hoped that in one scenario his mom would find him again and they worked towards a relationship as her mama she is in and out of his life constantly being a bother in and out of jail, but he still can’t seem to give up on her himself just as his mom had been trying to do trying to get her to go to treatment trying to have a relationship with the only mother he thinks he has left, even though she wants nothing to do with him unless it involves anything that would benefit her

Also I had Vanessa as one of the names of his mothers. I couldn’t think of another though Cannon wise. Which is where the V and Vinnie came from and the fact that his mom was Italian and taught him both languages growing up.

Sorry if there’s any errors or inconsistencies, let me know if you have any more questions and I can elaborate more. This is just again the gist of it and I was just continuously typing. 

Time for me to answer thisss and give others who maybe would like that, a chance to see it, I sure know I do like it :3

Ok, so I know it's not the most important thing, but I can't help but notice that part that his moms were at the beginning totally obsessed with each other. Cause that would connect nicely with my Vinnie and his obsessivness with people he likes 🤭 anywayyy

So Vinnie was basically a "fix-it" baby, huh? Born to (in part) ensure his moms' relationship survived, at least mom really wanted him, for some good reasons too. It's something. I mean, she took care of him, eepie!

But then mama manipulated mom into this toxic lifestyle, I see I see. I imagine the reason why mom's mental health started going downhill in the first place was because of mama, but then mama gave her a "solution". Well, some sort of it.

And that part about Vinnie eventually having to take care of himself, yes yes, that's the way I see it too. Because like, being a child esentially he of course had no idea how to properly take care of himself, he tried his best but couldn't really accomplish everything on his own and that left him with some weird habits, like in my Vinnie's case searching for food in trash cans and being ok with eating it. I mean, if they weren't home for days sometimes he did what he had to, right?

And Vinnie abuse gooood, I mean bad, but good :3. Just too bad that his one good parent wasn't there to protect him, I mean good for angst factor but you know.

"Vinnie would often come to school upset,late,tired his friends noticed the change" okay okay, but I imagine on top of that he also came kinda neglected, I mean hungry, dirty clothes etc etc. Cause like, mama obviously didn't care about him much (or rather at all) and mom was depressed. So yeah, just something I wanted to add as a bonus. And and then during lunch he would just devour the food, because he would eat what he could take and lunch food is much better than trash food.

But that part of Sunil's house basically being his safe heaven is probably my favourite. Cause yeees, that's how I see it too and that's why Vinnie holds Sunil in such high regards, because he basically saved him from a lot of torment. Heehehe yes, I love it.

And then, mom was gone, his mostly non-abusive parent, one that genuinely loved him even if she didn't show it well. I can only imagine how upset he was when he realized she wasn't coming back. And so of course he started spending more and more time at Sunil's house, more than before that is with him and his parents. Oh, and of course the blaming him stuff, that's great too, he must have felt so guilty on top of everything else. The mental anguish with this one is just👌👌👌. And then of course that continues even once she's on the street, because by that point all she has is tormenting her son, doesn't she? But he's a good boy of course, so despite everything he tries to keep some sort of good relationship with her, even though she did nothing to deserve him being good to her.

I do like that mom was a good person at the end of the day though, then again how could Vinnie guess that she left to better herself. In the end, she still left him with a very abusive person. A person that also kept dragging him down even later in his life, ah, but he's just too good of a person even if mama abused him, so as I imagine he's very torn. Because he knows that she's bad for him in every possible sense, but at the same time she is his parent, you know?

A! Vanessa! At first I was very confused bc maybe you remember but Vanessa was one of two names I wanted to give his sister, but ultimately she shall remain as Stephanie, I just wanted to say that.

I know it took me a while to reply to that but as always, I do looove it. Everything about it, mostly the whole Vinnie angst which I suppose is the gist of it. Thank you for that and hopefully you like my reply too

[lothiriel84]

So They Went to Cromer

AU. Margaret has no living relations who might take care of her after her father's death, and Mr Thornton feels compelled to beg his mother to do so in his stead.

A North and South ficlet. Background John/Margaret.

“She cannot stay here, John. People are already talking, and you know well enough the mill would hardly survive a scandal of these proportions.” 

Her son merely scoffed at what he clearly perceived as a most trivial objection, and she knew from the stubborn set of his jaw that there was nothing she could say that would make him see reason. “The way matters are standing, I have very little hope as it is to keep in business much longer. Mr Hale was my friend, and I owe it to his memory to see to his daughter until alternative arrangements can be made for her comfort.” 

Hannah shook her head but relinquished any further attempt at persuasion, at least for the time being. Conscious of her duties towards her unwanted charge, she took herself upstairs to check on that girl. She found Miss Hale precisely where she had left her, her tea untouched as she sat very still with a book in her lap, lost in contemplation of the magnitude of her grief.  

“This will never do, Miss Hale,” she sighed, struck afresh by the unwelcome memory of those terrible days she had once spent in a daze of stupefied apathy, before her motherly instincts had finally spurred her into action. “We ought to find you some useful employment – you will feel better for it, I promise.” 

She saw a shadow of recognition flicker across the girl’s ashen features. “You are right, Mrs Thornton,” Miss Hale murmured as she stood with aching slowness, and put the book aside. “I would not be more of a burden than I already am.” 

.

If there was one thing Hannah felt sure of, it was that she quite disliked the seaside. So used had she become to being in charge of her son’s household, and helping with the running of the mill besides, that she found this state of forced unemployment quite unsustainable – and if it were not for John’s pleading entreaties that they removed to Cromer for the summer for his own peace of mind, she would not have hesitated to pack herself and Miss Hale on the first train to Milton.  

She knew her son was finding Miss Hale’s continued presence in his house exceedingly difficult, despite all his protestations that he was merely concerned for her wellbeing as the orphaned daughter of his late friend, and they could not very well leave the girl to fend off for herself without any friend or relation to protect her. Mr Bell had initially offered to care for Miss Hale, but it had rapidly become apparent that the indifferent state of his health would soon prevent him from undertaking any such a commitment; although some mention had been made in passing of a relation of Mr Hale’s settled somewhere in Spain, there was no question of removing Miss Hale from England until she had recovered sufficient strength to face the journey.  

Why Miss Hale’s mysterious lover had not come back to fetch her was something Mrs Thornton could scarcely account for; and while she would not think so badly of the girl as to suspect her of an illicit attachment, surely there had to be some serious impediment preventing the marriage.  

All her careful enquires in that direction had yielded nothing but a melancholy declaration on Miss Hale’s part that she knew now she would likely never marry; her relation in Spain would take good care of her, and in turn she would look after his children as if they were her own, and be content. 

.

“I cannot see why John does not offer for her and has done with it,” Fanny stage-whispered once her new husband had taken his leave of both ladies, and Miss Hale had wandered off to stare out to sea as had lately become her habit. “He thinks I do not know, but one ought to be blind not to realise he still cares for her.” 

“Your brother will not thank you for meddling in his private business,” Hannah swiftly reprimanded her, and if her tone was more cutting than she meant to employ, it had more to do with her growing suspicions about the state of Miss Hale’s heart than with her daughter’s more immediate transgression.  

“John is as much of a fool as Miss Hale is,” Fanny went on, undeterred. “It is not quite the thing, to provide for an unmarried young lady who is entirely unconnected to him – she cannot be blind to the impropriety of it, and yet, for all her pride, she does not object to it.” 

“You will not mention any of this before Miss Hale, Fanny, and that is all there is to it,” Hannah commanded in such a manner as brokered no objection. Her daughter pouted, shrugged, and launched herself into a detailed account of all the delicate attentions her dear Mr Watson had seen fit to bestow upon her over the entire course of their wedding trip.  

.

“It is my John, is it not?” Hannah demanded quite brusquely, her hand clasped around Miss Hale’s arm in a vice-like grip. “This man you always speak of with such regret, he’s none other than my son.” 

The girl met her penetrating stare with a pensive glance of her own; but it was only for a moment, then her eyes went back to the perpetual movement of the waves crashing onto the seashore. “It does not matter. I have very little doubt he will soon find someone better suited to him – and I wish him every joy of it, for there is scarcely any other man more deserving of such happiness than he is.” 

“Miss Hale, you do not know what you speak of,” Hannah shook her head in exasperation, the burden of a beloved son’s disappointment bearing down on her conscience like a millstone. “I know my son’s heart better than my own, and there is very little room in it but for the woman who once saw fit to reject him under no uncertain terms.” 

“He told me himself, that he no longer cares for me,” Miss Hale acknowledged in a small voice, her quiet composure wavering only for a moment. “So you see, Mrs Thornton, he is quite safe from me.” 

Mrs Thornton all but dismissed the notion with an imperious wave of her hand, and turned to face the girl more fully. “He will not offer for you again unless he is made aware of your changed opinion, Miss Hale. Indeed, he might not even then, because of the precarious state the mill is in – through no fault of his own, if I may add.” 

“If he thinks any such consideration would prevent me from accepting him, then he does not know me at all,” Miss Hale declared with unanticipated passion, her cheeks colouring as she instantly regretted her forwardness.  

Hannah regarded her for a long moment, and it was as if she was seeing the girl for the first time; then she nodded to herself, and accepting Miss Hale’s arm once more, they strolled back in a silence that was, if not companionable, at least no longer hostile on either part. 

.

John had come at last to fetch them back to Milton, and there was something so distracted about his manner his concerned mother could scarcely refrain herself from enquiring about it.  

“He was her brother,” her son uttered, as if in wonder, holding out a letter marked from Cadiz, Spain. “I have been such a fool, Mother, and now it is much too late.” 

“Nonsense,” Hannah declared with unmovable conviction. “She is right here, and unmarried still. I have been wrong before, but I know for a fact she would more than welcome your addresses now. All you need do is ask, son, and you shall be given.” 

“I cannot credit it, Mother,” he replied, slowly, and there was something exceedingly pained to his tone. “And even if by some miracle she has indeed come to care for me, how could I ever – she deserves so much better than to find herself tied to a failed mill Master, unable to provide for his own family in the manner any respectable man ought to.” 

“I have every faith in you, son,” Hannah proclaimed, placing both hands on his shoulders. “And so you should have faith in God’s own Providence, and the strength of a woman’s true devotion through many a shared adversity.” 

She saw his gaze drift, almost against his will, in the direction Miss Hale had walked off. “Her brother has a greater claim on her, you must see that.” 

“Go to her, son,” his mother entreated him once more, and when he finally did, she found her lips curling in the faintest suggestion of a smile.  

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Married Life (2) Masterlist

part one

By The Sound of a Drum (ao3) - DeanAndHisBeautyQueen luke/ashton G, 2k

Summary: This one shot is about Lashton - Luke and Ashton are married and are about to have a baby! There good friends Michael and Calum decides that they would like to take Luke out for a bit of fun before the babe is here and while he is out Ashton goes into labor!

Come Back When You Can (ao3) - fivesecondsofmae luke/ashton T, 1k

Summary: Luke and Ashton left the Shadowhunter world as soon as they could so they could get married and start a family and have a normal family life, but when Luke gets a call from the Sydney Institute, announcing they have information about his deceased parents, he decides to go and found out what he can about his history, leaving behind his husband and their daughter. What will happen when Luke is reunited with his parabatai and Ashton is left with his, to care for their child? Can their relationship survive even when the Shadowhunter world collapses in on them once again?

Convivencia (ao3) - antisocialhood luke/ashton M, 4k (WIP)

Summary: Or, Ashton and Luke find themselves twisted up in a fake marriage for a cheaper college tuition, and somehow, feelings come about.

Disconnected (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) michael/calum, luke/ashton T, 1k (WIP)

Summary: Michael is used to living in a world where every move is watched and every conversation recorded. It's always been an annoyance he has to deal with in order to maintain safety and order, but growing protests and increased government suspicion have everyone looking over their shoulder. When people start to go missing, gone from all databases without a trace, he might have to reevaluate just what price he's willing to pay for security.

Domesticated Erotica: Luke’s Hobby (ao3) - twinkylukey luke/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Basically, Luke likes those hetero erotic romance novels and Ashton thinks it’s cute

I Don't Want To Feel Alone (ao3) - orphan_account luke/calum, michael/ashton G, 683

Summary: "I have loved you since we were eighteen, long before we both thought the same thing. To be loved, or to be in love."

or

Luke and Calum get married.

It's nice to have a friend (ao3) - NovaDevil michael/calum N/R, 1k

Summary: If you ask Calum how he ended up here, he'll probably laugh and say he has no fucking idea but he's glad anyway.

But right now, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, he has all the time in the world to take a reminiscing look back at everything that's happened since he was just a little kid in Sydney, and the one fixed feature through it all.

Off-Screen (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) luke/ashton

Summary: Now that classes are being taught from home due to the pandemic, students are getting a glimpse into Professor Irwin's home life, especially when his mysterious husband keeps interrupting class.

Oh, We Could Be Falling In Love (ao3) - malumqt (bunwuji) michael/calum, luke/ashton N/R, 9k

Summary: Michael Clifford is only prince of Australia. Calum Hood is the prince of New Zealand. Both are enemy countries and decided to have an arranged marriage to have peace. Michael doesn't want an arranged marriage. He's determined to hate the unfairly adorable New Zealand prince.

Tastycake (ao3) - plushyluke luke/ashton E, 2k

Summary: “i was not an ‘it girl’!” he sat up to straddle ashton.

as ashton took in the tall blonde figure with the poutiest lips and the brightest blue eyes, he almost laughed out loud at the assumption. he placed the forgotten prom queen tiara on top of luke’s head and tutted.

“you were the cheerleading captain, an a-student, blonde, and a little mean. i think it is safe for me to say I was intimidated by all of your…assets.”

or luke is looking through old memories, and ashton needs to remind him that he'll always be the 'it girl' in his eyes

The Panty-Dropper (ao3) - Honeyedlashton luke/ashton E, 5k

Summary: Ashton’s discovered an old recipe from Luke’s recipe box, and decided to cash in on an anniversary prize.

there's glitter on the floor after the party - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) michael/ashton, luke/calum T, 1k

Summary: The aftermath of Michael and Ashton's first new year's eve party as a married couple.

the situation is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: Luke is closeted and nobody outside of the band, and close family, knows that he has a secret husband. During promo for Youngblood, Luke suffers a panic attack when the interviewer asks a personal question. Cue, Ashton to the rescue and comfort.

you tell me you're tipsy, i tell you you're pretty (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 13k

Summary: He heads off towards the bathroom, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation, when he notices something glinting off of Ashton’s left hand. He steps forward, picking up Ashton’s left hand and staring at the ring on the boy’s finger and felt himself stiffen. “Ash, why is there a wedding ring on your hand?”

Ashton’s eyes bulged out of his head and the moment he caught sight of the ring and he tore his hand out of Luke’s, staring at his hand as if it was on fire. “What the fuck,” he whispers to himself before looking over at Luke, murder in his eyes. “What the fuck did you do!?” he demands, as if Luke had something to do with the entire thing. As far as he knows though, he had nothing to do with this entire situation.

Or maybe he did, but he was hoping he didn’t.

or, Luke and Ashton wake up married during a weekend in Vegas

[owl-lover013]

Fic Masterlist

Spider-Man (Tom Holland)

Multichapter

The Ballad of Mona Lisa (Complete): It has been five years since Peter Parker's "death." In those five years, the world has kept turning, causing Peter's world to flip upside down seemingly overnight. Mr. Stark and Miss. Potts got married and have a five-year-old daughter named Morgan--who has grown up on exaggerated stories about the greatness of Spider-Man, stories that Peter can't live up to. May and Happy also married each other during the Blip--the name being used to call the five years half the population missed. Needless to say, Peter is struggling to find where he belongs in this new world. But, he has always persevered through the difficulties life gave him, and he can make it out of this one as well, right? And if he needs the help of an up-and-coming hero named Mysterio…well, no one can fault him for that one, right?

Peter Parker's Europe Trip (Complete): After his junior year of high school--a year filled with chaos because of the Blip--Peter’s science class decide to go to Europe. They spend the weekend touring various places in Europe, including Venice and Paris--where Peter is planning on asking his crush, MJ out. His plan half-works, as he manages to get MJ to agree to go on a date to the Louvre with him, yet it fails when they find themselves involved with a heist that may or may not involve stealing the Mona Lisa… (Part One of "The Many Adventures of Peter Parker, Michelle Jones, and Ned Leeds")

The Mystery of Peter Parker (Complete): Michelle Jones has a normal life where nothing weird has ever happened, besides the lack of knowledge of how she had cut her head or the lack of knowledge of how she had gotten the broken necklace around her neck. But when a stranger walks into the café where she works, a stranger that she can't help but feel like she knows, Michelle gets the feeling like she's missing a major part of her life. And Michelle is nothing but determined to get to the bottom of what's happening with Peter Parker, the boy who she swears is familiar. (Part One of "Remembering Peter Parker")

May Parker's Secret (Complete): It has been a week and a half since May Parker's death and Happy Hogan is still struggling with life after her passing. When he is stopped by two high schoolers at a FEAST shelter, he is struck with the possibility that the woman he had loved had hid a secret from him. And Happy is intent on figuring out the truth behind May's secret and to help the nephew named Peter Parker that he had never heard of before. (Part Two of "Remembering Peter Parker")

Spider-Man's Arrest (Complete): Ever since the city's blizzard a week ago, Spider-Man has not been seen. Rumors are circulating around, but nothing is taken seriously until Midtown School of Science and Technology's Academic Decathlon team, spurred on by Peter Parker, start saying that the police have arrested Queens' beloved hero. Taking matters into their own hands, the people of New York City feel an obligation to help their hero. Peaceful protests quickly turn into a riot as the NYPD continues to deny arresting Spider-Man. (Part Two of "The Many Adventures of Peter Parker, Michelle Jones, and Ned Leeds")

One-Shots

A Birthday Surprise: A day after Peter's birthday, he goes to the Avengers Compound, planning on spending the weekend with his mentor. Little does he know what the Avengers team is planning...

All Mr. Rhodey's Fault: "Let him fight with us and reprimand him later,” Mr. Rhodey said. Mr. Stark sighed. “Fine. But if he gets hurt, it’s your fault, honeybear.” --- Or, Peter skips school to help the Avengers fight aliens, much to the frustration of Mr. Stark. From there, Peter may or may not have gotten injured...

Birthday Shadows: On Peter's eighteenth birthday, he reflects on the people not present for it, grieving for the people not there to celebrate it with him. --- A birthday story written for Peter Parker. (Part Three of "Remembering Peter Parker")

You Remember?: Tony and Pepper need a babysitter for Morgan. Enter Peter Parker, a random teenager Tony trusts to watch Morgan for him. What could go wrong?

Ranger's Apprentice

Left Behind (WIP): Horace heard a cry of pain and he looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he watched Will crumple to the ground, clearly unconscious. “Will!” Horace shouted, stopping to watch as Evanlyn scrambled to pick up Will’s discarded bow off of the ground, watching as Skandians hurried out to where she and Will were. Behind him, he could hear Tug’s distressed whinnies, seemingly upset by the sight of his master being knocked unconscious. “Evanlyn!” he yelled, his voice breaking as the emotions of the current moment caught up to him, as he watched a Skandian grab her, holding her tight, heedless of her struggles. He could hear her cries of frustration from where he stood and he blinked back the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. --- Or, the story detailing Horace's reaction to that scene in Burning Bridge. **NO update schedule**

Owl_Lover013's Ranger Gathering 2024 (WIP): Welcome to my addition to the Ranger Gathering 2024! I hope to do as many--if not all--of the prompts I can.

Original Work

The Archer's Son (WIP): Tension has been brewing in the continent of Esmaya for seventeen years now. With the Aspayan Empire taking control of three of the four kingdoms, it seems inevitable that a rebellion is about to erupt against the Aspayan Empire… Thomas Hayes has grown up without any knowledge about his family. When he is offered information about his family, he leaps at the chance, heedless of the warnings whispering in the back of his head. Hunter Wright is intent on his quest to avenge his parents’ death. When he finally gets the chance to, he does so, ignoring the feelings that he might be doing something wrong. Braya Moore is looking for her missing brother. When she meets up with two people heading the same direction as she is, she travels with them, holding a secret tight to her chest, a secret that could become the starting flame of the rebellion. Three people with different backgrounds, countries, and desires find themselves thrust together, their fates intertwining together. They carry with them the chance to take down the Aspayan Empire and they find themselves carrying the fate of their kingdoms and the future of the continent of Esmaya. **NO update schedule**

[firawren]

They both like solitude. It's the way they met in the first place, and the whole reason why he wants the job. But the lighthouse owner won't let him have it without a wife to keep him company out there, no matter how much he tells them he doesn't need one.

He finds her at the tide pools below the cliff, where he always does. She's never happy to be found, and she's definitely not happy with his idea that they get married. But he explains in his quiet patient way that it won't be real, just a way for them both to have their solitude. She'll be able to devote all her time to studying those little sea creatures she likes so much, without having to worry about meeting her father's expectations for cooking and taking care of the mean old man's house. The lighthouse keeper won't ask that of her. He'd rather do it himself. He likes his solitude after all.

The first couple months of their marriage are fine. They stay out of each other's way. There's a little room, probably meant as a nursery, that she stays in. He calls her Salty, because of how she's always crusted in it from working out at the tide pools, and because of the less-than-demure way she speaks to him. She doesn't call him anything.

When the rain starts in the fall, they're suddenly stuck in the tiny house together a lot. He plays guitar and sings to himself. It's not so bad being stuck with him then. She wonders if he did this during the summertime too, and she just never was around to see it. She wonders what else she's been missing.

He's up all night during the first really big storm, fighting to keep the light going. When he stumbles back into the house at dawn, soaked and shaking so hard his teeth clack together, she's already awake and has a big fire going and hot coffee made. She doesn't tell him that she stayed up all night too.

Turns out nights like this aren't that unusual at the lighthouse. He doesn't complain. It's the job. But one frigid morning, even the fire and the coffee can't seem to warm him up again. Salty comes into his bedroom complaining that she can hear him shivering from out in the living room and climbs under the blankets and wraps her body around him tight. They don't talk, and he soon stops shivering, and she leaves.

That night, she barges back into his room, complaining about having to make sure he's still warm enough. He doesn't protest when she wraps him up again. He doesn't protest when she's still there in the morning, looking so peaceful in her sleep.

The next night, she doesn't even make an excuse, just comes in again, giving him a look that he knows means don't you dare say anything. He obeys.

The night after that, he's the one who wraps her up in his arms.

It's easy to finally kiss one night when it's so dark in the bed they can't even see the other's nose in front of them. It's easy to keep kissing until the kisses become so much more, until they're both wrapped up in each other.

It's still a long time before they kiss in the day, in the light. That feels like crossing the final line. Neither one of them know if the other one wants it. They both like their solitude, after all, and they're not big on talking, especially the lighthouse keeper. Salty would say that it's the fault of the first warmth of spring and the stupid sunshine that makes her go silly and grab his shirt and kiss him while he's planting their little garden. But she's smiling at him when they finish the kiss, dirt on her cheeks from his hands, salt in her wild hair, and he's sure he looks just as flushed and undone and luminously happy as she does.

Apparently back in the day lighthouse keepers HAD to have a wife to get the job so they wouldn’t be too lonely and go insane. So what I’m saying is

Fake dating au where they pretend to be married so one of them can get a job as a lighthouse keeper.

[dankusner]

Remembering a Visit to Jimmy Carter in Plains, Georgia

The late President’s priorities were remarkably prescient, and his personal qualities offered a dismaying contrast to so much of the present state of American politics.

By Lawrence Wright

December 29, 2024

In September, 2011, I drove to Plains, Georgia, with Gerald Rafshoon, President Jimmy Carter’s former media adviser.

Rafshoon had asked me to write a play about the 1978 Camp David summit between Carter, President Anwar Sadat, of Egypt, and Menachem Begin, the Israeli Prime Minister.

They were three pious men.

Sadat called himself “the first man of Islam.”

He plotted against the British and was charged with complicity in an assassination of a pro-British minister, and had come to the Presidency only through the death of the charismatic leader of the Arab world, Gamal Abdel Nasser.

Begin was an Orthodox Jew—the first non-secular leader of Israel and the founder of the Likud Party—and had lost his parents in the Holocaust. He had also been the head of a terrorist organization, the Irgun, and was responsible for the deaths of more than ninety people in the bombing of the King David Hotel, in Jerusalem, in 1946.

Carter, an evangelical Christian, had had little prior political experience other than a single term as the governor of Georgia.

These men spent thirteen days secluded near Maryland’s Catoctin Mountain and produced a peace treaty that has endured for forty years. It was Jimmy Carter’s signature accomplishment and one that has never been matched in the region, despite decades of strenuous attempts.

The Carters lived in a ranch house on the edge of town.

We met in the front room, where Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, sat on a couch upholstered in a blue print that matched the curtains.

Behind them was a painting that Carter had made of the same room, with its grandfather clock, rocking chairs, and roll-top desk.

It looked like an illustration from the children’s book “Goodnight Moon.”

Not depicted were two matching elliptical machines that faced the television.

Carter was eighty-six at the time.

He wore khaki pants, short athletic socks, and a blue shirt that almost disappeared against the couch.

His silver belt buckle was a horseshoe enclosing the initials J.C. He had not shaved, and his white stubble made his face more wintry than usual.

I was just beginning my research, and I didn’t yet know who the characters in the play should be, beyond Carter, Sadat, and Begin.

Rafshoon introduced me by saying that I had recently published an article in The New Yorker about Scientology. “Oh, I read that,” Carter said. “I found it most intriguing.”

“Since when did you start reading The New Yorker?” Rosalynn asked.

“I read it every week!” he protested.

Rosalynn rolled her eyes.

It was as if she had leapt onstage.

Dramatically, I needed someone who could talk to Carter with the unvarnished candor and the unsparing insight that comes from a lifetime spent together.

Rosalynn was born in Plains, and her family lived next door to the house where the Carter family then lived, though she and Jimmy didn’t become romantically involved until 1945, when he came home for the summer from the United States Naval Academy, in Annapolis.

After their first date, he told his mother that he was going to marry Rosalynn.

They were wed the following year, after his graduation.

He was twenty-one and she was eighteen.

Carter owned a stand of pines, which were being harvested, so we rode out in a Secret Service Tahoe to watch the trees being cut, trimmed, and loaded onto a flatbed truck.

The agent driving the car was new and unfamiliar with the back roads.

Carter was testy and snapped at him when he missed a turn.

I felt sympathy for the agent, who had signed up to protect his country and found himself driving down on a dirt road, answering to an impatient old man who had once been the most powerful figure in the world and had since become the closest approximation in public life to an American saint.

Along the way, Carter gave us a drive-by tour of his childhood home, which is now a historic site, the Jimmy Carter Boyhood Farm, in the small community of Archery, three miles west of Plains, where his family moved when he was four.

“This is where I learned blacksmithing. This is the barn where I used to corral mules,” he said, not bothering to get out of the car.

There was a dirt tennis court that his father had built.

“I could beat every kid in town, but I never beat my father,” Carter told us.

The Carters were the only white family in Archery, and his playmates were the children of Black tenant farmers.

The lessons he drew from his background in southern Georgia would define his political career.

He lost his first run for governor, in 1966, to Lester Maddox, one of the most racist figures in modern Georgia history.

That defeat sent him into a spiritual crisis, and he later credited his experience of being “born again” for getting him through this bleak period.

In his gubernatorial inaugural address, in 1971, Carter said, “I say to you quite frankly that the time for racial discrimination is over.”

In the South at that time, the declaration was a landmark, and it got him on the cover of Time magazine.

Carter made a point of showing me the family cemetery—a dirt patch surrounded by a hurricane fence.

His people had been in the area since the early nineteenth century, and the tombstones were worn and covered in lichen.

He was clearly proud of how tidy the ground was, having cleared it himself, nearly stepping on a rattlesnake in the process.

We passed a deserted farmhouse that Carter said was haunted. “By what?”

I asked. “Haints,” Carter said, using an old Southern term for ghosts.

He said that, as a boy, when he was working in town or staying late at school after dark, he was terrified of walking past the house.

Several times, he thought he saw a haint in the window, “a woman with a lamp.”

There was a legend that a woman who once lived there kept her daughter in the attic, he told me.

“Maybe that was her.”

When we got back to the house, the Carters decided that we should all go into town for dinner—i.e., lunch—at Mom’s Kitchen.

The Carters rode in the Tahoe, and Rafshoon and I drove with Mary Prince, an African American woman who had worked for the Carters for decades.

Prince had been convicted of murder following the shooting of a man outside a bar in Lumpkin, Georgia, in 1970.

When the Carters lived in the Governor’s Mansion, she was assigned there as a trusty prisoner, and worked as a nanny to their daughter, Amy.

During Carter’s Presidency, he arranged to be designated as Prince’s parole officer, so that she could work in the White House.

She was eventually declared innocent of the murder and was granted a full pardon.

Mom’s turned out to be an all-you-can-eat buffet serving fried chicken, meat loaf, and collard greens.

We talked a bit about politics and the 2012 election.

Carter had his differences with President Barack Obama but thought that he would be reëlected.

Rick Perry, then the governor of Texas, had just jumped into the race as an early favorite.

Carter thought he had no chance of winning, but, if he did, “it may be a disaster for the Republican Party.”

“Of course,” Rosalynn observed, “we thought the same about Reagan.”

I was still intrigued by Carter’s paranormal experiences, so I asked him about a time in the nineteen-sixties when he said he saw a U.F.O.

He was the head of several Lions Clubs in Georgia, and had gone to make a speech at a club in another town.

“There were about twenty-five other men standing outside,” he recalled.

“There was a light over the trees, at first no bigger than a star, then like a moon, then it hovered over the trees. It was big and round. Then it moved away.”

I said that I had once seen something similar, while driving through Alabama.

An astronomer friend had said it was a “noctilucent cloud,” a mysterious phenomenon which, at the time, was common enough to have acquired a name but still defied understanding.

It was shaped like a perfect globe and appeared solid, like a hovering moon, until it slowly dissolved.

“Something else strange did happen, while I was President,” Carter said.

“We had a plane go down in Zaire with some important documents. We searched for it. We adjusted our satellites to comb through the area, without success. Finally, my director of intelligence, Stansfield Turner, said he knew of a psychic in California. Apparently, he spoke to her, and she wrote down some coördinates. And we programmed that into the satellite, and, the next time it passed over, there was the plane.”

“That tells me a lot about the intelligence community,” I said.

“Indeed,” Carter said. “One of our few successes.”

In 1973, when Carter was still governor, he and Rosalynn journeyed to Israel.

It was both a spiritual and a political pilgrimage.

Golda Meir was the Prime Minister, and, as a courtesy, she accorded the Georgia governor and his wife an old Mercedes and a driver to ferry them around the Holy Land.

The trip to Israel fortified Carter’s international portfolio and awarded him credibility among American Jews, a critical Democratic constituency for the improbable race that he was considering.

The Carters also visited several Jewish settlements on the West Bank, which he concluded posed a significant obstacle to peace.

He was profoundly moved by Israel’s struggle, and on his first day in the Oval Office, in January, 1977, he stunned his Vice-President, Walter Mondale, by saying that his first priority was to bring peace to the Middle East.

Carter later told me that he believed God had put him into the Presidency for that very reason.

Carter had taught Bible classes since he was in the Naval Academy, and he still taught Sunday School when he was in Plains, at the Maranatha Baptist Church.

He and Rosalynn had a habit of reading the Bible to each other in Spanish.

I felt a little sheepish questioning him about his understanding of the meaning of the scriptures, but I reminded him of the vengeful, partisan God depicted in the Old Testament.

“So why do you think God wants peace in the Holy Land?” I asked.

“Because we follow the Prince of Peace in the New Testament,” he responded.

Secularists and mainstream Christians were, in some ways, more at ease with Carter’s faith than were his fellow-evangelicals.

In 1980, two-thirds of white American evangelical voters turned to Carter’s opponent, Ronald Reagan, who rarely attended church.

Indeed, the Moral Majority and other evangelical movements arose in opposition to Carter’s Presidency and became firmly aligned with the right.

(Three decades later, more than eighty per cent of white evangelicals supported Donald Trump over Hillary Clinton.)

This was despite the fact that, as President, Carter promoted an overtly Christian agenda, working to overcome poverty and disease, make the tax code fairer, reduce the prison population, and promote human rights around the world.

When he left office, he monitored elections in strife-torn nations, brokered peace, secured the release of hostages, and helped build or repair more than four thousand houses in fourteen countries.

In retrospect, Carter’s priorities in the White House—the environment, energy conservation, peace, health care—were remarkably prescient, and certainly his personal qualities offer a dismaying contrast to so much of the present state of American politics.

Perhaps his piety soured the American public on him.

Other qualities—his doggedness, earnestness, sincerity, blunt honesty—were in sharp contrast to those of Reagan, who proved irresistible to the public.

Both of the Carters attributed his loss in the 1980 election to the failed attempt to rescue the fifty-two American hostages who were being held in the U.S. Embassy in Tehran.

The mission was aborted when three of eight helicopters deployed were disabled, in part because of a sandstorm.

Another helicopter crashed into a transport plane, killing eight servicemen.

The Ayatollah finally released the hostages on the day that Ronald Reagan was inaugurated.

It was a tragic capstone to Carter’s luckless Presidency.

Constituencies that seemed tailored to endorse Carter gave him a cold shoulder.

In his reëlection bid, he was the first Democratic nominee since 1920 not to gain the majority of the Jewish vote, despite his signal accomplishment of making peace between Israel and its most dangerous foe.

Sadat and Begin won the Nobel Peace Prize immediately after Camp David, but Carter was spurned, even though he had risked everything to make it happen.

In 2002, the Nobel committee finally amended its error, justifying it, in part, because Carter had criticized the Bush Administration’s invasion of Iraq.

In April of 2014, my play “Camp David” opened at the Arena Stage, in Washington, D.C.

The Carters were there, along with Sadat’s widow, Jehan.

To my alarm, Carter was seated directly behind me.

I had no idea how he would respond.

Throughout the performance, I imagined his disappointment, anger, distrust, whatever, radiating through me.

The play treated him as a flawed man with a great dream.

He was driven by a belief that God would not let him fail in his effort to bring peace to the Holy Land, but God was certainly not helping.

Carter had set aside three or four days to accomplish the feat—in the event, it took thirteen days, an almost unimaginable time commitment for a modern President.

Failure was always the most likely outcome, even on the last day.

Carter’s trust in his own ingenuity, persistence, and persuasion, as well as his trust in God, were brought into question.

Camp David was his greatest political accomplishment, but from the start it teetered on the edge of fiasco.

There was another story that underlay the peace negotiations, and that was the story of the love between Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter.

Their relationship was deep, honest, and durable.

I had come to admire the Carters as I did few people in public life.

They came from a stigmatized part of America, and they had been decisively rejected by the electorate, but they never paused in their service.

Nor did they enrich themselves.

Their entire life together was marked by high aspiration and noble effort. Their marriage endured more than seventy years, until Rosalynn passed away at their home in Plains, in November, 2023, at the age of ninety-six.

At the end of the play, Jerry Rafshoon and I were called up on the stage along with the actors and the Carters.

The Carters were weeping.

I wondered what exactly had affected the President so strongly.

The Carters went down the line, thanking the actors.

Richard Thomas, who played the President, had been as nervous as I was, and Carter teased him.

But when he came to Hallie Foote, who played Rosalynn, he simply said, “I fell in love with you again tonight.”

Jean-Pierre Khazem, "First Ladies," Rosalyn, 2004.

Using women who were physically similar to various first ladies, Khazem dressed bis models in designer outfits and had them wear silicone masks.

The masks produce an eerie doll-like effect, but the result is a near-perfect resemblance.

There's a hyper-glitzed Nancy Reagan casting her famous gaze.

A bouffant-encrusted Pat Nixon rests a hand on her narrow chin.

But seated alone on a big couch with folded newspapers at her side, the humbly attired Rosalynn Carter is right out of a David Lynch film.

"Rosalynn" is by far the most nightmarish portrait.

But why?

Isn't she known as one of the sweetest liberal wives to ever reside in the White House?