#catherine fears her fate

[nat-20s]

God GOD okay okay okay okay okay I'm having thoughts I'm having FEELINGS im having a Moment SO

I waanna talk about Ten and Donna (shocker I know) but SPECIFCALLY I wanna talk about like. Them and being besties and soulmatism and red string of fates and what not. Also this post is long as rambly as hell so I'm putting it under a readmore for my non-tendonna girlies <3

So like. The Runaway Bride really does establish them as future besties so so well and some of it is the writing but I do think that some of it is that Catherine Tate and David Tennant, by all available accounts, ALSO immediately got on like a house on fire. Like genuinely i know Acting TM is a thing but I think them getting on is part of why their on screen chemistry is SO electric and dazzling to the point where Donna went from a one off one episode character to *checks notes* a character that came back TWICE and also fundamentally changed the structure and DNA of Doctor Who as a whole so. You know. Pretty impressive. Plus Donna gets to have her first adventure with The Doctor as their absolute worst: Ten is grieving from a FRESH wound of losing Rose, he's incredibly cruel and incredibly cold and straight up murders the Racknoss without a flinch or hint of remorse, and even before that he accidentally kidnaps her and then insults her as someone to dismiss. That's not to say that she doesn't also see The Doctor at their brightest: he ends up treating her with incredible kindness, and he's dazzling and brilliant and cares so much and shows her the creation of the earth itself to provide comfort. However it IS to say that because of the nature of his first interaction with Donna he CAN'T put up a facade she already knows the truth!! She is walking into their dynamic with completely open eyes and at first it fucking scares her! She doesn't dislike him in fact they already are friends after less than a day but

Then partners in crime happens. And she's realized okay no actually I CAN take the bad with the good and I WANT to participate in all of it and I DO want this friendship. The Red Strings of Fate (or maybe the TARDIS being like lmaoo you need this girlie <3) bring them back together and they are Officially Tethered from that point on which is so so so delicious. It's also so so so delicious that Ten's still at an incredibly low point and she's still going into this friendship without any ruses in place. Like oh shit yeah they are Bound together even if they did separate now they would almost certainly find each other again.

AND THEN AND THEN!!! We've already established The Doctor and Donna as fast best friends but holllllyyyy shit I think Fires of Pompeii is what establishes them as forever Soulmates. I meant canonically the ending of Fires of Pompeii where she has him save the family fundamentally changed The Doctor for the rest of their lives and gave them a guiding moral compass long after she wasn't there so yeah that's pretty fuckin soulmates of them. But I actually think them as a concept of two people sharing one soul (for the better!!) happens earlier in the episode. The exact moment in fact is THIS ONE:

The Doctor has to make a choice. There are no good options: both are mass destruction and death. And it's SUCH a Doctor choice to have to make: actively destroy Pompeii and everyone in it, or allow the entire world to be destroyed. Not only that but it will likely kill both him and Donna as well. It's a mix of self sacrifice and other sacrifice to save the world and it's a horrific situation to be in.

It is a narrative that parallels the choice he made in the Time War. It is an archetypical Burden of the Doctor.

And then she looks into his eyes, sees his fear and hesitation and remorse and guilt, and wordlessly puts her hands on his. They push the lever to destroy Pompeii together. And it becomes the burden of the DoctorDonna.

[moonmeg]

!!TW for panel 3-5// Blood

Seeing him unharmed and alive in his crib was the greatest relief. He was crying but he was alive. With a soft shush she picked the babe from the crib and cradled him in her arms.

"It's alright, little sprout, it's all perfectly fine. Mama's here.", she tried to calm him with a small rocking motion. Her eyes were fully fixated on his little chubby face and the big round tears running down his pink cheeks. It was still a bit surreal to think this was her baby. Her baby that she had carried beneath her heart for almost nine months. Cat started walking around the room while continuing her attempt to calm him. By now she had figured out how to tell his cries apart. His current cry wasn't of hunger, nor did he have an unpleasant smell about him.

"Did you have a bad dream, my love?", she asked and gently wiped the tears off his face, "Me too...". Robyn wasn't a talker just yet, but he was a great listener. While Cat had many great advisors and comforters around her, whenever she started to speak with Robyn, she realized that sometimes all it needs is someone who simply listens. Of course, she knew he doesn't understand her and that he won't remember any of what she's telling him but the idea that he did was nice enough for her to continue talking to him. So she began fighting against Robyn's cries by retelling him her own dream.

"I dreamed about your Papa. He was here and he looked so proud and full of love as he looked at you. We were all together, just as intended. We were happy.", she smiled at the image in her head. How he was standing next to her before the self-made crib he had spent months on. His hand's firm grip on her upper arm as he pulled her closer to him. His warm brown eyes carrying the love he feels for her in just one look. His proud smile towards his son, his soft touch on her cheek and chin. It all felt so real. Cat couldn't help the tear she shed upon the repeating realization that this image will never be a reality. He was gone. No matter how much in denial she wanted to be or was about it.

Caleb was gone.

"Then he appeared.", she put emphasis on "he". Cathy didn't want to speak his name, nor did she want Robyn to ever hear that name. She would rather have that name and the person it was given to be forgotten. That was his biggest concern, wasn't it? He wanted to be remembered as great witch hunter and as savior to humanity. He wanted his name in history books and an everlasting legacy. She figured, she would not give him that.

She knows she can't shut away the story attached to that person. Sooner or later Robyn would ask what had happened to his father and she wasn't planning on lying to him. But if Robyn never hears the name, even if he retells the story of Caleb's fate to friends or perhaps even his own children some day, the name would never be mentioned and slowly be forgotten. It would be "the person" and not "Philip".

Cat paused, thinking of how to continue the telling. The images flashing her mind threw her right back to that terrible day. Right back to the horrifying sight of her beloved Caleb lying in a growing puddle of blood on the floor, clenching his side, coughing...

She had tried her best to push those memories back and instead replace them with happy memories of him. It was too painful a sight to revisit again and again but she wasn't able to push it away fully.

His blood-dyed shirt, the blood strains on his chin and his arm, the pain and sadness in his eyes, the last of his strength he put into a final kiss before he exhaled one last time and lost the life in his body... she was there. She held him through it all.

She feared those moments would now be her steady company in life. They would always return and reopen the wound and she couldn't escape it.

Catherine looked back to her little son, still very much crying, as she decided to not go into detail about what exactly her subconsciousness tortured her with. Both, because it wasn't fit to tell your month old baby and because she could hardly bear saying the required words.

"I'll spare us both of telling what he did. But he did something horrible. And then...he said something so cruel about you.", she brushed her index finger over Robyn's cheek as if he knew what cruelty was said and she wanted to comfort him.

Robyn's cries lost volume but they weren't gone. He noticed he was no longer alone in the crib but that he was held by someone and he noticed quickly it was his mother so close to him. He knew her scent and he recognized her voice. Sometimes that's all he needed to calm down again: mama.

Said mama stared at him in adoration. She loved her little sprout ever since the healers told her she was pregnant. He has grown so much in just eight months and he still was. She was in awe every time anew. That's her son. Her little boy, who surely would grow into a fine young man... much like his late father. Catherine saw the world in this little life and she was proud to call herself his mother.

"He's just so wrong about you. He said you were never supposed to exist...", her brows furrowed in confusion. If Robyn was never supposed to exist, clearly he wouldn't be here now and clearly, Caleb and her would've never been able to conceive him in the first place. If, by Philip's logic, this child was the aftermath of a so-called "sin", if not a "sin" himself, surely that almighty person Caleb and his brother believed in would've not allowed Robyn to exist. She barely understood any of that topic and yet still even regarding that human belief, everything speaks *for* her baby's existence, not against it.

Robyn made a noise, striking his fist in the air as if in protest of the statement. His cries having ceased under Cathy's rocking-while-walking.

"Yeah.", Cat chuckled and validated Robyn's reply, "He's absolutely wrong.".

She paused for a moment to take the blanket from the crib and wrap him up in it. He was calm now again and it wouldn't take long before he dozed off again. So she hoped at least. Once wrapped up, she adjusted him and placed him over her chest, his head in the crook of her neck, where she was shielding it with her hand.

"You're a gift. The most amazing, wonderful, beautiful gift. And we love you more than anything else. Your father and me.", Cat smiled and turned her head to kiss his crown. She kept her lips pressed to his forehead as the clear night sky caught her attention for a while.

"I wonder what traits of yours he picked up, sweetheart.", she pulled her head back to examine her baby's face once again. There wasn't much of Caleb in Robyn's face but that's to blame on Robyn being a baby still. Of course his facial features are to grow over the years and he wouldn't have a sharp angular jaw as infant but so far Robyn has picked up more from his mother than his father.

"Maybe his hair will stay this light? Maybe his eyes are a warm brown? Or maybe it's something completely different?"

She would welcome any resemblance to her lost love and she would lie if she denied the fact she wished he looked more like Caleb sometimes rather than her when Robyn's older. She'd have her beloved's face back. She'd have his blond locks back. She'd have his beautiful brown eyes back. She'd have him back at least somehow.

Then she noticed Robyn's pointy ears - a trait definitely from her - and further spun the thoughts.

Robyn could grow into her long face and pointy chin. His dirty blond could grow into the brown of her's over the years. He could have her piercing teal eyes. He could be the spitting image of her just as much as he could be of that of Caleb.

"Maybe he barely looks like you when he's older...", she frowned upon the conclusion.

Turning away from the window, she drew a circle in the air and the curtains closed. She got back into bed, holding her infant son tightly as she still lightly rocked him back and forth. She kissed his head again. Whichever traits he picked up from Caleb and whichever from her, in the end her baby was beautiful and perfect just the way he is. He was a gift. Caleb's most precious gift. One she will protect from harm with her life. Her little sprout. Her little Robyn.

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

In the ensuing weeks, Westsimster became a landscape of chaos, consumed by flames, smoke, and devastation as King Wilhelm's knights mercilessly raided the city, burning everyone infected with the plague. The numbers of the afflicted had surged to a point where King Wilhelm, in a desperate attempt to rid the disease, ordered The Tower to be locked down. His knights were instructed to burn not only the infected people but also everything they possessed. The streets were now lined with piles of burning bodies, casting a ghastly glow on the once-vibrant city.

Plague doctors, clad in eerie masks, roamed the area, attempting to study the illness. However, the knights, driven by fear and brutality, continued to kill innocent people, tossing them into the fires. The black death was relentless, and if the knights didn't get to you, the plague itself claimed lives within a matter of days. Thousands of Windenburg's citizens perished, marking a dark and tragic chapter in the city's history.

Within the confines of Windenburg Castle, the situation was far from contained. Lady Catherine Carling, one of Cordelia's ladies-in-waiting, succumbed to the black death in her chambers. Plague doctors and knights, astounded by the rapid spread of the disease, witnessed her attendant confirming the grim news. King Wilhelm declared the castle under quarantine, isolating various royals and nobles in different chambers, providing meager supplies of dry foods and root vegetables, with doors boarded up until further notice.

Queen Cordelia, Prince Wilhelm, Augusta, and Lady Rotchford found themselves confined within the east wing of the castle. As they sat around a round table by the fireplace, peering at a small loaf of bread and a bowl of pottage, Prince Wilhelm voiced the frustration prevalent among them. "Why have things turned out this way? And when can we have meat again?" Cordelia responded somberly, "My dear, we have scarce provisions, and meat is a luxury. Make do with what's before you."

While Cordelia faced scarcity, King Wilhelm lived in stark contrast. Quarantining in his opulent bedchambers with his favored mistress, 23-year-old Anne Matthews, he enjoyed access to servants and the finest foods. Adorned in jewels, they seemed oblivious to the plight outside. Garlic vines hung throughout the king's quarters in a feeble attempt to ward off the plague. While Windenburg suffered, King Wilhelm and Anne reveled in indulgence, Anne even assisting Wilhelm in the bath.

As the cold months descended, Windenburg remained gripped by the relentless plague. Matthias, too, had fallen victim to the insidious grasp of the black death. The guard, bearing a solemn expression, approached King Wilhelm with dire news. Matthias's condition had been deteriorating with each passing day. He hesitated before continuing, "Your Grace, I understand your command to burn the infected, but I felt compelled to bring this to your attention as Matthias is your trusted advisor."

Wilhelm, with an icy gaze, turned to the guard and uttered in a grim tone, "Burn him." Without a moment's pause, he began to walk away, leaving the guard to carry out the heartless command. As Wilhelm approached the door, the sounds of a struggle echoed from Matthias's chambers. In a feeble attempt to plead for mercy, Matthias, weakened by the disease, called out, "Your Grace! Please have mercy. After everything I have helped you with over the years, please, sir!" Despite the desperate plea, Wilhelm exited the room without a flicker of emotion, as if the poignant scene had left no impact on his conscience.

On that same fateful morning, Augusta stirred from her slumber in the east wing. Determined to lend a helping hand, she decided to descend the cold stone steps and join Lady Rotchford in preparing breakfast. However, as she walked through the door to Lady Rotchford's room, the scene that unfolded before her was one of immediate shock and dread.

Lady Rotchford lay lifeless on the floor, having seemingly fallen from her bed during the night. Her complexion, once vibrant, now bore the pallor of death, marked by the telltale signs of the plague. Augusta's scream echoed through the castle as she crumpled to the floor in sheer horror. Lady Rotchford, who had been a constant presence in Augusta's life since infancy, now succumbed to the merciless grasp of the black death.

The commotion drew Cordelia and Prince Wilhelm rushing to the scene. Their faces contorted with disbelief, they joined Augusta in the chamber, their collective anguish palpable. Cordelia's shock turned into desperate action as she pounded on the chamber doors, futilely pleading for a response. The thick stone walls remained unyielding.

Defeated, Cordelia sank to the floor alongside Augusta and Prince Wilhelm. The weight of the tragedy pressed upon them, the reality of the plague's presence within the castle becoming ominously clear. In the midst of their grief, Cordelia couldn't shake the haunting thought if Lady Rotchford, confined to her room, had fallen victim to the infection, the black death had infiltrated the very heart of their sanctuary, its invisible menace threatening to engulf them all.

[lostfirefly]

Once I wrote a story, what if Buggy and Catherine had kids. This morning, while I was drinking coffee, I had a thought about what he was thinking about when he looked at that same box he kept in his drawer after meeting Catherine's ex-boyfriend. Sadness, Buggy is hurt, I am hurt, everyone is hurt.

"I'll be back in about an hour, cotton candy. I'll finish up a few things and then I'll go home. Okay, I'll buy you blueberry muffins. Fuck!! Don't squeal, woman, you'll deafen me even through the phone. Yeah, bye."

Buggy sank down into his armchair, the worn leather creaking beneath his weight as he let out a long, weary sigh. His shoulders slumped with the heavy burden of his thoughts as he stared at the small, unassuming box sitting on the table before him. With a trembling hand, he reached out and traced the velvet surface. Steeling himself, Buggy slowly lifted the lid, his heart pounding in his ears as the black, gleaming ring nestled inside was revealed. The intricate band and sparkling blue diamond seemed to mock him, a symbol of the commitment he so desperately longed for but was terrified to pursue. Buggy knew, deep down, that he should take that leap, to gather the courage and ask for her hand in marriage.

But the fear of rejection, the crippling anxiety of hearing the words he dreaded most - "I'm sorry, I can't" - paralyzed him. Time and time again, Buggy had envisioned that fateful moment, his hopes crashing down around him as Catherine crushed his dreams with a few simple words. And so the ring remained, trapped in its box, a reminder of the love he was too afraid to fully embrace. With a shaky sigh, Buggy closed the lid, sealing away his heart's greatest desire, for now unable to find the strength to risk it all on the chance of a happily ever after.

"Daddy!!! Daddy!! Hi-i-i!" Two girls ran into his office.

"Evy, Aurora?!" Buggy rounded his eyes. "Hi! What are you doing here?"

"Mom dragged us on her stupid walk, and we decided to meet you after work!!" Evelyn ran up to Buggy and kissed him on the cheek.

"Yes! We came to meet you so we can go home toge-e-e-ether!!" Aurora jumped on Buggy's knees. "Meh! Another stupid walk."

"Evelyn, Aurora! What kind of words were that?" Catherine walked into the office and closed the door. "It's your bad influence, Buggy!" She came closer and kissed him on his cheek. "Hi! The girls were in such a hurry to get to you that they almost knocked everyone down in the hallway."

Buggy sat Evelyn on his lap and kissed both his daughters on the cheeks. "Come on, sweet cakes. I love walking with your mom. You know, before you were born, she used to take me for a walk every day."

"Every day?!!!" Aurora asked, rounding her eyes.

"Yes. Every day."

"This is so boring." Evelyn rolled her eyes, leaned forward, and began shuffling through the papers on her desk. "What did you do? Just walking back and forth pointlessly?"

"What did we do?" Buggy watched as Catherine approached the table and began to clear the documents from the table. "We walked in the parks, walked along her favorite embankment, sometimes we spent some time here in my circus."

"Really? What were you doing here?" Aurora took his bandana off.

"Oh, we were having fun on the couch!" Buggy tied a bandana on her head.

"What does it mean?" Aurora asked and hugged him around his neck.

"You know." Buggy started stroking her back. "We two adults ar---"

"Buggy!!" Catherine hissed, narrowing her eyes. "I hope you wanted to say that we came to feed Richie."

"Yes, we came to feed Richie." He blushed.

"Have you finished work yet?" The girls jumped off him and started jumping all over the office.

"Evy, Aurora, calm down, this is daddy's office, don't break anything here." Catherine cane closer to Buggy, placed her hands on his head and started stroking it. Smack. "You see, they are exact copies of you, my blue-haired love." Smack. Smack. "You look so tired. Let's go home, huh?"

Buggy took Catherine's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, Catherine Mitchell."

"First of all, I think you misspelled my name, asshole." She scratched his head playfully. "And secondly, what are you thanking me for?"

"For them. Thank you for them. And for agreeing to be my wife, Catherine the Clown Mitchell."

"Oh, my Buggy Bear. But you proposed so beautifully, in front of the whole crowd during your show. I didn't have a chance to say no. I remember you down on one knee, shaking with fear like a scared raccoon. Did you really think I could tell you no?"

"I don't know!" He shrugged.

"I lov--- Evy, Aurora!" Catherine said sternly, noticing their daughters rummaging through the closet. "Put daddy's compass back! Moreover, get away from that closet, there are things that are important to dad."

"And why is this closet so important to dad?" Aurora asked, putting the round compass away in the cabinet.

Catherine slowly walked towards the children. "What if I told you that your daddy used to be an evil pirate? He captured islands, cities, and wanted to cut off the head of a rubber boy."

The girls froze for a second and looked at Buggy, then they shifted their gaze at Catherine and burst into laughter.

"Oh, mom, you're as imaginative as dad. Dad can't be a pirate. Pirates usually sail the seas and smell bad. Ew!" Aurora twisted her face in disgust.

"Yes, yes! And they often have no leg and walk around with a parrot. Just like in your favorite book, mom. You made us laugh! Dad and piracy. He has no parrot." Evelyn reached into the cupboard under the coffee maker and pulled out a box of chocolates. "Oh, mom's favorite! See? Our dad is a romantic, not a pirate, you see, he keeps candy for you. I'll eat a couple."

"Yes, he has no parrot. But he has a dancing lion!" Catherine took a couple of candies and put them in her mouth. "So that counts."

"Oh! Dad, can we go to see Richie?" The girls asked in unison.

"Yes. Sure. Cabaji!" Buggy shouted loudly.

"Yes, Captain?" Cabaji peered into the office.

"Take Evy and Aurora to Richie, please."

"Evy! Let's do like mom! Kiss daddy three times on the cheek!" Aurora grabbed Evelyn's hand. The girls ran up to him and kissed him three times. "We'll be back! We love you!!!"

"Love you too, girls!" Buggy said in response.

"See, they don't believe their dad was an evil pirate." Catherine giggled, sitting on his lap. "I don't know. I always knew you weren't who you said you were." She kissed him on his nose. "Thank you."

"For what?" Buggy wrapped his arms around her waist.

"For the truth. For admitting who you really are. I know how hard it was for you, and I'm so proud of you. I'm glad you trust me." Catherine pressed her head to his head. "Remember, you can always go back to your old life, and I'll support you completely." She took his hand. "You can sail away, and we'll wait for you here. You can take us with you, if you want. You have a cool and big ship, Buggy the Clown. There's enough room for all of us there." Catherine smiled. "Oh, I remember how you showed it to me."

"I remember our hot night there." Buggy kissed her hand.

"Oh my god, you never change, pervert!" Catherine slapped his head playfully.

"Either way, it won't be safe for the girls on the ship."

"Are you kidding? Our kids are playing with a lion right now. We're just parents of the year, Buggy." Catherine laughed and started stroking his hair. "But are you sure you are happy with your life now?"

"I'm fine, cotton candy." Buggy nodded. "Really. Thanks to you, I have a family, comfort, care. You gave me all this. What else could I want?"

"I'm so happy I m---"

"Captain?! Captain?!"

Buggy heard a voice from somewhere behind him.

"Oh, Cabaji, it's you." Buggy glanced at him. "You're back. Where are the girls?"

"What? What girls?" Cabaji looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Buggy looked around and saw an empty office. "Never mind, I probably was lost in thoughts." He quickly slammed the box shut and hid it in the bottom drawer. "About the new act."

"I see. Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just tired." Buggy rubbed his face. "Okay. You finish up here, I'm going home. Catherine asked to buy her blueberry muffins."

Buggy trudged home, buying muffins on the way and stealing yellow irises for Catherine. She greeted him with a squeal, kissed him several times on the nose and lips, and immediately led him into the kitchen for dinner, asking about his day. His favorite beer was already on the table.

[tavyliasin]

All We Cannot Have - Halsin x f!Tav One Shot

Some things magic cannot heal, and Tav has held her secrets close to her chest for a long time. It was just her luck to fall for the one man who clearly longed for something out of reach... When the world felt like it was ending, his love was a comfort, his embrace a rock in the storm. But now the seas are calm once more, she knows she has to let go, to swim away and leave him the chance to find what he wants most even if it has to be without her.

And yet... Letting go is harder than holding on ever was.

--- Click Here to read on AO3

2,386 words Pairing: Tav/Halsin SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fertility/Infertility,

Spoilers References to all acts and epilogue Canon Compliance Almost everything is canon except the character circumstances Other Notes This is a heavy and emotional chapter, so if the content is at all troubling you please feel free to skip it, or ensure you have support for your wellbeing.

Mood/Song Fear Not This Night by Freya Catherine and Jack Victor "Distant sounds of melodies calling through the night to your heart. Auroras, mists and echoes dance in the solitude of our life. Pleading silent arias gently grieving in captive misery. Darkness sings a forlorn song and yet our hope can still rise up. Nightmares come when shadows grow. Lift your voice, lift your heart.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way. And though the night sky's filled with blackness... Fear not rise up... come on and take my hand. Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way."

----- FULL ONE SHOT FIC BELOW THE CUT -----

Tav first noticed it at the Tiefling party. Of everyone there, he was the one speaking with the refugees, a light at the heart of the celebration. Halsin’s laughter was warm and soft, echoing around the clearing as the children hung from his arms, climbing on tables to leap onto his back. Her heart warmed even as the tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, a lingering pain still stinging in old wounds she refused to reveal.  The next time was with Arabella, the druid quietly comforting her after the fate of her parents had been uncovered. He was patient with the girl, despite how abrasive she was in the heat of her grief at first. He let her calm as he made small honey treats, the smell of the cooking eventually luring her over to try one. Tav stayed back. She had done enough damage for one day - there was never going to be a right way to tell the girl her parents were gone, after all. Arabella would only be more upset if she got involved… Not long after came Thaniel, both halves of him. Watching him carry the boy - a child by appearance alone, he was likely older than both her and Halsin put together - broke her heart in two. The worry on his face, the determination to do what was right for both of them, the deep and unwavering care was evident in every word and action. When the curse was finally lifting, she was sure he might weep as they watched the land returning to what it always should have been, the smiles of Thaniel and Oliver both reflecting in his eyes.  Even at the Last Light Inn, several times Tav saw Halsin sneaking extra rations to the refugee children, slipping a couple of coins to them, leaving things they might like unattended where they could be “stolen”. 

It had been half a century since she last thought of anything like this. She thought it might easily be another full one too, but there he was, and all the emotions were stirring without permission. Still, against better judgement, Tav’s blue-tinted skin took on a violet hue when he looked her way, the blush rising to the tips of her pointed ears. They were close in age, the moon elf finding herself drawn to her cousin-kin easily, and by all accounts they were a perfect match in every way…except that one. She would give him the world, had she any choice in the matter, but the world could not give them what his heart clearly longed for. The city was little different, first with Yenna coming to camp, then with seeing the refugees again… It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. Halsin loved them, every single one, and his face would light up brighter than the sun when they smiled. It was like he was born for the role, even though he pushed it all aside, choosing to risk his life for Tav and her friends, for a city he had no stake in… Selfless to a fault. How could she not fall in love with him? His warmth and kindness further warmed by the way she felt in his arms, the way his lips caressed her skin, how fully he would give himself over to her. Halsin was everything she had ever dreamed of in a lifetime of wanderlust. And how it broke Tav’s heart to know it couldn’t last… After the final battle, the party had lasted long into the night, and their personal celebration went past the break of dawn. One last time, she told herself, one time to remember, to sear him into her memory. 

—

The soft light of the morning sun was filtering through patchwork curtains as they began to rise - much as she might wish, staying in his arms forever was not an option. The comfort of warm blankets and a warmer embrace could not last. Halsin’s soft eyes caught the look in her own. “My heart? You look troubled, what is it? Was I too…excited, last night? Lay down, let me take care of you-” 

“No, it’s not that. You were perfect, as always.” Tav cut him off, pulling back a little, gathering her clothes to pull them back on. Maybe for the last time… It had to be. For his sake, no matter what she wanted. “What are your plans from here? For the future?”

“My love, I thought we had spoken of this. I know for certain now. The lands you helped me to heal, it will make the perfect home for everyone who is lacking one. We can rebuild. There are many who will never feel this city as a home, many more who are not welcomed by the current residents…” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she withdrew the moment he made contact like she had been scalded. She regretted it the moment she heard the hurt in his voice.  “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? I was hoping you would join me, to build our new home together.” 

“I’m not right for you, Halsin.” Tav could no longer meet his eyes. Her heart sank to her knot-filled stomach, the agony of the truth burning in every tear as she tried so desperately to hold back the flood. “I can’t give you what you want.” 

“There is nothing I could want more than simply to have you in my life, to have a place of our own in the Oakfather’s arms- My heart, I would be satisfied simply to grow old and grey with you.” Every moment made it harder, she couldn’t even bring herself to pull her shoulder away from the gentle hand he laid upon it. “Why would you think yourself unworthy? Nature has made no finer blessing than you.” “Nature…did not bless me, Halsin. I can never give you what you want.” As Tav talked, Halsin remained silent, listening, honey-brown eyes fixed on her even though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. She brought her knees to her chest, still sat on the bed and only half dressed, but she had never felt more naked than when she spoke next. “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you, it’s impossible not to notice how badly you want a family. And…that’s what I can never give. I’ve sought every cure, been to every healer, I once even considered the aid of a Hag but thankfully had at least more sense than desperation that time. Even a Wish would be foolish - the gods have such a way of twisting the words of our dreams into the shadows of nightmares.” She sighed, the breath leaving her with the last hint of hope that had long sat abandoned in her heart. “So…I can’t go with you, it wouldn’t be fair. You deserve someone who can let you become the father you are so clearly destined to be. I love you more than any words could ever do justice, and that’s exactly why I’m doing this now…it would be unkind to us both to deny you that.” —

Halsin watched her, as he had many times. He had seen the hint of pain Tav pushed back, noticed the thin silver scars on her body when they had spent many a night together, and he saw her now. How her body shook with the emotion she had been holding back since long before they met. Desperation, loneliness, heartbreak… A part of him knew, had always known, those silver-grey eyes were a mirror. The glass was shattering, beautiful shards falling as saline rivers coursing down her cheeks and landing on the dark silk of her shirt. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling her close, no longer letting her make the choice to draw back and leave. Her dark hair was soft under his caress, her whole being feeling so small and fragile he never wanted to let go in case she fell apart completely. The druid had prayed to the Oakfather many times, had walked the same road of seeking answers that could never be found. Even nature’s blessings had their limits, after all. Not every dream was destined to come true. As Halsin felt Tav’s tears ebb away to the quiet of eyes that burned dry with nothing left to give, his own heart threatened to break all over again. He kissed the top of her head, wishing he could fill her with hope, give her a solution, but at the end of the day reality would always break through. 

—

Tav felt his voice as much as heard it, the soft vibration rumbling through his chest, his words quiet and warm. “My love…” He was hesitant, gentle fingers caressing her back and hair with the same affection he always had, strong arms refusing to let go. “Do you think that biology is all there is to it? That the substance of the body is what makes a family?” Tav listened, sniffling slightly, feeling a little unsure on how to answer.

“I have known for a long time that I can never father a child, but I can still be a father.” Halsin’s words came as a surprise. She had always assumed that the weight on her shoulders was one she would carry alone… It wasn’t something that lovers discussed in the early days of romance, and friends would rarely raise the topic other than to announce good tidings. It was a silent shame. Penance for sins unknown, the chains that bound the broken to the cracks in their souls that even magic could never heal- And in one moment, it all fell away.

Halsin lifted her chin with his hand, looking deep into her eyes, the spark of hope in the warm honey tones beginning to heal the old scars that had been on the edge of tearing asunder. “My heart… What we pass on is far beyond our looks, our bloodlines. We give of ourselves those deeper parts. Our love, our heart, our memories… Everything that we feel and all that we have learned is more of who we are than the red in our veins or the colour of our eyes.” “I…you never told me.” Tav blinked, realising the irony in how she had held back the truth from him just the same. “What was I to say, my love? I could see how it hurt you, I hoped that asking you to join me today would bring only joy, to promise you a future. Our future.” He kissed her forehead, hand cupping her cheek, thumb gently wiping away the stains of tears. “I thought I had wept enough for the both of us, on those nights when you rested peacefully below the stars, and all my mind could recall was how lonely you looked when the children were playing.” Tav finally released her knees from her own grip, bringing her hand to the back of the druid’s head, fingers lightly lacing through soft hair as she pressed her forehead against his own. “We should have spoken far sooner.”

His laugh was as soft and warm as the scent of moss and leather that was always present when they were this close. “Whatever shall we do with each other…” “Maybe I should apologise first. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you, or to pull away, and, gods, the last thing I really wanted to do was leave. But I thought…I thought it was the only way you could have the future you deserve.” Tav felt the embarrassment colour her cheeks a deeper violet beneath the pale blue tones that her own parents had gifted her. “You have every right to be angry with me for how foolish I’ve been.” “Anger is the furthest thing from my mind,” Halsin soothed her fears, channelling a little magic to his hand to cool her cheek. “Let us make our plans. Thaniel’s lands should be recovering well but will still need time. Yet there are plenty of people here in the city who have found themselves unwelcome, more still who feel unsafe after all they have seen in these streets. There is a town to rebuild, an Inn we can stay at, even Moonrise could be restored to become a beacon of hope again.” Tav smiled, her heart warming more than it had in many a long year. “And plenty of children who need a family.” 

“Sadly a great number of them,” Halsin replied, almost as if he felt the ripples of their loss. “They may not all wish to come with us, but we can give them an option. An open door, open arms, and open hearts.” 

“Is there ever a limit to your kindness, Halsin?” Tav rubbed her nose against his affectionately. “Possibly.” He returned the gesture, the hint of his own smile in his response this time too. “Would you like to find out?” 

“We’re going to end up rivalling Jaheira’s brood, aren’t we?” She couldn’t help but think of the older druid’s adopted family, how they all took care of each other when she was away. “But let’s not go on too many adventures, not unless we have to. I think I’ve had quite enough excitement and danger for a while.” “I couldn’t have said it better myself, my love.” Halsin finally broke the contact, leaning his head back a little to look at her again. “I cannot wait to see if any of them pick up your laugh, the way you smile in the sun, develop your terrible skills in the kitchen-”  Tav playfully bit his nose. “That was one time! But… Fine, you can teach them how to cook, which berries are safe to eat, and I’ll show them how to properly hold a sword or run from the scary old bear chasing after them to wash behind their ears.”

The pain was falling away, the pieces of broken dreams being gathered from the floor, stitched together into a new pattern. Patchwork, perhaps, and not the tapestry either of them might have imagined in centuries past, but every new thread wove something stronger. Shards of what couldn’t be beginning to form the stained glass mosaic of a brighter future now the storm had passed.

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- ---

I won't lie, I took my heart from my chest and threw it at the page, hurting every feeling I have ever had in the process. But that in itself is cathartic, the piece needed out, the story needed to be told.

Life may not always work in our favour, fate takes away choices we might have had, and some things even magic cannot solve. But healing can come in different forms, like finding a different future, and finding the last flickering light in the dark to chase the shadows away.

[calisources]

THE   CW'S   REIGN   SEASON   THREE QUOTES.all   these   sentences   were   taken   from   season   three of   the   historical   fictional   show,   reign.   change   pronouns,   locations   and   names   as   you   see   fit.   

Elizabeth's real war is with me.

I am just as strong and as stubborn as Elizabeth. I will not live in fear of her! 

Are you trying to blame a woman for a man's choices? 

I hope your wings are strong, you vulture. You will be circling for quite some time.

You must wed again. You must love again.

I will take back what is mine, and if you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me.

An outsider? That's because I am.

No matter what you might think, I can't just force men to fall in love with me.

 I am a queen, about to marry a broken prince for power.

It's time to accept my fate.

I will not be chased out of my country before I've even retuned.

I will fight fire with fire. 

The day may come where we may find ourselves on the battle field. What would you do then?

Impressive. Where did you learn to shoot like that?

Well, King Francis was right. Now that I've seen your abilities with a bow, I certainly won't be crossing you.

I will rip out his heart as he did mine.

Help me bring all of my people together, or may God and your queen have mercy on your soul.

I will dismantle her power bit by bit. Every choice I make, who I fight, who I support, who I marry, will be in service of taking her throne.

Who cares about right or wrong if you're dead?

Why would my presence startle you? Oh, because you married my lover. 

You startled me.

You are offering me a kindness and consideration I have rarely shown you through the years.

I feel love toward my dead brother and anger that people think you could harm him. Those feelings lead me to stand here with you.

Like a queen men would die for.

Honestly, Mother! How many people have you killed?!

I am their Queen. Their whispers are treason.

It is a fact of our time. A man rules his wife. Even if his wife is a queen.

 What's the cost of a king's life?

Show people you are worthy of the post you hold, and no one will remember how you rose to it.

To marry you is to defy my king, to risk Catherine's wrath and the judgment of my friends, and yet... you make me feel stronger than I've ever felt before.

Do you treat all your political hostages so kindly?

It's incredible, really. I march to my execution very soon, and yet you are the one to be pitied.

There can only be one queen. And I had to choose mine. 

You may not be king, but your actions reflect on Francis, and he has the weight of thousands of lives, just like this one, on his shoulders. Be wiser next time.

God, I wish mother were here. She manages tragedy with ruthless clarity.

I'm a princess! 

Stop saying you have no choice, Charles. You're the King!

I never said I was a good man, but one can receive good advice from a bad person.

Without him the nights are long and lonely. I can't imagine what they must be like without the man you truly love.

This idea of yours. A bloodless defensive, it's a delusion you talked yourself into.

And because you value power more than anyone else, you will always be alone.

[melodythebunny]

outburst

“Carrie…not this again.”

“He's got a decent job as he mentioned…just give him a chance, Papa.”

Felix knew exactly who his daughter was referring to.

Steven Boxleitner. 

And frankly, Mr. Catswell did not approve of him.

The conversation had escalated into an argument. They've been having more and more lately as Carrie grew to be more independent. None however was as bad as this one.

“You are not going out with him Caroline!” Felix said, putting his foot down on the matter. His tone was on the line of not wanting to hear anything of the matter. He truly thought she would listen to his decision. She wasn't backing down, proving to be stubborn if not equally as him.

“YES I AM!” Carrie screamed with all her might. In an instant Felix had found himself slammed into the wall. Knocking down a few photos. His lungs burned as he tried to regain the oxygen he lost when he was flying backwards.

The worst part of it was that she hadn't even laid a finger on him. His anger turned into one of horror and realization. 

There was a moment of silence. The tension in the air was thicker than butter. Neither father, nor daughter broke eye contact. Carrie's breathing was harsh, almost like a rabid animal. If there was one thing Carrie shared with her mother, it was her fury.

Felix struggled to stand up on his bruised legs. He had been a fool. An absolute fool. How could he ever assume any of his kids had been normal? They were just like him. They had shared part of his DNA after all. His expression was still one of shock as he stared at his daughter.

Carrie's rage melted into a broken sob. Seeing she had harmed her father and  the fear in his eyes snapped her out of anger that was clawing at her soul. Regret filled her.

“Carrie.”  He stepped forward. His tone neutral, no longer holding the angry tone he had before. 

“Carrie….come here.”

She shook her head. Hesitant to be near him. Not after she had flung him to the wall. A small trail of blood dripped from her nose joining her tears on the floor. She stood in her former room crying.

“Is everything alright up there? I heard shouting.” 

Felix quickly spoke up after hearing his wife call from downstairs. “Uh yea. I just dropped a box of old antiques.” He fibbed. Carrie glanced at him puzzled. His response seemed to quell his wife's inquiry for the time being. No doubt, Catherine was ready to return to her afternoon nap. Silence returned back to the room as Felix faced Carrie.

“How long…?” He asked. He was referring to the earlier outburst of her telekinesis.

Carrie sniffed, wiping the blood away from her nose. Her eyes looked at the floor silent for a bit. “Sometime during junior high…” 

She was in her early twenties now…nearly a decade had gone by and Felix had been none the wiser. He had assumed she hadn't gotten the gene. He had hoped she didn't. She hadn't displayed any signs like Clayde had as a baby. It really wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this horrible fate.

Carrie looked cautiously at her father, taking note of his out of character silence. “Are…are you upset…?” The ginger wasn't a foreigner to her parents' dislikes of mutants and the like. She was not sure if she could face getting disowned. But they were parents…her family. The people she's known and loved the longest. 

Felix shook his head and embraced his daughter. He had kept hushed about his past to everyone. Even Catherine, the love of his life. There was no way he would send another of his kids away. Mr. Catswell would have to keep this incident a secret. Carrie knew she could never tell her mother about the damaged wall.

He just hoped she would stay away from that no good Boxleitner.

@blueweirdness @lartmacabre @dualnaturedscientist @ninjastormhawkkat @spaaceeboyy @liloskull343

Clayde belongs to @spaaceeboyy

[copiousloverofcopia]

OH MY SWEET LUCIFER!💗

I know it has been a LONG time since I updated, and I really appreciate all of you who have been sticking around to read my work. I promise I will do everything in my power to always finish a fic I start, and I am happy to finally have an update for Terzo and Mary!

Thank you so much for allowing me to write for you! Hope you all enjoy!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

Beautiful divider credit to @gothdaddyissues

Holy Mary

Sister Mary Catherine was only weeks away from taking her vows when she has a chance encounter with a man. A man she finds out is the Pope of the Satanic church.

Chapter 9: The End Days

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below!

Secondo and Primo waited impatiently outside in the hall. The sounds of their footfalls, echoing down the corridor as they paced the marble floor. The door to the infirmary was closed to them. The Ministry physician and Terzo on the other side, doing everything they could to save Mary and the child. 

Secondo’s heart was heavy. Filled with the guilt of coveting her. No longer envying his brother for the perceived honor he had been bestowed, but instead wounded by the knowledge of his brother’s pain. Feeling even more culpable having developed feelings for her. Still drawn to Mary, much as he supposed Terzo had been in the beginning. 

Called by her fair face and sweet disposition. The likes of which, Secondo would normally regard as begging for his personal style of corruption and obscenity. Lustful thoughts he now wished he could bury, strangle—kill off. Primo noticed it, his brother’s descent into his thoughts, becoming madder as the seconds passed. Ticking away on the monstrance clock down the hall.

“What are you thinking?” Primo asked him. 

“Nothing.” Secondo scoffed, folding his arms and continuing to pace. Primo hated being lied to, especially when they already knew he knew. Bringing his arm up to halt him with a jolt to the chest. Stopping Secondo in his tracks.

“Cazzate. So quando nascondi qualcosa. Pensi che sia la prima volta che mi menti. Che sono completamente nuovo alla tua stupidità?” he spewed, groaning in Italiano. Always faltering to his native tongue when he became flustered or angry. 

“It’s this whole thing.”

“Jealousy was always your downfall Secondo… you need to learn not everything belongs to you.” Primo snapped. Pissed that Secondo was still hung up on misplaced desires for their brother’s lover. Convinced that Secondo cared more about satisfying his cock than he did anything else. 

“I know, and for that I am sorry.” he sighed, a moment of true contrition from him. One Primo had not expected, when Terzo came from behind the door. Still covered in blood, but his face awash in relief. 

“She’s stable. For how long we don’t know.” Terzo explained, running his hand over his head. Allowing himself a moment to come down from the surge of adrenaline that had come from what transpired. 

“Did she receive the wound fratello? The wound of the spear?” Primo asked, hoping that if she had, and survived it, by Satan’s grace then maybe she would be spared the fate he had feared was destined for her.

“No…no she did not.”

Hours later, Terzo refused to leave Mary’s side once more. His head hung low towards his lap. Pounding and spinning. Never before in his life had he felt such pain and anguish. Scared with every fiber of his being that Mary would pay the price for his own selfishness—his cowardice. He held her hand gently as she laid beside him on the bed—unconscious and lost.

“What’s done, is done fratello. You can’t change that.” Primo told him. His brotherly hand, placed atop Terzo’s shoulder. Trying to comfort the brother who he could not bear to see suffering. The greatness of it was unimaginable as the woman Terzo loved—who carried his child, remained somewhere in purgatory. Paying for their shared crime against Heaven—alone.  

“So I just sit here? Siediti come un fottuto idiota?” he lashed out. An action that would have normally elicited a slap from Primo, now leaving him despondent. Terzo clutching tighter to Mary’s hand. Hoping for some sign that she was going to be alright. That he could look to the future and see them thriving. 

Even now he imagined it—a small child and his Mary. Surrounded by the beauty of the gardens. Her smiling face, turning back to look at him as he followed closely behind them. All he had ever wanted, wrapped up in that one small fragment of hope still holding on inside him. 

“Of course, not Terzo. Come with me, let us go find Secondo and formulate a plan.” Primo suggested. Terzo looked up at him through his brows. Angry that all the answers had always led to more questions. Knowing just how dire the current situation had become and that their time had all but run out. Watching as Mary was slipping away.

“What, pray tell would he do to help? The man has practically been avoiding me since this all started. Something is going on with him. I have half a mind to think he has something to do with this.” Terzo groaned.

“While I admit there is more to his sulking than meets the eye, I hardly can believe that he is responsible for this. You know better than that fratello.” Primo reasoned with him. Terzo lamented, nodding his head in agreement. Primo was right, while he was certainly not innocent, Secondo did not create this problem.

Something felt off once more to Terzo. The words Primo had said stuck with him. Lingering a moment before he inquired about them. Asking his brother for clarification.

“What do you mean there is more than meets the eye.” Terzo asked, his curiosity piqued as Primo began rubbing at his temples. Exhaling through pursed lips as he realized what he had just done. 

“Terzo this really isn’t the time.” Primo explained, hoping that thing would just move on, but knowing full well that once Terzo had his mind set to ask there would be no getting around it. 

“Tell me now.”

“Secondo… he… well the stronzo has developed some feelings for…”, Primo began as he gestured towards Mary, “They are misplaced as usual and he will absolutely not act on them, but of course you know him. He always wants the toy he doesn’t have.” Primo explained, desperately trying to downplay the situation, when Terzo rose up from his spot on the bed. The vein on his forehead, bulging as he went to leave the room.

Secondo came drifting out of the confessional booth. Following a very disheveled sister of sin, who seemed to be in a hurry to leave, as Primo and Terzo approached him. Primo rolled his eyes as he watched Secondo adjusting his slacks. 

“I hope we aren’t interrupting. Terzo hissed. His eyes filled with fury. Ready to tear Secondo apart. His resolve barely held together as Secondo replied. 

“I needed to get some things off my mind.”

“Yeah… I know exactly what it is you need to relieve yourself of you stronzo!” Terzo growled. Secondo, looking over to Primo for answers before dodging a punch. 

“Che cazzo stai facendo?” Secondo yelled, ready for Terzo’s next move. 

“He knows fratello.” Primo explained.

“Knows what?” Secondo groaned as Primo did his best to stop Terzo from lunging at him once again. Terzo’s chest heaving and teeth clenched—ready for a fight. 

“Cazzo! You think I don't know what you are thinking? That I can’t see the things you think are hidden. The truths I know you have uttered in darkness, behind closed doors. Vile things spit from your mouth under the veil of anonymity. I had my suspicions, but the confirmation… you disgust me.” Terzo growled, grabbing hold of Secondo’s chasuble. Ready to kill him with his bare hands. 

“Now is not the time, Terzo. You need to think about Mary. You needn't be worried about this fool. He knows he is out of line. I assure you.” Primo proclaimed, pulling Terzo off and pushing Secondo back from attempting to swing on him. 

“Va’ a farti fottere.” Terzo said, spitting in Secondo's direction as he took off towards the gardens.

Terzo reached the greenhouse. Desperate for the fresh air, to remove himself from his conflict with Secondo. Primo would keep watch over Mary as he tried to clear his head, but he was a man on fire. Rage, building up inside him. Digested with his brother and even more so, his own feelings of helplessness. 

He sat at the wrought iron table just outside the greenhouse. Storm clouds hanging high overhead, threatening a downpour—a cosmic reflection of how he was feeling inside. An imminent crash and burn steadily ahead. Terzo was falling apart. 

It was in this, his darkest of times that it appeared to him. Like in the Nazarene’s moment of weakness, he first heard the sound of leaves crumbling under pressure. The howl in the wind, chilling him before finally the appearance of a black, slick scaled serpent. Slithering along the soft bed of grass. 

Its eyes, a wicked golden glow. It was silent as it crawled along its belly. Disappearing slowly behind one of Primo’s prized red rose bushes. Only to reappear—transformed as a dark, mysterious woman. 

Soft form, draped in black fabric. Fabric that seemed to move as if it were floating in water as they approached him. Eyes filled with Hell fire, lined in charcoal black lashes and the rubiest of red lips. Their beauty, unlike anything Terzo had ever seen. Who? What was this?

“Dilecte fili mi dulcissime. Plenus vae, ut te salutat benignus deus tuus.” the woman said as they reached him. Terzo freezing up in their presence. Pupils blown wide and the beating of his heart, echoing in his ears.  

“Who are—” he tried to ask, feeling the sensation of his bones being chilled by an icy fire inside him. Both freezing and burning up in the being’s presence. The sounds of thunder, beginning to rumble in the sky. 

“I am called many things.” They smiled. It was then clear to Terzo in that moment exactly who they were. This temptress—this ethereal being was Lucifer him…herself.

“You're him, her…” he said, the words halting as they left him. 

“I can be whatever you desire...” they began, perking up an eyebrow at him, “...and what we all know you desire, Emeritus, is and always will be—a beautiful woman.” Lucifer smirked. Terzo shook off the initial shock, trying to pretend he didn’t feel the immense discomfort from merely being this close to them.   

“You’re not wrong…but that woman is Mary.” Terzo hissed. Lucifer’s face turned to that of annoyance. Taking a seat beside him at the table as if they were two old friends. Enjoying the afternoon in each other's company. 

“Terzo… please. Why can’t you be more like your brothers? Settle down that defiant streak. It doesn’t suit you.” they told him.

“Heh…”

“I mean… look what listening to me has done for you. A beautiful lover, and a child. Some men couldn’t imagine being worthy of obtaining such fine things.” Lucifer boasted. Watching as the look of anger and betrayal washed over Terzo’s face.

“You tricked me into obeying you, knowing that you would tear it all from me.” he roared. 

“I have done NO such thing.” Lucifer growled. The darkness inside them, beginning to show through the well placed veil of beauty. “It is her God that makes you suffer… not me.” 

“But you chose me… us for this. Had you picked Secondo and one of his lovers, God’s attention would be placed elsewhere. YOU said it had to be her. YOU sent me to take her knowing it would usurp his wraith.” Terzo cried before his Dark God. Dropping to his knees before them. Head bowed and fists grasping tight the fabric of their dress.

“Get up Emeritus… groveling will do nothing for you.” Lucifer explained to him. Terzo, raising up as he was told. Meeting with Lucifer’s stare.  

“Please choose someone else.” Terzo begged once more. The Dark one letting out a sigh. Feeling themselves a pushover—always having had an affinity for the youngest Emeritus son.

“I will consider it—”

“Oh…oh thank you Lucifer. Thank you.” Terzo interrupted, too soon it seemed when Lucifer held out their hand to stop his praises. 

“But you must do something for me.”

“What?! Tell me! I’ll do anything to spare her and our child from this chaos and pain.” he cried, ready to give up his own life if Lucifer should only ask of it. Lay down on Hell’s vorpal blade and allow himself to be extinguished at the Dark one’s hands. The love he felt for his child and Mary, giving him the strength to end it all. Knowing that in return they’d be safe in his stead. 

“I require a sacrifice. If I agree to withhold the evil that is set to inhabit your child. If I release your woman from the peril that plagues her…then I want you to…”

“Please, anything!” Terzo cried again, Lucifer smiling as they took his face in the palms of their hands. Holding him deceivingly gentle, as if they didn’t hold his life—his family’s lives in their grasp.

“You will kill Secondo.”

Notes:

Cazzate. So quando nascondi qualcosa. Pensi che sia la prima volta che mi menti. Che sono completamente nuovo alla tua stupidità?- Bullshit. I know when you are hiding something. You think this is the first time you've lied to me. That I am brand new to your foolishness?

Che cazzo stai facendo?- What the fuck are you doing?

Siediti come un fottuto idiota?- Sit here like a fucking fool?

Va’ a farti fottere- Get fucked.

Dilecte fili mi dulcissime. Plenus vae, ut te salutat benignus deus tuus.- My dear sweet child. Full of woe as your benevolent god greets you.

[moontrinemars]

a Few Notes on Writers and Storytelling in Vedic Astrology - and how to use that in your own chart!

Researched for my use, published for your reference. Disclaimer in bio. I use Sidereal placements but suggest checking both.

✒️ Ardra has massive connections to Gothic fiction. Mary Shelley (Frankenstein) and Lord Byron (romantic poetry) both had Ardra Ascendants, with Shelley also having Ardra Saturn and Indu Lagna. Charlotte Bronte (Jane Eyre) had an Ardra Mars and Emily Bronte (Wuthering Heights) had an Ardra moon.

📖 This makes sense! Ardra is the Star of Sorrow. It is also called the Star of Oppression. The Vimshottari Dasha says Ardra can be connected to condemnation and sacrifice. It is ruled by the Howling God, Rudra, born crying for he had no name. He was the god of Destructive Storms and Thunder, and also the Lord of Wild Animals and Medicines. This aligns with many common Gothic motifs!

📖 As a result, Gothic fiction can be an amazing introspective dive for Ardra natives... if they aren't too afraid to see their own wounds reflected back at them. Like Frankenstein's monster, Ardra natives often end up rejecting or being rejected by their "creators" - whether that's their families or their gods. Catherine and Heathcliff and their tragedy will speak to the wild Ardra native's inclination to lash out or run away out of fear of being trapped or abandoned. Etc!

✒️ You can look at an author's D5 for common threads in their popular works. For example, D5 Mars in its own sign or house is common for suspense and noir authors, as is prominent Scorpio. Both of these things are true for Agatha Christie (Hercule Poirot books and other mystery novels), Arthur Conan Doyle (Sherlock Holmes series), and Truman Capote (In Cold Blood)!

📖 If you are a creator, you can look to it for inspiration, or use it to analyze your works for patterns you never even noticed! For example, I also write original fiction in my own time. My D5 Ascendant is Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter, and faith, fate, and the divine are common themes. My D5 sun is 6th house Taurus and my works usually explore one on one relationships with lots of dialogue. Venus, my D5 sun's sign ruler, is in the 12th and Scorpio and the plots typically involve secrets, mysteries, and the link between life and death. Etc. etc. etc.

📖 Even if you don't consider yourself a creator, you can use your D5 to look at the creators that helped shape you! For example, my D5 has a Mula Ascendant and a triple conjunction in Bharani under 1º, and my favorite author as a child, Cornelia Funke, has Bharani Mars and a Venus/Saturn conjunction in Mula under 2º in her D1. I also loved Peter and Wendy, and on top of us sharing D1 Ardra Risings, J. M. Barrie has his D1 sun in Krittika, same as my D5 Jupiter.

✒️ Fairy tales are usually associated with Punarvasu, Hasta, and Revati. Hans Christian Anderson (The Little Mermaid, The Emperor's New Clothes, etc.) had Punarvasu Rahu, Hasta Saturn, and Revati Sun and Mercury. J. M. Barrie (Peter and Wendy, later iterations known as Peter Pan) had Punarvasu Jupiter, its ruling planet, in the 1st and D10 Hasta Ascendant and Pluto. Hans Grimm (Grimm's Fairy Tales) had Hasta Moon, which is its ruling planet, and Revati Rahu.

📖 Punarvasu is the Star of Renewal. It prospers the greatest only after experiencing failure - a common theme in fairy tales. There is a Rags to Riches element to this nakshatra, or the reverse. It's not a romantic nakshatra but it is well suited to travel. I personally associate it with The Emperor's New Clothes, The Lost Princess, and Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.

📖 Hasta is the Hand, which has more than one meaning. This nakshatra puts what you want in your hands, but there is also a connection to palmistry, fate, and magic. These natives have the quick wit and mystical audacity that gives characters in fairy tales the happiest endings. They're also willing to 'take with both hands'. I associate this nakshatra with Jack and the Beanstalk, Rumpelstilskin, and The Seven Ravens.

📖 Revati is the Star of Wealth, because they find what has been lost or overlooked and appreciate it appropriately. They are at their best when they act as guides, or as guardians, to those who need them. I associate them with The Blue Bird, The Frog Prince, and Thumbelina.

Hope this was useful, thanks for reading. If you have any questions, feel free to message, ask, or reply ♡

[basmathgirl]

Hiii basmathgirl,

You are in my eyes Ten x Donna and Tatennant royalty and I just want to thank you for your fics and your presence on tumblr (I remember your blog from when I discovered Tendonna in 2016 and I'm soo glad that you're still championing them after all these years (I kind of lost interest in Doctor Who for some years, but now my TenDonna obsession is full on back thanks to the 60th special)). Thank you for investing so much time and love into this fandom and being soo nice and kind when answering asks.

Anyway I've written my first tendonna fic and published it a few days ago and I wondered about reaching out to you but then thought the selfpromo is too shameful.

But when I've read your last anon ask, I thought wow that's a coincidence!!!! Because the fic deals with the Ten/Donna/River mess and is an add on for the library two parter. So I take it as an omen (like our superstitious queen CT) and have decided to slide into your asks😉

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53066341

I'm afraid my fic won't exactly satisfy the needs of anon sadly. Because it's not a fix-it, more a "let's add even more angst/hurt to Tendonna after what they lived through". Ten desperately wants and craves Donna, and meeting River makes him realize even more that it's actually Donna who he whishes to be able to know his name. There's a lot of angst involved with him not knowing about Donna's futute fate. And there's a kiss that he initiates and she first reciprocates and then stops. So yeah... exactly the kind of hurt/no comfort I'm into but probably not a lot of other people.

And I fear my fic could be misconstrued as River bashing which was never my intention. I don't like how Moffat has written River but I like what she COULD be. If only.

Hope your doing well and your migraines get better.

Lots of love from Germany xx

Hello @thelittlecoughsomewhere!

How lovely to talk to you. Although I'm not sure about the "royalty" bit

*blush*

Not compared to Catherine Tate (in Queen of Oz). I'm more like the "old retainer" who fondly looks after her... Anyway.

Thank you for the wonderful compliment! 😘

Hugs to you! [gorgeous Ten/Donna drawing by @mayomkun]

Oooh, you wrote a fic set in The Library (because, as we know, it gets a great big "The" in Moffat's world). I know what you mean about the self promos :- very embarassing at the best of times, yet how else can you get someone to read it?

So I read Grieving for the living and found it gorgeously angsty and bittersweet, and rather Ten/Donna shippy (because I like that sort of thing). You did a fine job of not bashing River too, btw.

Generally, the migraines are better thanks, but I've spent the day with a migraine, wrapped up in my oversized snuggle hoodie, being fussed over by hubby; so it's not all bad.

Sending you lots of love from England xx

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hello, I'm starting a new tag game in order to spread some love for OCs!

If you get this message take it as a chance to rant about your OCs, tell us why you love them, why you created them, their tragic past, anything and everything you'd like to share! Go nuts! Then, to continue the love, send this to other people who need a chance to talk about their characters.

Ok, vera sai.

My main girl.

Trigger warning, this has alot of dark themes

Vera sai was born in France in the early 1400s. Her mother, esthianna durand, was a child prostitute forced into servitude after her lord father was beheaded by his people. Esthianna, being a bastard child, was able to slip by without attracting their notice.

Vera's father was a handsome but despicable man with a taste for the very young.

Esthianna was 14 and pretty and a prime target.

Vera's father kept her mother untill she got pregnant at 19, deeming her to look too old to please him.

He cast her out and she was forced to live like a hermit in the woods outside of town, eventually giving birth to her daughter, catherine durand, or as she would later come to be known as, vera sai.

Vera was born with strange birthmarks all over her body. Swirling patterns that gracefully covered her from head to toe. Beautiful, but concerning.

Whispers of the word witch and devils whore had already been caught around the town. She feared what may happen to her baby.

Wsthianas fate was sealed when a strange craft descended from the sky, come to see her from another world.

Come for her catherine.

Qui Gon had sensed the immense, but patchy force cry of young vera sai, and followed it. Followed it through a wormhole.

There was a language barrier. Esthianna had never heard basic before and Qui Gon had never heard of french.

He could only impress, through the force, that he meant no harm to the young mother or her baby.

But things turned sour.

Esthianna had agreed to Qui Gon to take both her and her baby away to wherever he had come from. To somewhere he assured her was safe.

She only asked he give her one night to prepare.

It was one night too many.

The Vera's father had caught wind that his old whore had been visited by someone from the sky and claimed witch craft.

He demanded that esthianna and her demon spawn be brought to the town square, to burn at the stake for their sins.

Well. Esthianna, seeing the mob, ran.

She ran for her horse, getting shot in the leg with an arrow. And when her horse got shot only a couple of meters from the concealed ship, she limped to it.

But she did not know how to get in and no one was coming out.

So seeing no other choice, she bundled her baby up and left her at the foot of the ship, limping away to draw off the mob.

They caught her and dragged her to the town square. Ripping her dress from her body and shaving her head.

The town leader demanded to know what she did woth the child.

Esthianna refused to say anything.

He burnt her alive.

Back at the ship, qui gon had returned with obi wan and anakin from a scouting trip, the lights and screams from the town having attracted him back down from the mountains.

They found the young child crying at the hatch to the ship, and qui gon, sensing something awful had happened told obi wan to take her and anakin inside while he went to look for esthianna.

He was horrified with what he saw then.

The young mother, tied naked to a pyre, screeching and howling as flames consumed her alive.

He ran back to the ship before anyone saw him, and immediatly charted a course for home.

He needed to meditate on this tragedy.

He needed to clear his mind, and his guilt.

But obi wan approached him, holding the young child.

"Master Qui Gon....what happened?"

Obi wan asked.

"The child's mother has been killed, obi wan. She sacrificed herself to save her daughter."

Qui gon chose not to divulge the exact circumstances of the poor girls death.

"I...see." obi wan swallowed, not exactly sure how to respond to the news.

The baby cooed from where she was bundled in obi wand arms, teaching playfully for his padawan braid.

"Master. The force....it is strong with her, but odd...I've never sensed a signiture so...."

"Unstable. I agree. It is...unusual. but perhaps for the best. I can sense her powers are immense. If they did not dip as drastically as they do I dare say they would rip her apart.

Now....she needs a name."

Qui gon said gently, laying a hand on the infant's head.

"Master...I heard the woman talk about something...she said...Versailles? She spoke of it so often...and with so much fondness.

Perhaps her name should be Vera Sai?"

Obi wan suggested, his finger held in a grip but the young girls small, chubby hand.

Qui gon hummed.

"True one who is divine....a... powerfull name to pick. But I think it suits her, my young padawan.

Welcome, vera sai....you will be a great jedi one day"

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

That was vera sais origin, where she came from.

I originally made her because I wanted a jedi oc shenwas powerfull. But sort of strayed from the image of a powerfull jedi created by anakin and ashoka.

Shes powerfull, but unstable. Because of this she had great difficulty in learning how to controll her force powers. Instead, she leant heavily into theory, history. And most of all, the physical aspects of the force. She was a prodigy of martial arts. Going through the jedis training programs quickly.

Later on, when it was time to make lightsabers, it was revealed that she could not weild one.

Khyber Crystal's are extremely unstable. The stable energy of the jedinweilder flowing through them is what makes the lightsaber usable.

Vera said force energy was extremely unstable.

A small pulse from her just activating the blade, cause it to explode.

Because of this, she could not complete her padawan trials. She was forced to stay back and watch 5 year as do what she couldnt.

It made her bitter. Angry.

Shed go out at night, into the deeper levels. Drawn to the crime ridden underbelly of coruscant. If she couldnt protect like a jedi, shed protect like a mercenary.

This phase lasted about a year, when the council gathered to discuss her future.

Should she be allowed, at the age of 16, to become a padawan?

Or should she be moved to the corps?

In the end. Two jedi master fought to take her on as an apprentice.

First was master krell, who saw her potential for violence and power and wished to harness her as an asset.

The second master, was shaak tii.

She wished to help vera and beleive the structured, disciplined environment of kamino would be beneficial to the girls journey.

Master yoda debated and meditated over his options and decided that vera should go with master shaak tii.

That is how she came to be on kamino, and training under alpha 17 and fordo. She later met the batch.

After another soul draining lesson in the force woth shaak tii she was going for a walk and happened upon a group of cadets playing on a landing dock in the middle of a storm.

The bad batchers had snuck out to explore kamino.

Vera was about to tell them to get back inside when a particularily strong gust of wind threw an empty crate at one.

The tall, lanky, grey haired boy was hit in the head and knocked into the sea.

Vera immediatly started to run, dropping her robes and demanding the others get away from the edge, before diving in after the boy.

She didnt thinknabout her own saftey, or the massive power of the water crashing over her.

She saw only the drowning, young clone, in startling clarity.

For the first time, it clicked for her. The force lined up and she was able to weild it to get this boy, and carry him to saftey.

Before she knew it, the was in her arms and she was gluing up back onto the platform.

She ran him to the closest med wing. Feeling him shiver and curl against her.

She jumped levels useing the force, leaving the other boys to follow.

It was the first time she was able to weild the force properly, and the first time meeting the bad batch.

The second time she met them was during the invasion of kamino, where vera came across them fighting off the droids.

She led them to where fives, echo, rex and cody were barricaded with the cadets, and started to instruct them.

She was the one who first handed the grey haired boy a long range weapon, and told him to stay by echo and fives up in position.

He took shot after shot after shot.

Perfectly lined up.

Vera couldnt help but remark that he wasnt letting any droid escape his crosshairs.

He called himself crosshair from that day forward.

Vera would later on become a spy for the republic, taking on missions in the deepest of enemy territory.

Her biggest mission?

Spy on count dooku himself from within his own home. She did that for 3 years.

Her lightsaber Crystal's came from inside his vault. She stole them before abandoning her mission.

Her Crystal's were special. They absorbed light and energy, of which she had plenty.

During this time she also took on a padawan.

Bode akuna had list his master to the war and needed someone to complete his training. Vera volunteered. Completing his force training, as well as showing her some of her own tricks. Espionage, intelligence, infiltration, and force abilities that she had mastered over the years.

Bode was a quick learner and within an year and a half, had graduated to knighthood.

Because of this, vera was given the rank of master.

It also tore a divide between her and anakin. Anakin wanted to be a master but couldnt due to his padawan never having graduated to knighthood. Yet vera could come in last minute and take the title?

It was a fact he was bitter about.

And then to rub salt in the wound she was given a spot on the council, which she refused.

Around this time she had been growing close to another jedi, Nazra Ra'shii.

They had known eachother a long time, and decided once the war was over, they would leave the temple together.

That's why vera turned down a spot on the council. She didnt intend to stay.

And that's when the war ended early. When the clone family AU starts.

[angele-rose]

The Cult Of Stories

Part 1 - The New Preistess

The 51st preistess of The Cult of stories earns her title

TW: Violence, slightly gory, murder, let me know if I've missed anything

Note: this is just something I wrote on a whim after someone told me it was a good idea, it's been proofread but not edited

Many years ago it was said a god came to earth and sat around a campfire, telling people the stories of the gods, gesturing wildly and making smoke to show his characters, he then left his sword behind, gave it to a woman and decreed her his high priestess, saying whoever dealt a killing blow to her with her sword would take her place, simultaneously cursing and empowering her. But her fate was sealed, she died by her own blade and the woman that killed her took her place as high priestess, and the cycle continued, on and on and on and on throughout the rule of fifty priestesses, all under the name of the mysterious ‘god of tales’. He never came again, or perhaps he did in a different form, perhaps he was the priestess’ advisor, the shrivelled old man who welcomed them, bowing deeply and giving them something to drink, explaining what’s happened. Forever old but never aging a day.

Or maybe the god is watching, proud he has managed to get himself a cult.

Who knows?

We don’t

The character this story follows is named Catherine. She’s wearing her brother’s clothes, stolen from his drawers and covered in mud and rips from walking, through the forest to god knows where. She has blonde hair and pale skin with blue eyes. Of course she did, stereotypical princess, runaway princess too. A walking cliché without a sword. She’d been too scared to pull it out a man’s corpse after she killed him so foolishly decided to make to without and just void the main paths, unknowingly giving herself up for slaughter, by a bear, or a wolf….or a cult.

A crow screeched overhead and flew off, making her eyes flick up. For some reason she followed it, watching it skim over the trees, bringing her up onto a path that had been walked so well the trees grew around it in a circle, the sunlight filtering through green leaves, a rabbit in the mud hopping across the path into the bushes.

The crow landed on a nearby branch and cocked its head, hopping down a few branches on the tree before it hit the ground, waddling up to her and pecking her oversized boot, before turning around, hopping down the path and flying below the leafy canopy, again, she followed it, her feet stepping one in front of the other, her eyes fixed on the clever black bird as it walked her like a dog.

The path led to a clearing, where a woman knelt in the centre, streaks of sunlight filtering through the leaves to shine on her. Her hair touched the floor, her dress a deep green and ripped, the bird flew up and through the trees out of sight. The knelt woman had her back to Catherine, as if in prayer. Stepping forward, Catherine snapped a twig, making the kneeling woman whip her head around, her cheek had deep scratches, making blood drip down her chin, her eyes wide in fear.

With a barbaric roar she stood and grabbed a sword from the floor, running towards Catherine who god a glimpse at a bloody face before she had to duck when a sword was swung at her and hide behind a tree, the blade getting stuck in the wood giving her time to run to the other side of the building.

“He sent you! He sent you! he sent you to kill me he sent you!” the woman shrieked, tugging the sword out the tree and making for Catherine again who grabbed a branch from the ground and swung it at the woman’s head, it hit her with a thunk, making her sway a little before cutting the end off with the sword

“Silly silly silly little girl!” She taunted, backing Catharine up against a tree, which she had to dodge behind as the woman took another swing.

“Nobody sent me I don’t know who you are!”

“Silly LYING little girl!”

“I don’t know who you are!”

There was another shriek, another swing and a raven, scratching the hand that held the sword, making it fall to the grass

Catherine took it. Raised it, and swung.

The priestess’ head fell to the floor, her mouth still agape, and her face still bleeding from the scratches.

The new priestess had been selected.

All future updates on this fic can be found on AO3 here

[welldonebeca]

the night before

Summary: The night before her death, Catherine reflects on her life. WC: 1.1k words Warnings: Angst, hurt without comfort A/N: This story is written from the perspective that Catherine Howard was born in 1524.

Catherine always feared she wouldn’t have a happy ending. Of course, the last three months were sure to have carved her future like nothing ever before, but she always had a feeling her life would never end on an easy note.

She couldn’t remember a lot of life at this point. Her Lady Mother’s face wasn’t something she ever felt like she knew, and her father’s voice wasn’t memorable. She had died when long go when Catherine was just four, and he just sent her to live with her grandmother because he couldn’t - or didn’t want to - deal with her and care for her.

Grandmother wasn’t really her grandmother and she always knew that - she always had to call her ‘my lady step-grandmother’ when she was around - but in her mind, she would still call her that. With no sibling she could count on, a mother dead and a father too busy to write, thinking of her as a grandmother made her feel less lonely.

Syon Abbey was deadly empty at all hours of the day since Catherine had arrived. It was different from the court in everything: there were no people to roam the walls, no invisible servants doing work through the hours of the day, and no music.  Instead, there was silence, and space for it to echo as deafening as it could ever be, Maybe it was meant to make her face her own thought, but after a whole Winter, there wasn’t much left to be said or tears left to be cried.

Now that death was on her shoulder, she wondered if maybe she should have written something down. Her story, her age… something to be remembered.

Catherine was used to death. She knew she would face it in the morning and was ready to embrace it like a friend when it came, in the way she had embraced its victims in the weeks that lead her to today.

There was a comfort in the way she knew this wasn’t her fate alone, that she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to lose her head for something she regretted. God, her cousin had been killed for much less, blamed for crimes she had never committed. How long would it be for another Queen to doubt Henry and make him so angry he would have her killed?

It made her wonder if this was why her cousin was always in her head since she married the King. Maybe she was always meant to perish like her, the way sweet Anne was always meant to be set aside like Queen Katherine.

She wondered if the woman who would come after her would die, like Queen Jane, on the bed where she had laboured to give the King a song.

Annulled, beheaded and dead, the women who came first dictated.

And they repeated it later. Annulled, beheaded and…

“My lady,” someone called.

She turned to the door.

My Lady, not my Queen. Not anymore.

Catherine wondered if history would think of her as a fool. She wondered if history would think of her at all.

Would they wonder if she knew what she was doing when her heart was louder than her head?

The King… he wasn’t the husband she wanted. He didn’t spend time with her or talked to her, and just showed her around, parading her like a prize he had won.

Thomas was nice and sweet. He asked her about her day and about her thoughts and opinions on things, and treated her like no one had ever done before. And after Mannox and Dereham had taken and taken from her, and the ladies in court refused to treat her more than coldly, why couldn’t she just have something? One good thing in her life, one nice person who cared?!

But it didn’t matter now, did it?

The man carried the bloody block into the room and set it in front of her.

“Is this is, what you request, my lady?” he asked, unsure.

She didn’t look at him, just staring. Yes, good sir,” she confirmed. “Thank you.”

It was tomorrow, her death.

When her cousin lost her head, they told her when it would happen, and then gave her one more day. She wondered if Anne had spent the nights before that praying for her soul, or if she had just given up. Maybe she had prayed for Lady Elizabeth, who was now just as alone as Catherine had always been: motherless and the daughter of a father who didn’t care. She hoped Lady Mary was a better sister than she was a stepdaughter, then maybe little Elizabeth would have a chance.

The man lingered on his spot, and the way his body was unmoved made her raise her gaze to look at him.

“Why?” he asked.

Catherine looked at him, and then back to the block again.

“To practice,” she whispered.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He walked away, leaving her alone, and she breathed in as the sound of the heavy door closing echoed through her empty room.

People always praised her beauty, so much. Father, grandmother, Mannox and Dereham… her uncle, the one who had brought her to the King, and her husband too.

Thomas said she was funny and such good company, but yes, he always called her beautiful too.

It was all she had, her beauty. So she was going to use it, to at least be in control of… of what she couldn’t be in control.

The first time she knelt, she was trembling, so she tried again. And again. And again, until her thighs were aching, and her knees felt marked by every dent on the floor.

So then, she placed her head on the block. One, two, three, ten times, until she could do it perfectly.

It was uncomfortable, yet, but it wasn’t like her head was going to rest there for too long.

When they came to take it away, she supposed hours had always passed, but none of the new guards said anything or asked her questions.

A lady came to help her dress, and when the sun was up, Catherine’s fingers were shaking when she clasped her hands together in one last prayer.

“Please,” she begged in whispered, hoping God would hear her in some instance. “Make it quick. Make me not hurt and just take me.”

She had already asked for forgiveness and a place in heaven, maybe where she would see her mother again. Mother would love her like no one on this Earth would.

The door opened slowly, squeaking loudly, and the guards were all outside, waiting to take her, at last.

Catherine just braced herself, breathing in and standing up.

“My lady,” the head guard called. “It is time.”

[smvllb0dysims]

1505 FAMILY TREE DECADES CHALLENGE

Some Updates!!

Here is the new update to the ultimate decades challenge family tree. as you can see Catherine and Gilbert had two more kids since the last update. twins!! which was a huge stress on Catherine, hardly getting any sleep and no time to clean around the house or even take care of herself. Revna and Joan (the twins) aged up today and sadly Revna the oldest passed from measles. The whole family is devastated by this death, especially Joan. Catherine can't help but wonder if there was anything she could've done to keep her healthy and fears the same fate for her other children and her child on the way. That's All The Updates For 1505 I'll Be Back For More Updates Soon!!!

[bethanydelleman]

Lady Susan Readthrough Letters 25 & 26

Summary: Lady Susan related her triumph over Reginald to Alicia. She told Reginald that she would leave the house after their argument, which resulted in a reconciliation. However, she is planning revenge because she was forced to give up the Sir James plan for the present. She tells her friend her next plan is to go to London.

Alicia says town is the best option, as Mainwaring is threatening to visit Churchill (that would be bad!). She advises Lady Susan to think of herself (lol) and leave Frederica behind. She also says her husband will be out of town so they can party like it's 1799.

-+-

Honestly, the best worst line:

Silly woman to expect constancy from so charming a man!

But also, what a tip off for both Willoughby and Henry Crawford! If Jane Austen teaches us to fear anything, it's charming men. I think Wentworth is the only hero who is described as charming...

This is also such a sad commentary on gender dynamics. Mrs. Mainwaring's money was almost entirely under her husband's control. He is now rich and feels able to cheat on his wife without consequences.

Its effect on Reginald justifies some portion of vanity, for it was no less favourable than instantaneous. Oh, how delightful it was to watch the variations of his countenance while I spoke! to see the struggle between returning tenderness and the remains of displeasure.

Lady Susan has this strange duality of being very proud of herself for having the ability to do this, but then also hating Reginald for needing it to be done. It makes me wonder about the mysterious Mainwaring. Because Lady Susan does not like the very placeable Sir James, so maybe Reginald is just too moral and Mainwaring is the happy medium of intelligent and devoted?

Humbled as he now is, I cannot forgive him such an instance of pride, and am doubtful whether I ought not to punish him by dismissing him at once after this reconciliation, or by marrying and teazing him for ever.

The very difficult choice of whether to dump or marry him!

I must punish Frederica, and pretty severely too, for her application to Reginald; I must punish him for receiving it so favourably, and for the rest of his conduct. I must torment my sister-in-law for the insolent triumph of her look and manner since Sir James has been dismissed; for, in reconciling Reginald to me, I was not able to save that ill-fated young man; and I must make myself amends for the humiliation to which I have stooped within these few days.

Poor Frederica! Reginald is being punished for... *checks notes* trying to save a distressed teenager and Catherine must be punished for being smug. I feel so sorry for all of Lady Susan's "humiliations"

Flexibility of mind, a disposition easily biassed by others, is an attribute which you know I am not very desirous of obtaining; nor has Frederica any claim to the indulgence of her notions at the expense of her mother’s inclinations.

Lol, "Being open minded is for suckers"

You should think more of yourself and less of your daughter.

Well... okay.

I would ask you to Edward Street, but that once he forced from me a kind of promise never to invite you to my house; nothing but my being in the utmost distress for money should have extorted it from me.

How intelligent, Mr. Johnson.

Her folly in forming the connection was so great that, though Mr. Johnson was her guardian, and I do not in general share his feelings, I never can forgive her.

We know that Mr. Johnson basically disowned Mrs. Mainwaring over her foolish choice of a husband. And now it is proven to be a foolish choice. One wishes poor Mrs. Mainwaring would have listened.

INSANE Alicia Conspiracy Theory: I feel like this theory gets less crazy the more I write about it. Alicia is actually suggesting that Lady Susan send back Mrs. Mainwaring's husband:

Besides, if you take my advice, and resolve to marry De Courcy, it will be indispensably necessary to you to get Mainwaring out of the way; and you only can have influence enough to send him back to his wife.

Which sounds like what Mr. Johnson would want. After all, it is disgraceful for Mrs. Mainwaring to be abandoned, even if her husband coming back feels icky to us today.

Alicia also advises Lady Susan to leave Frederica with the Vernons, where Frederica will be happy and safe. I'm telling you, she's on Frederica's side. Mrs. Johnson is a double agent!

[denimbex1986]

We didn’t want David Tennant to go, and it was time for Ncuti Gatwa to finally take the Tardis keys, but in a twist we got both of them at once. It was no surprise, though, that Neil Patrick Harris was a scene-stealing romp, revelling in silly accents, closeup card magic and imaginative cruelty.

The Toymaker’s violence-dealing dance scene at Unit HQ to the Spice Girls rivalled the Master’s Rasputin routine in the Power of the Doctor, and seemed like the new Russell T Davies era writ large: bright, bold and knowingly silly, but with an underlying political message.

Shirley Anne Bingham (Ruth Madeley) was back too, and the barb a possessed Kate Stewart (Jemma Redgrave) aimed at her, that she had seen her getting up out of her wheelchair, was oddly prescient. It was filmed months and months ago, but echoed the ludicrous discourse after Madeley’s first appearance about whether a character in a wheelchair could be capable of crossing their legs. Online discourse like that was one of Davies’ real-life targets with this script, with its not-too-subtle messaging that having every human online and 100% certain they were right about everything was a recipe for global chaos.

A return for former companion Mel (Bonnie Langford) meant she finally got to show that her character really had been, as described, a computer programmer, and not just an eternally-in-distress 1980s damsel. And Langford got to use her singing and dancing skills for plot-driven reasons too.

At its heart, for the first 40 minutes, this was about Tennant and Catherine Tate (Donna). At times tender, at times dry or sarcastic with each other – “I’m already running!” – but always friends. When Donna so effortlessly negotiated a future job at Unit, you feared the worst for her – that it would be another fantastic dream she would never get to have, but she ended up with her family life, and an unexpected plus one in the shape of a grounded 14th Doctor.

Gatwa’s entrance, due to the show’s first ever “bi-generation”, appears to be acting as a character cleanse for the Doctor and a potential soft timeline reset for the show as a whole. It meant a huge tonal shift for the final third, leaving the demise of the Toymaker almost an aside as the Doctors stood together, using the 60th anniversary to wave goodbye to the past and usher in the future.

Sum it up in one sentence? The Toymaker returns to drive the human race to distraction with a doll, only to find they’ve gifted the Doctor a home.

Life aboard the Tardis We got the awkward conversation that happens every time a current companion meets an earlier one – “but you’d never mentioned them”. And the Toymaker’s puppet replay of the grisly fates of Amy, Clara and Bill rammed home how life on the Tardis has become a hazardous occupation in the modern era.

Fear factor The scenes inside the Toymaker’s shop had a creepy dreamlike feel to them, with the dolls at times evoking horror movie vibes – albeit a horror movie you can show to eight-year-old kids on a Saturday teatime.

Mysteries and questions The Meeps’s reference to its boss in the first special, and the Toymaker saying there was a thing hiding in the universe that even he was afraid to challenge, but would be somebody else’s game, seem to be setting up a big bad for Gatwa’s first full season. And the Master couldn’t really be trapped for all eternity in a gold tooth? Of course not. That was surely the hand of the Rani picking up the tooth after it dropped.

Deeper into the vortex * There were too many callbacks to count, but the biggest was the Toymaker, who, as briefly glimpsed in colourised clips, first appeared played by Michael Gough in a 1966 story with William Hartnell. Gough was due to reprise the role in The Nightmare Fair, a 1986 Colin Baker story, but BBC bigwigs had other ideas, put the show on hiatus, and we ended up with Trial of a Time Lord instead. The 1966 story has three episodes missing from the archive, but an animated version using the original audio soundtrack will be released next year. Though from the trailer it looks like it was animated in Roblox, so YMMV. * As Kate Stewart, Jemma Redgrave has now appeared in stories featuring the 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th and War Doctors. That equals or eclipses the number of Doctors that her character’s father, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, appeared with, depending on how pedantically you count them. * Russell T Davies has said that one of the reasons he thought of casting Harris as the Toymaker after working with him on It’s a Sin was because the actor is a magic enthusiast and has done his own standup magic routines before...'