#i would like to also note that i've had the privilege to grow up in a church that has never preached bigoted things

[2many-fandomz]

Religious queer people are valid. They don't owe you an explanation for their choices. Their choices and journeys are their own and go the fuck away.

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

unpopular(ish) tig opinions/mostly just me ranting

a few people have done this so here are mine (also just me ranting)

this one isn't super controversial but i don't really like alisa. she's nice and all, but the way she treats libby is just so weird to me and i can't bring myself to love her.

most people in this fandom are grayson stans but my fav is jameson. i love grayson, don't get me wrong, but i feel like his character is sort of overdone. i mean, almost all love interests nowadays are moody, broody, i never smile except when im with you. im happy avery ended up with jamie not just cause they fit together, but bc, for once, the love interest isn't the broody type (like i said, love grayson dont hate me)

i commented this under a post, and i don't think this is super unpopular but im lyra neutral. i literally cannot love a character unless i know them (i dont hate her either, i just don't have an opinion)

ok, this one might get me some hate, but, although grayson had the right to be mad in tig bc avery inherited the money, i do think he did go too far sometimes. there's this one time, where he was just unnecessarily rude to avery, telling her she didn't know what it was like to suffer (midway through to book, don't remember the chapter but its there and it makes no sense bc she grew up with no money while this dude is a privileged white man, like all of his brothers (except for xander cause he isn't white)). like i said, he had the right to be mad, but avery did nothing to him, and, so, he had no right to say some of the things he said to her. he does get better, and he does apologize (i think, but even if he doesn't idc cause hes nice to her now). like i said, he had the right to be mad cause i mean he did grow up thinking he'd inherit and he didn't, but he shouldn't have taken out all of his anger on her. he had the right to doubt her and think she had ulterior motives, but he had no right to accuse her of being a gold digger when she had done NOTHING to gray for him think that (dont take this as me not liking gray, he's one of my fav characters ever (but no one beats jamie (and nash)))

idk if this one will make sense and ik some people will agree with me if this does, but the way avery is treated in this fandom is really shitty. she's pretty much only mentioned when people are talking about the love triangle. she's bashed bc she didn't choose grayson (which she had the right to bc jamie was made for her and gray wasn't), her trauma is super overlooked. i wish people would pay more attention to her. also, i mentioned this earlier, but some people (not many but some) let other people (like gray and thea) get away will at the mean things they said to avery bc they're their favorite characters. (obviously, they can be your fav characters. my best friend's fav character is gray, and, when i first read the books, i liked gray over jamie for a small period of time, but its wrong to let them get away things just bc you like them.

people will agree with me, but jameson and grayson's trauma should NOT be compared. trauma is trauma no matter how "bad" it is (note the quotation marks around bad). ive mostly seen people compare jamie to gray saying that gray's trauma is worse which is so fucking mean. they both have trauma. they both have it bad. no one should be comparing. i will make a longer post about this bc this is smth i'm very passionate about and it pisses me off. (ive lost count of the amount of times ive compared my trauma to others thinking i had no right to complain bc others had it worse, so don't do it to fictional characters plsss)

the tiktok/insta fandom sucks. the amount of averygrayson shippers ive seen bash avery on those platforms is too much. the only healthy part of the fandom is on tumblr.

not controversial but thea is not a girl boss, she's just a mean girl. she's not iconic.

people should not bash people for their favorite characters. i've seen this mostly on older posts (like before tfg was released) but some people will go 'xander's my fav' or 'avery's my fav' and people in the comments would go 'but grayson exists' or 'but jameson exists'. let people like who they want to like. all characters are great (mostly, i hate thea and all of the bad guys).

i couldn't care less about eve's redemption arc. she ruined toby's life, and as someone who loves toby and avery's father-daughter dynamic, i will never forgive her. she also treated grayson horribly, basically got alisa kidnapped (cause alisa wouldn't have gotten kidnapped if eve hadn't gotten toby kidnapped), and more so if she ever does get a redemption arc, i will be throwing hands.

if i see people complaining about lyra's character when tgg comes out bc 'they were expecting someone different' i will be pissed. im sure lyra will be great (hopefully). it doesn't matter if she's a girl boss or more like rebecca.

grayson is not 'the most misunderstood character in the fandom'. he's literally the most popular character. people are constantly gushing about him and his trauma. other characters like avery, jameson, and xander (and others) are so much more misunderstood. no ones takes the time to understand them like they do with grayson. people are constantly talking about his trauma, and how people shouldn't hate him bc he's 'misunderstood'. people have the right to hate him, and his trauma isn't overlooked as the fandom's most popular character. he is a complex character, and i will be making in depth posts about him bc i find him interesting and i really like his character, but he's the most understood character in the fandom. i've noticed that people tend to say he's misunderstood right after coming up with the most nonsensical take defending all of his actions saying that he has trauma (trauma is not an excuse its an explanation)

even if grayson would've gotten up to help avery after the bombing 1. he would've never gotten there on time and 2. he might have gotten more hurt.

i said this earlier while talking about gray but trauma is not an excuse its an explanation. do with that what you will. i just have to repeat it.

people who claim jameson was not affected by emily are the bane of my existence (yes, they exist, i've seen them)

ik i mentioned gray a lot in this and it might seem like i don't like him, but i swear i LOVE him. i find his character very interesting and complex and i really wanna analyze his character once i'm done rereading. i just hate toxic grayson stans (most of yall aren't, but they exist)

[quickgirl]

The Astrology of Fame: Jupiter and Pluto's Link to Superstardom

Jupiter expands and Pluto intensifies. When these two connect in the natal chart, something magical happens.

Note: Not everyone with a Jupiter/Pluto link is going to explode in popularity and become household names echoed around the world for decades to come. Not every star has the Jupiter/Pluto link, either. However, this is a theme I've (and others) have noticed more often than not in the charts of people who have had their breakthrough.

In the many charts I've seen, almost every single celebrity had an aspect to their Jupiter/Pluto midpoint OR Jupiter and Pluto connected through a different midpoint instead (i.e Jupiter conjunct Moon/Pluto midpoint). It seems to be a far more accurate and reoccurring marker than just a natal aspect between the two planets (though that shouldn't be ignored, either).

I believe long-time astrologer, Basil Fearrington, was the first to notice the link between wealth and the Jupiter/Pluto midpoint. Even though midpoints only tend to count when activated through a hard aspect (conjunction, square, and opposition), Basil surmised that the Jupiter/Pluto midpoint is so potent that even soft aspects should be considered.

The late and wonderful Marga, creator of Dutch astrology website "Astromarkt", took it a step further and said that the Jupiter/Pluto midpoint didn't even need to be activated. The two planets conjoining at all in any midpoint combination (or through natal aspects) was enough to generate immense potential for power and fame.

Soft aspects are not generally considered in midpoint astrology. The reasoning for that is because sextiles and trines require little to no effort. The owner of them may or may not ever put those talents to use, and thus the potential of certain aspects and midpoints may never get recognized. But I think that's underselling it a bit. We do use them, we're just not privy to honing them in the way we would a hard aspect.

Humans have a penchant for believing that suffering equals greater reward, therefore we're far more likely to try and understand then tame a Mars sq. Pluto and let the Venus trine Jupiter do its own thing in the background virtually untouched. Sometimes semi-squares and sesquiquadrates are taken into consideration in midpoint astrology, but their influence is weak. If they can get their day in the limelight, I'm also giving some to the sextile and trine. They obviously have a purpose or else the aspect wouldn't even exist.

Now if you'd like to check for this theme yourself, use Astro.com. The drop-down menu for "Chart drawing style" has two different midpoint options. Ebertin chart allows for a wider orb of up to 2°, but only shows major hard aspects. Keller has a much smaller orb, but also shows soft aspects and parallels/contra-parallels. I use both.

With the clerical info out of the way, let's gain more insight into the Jupiter/Pluto energy itself. Astrologer John Sandbach describes it as such:

A tremendous desire to learn and to grow, and to acquire power, be it of the more intangible, mental sort, or worldly in nature. Driving, unstoppable enthusiasm. A relentless urge toward excess. The ability to transform how things are organized. To have big ideas and far-reaching aims. Going to great extremes. The persistent urge to do whatever is needed to overcome problems. Grandiosity. Religious fanaticism.

Jupiter/Pluto promises a larger than life persona with strong intellect and passions to stitch it all together. Think not of just musicians, models, and actors, but of cult leaders, gourmands, CEO's, luxury jewelry salespeople, and even fine art collectors who amass the rarest of paintings. There is a salient and recognizable power and privilege. Clearly fame isn't the only highlight here.

But if you are fixated on fame, what kind are we even talking about? 15-second TikTok fame? One-hit wonders and Meghan Trainor's of the world who have a shelf life of 2 years then respawn 10 years later because of a viral tweet? Absolutely not. These are the stars you never forget who cannot be compared to others. Rather, others are compared to them. They set the standard and are known everywhere, even outside of their home country. They amass wealth, power, respect, and create a legacy.

May the examples below speak for themselves.

Very well-known celebrities with aspects to their Jupiter/Pluto midpoint:

Ariana Grande (Saturn trine)

Zayn Malik (ASC trine)

Jeon Jungkook (Sun trine)

Selena Gomez (Mercury sextile; Saturn trine; Neptune square)

Conan O'Brien (Saturn trine)

Tom Cruise (Saturn trine; Node sextile)

Marilyn Monroe (MC conjunct)

George Clooney (Mercury opposite; Uranus square)

Brad Pitt (MC square)

Leonardo DiCaprio (ASC contra-parallel)

Beyoncé (Saturn & Mercury contra-parallel)

Cristiano Ronaldo (Uranus conjunct)

Naomi Campbell (Moon sextile)

Taylor Swift (Neptune trine)

Barack Obama (ASC square)

Very well-known celebrities with an active midpoint that contains Jupiter and Pluto together:

Rihanna (Jupiter square Moon/Pluto)

Meryl Streep (Pluto trine Moon/Jupiter)

Kurt Cobain (Pluto sextile Moon/Jupiter)

Al Pacino (Pluto square Sun/Jupiter; Pluto square Jupiter/Saturn)

Zendaya (Pluto parallel Moon/Jupiter)

Angelina Jolie (Jupiter opposite Uranus/Pluto; Pluto contra-parallel Jupiter/ASC; Pluto parallel Jupiter/S.Node)

Stephen Colbert (Jupiter square Venus/Pluto; Jupiter square Pluto/Node; Pluto parallel Venus/Jupiter)

Timothée Chalamet (Jupiter conjunct Mercury/Pluto)

Joaquin Phoenix (Jupiter trine Neptune/Pluto)

Nicole Kidman (Jupiter parallel Mercury/Pluto)

Robert De Niro (Jupiter conjunct Pluto/Node)

Kim Kardashian (Jupiter parallel Moon/Pluto)

Priyanka Chopra (Pluto conjunct Jupiter/Saturn; Pluto parallel Mercury/Jupiter)

Margot Robbie (Jupiter sextile Pluto/ASC; Pluto trine Sun/Jupiter; Pluto trine Mercury/Jupiter)

Drake (Jupiter trine Venus/Pluto; Pluto sextile Sun/Jupiter)

From all of the midpoint combinations, Moon/Jupiter/Pluto was the most prevalent. For this post I personally combed through the midpoints of about 45 celebrities total with 30 making the cut here. The other ~15 did not have an active Jupiter/Pluto midpoint nor an active midpoint combination with them. What they did have was a natal aspect between the two planets in their chart, or Jupiter and Pluto both made an aspect to either their Sun, Moon, ASC, or MC within 7°.

If I had to speculate on short-term fame aka "fast rise, even faster fall", I'd wager those kinds of viral sensations have a transit hitting their Jupiter/Pluto midpoint instead, and the lack of natal support can only push it so far. This is something I have to do more research on.

All done! Thank you for reading. This is my first real astrology post. I'm not sure if I'll ever write more as I prefer to lurk, but who knows. Ciao🌷

Sources: (1), (2), (3), (4) + astrotheme.com for providing the birth details

[muiitoloko]

Hello 😁 firstly thank you for your stories that heal my poor soul these day. Secondly, are you thinking of writing more about Lionel for the serie Trust ? Maybe his wife could really try to get rid off of her jealousy with a professional and him being supportive to her but also… staying him 🥵😅

Title: Time to change.

Summary: You realize it's time for a change.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Hey there, thanks a bunch for dropping by with your request! It's always a blast knowing you're enjoying the stories. And hey, your comments? They're like the cherry on top of my writing sundae—I love 'em! Keep 'em coming!

First, Second and Third part here

After breakfast, while Lionel retreated to his office to handle the urgent matter with his assistant, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, facing the aftermath of your meal. As you washed the dishes and tidied up, a sense of frustration crept over you. It wasn't fair that you were left to clean up the mess while Lionel attended to his business, as usual.

You tried to push aside your irritation, reminding yourself of the wonderful night you had shared with Lionel. Despite your frustrations, you knew that focusing on the positive was important, especially when it came to your relationship with him.

As you continued to work, you couldn't help but reflect on Lionel's upbringing in luxury. Growing up with servants to cater to his every need, it was clear that he was accustomed to a life of privilege and ease. You couldn't fault him entirely for his attitude towards household chores, but it still irked you that he often left such tasks to others.

When Lionel returned from his call, he smiled at you and suggested that you leave the rest of the cleaning for the waiters to take care of later. But you couldn't simply ignore the mess, even if Lionel insisted. It wasn't in your nature to shirk responsibility, especially when it came to maintaining your home.

Ignoring his words, you continued to put away the dishes, determined to see the task through to the end. Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but admire Lionel's charm and charisma as he watched you work, his baritone voice filled with warmth and affection.

"Come now, my dear," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "You've done enough for today. Let the staff handle the rest. You deserve to rest and relax after our wonderful night together."

You shook your head, smiling at his attempt to convince you to stop. "I appreciate the sentiment, Lionel, but I prefer to finish what I've started," you replied, your voice firm but gentle. "Besides, it won't take me long to tidy up. I'll be done before you know it."

Lionel sighed, knowing that arguing with you would be futile. He admired your dedication and determination, even if it meant you were sometimes stubborn to a fault. With a resigned smile, he relented, knowing that you wouldn't be satisfied until the task was complete.

As you diligently continued to tidy up the kitchen, Lionel observed you with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew you were a woman of strong principles and a fierce sense of responsibility, but he also worried that you might be pushing yourself too hard.

"Darling," Lionel began, his baritone voice cutting through the air with authority, "I need to talk to you."

You paused in your task, turning to face him with a curious expression. "Of course, Lionel," you replied, your tone soft and attentive. "I'm listening."

Lionel hesitated for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on yours as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, with his characteristic directness, he spoke up. "I want to talk about sex," he stated bluntly, his words hanging in the air between you.

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden topic of conversation. But you composed yourself quickly, realizing that this was a conversation that needed to be had. "Go on," you encouraged him, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Last night had been nothing short of magical, a passionate and intense reunion that had left you both breathless and sated. But you also knew that it had been a long time since you and Lionel had shared such intimacy, and his desire for more frequent encounters didn't come as a complete surprise.

He continued, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and determination as he talked earnestly about a sex routine. You couldn't help but feel a wave of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, you understood his desire for intimacy and connection, especially after the passionate night you shared. But on the other hand, the idea of a strict sex routine seemed daunting and unrealistic.

You looked at Lionel, your expression a mix of surprise and disbelief, as he proposed his idea of a sex routine. "Sex routine?" you repeated incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him.

Lionel nodded solemnly, his hooked nose twitching with anticipation. "Yes, my dear," he affirmed, his baritone voice smooth and confident. "A sex routine. I want us to make love every day, without fail. Once in the morning before I go to work, again at night before bed, and perhaps even at lunchtime when I come home for lunch. That would be three times a day, every day."

You couldn't help but laugh at the audacity of his proposal, shaking your head in disbelief. "Lionel, you're joking, right?" you chuckled, your voice laced with amusement. "No one can keep up with that kind of schedule. It's just not feasible."

But Lionel was serious, his expression firm and unwavering as he met your gaze. "I assure you, my dear, I am more than capable of such a feat," he declared confidently. "And besides, don't you remember how passionate and insatiable we were when we were first together? I long for that kind of connection with you again."

You couldn't deny the truth in his words, recalling the fiery passion and intense desire that had characterized the early days of your relationship. But things had changed since then, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of losing that spark.

As you finished drying the last of the cutlery, you set it aside and turned to face Lionel, his piercing gaze locking with yours. "I understand, Lionel," you began, your voice soft and earnest. "I want that connection with you too, more than anything. But the truth is, I don't know what's happened to my sexual appetite. It's like my mind is clouded, and I just don't feel the same level of desire as before."

Lionel's expression softened at your confession, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "My dear lioness," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand your concerns, I truly do. But I believe that together, we can overcome any obstacles that stand in our way. We just need to find a way to reignite the passion between us."

You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort and warmth wash over you. Despite your doubts and insecurities, Lionel's unwavering love and devotion gave you hope for the future. With him by your side, you knew that anything was possible.

As you looked into his eyes, you made a silent vow to work through your issues together, to find a way to reclaim the passion and intimacy that had once defined your relationship. And with Lionel's support and guidance, you knew that you could overcome any challenges that lay ahead.

As the day unfolded, you and Lionel found yourselves navigating the delicate balance between his desires and your own. Normally, you would be bustling about, attending to the needs of the household and the employees, but with Lionel at home, you chose to spend the day together.

At first, Lionel's intentions were clear – he wanted to indulge in the physical connection that had ignited between you two the night before. However, you had other plans in mind. Despite his longing gaze and suggestive whispers, you insisted on spending quality time together in a different way.

You suggested watching a movie together, hoping to enjoy a quiet moment of intimacy without the need for physicality. Lionel reluctantly agreed, and you both settled into bed to watch "Sense and Sensibility."

However, it quickly became apparent that Lionel's attention was elsewhere. While you were engrossed in the film, he seemed restless, checking his iPad and perusing the news. You couldn't help but feel hurt by his lack of interest, but you kept your feelings to yourself, not wanting to spoil the moment.

As the movie played on, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that lingered in the air. Despite your efforts to enjoy a quiet moment together, it seemed that Lionel's attention was elsewhere. You stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, noticing how he fidgeted with his iPad, seemingly unable to focus on the film.

Finally, with a sigh of frustration, Lionel set the iPad aside, his expression one of annoyance as he turned his attention to you. His eyes roamed over your features, his gaze filled with longing and desire as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck in a series of gentle kisses.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that had lain dormant within you. Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull of his touch, the way his fingers traced patterns of fire across your skin.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he nuzzled against your skin, "why waste our time with this silly movie when we could be enjoying each other's company in a much more... intimate manner?"

But as Lionel's lips trailed lower, his hands roaming freely over your body, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was something holding you back, a lingering sense of doubt and uncertainty that clouded your mind.

"Lionel," you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "I appreciate your desire, truly, but I just don't feel ready yet. Last night was... incredible, but I need some time to process everything that's happened."

Lionel's expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring as he met your gaze with unwavering love and devotion.

"My dear lioness," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "I understand. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for. Our connection is important to me, but so is your comfort and well-being."

You sighed in relief, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at Lionel's understanding and support. Despite your earlier doubts, you knew that he was truly committed to your happiness and satisfaction, both in and out of the bedroom.

With a grateful smile, you leaned into his touch, basking in the warmth of his embrace as you silently reaffirmed your love and devotion to each other. And you knew that Lionel deserved the same dedication he gave to you; he deserved the same care and love. And you realized it was time for a change.

As you woke up the next morning, feeling the warmth of the sun filtering through the curtains, you couldn't resist the urge to wake up your beloved husband, Lionel. Leaning over him, you placed gentle kisses on his neck, trying to coax him out of his slumber.

"Mmm... What time is it?" Lionel mumbled, his voice husky with sleep as he stirred.

"It's 6 am, my king," you replied softly, your lips brushing against his skin.

Lionel turned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "It's still too early. I don't have to work until 8:30," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

You gently caressed his arm, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I know, my love, but I was thinking... about our routine," you said, your voice trailing off slightly.

His curiosity piqued, Lionel opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours. "Routine? What routine are you talking about?" he asked, his tone tinged with confusion.

You sighed softly, rolling your eyes playfully. "The sex routine, Lionel," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Lionel's eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "Oh... I see," he said, his voice trailing off slightly as he processed your words.

Lionel sits up, his expression a mix of surprise and delight as he processes your words. "You... want it?" he asks, his baritone voice tinged with disbelief.

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading across your face. "Yes, Lionel, I want it," you reply, your voice filled with longing. "I want to reignite the passion between us, to reconnect on a deeper level."

Before you can finish your sentence, Lionel interrupts you, pulling you into a passionate kiss that leaves you breathless. As he wraps his arms around you, you melt into his embrace, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

"Then it's settled," Lionel whispers against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "From now on, we'll make love every day, without fail. And if there ever comes a day when I don't want it, you have my permission to buy a gun and shoot me."

You can't help but giggle at his dramatic declaration, the sound muffled by his lips as he kisses you again. Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you allow yourself to be pulled into his lap, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As you sink into the embrace of your beloved lion, you know that your relationship has entered a new chapter, one filled with passion, desire, and unwavering devotion. And as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you can't help but feel grateful for the love that binds you together, stronger than ever before.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom, you found yourself wrapped in the arms of your beloved husband, Lionel. His deep, baritone voice resonated in the air as he pulled you closer, his hooked nose nuzzling against your neck in a gesture of affection.

"Mmm... my beautiful lioness," Lionel murmured, his voice thick with desire as he trailed kisses along your collarbone. "You've awakened the beast within me."

You couldn't help but giggle at his playful words, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached out to caress his cheek, relishing the feel of his stubble against your fingertips.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here to tame that beast, isn't it?" you teased, your voice dripping with seduction as you leaned in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

Lionel responded eagerly, his hands roaming freely over your body as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that left you breathless. His touch ignited a fire within you, a primal need that demanded to be sated.

With a low growl of desire, Lionel rolled you onto your back, pinning you beneath him with a dominance that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze burned with intensity as he gazed down at you, his hooked nose twitching with anticipation.

"You are mine, my lioness," Lionel declared, his voice thick with possessiveness as he claimed you as his own. "Mine to pleasure, mine to adore, mine to worship."

You moaned in response, arching into his touch as he trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a fiery trail of need in their wake. With each tantalizing touch, he stoked the flames of desire, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

As Lionel's hands roamed lower, slipping beneath the hem of your nightgown to caress your heated skin, you gasped in pleasure, your body arching against his in a silent plea for more.

"Please, Lionel," you whimpered, your voice husky with desire. "I need you... now."

With a primal growl of satisfaction, Lionel complied, his movements becoming more urgent as he sought to fulfill your every need. With one swift motion, he rid himself of his boxers, revealing his throbbing arousal to your hungry gaze.

You couldn't help but marvel at the sight of him, so powerful and commanding, yet so utterly devoted to your pleasure. With a longing glance, you reached out to touch him, your fingers trailing along his length with a reverence that left him gasping for breath.

As Lionel nodded in agreement, a sly grin played across his lips, his eyes smoldering with desire as he helped you remove your nightgown, his touch sending shivers down your spine. With practiced ease, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pulling them down slowly, revealing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

With a low growl of satisfaction, Lionel tossed your panties aside, his gaze fixated on your exposed sex. Positioning himself between your legs, he leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in a husky voice, "Hello there, my sweet little kitten. Daddy's missed you. Have you been thinking about me?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his playful antics, knowing full well that Lionel had a penchant for being cheeky. Despite your best efforts to maintain a serious demeanor, a giggle escaped your lips as you replied, "Oh, please, Lionel. You're being ridiculous."

But Lionel was undeterred, his confidence unwavering as he continued to tease and tantalize you with his words. "Ridiculous, am I?" he purred, his voice dripping with seduction. "I'll have you know, my dear lioness, that I intend to make you purr like never before."

With that, Lionel lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to taste your slick folds with a hunger that left you breathless. As he delved deeper, exploring every inch of your dripping sex, you couldn't help but moan in ecstasy, your fingers tangling in his thick, mane-like hair as you surrendered to the pleasure he so expertly bestowed upon you.

With each teasing lick and flick of his tongue, Lionel brought you closer and closer to the edge, his own arousal evident in the way his cock throbbed against your thigh. And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that perfect spot that sent you spiraling over the edge in a mind-shattering orgasm.

As waves of pleasure washed over you, you cried out Lionel's name, your voice echoing through the room as you clung to him desperately, your body trembling with the force of your release. And through it all, Lionel remained steadfast, his devotion unwavering as he worshipped you with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love.

As you pulled Lionel up, a mischievous glint in your eye, you could sense the anticipation building between you. Lionel grunted slightly in pain as you tugged lightly on his hair, but he didn't protest, instead allowing himself to be guided by your playful yet determined demeanor. With a gentle push, you urged him onto his back, watching with satisfaction as he complied, his expression one of eager anticipation.

Straddling his waist, you hovered over him, feeling the heat of his body radiating beneath you. Lionel met your gaze with unwavering intensity, his eyes dark with desire as he waited for you to make your move. With a sweet smile, you leaned in to share a tender kiss, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips as you lost yourself in the moment.

But soon, the sweet tenderness gave way to a more primal need, a hunger that demanded to be sated. Without hesitation, you reached down to grasp Lionel's thick cock, feeling it pulse with anticipation in your hand. With slow, deliberate movements, you positioned yourself above him, guiding him to your dripping entrance.

As you impaled yourself on his length, a low moan escaped your lips, the sensation of being filled by him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Lionel groaned in response, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he allowed you to take control, his own desire evident in the way his cock throbbed within you.

Curious about your sudden change in demeanor, Lionel couldn't help but question your motives, though his cheeky demeanor had faded in the face of your overwhelming passion. "What's gotten into you today, my lioness?" he asked, his voice thick with desire as you sank down on his cock, taking him deep inside you.

But you were too lost in the feeling of him stretching you to respond immediately, the sensation overwhelming your senses as you surrendered to the pleasure of being filled by him. Locking eyes with Lionel, you squeezed his hands tightly, intertwining your fingers with his as you found your rhythm, riding him with a fierce determination that left both of you gasping for breath.

Finally, as you reached the peak of ecstasy, you managed to find your voice, your words coming out in breathless gasps between moans of pleasure. "I... I decided it was time for a change," you admitted, your voice filled with raw emotion as you bounced on his cock, your breasts bouncing enticingly with each movement. "We both deserve better, Lionel. So I've decided to go to therapy, to work through my jealousy and insecurities. And I want us to be better, together."

With each thrust, you poured your heart and soul into your confession, laying bare your vulnerabilities in the most intimate of moments. And as Lionel listened, his expression softened, his love and devotion shining through as he held you close, his cock throbbing inside you with a fervor that matched your own.

Together, you rode the waves of pleasure, lost in the heat of the moment as you reaffirmed your commitment to each other. And as you reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, your cries of passion echoed through the room, a testament to the deep connection that bound you together, stronger than ever before.

[loverhymeswith]

hello🙈 i’ve been thinking about a mini story based on “exile” by taylor swift with one tommy shelby… former lovers. shelby sees her at a party with a new beau and gets jealous (“i can see you starin honey, like he’s just your understudy, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me”) it’s a back and forth dialogue type song IDK i think it would be slay

Exile

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: A familiar figure stirs up feelings you'd rather not face

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Mention of drugs.

A/N: Thank you Anon! I love this song and it fits Tommy SO well. Also, I wrote this on a beach. No idea how the setting ended up being NYE. Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta read and the ending ❤��

I've added my existing taglist but please note this is not part of the Let’s Be Alone Together universe.

Him

It's fast approaching midnight at The Savoy Hotel. The dawning of the new year is almost within reach. Tommy Shelby drains his glass of champagne, wishing for whiskey instead as he slowly scans the room.

Tickets for the party tonight had been akin to gold dust, a chance to rub shoulders with the upper echelons of London's elite. But Tommy would rather be anywhere else in the world. 

Preferably, Birmingham.

He'd take a bottle of homemade gin, tucked away in the quiet familiarity of Charlie's yard in a heartbeat over this stuffy champagne-fueled ballroom. But no one ever said success was easy.

Tommy had come here tonight for one reason and one reason alone. If his plans to move into the world of politics had any chance of coming to fruition, he would need to mingle with the privileged crowd. To learn their weakness. Their darkest secrets. To take advantage of the liquor loosening their lips.

He's managed to withstand maybe a handful of hours at best before growing tired of all the posturing and arrogance, the not-so-subtle self-aggrandising and the congratulatory back slaps.

Looking for a way out but willing to settle for a distraction, his gaze continues to drift along the sea of tuxedos and expensive dresses.

Unexpectedly, he falters.

These days, it takes a lot to catch Tommy Shelby off guard - between France and his more recent ventures, it would be fair to assume he had developed nerves of steel - but off guard is exactly how he feels when his attention lands on the beautiful woman standing by the bar.

He'd recognise her anywhere. Sometimes, he thinks he searches for her in his dreams. 

Tommy feels the muscles in his jaw clench before he's able to compose himself. A foolish sign of weakness that he can’t afford to display. Not here. 

But it's difficult. A test of his usually unwavering resolve. Because she's not alone. 

There's a man. Younger than Tommy; tall, dark-haired, and slim, the old-money practically oozing off him. Any closer and Tommy would be able to smell it.

Tommy grabs another glass of too-sweet champagne from a passing waiter. Something to occupy his hands, and just in time. Old-Money's arms are wrapped around the woman's body, a possessive gesture and one he recognises well.

Once upon a time, she spent her nights in Tommy’s arms.

Five whole years might have passed - evidently long enough for her tastes to change - but it feels more like five minutes since she walked out of Small Heath and out of his life, a hastily scrawled note declaring she'd had enough.

Three simple sentences. One for each year they had been together. At the time, Tommy had replayed the words over and over until they no longer held any meaning, but liquor and bloodshed had long since turned those memories to slush.

It all boiled down to his plans for the future. Her fear of the potential enemies and danger which those plans might beget.

Whoever said that love would conquer all?

Tommy doesn't taste the sparkling wine as he tips the glass back, draining it in one mouthful. 

The champagne just won't do. He needs something stronger to take the edge off, but his path to the bar is blocked.

Biding his time, Tommy watches the couple. In fact, despite the sourness growing in the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to look away.

Old-Money leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispers something that even Tommy’s lip-reading skills cannot decipher. 

What is plain to see, however, is her lack of amusement. She tenses, discomfort evident in the clench of her jaw and the tightness of her shoulders. Her laughter, when it comes, is forced, never reaching her eyes.

A lightning bolt of unfiltered rage burns through Tommy’s veins, dulling his remaining senses like Arthur’s cocaine, but he quickly tempers it down. It’s not his problem. She's not his problem. 

She's not his to defend.

Not anymore.

Her

It's almost midnight. Ever since your arrival at The Savoy, your attention has been drifting to the clock on the wall. Waiting for the bells to chime and free you from this misery.

The party had been his idea, your date for the evening clearly operating under the assumption that money makes a man more attractive. An assumption which couldn't be further removed from the truth.

Though The Savoy might be the hottest ticket in town, everything about tonight makes you miss Birmingham - Small Heath, to be precise. New Year's Eve at The Garrison. The excitement. The unpredictability. 

The Peaky Blinders.

Your stomach involuntarily flips at the intrusive thought. You've come too far now to be thinking about the Shelby brothers. All memories pertaining to your former life belong firmly in the past.

Ignoring another pompous comment from your date, you glance up from your drink, desperate for an escape. Perhaps you can slip away in time to avoid the awkward but obligatory midnight kiss.

That's when you see him. 

A ghost - a demon - from your past, seemingly conjured into existence by the power of your thoughts alone.

The very same piercing blue eyes that have long haunted your dreams now stare you down, unblinking, from across the room. His full lips are drawn into a hard line.

Thomas Shelby.

Despite your brain knowing far better, your traitorous heart still flutters.

He looks good. Too good. 

Unfairly good.

The expensive dark suit is sinfully cut to his powerful body and his once-severe haircut has been allowed to somewhat grow out. 

Clearly, he's come a long way since the days of bruised and bloody knuckles. In the presence of polite society, he looks like he belongs.

The last five years may have been kind to your former fiancé, but with a start, the realisation dawns that the same can't be said of you.

Because five years later you still haven't recovered from the incurable affliction of loving Tommy Shelby.

Despite what some might say, you hadn't walked into the relationship blind. You'd known the head of the Shelby family for long enough to accept that a life together would be full of surprises, and not all of them good. But for love, you'd given him half a dozen chances.

Honesty. 

That's all you'd ever wanted. To be treated as his equal. His partner. To not be kept in the dark about decisions which could potentially put you both in harm's way.

Yet still he'd schemed and plotted. Twisted and manipulated. Deceived. He had told you it wasn't lying. That for your own safety, he was simply withholding the truth. As if that somehow made it ok.

Inevitably, after three years together, your patience reached its limit. Making good on a promise to yourself, you'd left, starting a new life for yourself in the capital, far away from the demons of Watery Lane. 

But you'd been foolish to believe that any amount of miles could repair the damage done to your heart. Arguably, damage of your own making.

His name has followed you like an ever-present shadow. His handsome picture staring back at you from newspaper articles. Even in black and white, those beautiful eyes just added insult to injury.

And now he's here in the flesh.

Tommy's stare is unwavering, but he makes no move to come over. Still, it's only a matter of time before he seeks you out. After your cowardly way of leaving, it's easy to imagine he has some choice words for you, but you’re not ready to speak to him. Not here, where manners and decorum are all the rage.

Willing yourself to break eye contact, you notice a side door to your left. Relief washes over you. Freedom or at least a small reprieve. Anything is preferable to this form of slow torture.

Him

Tommy watches her leave - a recurring theme, it would seem - her hurried exit presumably on account of his unexpected presence here tonight. She definitely spotted him amidst the crowd and she did not look pleased.

He should let her go. She's not his problem. She's in his past.

Isn't she?

A minute passes before, not entirely of his own accord, Tommy finds himself following in her footsteps. He's always been inexplicably drawn to her. Apparently, even heartbreak isn't enough to change that.

When he finds her in the lobby, her back is turned but she whips around as he murmurs her name.

"Tommy."

The earlier surprise he saw flash across her delicate features has been replaced by a  carefully rehearsed indifference. One he recognises all too well. 

She's at pains to pretend his presence isn't affecting her. A feeling to which he can certainly relate.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she adds when he doesn't immediately respond. "I didn't think this kind of thing was your scene."

He doesn't miss the accusation in her tone. 

What she really means is why are you here?

Slowly, Tommy inclines his head, lest she notice the falter in his gaze. Impossibly, she's even more beautiful than he remembers. It's surely a cruel twist of fate that brings her here tonight. Just when things were looking up for him. Just when he thought he'd put the past to rest.

"Likewise," he agrees. 

"Business or pleasure?" She wonders aloud before scanning the lobby, keenly on the lookout for another escape route.

The words, driven by a lingering hurt, fly from his lips before he can check himself, his attention not so subtly shifting to the blonde woman entering the lobby. "There's no reason it can't be both."

Her

Of course, he followed you. It's a problem you could really do without. You're walking a thin line just by talking to him. Experience tells you there's only two ways this will play out. 

Wondering whether there's any possibility of getting away unscathed, you offer him a polite smile and gesture towards the blonde woman now loitering in the corner. "Well, I'll leave you to your… pleasure."

He studies you carefully, his sharp features set into a cool mask of apathy, but you recognise the hurt hidden behind his icy eyes. 

The hurt which you caused.

"I'd tell you the same, except I doubt your friend knows how to pleasure a woman. You looked miserable back there." 

Despite the sentiment, there's no trace of concern in his cruel words.

"My choice of date for the evening isn't up for debate, Thomas," you tell him curtly, despite silently agreeing with his observation.

"Nothing ever is with you, is it?" he muses, his lips slightly pursing.

And there it is. 

Clearly, he's not going to let you get away until he has aired his grievances. 

Perhaps you owe him that courtesy at the very least.

Dropping your own mask of indifference, you take a step towards him and take his warm hand. To your surprise, he doesn't resist.

"I had to leave, Tommy. You were never going to turn things around. You were never going to change. But for what it's worth, I am sorry about leaving the way I did. I should have been better. I should have been braver."

Tommy shakes his head, keeping his tightly guarded emotions at bay. "You left without warning. You never even heard me out."

"Without warning? God, Tommy. How can you stand there and say that? How could you possibly have missed it? I left you so many signs."

Tommy looks away, his eyes rapidly searching for something just out of sight. The only indication he's feeling anything at all. "I guess I never learnt to read your mind."

"You never learnt to listen," you fire back. "Or communicate at all for that matter. Would it have killed you to be honest with me? To tell me what you had planned?"

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "I was trying to keep you safe."

The realisation that he's never going to change his tune stings more than it should. You drop his hand. "I wish I could believe that." 

The truth, in your eyes, is that he never trusted you. He's never trusted anyone. How could you be expected to give your heart over to a man who would never let you into his own?

There's a beat of silence. Enough time for you to regret letting this conversation play out for so long. Nothing good can come from digging up the past. You should go your separate ways before any further irreparable damage is done.

"Was it worth it?" Tommy asks finally, a bite of frustration slipping through his calm facade. "Leaving everything behind for this?" He gestures around. "Are you happier now?"

"Yes," you lie, but your resolve is rapidly weakening under the intensity of his blue gaze.

The door to the ballroom swings open and a small gathering of revellers spills into the lobby, saving you from admitting the very thing you've been afraid of. 

That leaving Birmingham had been a mistake. 

Tommy reaches for your arm, tugging you away from the crowd and into a recess by the cloakroom. As a result, the two of you have infinitely closed the distance.

His chest, broad and still so inviting, is now inches from your own; his calloused hand is still wrapped firmly around your wrist, his thumb pressed against your pulse point.

Can he feel how fast your heart races?

"For all your talk of honesty, you won't face the truth yourself, will you?" He sighs lightly, something like disappointment coating his words.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You scoff, feigning ignorance as a last resort.

Before he can respond, a loud cheer erupts from within the ballroom, saving you once again.

"That's midnight," you murmur just as Tommy glances down at his elegant gold pocket watch.

"Midnight," he agrees, his eyes flicking back up to your own. "Happy New Year."

You stare at him for a long moment, taking stock of his defining features. Long, dark eyelashes, the kind that would ordinarily be wasted on a man - but not Tommy; razor sharp cheekbones and a jawline to match. Crystalline blue eyes you could so easily drown in.

Almost imperceptibly, he shifts closer, large hands finding your waist with ease.

"Do you still believe in tradition?" He wonders, but it's a rhetorical question. You both know he doesn't need an answer.

Your last sensible thought before he leans in to kiss you: God damn Tommy Shelby and those ocean eyes.

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.4k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 8 | Part 10

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward for their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But it certainly felt special when you thought of it from where you had started, as a fiancée that he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place. It also felt like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance. 

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep. 

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts to get up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed? 

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you quipped, causing him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

He shrugged as he turned to face you. “You slept through it. I wasn’t aware that was possible either.”

Oh. An image of Tom picking you up from the couch and carrying you across the room flashed through your mind. He must have tucked you in too; the heavy duvet was still wrapped around you. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you, scepticism thick on his features, before you reached out for him, holding a hand in the air and waiting for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, lifting the duvet, until he lay down next to you. Cautious fingers went up to his face and ran through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while. 

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his mouth. The touch was still unfamiliar, a great deal of uncertainty as to whether he would reciprocate spreading in your veins. But he did, soft lips meeting yours, lingering as he exhaled and parting only in reluctance. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth now and again, but she seemed calm. She had curled up like a cat seeking warmth. The only thing missing was for her to start purring. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’ll earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you muttered. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been lovely, despite you having had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked completely fine. 

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You walked over to the desk where the Moly was standing and put the book down. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,��� you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “Thanks.”

Slightly concerned, you frowned, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply. 

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?”

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down you saw Nagini, who had slid over. She was on the floor between you and Tom, hissing quietly.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?” 

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was an arrangement between our families,” he stated. 

“Yes?”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked, irritated. He had not just said that.“Are you serious right now? You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“A fuss! You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you snapped, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he pulled out his wand and dashed into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tom demanded, glaring at both Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? In my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “You must have lost your damn minds.”

“I can explain.” Could you, really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded. 

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. What would his next move be? Beat Avery to a pulp, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room?

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say. 

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t… But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini's quiet hisses interrupted your thoughts while Tom watched her.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you said. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, stifled a laugh. That was unexpected, so you turned to him and asked, “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you, taking both your hands in hiss. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.” 

“Good girl,” you said, to which she offered a small his. You really had to get her some more mice. 

Closing the gap between you, your arms wrapped around Tom’s neck and pulled him close. With his hands firmly on your waist, he rested his head in the crook of your neck for the duration of the embrace, breathing you in. 

“Thank you for letting me explain,” you said, your voice muffled against the fabric of his jumper.

Tom nodded, pulling back to look at you. He brought his hand to your cheek, his eyes still alight from the argument. “When Avery held your hand I nearly killed him.”

“I know,” you whispered as you laid your hand upon his. “I saw it in your eyes.”

He pulled you back into his arms and sighed deeply. The hug lasted for a long moment before you separated, almost having forgotten that the two Slytherin boys were still there.

“Now, what were they thinking?” you asked. “What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 10

Tags: @ariachaos

[writingmia]

Okay I just had an idea and I *had* to share it. I don't even ship Valgrace but this was too good not to think about. A Leo Valdez/Jason Grace 'Red, White & Royal Blue' AU.

Note: English isn't my first language, so please keep that in mind

Leo Valdez, who is half-Mexican, the son of the first American Latina female President, the one and only goddess amongst women, Esperanza Valdez. Leo, who always wanted to fix things and decided to follow his mother's footsteps in politics as a way to solve the issues he sees in his country. Leo, whom the public loves because of his sense of humour, quick wit and charm, who becomes America's sweetheart almost immediately when the elections first started.

And then you have Jason Grace, who has been born into the Royal Family and has had those duties and expectations on his shoulders from such a young age. Jason, who knows he will become a leader at some point, because his older sister, Thalia, is a rebel who refuses to conform to his family's expectations and ran away and abdicated the second she could. Jason, who is loved by his people, who is the white boy of the month every other month.

Zeus is the king, because of course he is. His Majesty, who doesn't really approve of the USA's election of Esperanza, because he sees her as lesser.

Leo and Jason who start off at the wrong foot because of something Jason unintentionally said, something that was his father's opinion and, of course, it was offensive to Leo, who immediately figured that Jason was a racist, privileged white guy who couldn't see past the tip of his nose.

Jason who's the one wearing glasses when he's at Kingston Palace and Leo who's caught off-guard by how casual he looks with them, how relaxed, not like the heir to an entire empire with a history of blood and slavery.

Leo, whose best friend is Piper McLean, the daughter of Tristan McLean, whose gaydar is immaculate and she's the one to open Leo's eyes that maybe Jason is gay, but isn't allowed to show it.

Jason, whose best friends are Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo, who also happen to be his cousins on his dad's side (yes, it's pathetic that his best friends are his cousins but he didn't really get many chances to be social growing up, okay?!), who are both incredibly chaotic in their own ways. Percy, who immediately gets along with Leo and the two exchange sassy comments and send each other memes constantly. Nico, who knew Leo was bi before Leo himself knew, and fed into Jason's delusions until he had the balls to kiss Leo on his famed New Year's Party.

Thalia, who would be in the picture occasionally, but is mostly busy touring the US with her rock/metal band called 'The Hunters', whose first album was inspired by Greek Mythology and specifically the myths surrounding Artemis, which is so what they titled their debut album.

Annabeth, who is Piper and Leo's genius best friend and the only keeper of the singular braincell in their trio, who has been wanting to become the youngest woman to ever hold a Senate seat ever. Percy, who is completely enamoured by her the second he sees her and the two start their own romance on the side.

I'm obsessed with this idea, I think it has so much potential.

I wrote that very quickly and I've barely proof-read it, but I just felt like the idea had to get out of my head because it deserves to be shared with the fandom. If someone wants to continue developing this, I would love to read more. If someone has alr written something like this and I'm not the first genius to think of it, please let me know!

- mia

[athirstygoblin]

The Past, Present and Beyond

A gift for @captastra featuring their Tav, Everlith, and Gale, sharing about the then, now and after while huddled up by the fireplace. Everlith is absolutely gorgeous, and I hope I did her justice in this piece. Hosted by @zevlor and @carlosoliveiraa No warnings apply.

 In the darkest hours of the night, in a quiet wizard’s tower, Everlith laid on the floor, a cushion under her head, and Tara curled up by her side. The wait for her lover to return took longer than expected, resulting in her unexpectedly falling asleep near the fireplace. 

The creak of an opening door and the sound of footsteps stirred Everlith awake. She blinked to get rid of the groggy feeling in her eyes.

“Mm-Gale?”

“My love!” A startled, familiar voice rang out. A shadow walked up to her, a hand placed on her shoulder and a sigh of relief came out. “Forgive me, I did not mean to awaken you from your slumber.”

“Don’t apologize,” Everlith said, followed by a yawn. “I was waiting for you to arrive.”

Tara also awoke and stood up, stretching. It had taken some time for Tara and Everlith to become close but when Gale is not around, she would spend a lot of time glued to the cleric’s side when Gale wasn’t around. Gale had even remarked in the past that she would refer to Everlith as “Mrs Dekarios”, but Everlith wondered if that was Gale’s way of helping the girls bond.    

The Tressym walked over to Gale for her mandatory scritches, but soon looked Gale up and down, meowing in a manner that sounded like a mother cat scolding her kitten.

“Tara,I can explain,” Gale began, before Tara meowed again. “Of course I’m not replacing you, I just-” Tara seemed to want none of Gale’s explanations, before she simply walked away. Sighing, Gale walked to Everlith, knelt down and kissed her on the cheek.

“Surely the bed would have been a more suitable place to fall asleep upon,” Gale noted, half jokingly and half out of concern. “For a moment I thought I’d have to ring up the local healer.”

Evie pushed herself into a sitting position, stretching, “Falling asleep on the floor was not exactly how it was meant to go.”

Now that Everlith was able to come to her senses, there was very little light, save for Gale’s lamp that he arrived with. In the fireplace, the remnants of the fire remained, orange and red in the embers.

“The fire’s gone out.” Everlith was about to get up, before a hand on her shoulder urged her to sit back down.

“Allow me.”

With that, Gale moved to the fireplace, and with a wave of his hand, fire began to crackle, before growing bigger until the room was lit by a soft orange glow. 

Gale never missed an opportunity to show off.

The wizard sat behind Evie, and pulled her close to him. He kissed her on the cheek once again, arms wrapped around her, before he buried his face into the crook of her neck, a content sigh escaping from his lips..

“Someone had a busy day,” Everlith concluded from how he was a little more needy than usual, which elicited a chuckle from the wizard.

“There was an incident at the Academy,” Gale began. “We had the rather unfortunate privilege of witnessing one of my students, Elaine, summon rabbits. Dozens of them. Right at the end of the day. After a long earful from her parents about how it is our fault that we are ‘limiting her potential’. I suppose that was how Elaine let out her frustrations about her limited potential.” Gale chuckled. “We spent the rest of the night trying to find all of them. Believe me, you have no idea how many crevices a rabbit can fit into.”

Evie giggled, pulling a piece of white hair that was on Gale’s robes. “Well, that explains the white fur on your robes. And why Tara seemed so angry.”

As if on cue, Tara gave another annoyed meow.

Gale scoffed. “She knows I would never replace her.” He reached to place another kiss on Everlith's cheek. “Now, tell me, how has your day been?”

“I've been looking at some of our wedding plans.”

Gale raised an eyebrow.

“I haven't changed anything, I was just going over them.”

“Anything that caught your eye?”

“Well, I’m assuming there is no compromise about the guest list.”

“You know how my mother is, she would not stand for a ceremony such as this to be small. Not in the Dekarios family.” 

Everlith chuckled, her mind going back to the Wintershield festivities not too long ago. The Dekarios family had proven to be just as eccentric as Gale had warned her about. And she had not even met the whole clan.

Evie’s thoughts soon traveled to her own list of guests. To say it was shorter than Gale’s was an understatement. Spending so much time traveling as a cleric of Selûne, she never managed to make many lasting bonds. It was only when she was abducted by the mindflayers did she manage to make such bonds, which included Gale.

She wished they could have been there.

“What’s on your mind?”

Evie had not registered that Gale was even talking to her. She took a moment to process what he asked.

“I was just thinking about our companions,” Everlith replied. “A part of me miss their company. I even wish they could be there.”

They each had their own problems. Lae’zel, Karlach and Wyll, Halsin, Astarion… it was even a risk to extend an invitation to her fellow Selûnite, Shadowheart, with the risk of Sharrans potentially attacking.

When Everlith first moved to Waterdeep with Gale, she had noted how quiet their new environment was without them. Without constant bickering between Shadowheart and Lae’zel, or Astarion’s sass. Without Wyll and Karlach’s enthusiasm for life. Halsin’s musings on nature. Jaheira and Minsc’s banter that would make her question whether these two were actually friends.

“How curious of you to point that out,” Gale mused. “Because I received a letter written from someone with a very distinct voice.”

Evie raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Gale pulled out a paper from his pocket, handing it over to Everlith. She looked at Gale, still unsure, before she began to read it.

The letter had been written by Withers. An invitation, gathering her, Gale and their allies to the forest where all their mishaps began. For a celebration.

Evie slapped Gale playfully. “And when were you going to tell me.”

Gale laughed, feigning injury. “It had only just arrived now! I was planning on telling you in the morning, assuming that you had been asleep in our bed rather than the floor.”

Evie shook her head. “Alright, fair point.”

“We will have plenty of time to attend before the ceremony.”

Excitement bubbled in Everlith. To think she would be able to see her allies once more. Close compatriots. 

“Of course, it is entirely up to you whether you wish to attend or not.” Gale gave a small bow. “Your wish is my command.”

Everlith laughed, turning her head and cupping Gale’s face so that she could pull him into a kiss. Gale’s hug tightened a little bit as he moaned softly, causing Evie to smile. Once she pulled away, she nodded.

“Only if you’ll be there with me, darling.”

Gale’s brown eyes twinkled in the firelight. “I would not wish for it to be any other way.”

Tara had returned after a moment of what Gale would likely call sulking, as she hopped onto Everlith’s lap. She smiled, running her hands along the Tressym’s fur. She hissed, however, when Gale attempted to do the same.

Gale raised his hands defensively. “She’ll come around.”

Everlith laughed once more.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Sacrifice | Itachi Uchiha x Reader |

author's note: this is not my usual genre of either smut or fluff. please do not read if you do not like unhappy endings. itachi and reader are also young adults in this (i didn't give a specific age but i imaged them at 19 just for the marriage and pregnancy to make sense) but everything else is as it was in canon

pairing: itachi uchiha x fem!reader

warnings: uchiha clan massacre, pregnancy, graphic suicide

You sit on your knees at the coffee table, your back to the front door. Your eyes are closed and you wait for the inevitable arrival of Itachi. You feared that something like this might come to pass, and with the chill in the air and the sounds of violence and screams in the neighborhood, you understand your fears have come true.

You wait patiently for Itachi to come home, listening intently to your surroundings. And all it takes is the sound of one irregular wisp of the wind for you to know he's arrived. "Itachi." You hum softly, his presence now before you.

He doesn't dare speak your name. He's got one spot left after this, and from there he's doomed to a life with the Akatsuki, forever a terrorist. He'd stopped sharing as much about his meetings with the village leaders, and he knew you were intelligent enough to know he was purposefully leaving information out. His eyes well up with tears and go back to black.

"So the clan was going to go ahead with the revolt." You conclude, finally looking up at him.

"Yes." He says softly. "I failed… And now…"

You shake your head. "You don't have to say it."

"They're only letting me save Sasuke." He whispers. "I-"

"I know you fought to spare me." You say solemnly.

"I could not understand why. You are only an Uchiha in name." He speaks slowly.

"Not quite. I am an Uchiha through our marriage, yes, but there are reasons they seek my execution. For one, I am carrying an Uchiha."

Itachi closes his eyes and ducks his head. He'd feared it would happen; his love would cost you your life. "No…"

"I could not tell you why they're willing to spare Sasuke and not our unborn child. But if I had to guess, they must feel that I would raise the child to go against Konoha and seek to destroy it for all it has done to me. A pity that they believe I'd ruin the sacrifice you've made tonight for my own personal vendetta. It is true that I would love nothing more than to destroy this village into nothing… But only for you, would I leave it pristine."

Itachi drops to his knees before you, bowing his head. "I… Cannot do it."

"You have to, Itachi. If you don't, we all die. Everyone else but your parents are dead. You cannot turn back now."

"I won't kill my wife and child."

You sigh and look out the window. The moon is full and bright. "Tell me, 'Tachi. Where will you go when this massacre ends?"

"The Akatsuki." He murmurs. "I've been promised a place with them. It will allow me to watch from the shadows and make sure Sasuke is safe."

"I do not know of this organization. Will you be safe?"

"Yes."

Your lip twitches up. "You never could lie to me. Promise your wife you'll stay alive to see Sasuke grow up."

"I don't like to lie to you." Itachi says, ignoring your request.

"Then don't." You say simply. "Stay alive. That's all I will ask of you. As my dying wish, tell me you'll stay alive and protect Sasuke."

Itachi breathes in slowly, shuddering at your words of 'dying wish'. His knuckles are clenched tightly around his ANBU sword at his side, but it feels like lead in his hands that he's too weak to move.

"Legacy: what is a legacy?" You muse softly. "I wonder how they'll remember us. The great Fourth Hokage died for this village too, and to other nations we've gloated that he was the strongest of us all. You'll be remembered as a stain on Konoha, instead of the bravest and most selfless man they could've ever had the privilege of speaking about. You're saving their lives at the cost of nearly everyone you have ever loved. Your legacy will be nothing but a lie a young man had to tell for problems that the cowardly politicians should've fixed themselves."

Itachi trembles at your words, following up on where you were headed. "Sasuke must hate me to become strong. He and the village can never know the truth."

You look back at him. "I wish you'd let Sasuke decide what's best for him."

Itachi freezes under your stare. "I have to protect my little brother and Konoha."

You hum to yourself, and Itachi recognizes it as an Uchiha clan lullaby. His heart constricts in his chest as you place your hand over your lightly rounding belly. "This village doesn't deserve you, love."

Itachi doesn't have an answer to that, so instead he allows his Sharingan to burn bright again. He stands once more, heart hammering in his chest so much he may die before he can even lift his sword. And damn that look on your face, the one of understanding and love and forgiveness for what he's about to do to you and your child.

"Don't put me in an illusion." You ask softly. "I want the real you to be the last face I see."

It's swift. Even with his Sharingan he can only barely register what you've done. The moonlight glints off the metal of the kunai, and time slows as you drag the metal tip across your own jugular, slicing yourself open and throwing the kunai aside in your final action. You fall back and your eyes are heavy as you bleed out and begin to fade.

Your hearing is gone, and the last thing you see is the movement of your husband's lips.

I'm sorry.

[outeremissary]

2023 Wrapped!

This is my first ever time doing a year end art summary (using this template)- I always wanted to when I was younger, but never felt I was creating enough work or that it was "serious" enough or good looking enough to be worth compiling. It's been interesting to reflect on a year that included so many creative ups and downs (and life ups and downs in general). If you'll permit me I want to do the little reflection ramble too, even if it's an inadvisable 5 (or now 6) in the morning where I live.

Some of you who followed me on Twitter probably know that I only "learned to color"- or rather found a way that worked for me enough to finish things consistently- in 2022, and rather late in 2022 at that. This is pretty much the first year where work I considered "finished" or "polished" included things that weren't greyscale, and it's absolutely the first year where I had attempted to do something in color almost every single month. When I look at this and see the range of hues it has, I really feel an incredible sense of achievement. I would not have imagined 14 months ago that I could stitch something that looked like this together, and 12 months ago I can't say I'd have felt confident either.

Despite having a huge artistic slump in the back half of the year (along with a sharp downturn in my mental health in general) I was astounded to find that for the first six months I had so much work that I loved and was proud of that it was hard to put this together because I constantly felt like I was leaving favorites out- works that I thought were iconic or were huge milestones or I just really loved. That was unbelievable. And that was only sifting through the "nice" stuff- I didn't even consider a mountain of sketches and doodles that I adored! Even in my busiest months and the months I was recovering from a major medical procedure (I got top surgery!!!) I had something to show, and May being a WIP is less because there was nothing in that month than because Aurien and Vio were the only ones who were fitting in the damn frame (side note: I'd be more thoughtful with template than aesthetic if I ever did this again).

Even in the five months I was convinced I had done absolutely nothing, I found again and again that I had more than I thought for every month (except November, where it turned out everything I thought I'd done was early December. you've been spared DUrgetash). I was creating even when I was convinced that I was never going to be able to draw again. And I was creating enough that I got to be picky filling this thing out and choose Tristian for October just for a laugh when other options were out there, and enough that I had options when I was struggling to fit something I wanted into the template frame.

Side note: Miss Leonelle, you were tragically robbed by the damn frames.

In making this I also saw again and again the connections that I made throughout the year. I have had the incredible fortune to make wonderful friends this year and to build on bonds that I already had- even some where I perhaps didn't deserve the chances I was given. @mountainashfae is all over this summary- in April, May, June, August, and November- and I've often felt I spent as much time on Vio as Balthazar this year, but there were at least seven other baronesses, KCs, and other incredible OCs I had the privilege of drawing this year who I desperately wanted to fit onto this and was not able to for one reason or another. I'm so happy to know so many creative, passionate people and to be allowed so close to the things they hold so dear. To everyone who has shared their creations this year- not just with me, but with anyone on the internet or in real life or quietly in DMs or in a Discord or wherever- you're incredible, and I hope you're proud of what you've done. And if you struggle with that, I hope you can be proud of the way you're growing even now.

If you've stuck with me this far, thank you. Sincerely. I really appreciate that there are people who enjoy looking at my silly little drawings and reading my occasional rambles, even if I'm a little erratic on putting things up and usually a bit distant by choice from fan communities. And if you continue to stick around, I hope that you continue to have a good time.

I don't know what to expect from 2024 when I've got a laundry list of projects from 2023 I haven't finished, but I'm hopeful about what it'll contain. There's a lot I want to do- more full illustrations, working on other media, trying more ambitious projects- but for now it's enough to just think about picking up the things I've left off and continuing to tie up those loose ends.

Here's hoping we all can find something we want in 2024, as terrible and unknowable as the new chapter is.

[lifeascaty]

I've been away from tumblr for a few months. In October 2021, my Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 neuroendocrine pancreatic cancer. I felt like my whole world was falling apart. He already followed me on tumblr, so I filled my feed with things he would like so he had something new and interesting (or a cute cat) to see every day. (I was already posting a lot for him, but now my queue was entirely for him.) It was a small thing, but I wanted to do anything to help make him smile or distract him. As it was a neuroendocrine cancer, there were treatment options, and soon he was back to living life as if nothing was wrong. But I still kept my queue running for him. In November 2023, a scan was misread. They told my Dad his cancer was responding well to treatment, and he wouldn't need any more nuclear medicine for two years. Unfortunately, this mistake meant my Dad passed away on January 26th 2024. There's no question that this is the worst thing to ever happen to me. My Dad is the person I am/was closest to in the whole world. I've never felt pain like this. I don't know what to do with my tumblr now. I've had it for over a decade, but I've been posting for my Dad for so long that it feels wrong to post without him. I know that's silly. I just miss him so much.

I'm going to post the eulogy I wrote for him below the cut. I don't expect anyone to read it, but I want it to exist somewhere online. I'm really proud of it. It has mistakes - repetitions of words etc. - but I also think it's the best thing I've ever written, because it's about my Dad.

As a professional writer, I’ve felt a lot of pressure to write a eulogy that does my Dad justice. The problem is, I don’t think that’s possible. Especially without him here to give me notes. My Dad has always given me his opinion on my writing at whatever stage it was at, bouncing ideas back and forth with me and arguing over intricate punctuation but, on this occasion, he can’t. I hope he’d like this anyway.

I could talk forever about my Dad. There are so many things I want to tell people about him, about his love and excitement for the world and his joy in getting to live each day. To quote Marcus Aurelius, as my Dad often did, “When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” This sentiment defined him, really.

My Dad and I have so much in common. We traded books back and forth. He introduced me to his favourite shows and I showed him mine. He showed me his favourite movies from when he was growing up, and we were always first in line to see new releases at the Odeon in Wrexham. I would spend hours hanging out on the couch in his study as he worked and played music, talking me through his love and admiration of various songs and bands, like Led Zeppelin, Genesis, The Jam, The Smiths. We talked a mile a minute over dinner, always excited to share whatever new thing we’d learned that day. We experimented with various recipes and he gave me my love of cooking. We debated politics constantly, always talked about what was in the news, forwarded interesting posts and memes to each other across multiple social media platforms. Even when I lived on another continent we were in contact with each other every day, keeping track of our respective timezones so we could always find time to talk.

My heart aches every time I read a news article about some interesting new archaeological finding or a new discovery in space, because I want to share it with him. There are so many movies we planned to see, upcoming TV shows we wanted to watch, books we were waiting to be released.

I want to talk to him about the new Taylor Swift album and the Grammys she just won. As some of you may know, my Dad was a Swiftie – he was in the top 0.5% of Taylor Swift Spotify listeners last year. He was a fan of her before I was, often falling asleep to her 1989 album on international flights. He bought us tickets to see her Eras Tour together this summer and we were so excited. I can’t describe the pain I felt when last month he told me that I’d have to go and enjoy it without him. Because he should be here to see it with me. He loved stained glass – even taking classes and making his own artwork. He promised to teach me this summer, and now I’ll have to do it without him. But I’ll still do it. Like I’ll still go to the Eras concert – because it’s what he would have wanted, and because it keeps his memory alive.

I recognise how lucky I am that he is my Dad. So many things had to happen to make it so. Various ancestors had to meet and have children. My parents needed to be born, needed to both decide to go to the same university, needed some anonymous admin person to assign them both to the same university halls where they would ultimately meet. All so that one day I would come in to being and he would be my Dad. The chances of that happening, for everything to have gone right, are so infinitesimally small. And yet they happened. How miraculous is that?

I am who I am because of him. As a young man, he reviewed books for The Oxford Times and Interzone, a Sci-Fi and Fantasy magazine. (He was particularly proud to interview Terry Pratchett, his favourite author, and have his quote used on Pratchett’s books for years to come). He fell in love with stories and storytelling, a love that he passed down to me. Without him, I don’t know if I would have become a screenwriter and author. Storytelling is such a huge part of me, and I don’t know who I’d be without it, and without him. 

There are so many big, impressive things that my Dad did and achieved through his lifetime, but the things that make up a life are the smaller moments. My parents dancing around his study to God Only Knows by The Beach Boys. His love of all our cats across the years and his special relationship with each of them. The time we went out into the garden, on a freezing cold night in November, to watch the Leonids – shooting stars – falling brightly through the atmosphere. Picking me up from Gobowen station every time I came back from London or undergrad, no matter how late my train was. His specific way of stacking the dishwasher that only I could emulate. Summer holidays swimming in the pool, eating ice cream together, and marvelling over his tan.

The problem with loving my Dad so much is that it’s incredibly painful now he’s gone. One of his favourite Marvel TV shows, Wandavision, had the line “what is grief, if not love persevering?” There is so much grief because there has always been so much love between us. And I am thankful for that. Thankful for him, and everything he has done to build a beautiful life for our family.

My Dad’s last words were beautiful. Something we often said to each other, from childhood to adulthood, was “I love you more than the moon, and the stars, and the wide, wide world”. I started saying it to him, none of us knowing the end was hurtling so quickly towards us. He smiled as I began to say the familiar words, and as my Mum and brother joined in, so did he, still smiling as he said “and the wide, wide world”. And that was it.

'To reference Marcus Aurelius once more, he talks in Meditations about how just a day–just a minute–of happiness, of perfection, of peace, is enough. The same goes for the people we love. That we ever had my Dad in the first place is a wonderful thing, something to be so grateful for. Whatever comes after, whatever fortune has in store for us in the future? It can’t change that. What happens next matters less because of the wonderfulness of having had my Dad at all.'

He is my best friend. He will always be my best friend. Whatever happened, I knew he would look after me. That he loved me and cared for me and that with him I was safe. He would look after our family, always. And he did. Even now we’re discovering things he did and put in place to make sure we were okay.

I know I need to stop talking, although, as I said at the beginning, I could talk forever about my Dad. I will finish with a quote from Terry Pratchett: “No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.” Hopefully my Dad will live forever.

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

All That Remains, Ch. 1 and 2 Notes

I wrote a fic for the @regulusblackfest and I have been DYING to talk about it since I finished it a month ago.

Author reveals came today so now I can gush all I want! Since I wasn't able to post about all my chapter updates or plans for this fic, I thought to write posts to tell you all about how this fic came to life, and notes behind what I did in each chapter. I'll do it in twos. Below is a moodboard I created for the fic to give you an idea of what I was thinking (visually) as I created it.

This story came out of a desire to see Regulus in a thoroughly, morally grey way. Regulus, to me, is often (mis)characterized as this poor little meow meow who has no agency, or he's just immature and misguided, and underneath he has a heart of gold.

He does have a heart, feelings, and wishes, but he makes a lot of morally questionable to morally reprehensible decisions. My goal in writing this work was to make a darker character like Regulus more sympathetic. You may not like him - you probably won't, to be honest - but you'll root for him.

Chapter notes below (there are spoilers, fyi)!

Chapter 1 - la recherche commence | the search begins

I chose a prompt in which Regulus's partner becomes pregnant. To do this in a way that felt faithful to his characterization, I had to give Regulus some motivation to find a girl. His parents want him to marry and he's got the idea to choose his own bride. He thinks it will be easy.

A line to capture his previous thoughts on women:

She was familiar enough, having spent his childhood growing up along other pureblood children, but as she was always with the other girls, he never needed to pay much attention to their feminine nonsense.

Regulus is purposefully written as a misogynist, and it's not a good look. He's a) a baby boomer, b) a pureblood in elite circles, and c) the son of a family that cares about continuing the line, which only matters through the male line. He's a chauvinist, but one who thinks he's in the right, because he's parroting the tradition of generations before.

A commenter wrote, wondering how Regulus could be so clueless about girls, when he's got 3 girl cousins.

He starts talking to them and it's really awkward. He gets one word responses, awkward responses, or skittish girls. He makes a list of potential brides, like a pro/con list.

Having female relatives is no guarantee of success in treating women nicely, fairly, or even knowing how to talk to them. He's arrogant and assumes he doesn't need help.

But he's also fragile. He's just 17, playing adult games, and wounded from a lifetime of being compared to Sirius. Regulus struggles with his ineptitude and wonders what Sirius would do.

He ends the first days of his search in frustration.

All That Remains, ch. 2 Notes

Chapter 2: le devoir avant le plaisir | duty before pleasure

It astounded Regulus that the girls around his age were less willing to allow him to court them, but the girls from the minor pureblood families, and the younger girls, seemed to understand the privilege they were receiving by being singled out by him.

In this chapter, we see Regulus trying to narrow down who he's going to court and it's not going well. All his conversations are one-sided and he struggles to figure out why.

This is the chapter that I began some world-building. This was a huge experiment for me, putting Catholicism this blatantly into a fic, but I was inspired by both the work of @artemisia-black and @green-and-grey-kenaz to bring this to life.

Thus I've got Regulus having a good old time on the organ, musing on his lady troubles.

Regulus's new friend/thorn in his side, Maia, gives him a reality check, and I start showing off her personality. In the previous chapter, she's not afraid to tell him what she thinks or argue with him.

She's no saint, either. This is one of the lines I give her: “You are the last wizard I’d want to spend my life with, and that includes Muggleborns.”

She doesn't say Mudblood, but there's a clear hierarchy in her mind that Muggleborns are different/worse. She's not necessarily outwardly bigoted but there is prejudice there. It's one of the reasons why Regulus becomes attracted/intrigued by her. He's never going to go for a blood traitor - think Blaise Zabini's comment in HBP that he wouldn't touch a blood traitor like Ginny, no matter how attractive she was. Same deal for Regulus. Maia's not a blood traitor, but she's not outwardly terrible.

The last thing we see in the chapter is Regulus thinking about his Dark Mark. He's not regretful that he joined the Dark Lord but he DOES wonder what his future bride will think of the tattoo. It sets up an uncomfortable tension that will continue throughout the story.

To read the fic:

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part six)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 522

Warnings: None

Author's notes: This one is really short. But next part they get to go to the cinema. Pinguini is back this chapter because I realised I'd barely written anything for him. Enjoy!

"Hey, DJ Grooves, got a minute?" Grooves turned around, watching as Pinguini ran down the hall.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?" Grooves asked.

"I just wanted to say thanks. For, you know, getting me the role," Pinguini grinned as he stopped beside the director.

"Well, you're great."

"It's a pretty big break for me. My mum was really excited when I told her about it," Pinguini admitted. "I was happy enough when I got a job in props working for you but this is great!"

Grooves smiled fondly at the younger penguin.

He'd met Pinguini a few years ago when the penguin had been promoted to head of the props department.

Pinguini was so young compared to most of the Moon Penguins on his team, it made Grooves wonder as to why he'd committed to the job so early in life.

Then again, Grooves had also started his career early.

"Mum said she's gonna come visit this evening! She said she wanted to meet Owlice," Pinguini continued.

"Yeah? You two together or…?"

"Oh, no, we're just friends," Pinguini shrugged. "But mum says she sounds like a nice girl to work with."

Grooves nodded politely before checking the clock on the wall.

"Sorry, can we hit pause on this chat? I need to go talk to Conductor. It's one of our scheduled meeting times," Grooves requested.

Pinguini nodded, smiling as he looked up at the older penguin. "Sure sir. And hey, thanks again."

"No problem Pinguini," Grooves said, beginning to walk the short distance to Conductor's office.

He smirked at the sign taped to his co-director's door. It read:

If you're Grooves, at least knock. If you're anyone else then peck off.

He decided not to knock and just walk in.

"You can read, can't yer?" Conductor sighed.

He wasn't sitting at his desk, working on notes as per usual.

Instead he was standing, leaning slightly against the desk, as if he'd been waiting for Grooves.

"So, what's wrong then? You're not working on notes, that isn't like you," Grooves pointed out.

Conductor chuckled, pushing off the desk with one foot and walking over to him.

"You got me two cinema tickets," Conductor said, head tilted slightly upwards and towards Grooves.

"So you could take a family member or something," Grooves reasoned.

Conductor froze slightly, taking a shaky exhale. His mouth moved but no sound came out.

"Well, why would I do that when I've got my co-director right here?" Conductor eventually said, looking away.

Grooves gazed fondly at Conductor, chest warming slightly at the admission.

"Have you ever watched them before?" Grooves asked as the two of them left the office.

"Yeah. My parents had them on tape when I was little. So I watched those five on repeat a lot," Conductor explained. "And then I watched all the other ones once I was old enough. You?"

"I've never seen the earlier ones," Grooves replied and shrugged.

The Conductor stopped walking and turned to look at him.

"Well then, guess I have the privilege of being with you for yer first viewin'," Conductor said with a lopsided smile.

"Can we get popcorn?"

"Sure."

[lilithrebellion]

Do you have any Seiji thoughts or theories? I keep thinking back to the prologue where he said "Go this this relatives house." Was that just a lie the church told him to say? Does he actually have family he fell out of touch with? I feel like he'd have the most interesting backstory.

Yup! I've written about him before in these two posts:

⭐ ⭐

A lot of the above is speculation, but that is necessary when Rejet is never consistent when it comes to Seiji. I don't believe canon ever gives a clear answer to if he knew who lived at that house or what exactly he believed if he didn't. But, I can attempt to piece it together since I don't think I've done that style of analysis yet!

(This is gonna get long)

If we start from the prologue, Seiji tells Yui that he was suddenly summoned by the Church and has to leave for Europe immediately. But there's actually a part where Yui tries to convince him to take her along, to which he snaps to tell her no. Yui is surprised by this and notes that her father looks pained, which is why she doesn't push it further.

Later on, it is revealed that the Church has a deal with Karlheinz to provide him with the sacrificial brides. They thought that introducing a human into their bloodline would help in negotiating peace (or taking him down? idk the priests in this scene still wanted Karlheinz dead though)

We also know Richter gave Yui to Seiji to take care of somehow. I have no details on this so I don't know if they met and talked, or if he just left her there indirectly. We also know Karlheinz specifically arranged for Richter to implant Cordelia's heart into Yui since she had potential to become Eve.

Then in most MB routes where Seiji reappears, he immediately turns against Yui since he smells vampire on her. In one version, he does mention that him being sent abroad was a "trap" and that he went through a lot to come back for her.

These are the main pieces of information we have to work with. We know Seiji is a vampire hunter working for the Church and he kept this a secret from Yui, including the fact that she was adopted. But, we are unsure how much he knew about the Church's involvement with Karlheinz, or if he had any contact with Richter when he left Yui with him.

Based on this, my personal interpretation is that Seiji did know. He's stated to be a "legendary" vampire hunter, so his skill must make him privileged to higher up information. There's even a scene where Yui calls a priest that her father is acquainted with. He freaks out on her, and seems to know exactly what's going on. It doesn't appear like the Church's dealings with Karlheinz are a secret to any of it's members.

But, we can also see from Yui's flashbacks of her childhood that Seiji's love for her as a daughter was genuine. From this, my theory is that while he did know about the plan set out for her, that didn't stop Seiji from growing to care about Yui anyway. (Because really? How could you not?)

Yes, this does mean he would have knowingly sent Yui to the Sakamaki mansion. But, I don't think he would have had a choice to refuse anyway. The guys say multiple times that even if Yui tried to run, nobody who knows about the demon world will help her because they are scared of Karlheinz so they'll just turn her in. Even if Seiji wanted to take Yui and run, they would not get very far no matter how good of a hunter he is. Because if he was that good, he would have just killed Karlheinz by now, right?

So Seiji has no choice but to send Yui to the vampire mansion as planned. If we remember how he snapped and looked pained in the prologue, that reaction makes sense. He's sending his beloved daughter into certain doom but has to pretend like everything is fine. The reluctance also really comes through in the voice acting for this scene.

But, is he really going to walk away and forget about Yui? I doubt it. Which is why I think he would have pretended to go along with it in the beginning, and went to Europe with the intent of finding a way to rescue Yui afterwards. He's her father, and should know her well enough to see how strong she is. I'm sure he believed that she would find a way to survive until he could come and save her.

Now we get into MB where Seiji does come back. And his actions there completely contradict everything I have just said. He turns on her way too quickly despite saying how much he struggled to get back to Japan. Even saying "Oh, guess I was too late after all" like he was expecting to fail. But why go through all that trouble to come back, and not even try to hear Yui out or at least be a little in denial? It doesn't make sense. His other dialogue about "I came back because I heard you got mixed up in something bad" also implies he doesn't know about the Church's dealings. Which again, you expect me to believe "legendary vampire hunter" Seiji was the only priest kept in the dark about the Church's involvement with Karlheinz? Yeah, not buying it.

Which is where my "Seiji clone/imposter Seiji" theory comes in. It's been established that Karlheinz can shapeshift, and I believe other vampires are capable of it as well. So I think the MB+ Seiji that turns on Yui is either an agent/evil clone sent by Karlheinz, or Karlheinz himself shapeshifted into Seiji in order to trick Yui and move the plan forward.

Because what's the effect of Yui having her dad violently turn on her with no explanation? It's a clear ploy to make Yui feel abandoned even further, so she has no choice but to turn to the trash. Meaning, pushing her further into the direction of Karlheinz's plan. The effect is so blatant, it's hard to believe it's NOT a set-up. There's even scenes where the guys react with confusion as to why Seiji is turning against Yui. That's how weird and nonsensical this development is.

It does also fit Karlheinz's MO of hanging out in disguise to keep tabs on his plan (like as Reinhart). He can even pretend to "have a change or heart" about vampires if he decides things are going well and he needs to remove himself from the scene since his job is done. It also lets him get hands on with his more cruel "tests", which we know how much he likes.

Now you may also be wondering. If Seiji in MB and onward is a fake, then where's the real Seiji? Considering prior info, I'd say the Church found out he was plotting against him and he is either dead, captured, or escaped and at large. The best lies are often not far from the truth, so the fake Seiji's "going to Europe was a trap and I heard you were in trouble" explanation may be something to go off of.

That should be all the in-story analysis I have for surprise evil Seiji. The posts linked above should go more into the effect this development has on the story's audience.

This is also the interpretation I am using when writing LR and related fics, although I will be adding in more Seraph elements when fleshing out Seiji's backstory to keep with the crossover.

And feel free to use this interpretation for yourself too if you want! There needs to be more stuff using this way of thinking instead of how often people just unquestioningly believe Seiji was evil/abusive all along.... 😑

[johannestevans]

An essay, a romance, two podcast episodes, and a TweetFic!

Good evening!

I've just been chugging away this week as I've been really enjoying a videogame between other things called Kingdom Come.

It is, tragically, very heterosexual, but despite that I've been having a good deal of fun with it - it's a first-person action RPG set in Bohemia in 1403, heavily based off of real events, and prides itself on its realism.

When I first started out with it I had a lot of difficulty because it's intended to be a hard game and there's a steep learning curve, but once I got a hang of it I really got into it, and I'm enjoying it a lot! It's highly immersive, it gives you a lot of information about the context of the period and the culture around you, and I really enjoy a lot of the gameplay.

With that said, the game prides itself on its "historical accuracy", and while the broader events are contained, like... This is a white European gamer's idea of "historical accuracy". There's no queers, there's no POC, the gender stuff is very much based, again, in a white gamer's assumption of men versus women, etc. I'm very much enjoying it despite all these flaws, but the idea that it's historically accurate with no political slant to that "accuracy" would be very silly, lol.

I mean, just take the fashion alone - one of the context notes even mentions the different styles of clothing design based on things like gender, including the fact that fashionable men would often grow their hair out a bit... And then every man has the same 4 ugly gamer hairstyles, including two different styles of bad undercut, because longer hair styles would make this sort of man feel threatened and like his avatar looks too gay.

It's also a little bit janky and the visuals are not the best, with various bugs - if you enjoy Skyrim despite its fucky controls and flawed visuals, Kingdom Come isn't much worse than that! But they very much are there, and it's a little frustrating.

I'm gonna keep tipping away at it for the time being, and get all the juice out of it I can.

Media Recs

The chaotic reality of being a trans man on Grindr: From d**k pics to existential crises by Jackson King- I've obviously written about being a trans dude and cruising before, but Jackson's experiences as a big Black man are obviously different to mine as a white twink, and it's really interesting seeing where our experiences are similar and where they diverge!

Death Investigations: Last Week Tonight with John Oliver - This is an old episode of Last Week Tonight and John Oliver is not everybody's cup of tea, but I actually enjoy the show's dives and explanations into a lot of topics, and this one is so fucked up and Lewis even watched it even though they hate it when I send them videos that are longer than 5 minutes, so! This is a dive into the politics around death investigations in the US, the differences between coroners and medical examiners, the lack of regulation, etc.

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985, dir. Stephen Frears, wr. Hanif Kureishi) - So, this is a big movie from the 80s - I've recced a lot of Frears' flicks before, I like his work as a director, and this one is really interesting and pretty different from his usual biopics. It's a really interesting film in terms of its editing, its sound design, and its general presentation - it does a lot of creative time skips, a lot of details and context occur offscreen and make you fill in the gaps or infer the specifics, it's funny, it's emotionally complicated... Yeah. We saw it at the Palás and I just really appreciated it - it's been on my list for a while, and I'm glad I watched it!

New Works Published

Essay: Passing Privilege: Through My Eyes, as a Trans Man Who Passes

Second puberty and the waves we send through the spaces around us.

On Patreon / On Medium / On Tumblr

Romance Short: Very Well

A herbalist is dispatched to be the wife of a faraway priest.

Romance short, 7.5k, rated M. A herbalist is dispatched for his role in an arranged marriage of sorts with a priest of Aristaeus far from home. Adapted from a TweetFic.

On Patreon / On Medium

New episode of The Story: Wild Country

Horror short. 3k, Gen, rated T. Originally posted February 16th, 2023. A young woman walks home on a foggy night. First person POV, originally posted on /r/NoSleep.

On Spotify / On Google Podcasts / RSS Feed

New bonus episode of The Story: Centre Pocket

Centre Pocket, originally published December 1st, 2022.

2.5k, rated E, cis M/M.

After teasing all day, a twink gets bent over the dive bar’s pool table. Public sex at a pub lock-in, size difference, age difference, humiliation and degradation, anal sex with condoms, dirty talk, multiple partners, object insertion, implications of a gangbang.

On Glow / On Patreon

New TweetFic: Ordinary Love

suicidal artist who spends most of his time drinking heavily and getting high off paint turps who is obsessively in love with and keeps doing highly eroticised portraits of the local butcher who is literally just Some Guy but he is very flattered

CWs for suicidality, alcoholism, severe mental illness, past trauma, mentions of CSA and abuse. With those CWs in mind, this is pretty light, funny, and loving.

99_monochrome made some gorgeous art in response to this piece too! It's here.

On Twitter

That's all! See you next week!

Get merch on TeePublic | | Look through my Directory of Published Work | | Listen to my Podcast

[floralovebot]

I think Riven was poor in the show... I think Riven hated Sky for being a prince too. They're fighting was because of that too. Are you saying that Riven did not hate Sky because he is a prince? Riven said a lot that he did not like Sky because he is rich and rich people are unfair. Please share your thoughts for me.

I'm pretty sure this is in response to this post? But let me know if not!

Anyway, Riven coming from a poor or even "middle class" background isn't canon, it's just a really good headcanon. I say it's a headcanon because when it comes up, it's always a vague implication that could also be about something else. Like his mother abandoning him could definitely have led to him growing up poor, but it's also not an exact confirmation. His mother leaving for money could mean they were poor, but it could also mean she just wanted More Money. Darcy saying he has "a darkness inside him" is likely about mental illness and trauma rather than him being poor and taking it out on the others (also anyone who uses this as an example just know i am beam blasting your house so hard). Riven calling out nepotism and classism could definitely be more personal but it could also be an example of his very high morality and moral judgment. (like riven is extremely intelligent and stands up for people in less fortunate situations a lot.)

Like,,, it's never directly stated that he's poor and the implications that people usually see could very easily be about something else. Kind of like the headcanon that Helia grew up at RF or comes from a military family; lots of good implications, but not canon. Or s1 implying that Flora could be a lesbian or wlw; lots of implications, but not canon. On the flip side, there are tons of things about Riven that are directly stated or directly implied (like his trust issues, issues with administration, his mental health issues, and even his mother leaving him). But Riven coming from a specifically poor background is something that's more often than not just an implication that could be implying something else. I'm not saying that implication isn't there at all, but it can definitely be read in other ways (for example, I've seen people headcanon that Riven comes from a noble family and hates classism because he's seen it up close). But regardless, Riven being poor is just an implication because it's not stated or shown in canon.

Also, I should note that my post wasn't about shitting on this headcanon. I like the idea that Riven comes from a poor background. It makes sense within canon, I do think it's implied (even some of the weaker implications are still fun to me), and I often use it in other headcanons and aus. But again, it's not Canon and his rivalry with Sky and the other specialists had a lot of components that aren't related to classism. My post was specifically about how the Sky vs Riven rivalry wasn't just about classism. Riven absolutely does not like royalty or the idea of different classes in general. However, his rivalry with Sky was never just about Sky being a prince.

Riven calls Sky out for having advantages over them, yes. Riven calls out the other characters for not knowing something, for being privileged, for nepotism, etc, yes. But his dislike of Sky specifically didn't stem from classism. Like I said in that post, classism was absolutely a factor but it wasn't the Biggest Factor.

Riven had a lot of internal issues in s1 and all of them played a factor in his rivalry with Sky. Sky being a prince was the icing on top. It really cemented everything that Riven thought of Sky before, but it was never the First Reason, the Big Reason, or the Only Reason. Riven didn't like the specialists because they were constantly undermining him, constantly insulting him (sometimes in a direct insulting way and sometimes in a "playful/joking" way), always assuming the worst of him, and never taking his side in literally anything. He also has extreme trust issues, felt like he would be better off alone, and used everything they said and did as a confirmation of why. Like s1 Riven had a really bad case of confirmation bias and was constantly looking for reasons to hate them (Sky being a prince was One of those reasons).

Like I said in that post, the Riven vs Sky rivalry had a lot of depth and both parties played into it. In canon, it was never just Poor Boy Hate Rich Boy. Sky being a prince and therefore having a lot of privilege was absolutely a factor in Riven's dislike of him, but it was never the only thing or the biggest reason. If Sky hadn't been the prince, Riven still would've hated him. Like,, that's important! Riven didn't hate Sky Just because he's a prince. He didn't trust Sky, hated that Sky looked down on him (regardless of their class standing), and hated that Sky "saw better in him". He hated that they were both extremely stubborn, irrational pricks who took it out on each other. He hated that Sky clearly didn't like, trust, or respect him.

And again, I really do think his relationships with the other royal and/or rich characters back this up. If Riven hated Sky simply for being a prince, that energy would've been directed toward Brandon first and it would also be directed toward Bloom, Stella, and Aisha. But it isn't. In fact, Riven often shows that he respects and likes Aisha! Even when he does call the other royal/rich characters out, it's never with animosity. It's usually in this, "yeah you're rich and dumb and privileged here I'll show you how it's done 🙄" kind of way. With Sky, it's more "i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate myself fuck off i hate you AND you're a prince god could you get any worse???". Yknow?