#ive decided to blame my grandfather

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

I used to listen to a song 'Older' by Sasha Sloan, quite a bit, hoping it'd make me understand the world. To be fair, I was in middle school, alright, no judging, we were all cringey at that age. But I remembered a lyric from that today after talking with my mother,

"My parents aren't heroes, they're just like me"

No the fuck they're not.

My parents might have created me, but they raised an entirely different person than I'm sure they originally thought they would. They are not just like me, or my siblings, as I am fucking insane, and my siblings are rapidly descending to my level of fed up with their (read: MY MOTHERS) bullshit.

[u10como]

Prince Isaac was nervous.

He fully supported the peace treaty with the Elven kingdom and knew it was needed, but he wasn't thrilled about being used as his father's bargaining chip. The war was now reaching its 800th year, which meant even the elves went through several generations since it started any nobody really remembered the true reason - elves blamed humans, humans blamed elves - the usual. But nobody can wage a war forever - if not for economic reasons then for the sheer fact it starts to seem meaningless after several decades of largely no progress in either of the side's favor.

King Langdon III, Isaac's father, decided to make his name in the annals of his kingdom as the great peacemaker. He could drive the final blow to the elven kingdom if he decided so - after all, during the rules of Kings Horatio I, Langdon II and especially Tiberius V, Isaac's grandfather and Langdon III's father, the humans made several great breakthroughs in technology, which allowed them to take the upper hand over the elves - firearms exceeding the range of elven bows, steam powered siege engines impervious to any weapon crafted by elven smiths, even flying machines, soaring far above the reach of best elven archers. But King Langdon III felt his people were growing tired of the contstant state of war and suspected the elves might feel the same. Actually, he knew if he was in the place of Auberon IV, the king of elves, he would beg for a peace treaty long ago - but he also knew the elves were too proud, perhaps even foolhardy to accept one-sided defeat. Thus, king Langdon III offered a mutual peace treaty between the kingdoms, which, to prince Isaac's annoyance, pivoted around royal wedding between human prince and elven princess.

Prince Isaac however felt like he isn't prepared to get married, even less so for complete stranger He knew elven women were considered very beautiful, but none of the elven women he ever saw before was up to his tastes. Not only were they usually much taller than him, but prince Isaac had sort of peculiar taste when it came to women. He never admitted that, because he felt ashamed of it but he was really attracted to women missing limbs. But from what he knew, elves were always perfect. He remembered hearing a tale of Elven warrior who survived being banished to deep woods centuries ago and lived with human lumberjack, but nobody ever saw living, breathing elf with missing limbs ever since - even in the face of total annihilation, the elves kep their bigoted views and their permanently injured soldiers were still sacrificed to keep up the aura of their race's flawless perfection. No - he was destined to marry not for love, but for politics. What does it matter if she was a woman of race which appeared physically perfect in everyone else's eyes: To him, that argument was hollow. Yet, being a gentleman, he still felt the need to introduce himself - she was their honored guest and, if everything goes according to plan, they were going to spend the rest of their lives with one another, so getting to know her can't hurt.

Knocking at the elven princess' chamber door, he heard her answer in weak, timid, yet melodic voice: "C... come in!" As he opened the door, prince Isaac was thoroughly surprised by the appearance of his future wife: She was beautiful, yet not in the expectable elven manner: She was slightly shorter than him, with beautifully rounded hips completely unlike any elf he ever saw before. She had jet black hair and shy expression of a trapped doe, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "Greetings, i'm prince Isaac, your... ahem... future husband? pleased to meet you..." he approached her with outstretched hand." "Oh... Hello, my Lord... i'm Delia... she replied, turning her eyes to him. As she saw his hand, a panic appeared briefly in her eyes before she timidly rose her right foot and took Isaac's hand in it. At thet moment Isaac noticed - Delia had no arms - her outfit should have made that detail apparent, but Isaac never expected elven princess to lack any appendage, let alone both arms at her shoulders. Gently squeezing her foot, he kissed her ankle to Delia's surprise. "I'm sorry, my Lord i am... This..." she said... "My father thought he will get rid of the family shame i am and be free to marry off my beautiful sisters to the counts of elven colonies across the sea, but if you send me back i'm sure you can negotiate an exchange for one of them..." "No!" said Isaac perhaps too sharply, startling Delila. "How could i do that? You're our honored guest, and if your family doesn't treat you well it's even more so our duty to keep you safe with us!" "But my father treats me well! He loves me! He kept me alive in secret despite the fact i was born... damaged - is there a greater sign of love?" "Delia... you are not damaged. To me, you are more beautiful than any woman i ever saw - human or elven. I would never return you back - even less so now that i know how you were treated - Yes, you might consider it a kindness on your father's part and i've no doubt he genuinely thought so too, but even so, sending you back to this life would be cruel. Here, you can be free - go wherever you want, meet whoever you wish, not hidden out of sight because of some preposterous superiority complex your father refuses to let go of." "You... you want to marry me, then, my Lord?" "Please, drop the lord, Delia, i'm Isaac." "So you want to marry me... Isaac?" "I always imagined i would marry for love, not for political machinations. But that's something you and i can work on together, but only if you want to marry me, Delia?." "I would love to, Isaac!"

[milkolya]

i feel like oversharing on this fine friday morning abt whats going on in my life. if you read this, thank you 💖 i know we tumblr gays are all going Through It at any given moment, and the solidarity has always helped me cope

(TW suicide) (with details)

last week my grandfather on my mothers side killed himself by jumping out the 12th story window of their apartment building in russia. he'd been fighting esophageal cancer for approximately 4 years. he was 70 years old. he definitely had some issues, some trauma or mental health struggles, you know, SOMETHING, that led him to excessive drinking and smoking for the vast majority of his life. like, he wouldnt have had cancer if he actually took care of himself you know? its his vices / coping mechanisms that caused it. and once he started getting treated, he didnt have it in him to change his lifestyle to make the treatments worth anything.... he continued on drinking and smoking and eating sugar by the spoon (another cause of the cancer is poor diet) and even insisted that he would die if he gave up any of those things. id get in trouble if i used the "alcoholic" word around my family but they were watering down his wine behind his back when my parents visited in 2021. like come on. and even at 70, he still outlived all of his siblings, all of which died from alcoholism related causes afaik. he just... he was clearly suffering, and in classic russian fashion, he kept everything bottled up forever, never made any effort to get better, and one day when sitting down to do his bills he decided you know what, i dont want to do this anymore.

thats what happens when you dont address problems!!!!

obviously its heartbreaking but its also incredibly frustrating for me. i was super suicidal as a teenager and my mother did NOT take it seriously, she told me that it was "normal" and everyone experiences it (including her). now in retrospect i understand that she was trying to help me and comfort me, that that thought must have helped her, but like. its not normal... and its pretty fucked up that ive been suicidal, my mother has been suicidal, and now my grandpa (her dad) killed himself. he fucking killed himself!!!! what the fuck!! and i continue to be the ONLY PERSON in my ENTIRE FAMILY who tries to seek help through medication and therapy and just like, at least fucking acknowledge that we have hereditary fucking issues in the form of trauma and mental illness.... its just a mess.

and of course my mother and grandmothers top concern is What If Hes Not In Heaven. cause suicide is a sin. cause thats what we should be focused on ?!?!? sigkapfilwkflamcnwgkqj . it makes me want to scream.

ive just been surrounded by suicide my whole goddamn life and i wish it would end. my close friend attempted when i was 15 and i had no fucking clue what to do. multiple others i was close to at school were struggling with similar thoughts and urges, including myself. we were all desperately trying to hold eachother together, you know? far too much to handle for a bunch of kids. and then i went to uni, and my new friends there had similar issues, and in 2nd year, one of them did kill themself. they took their fathers gun and they shot themself in the head. and did my mother help me feel better? only until i mentioned suicide. once that was out there, there was ZERO sympathy, just judgement, and dismissal of their struggles. which really, really hurt me. because they were trans, and they couldnt handle how harsh this world is towards us, and obviously i really related to that sentiment.

like, i understand my grandpa too. i dont... i dont blame him personally? i dont even really blame my mother personally, when it comes to these kinds of issues. sometimes i will get mad at her about specific interactions but at the end of the day its russian society that made both of them this way. its so deeply ingrained. i just wish i could have helped my grandpa and i wish i could help my mama now but i cant. i can barely help myself.

and ive had to take time off work because i cant fucking focus and i just keep crying all the time and my brain is a foggy mess. and i dont know how to keep going. when will i feel better? i need to get back to work. will i be able to do that??

when my friend died... well, i call them my friend, but we were not close or anything. they were one of my good friend's roommates. we did talk occasionally and were on friendly terms. it just feels wrong to say "acquaintance" or something like that. i didnt process their death in a very timely manner. its weird but common, i think. about 2 years after it happened i started getting triggered by any content with suicide by gun. surprisingly common in media lol. folks love to hold a gun to their head on tv!! (side note: first movie i ever watched with my now fiancee, it was get out and when the guy shoots himself suddenly at the end i had a full blown fucking meltdown lmaooooooo so embarrassing it was like our 3rd date and the night of our first kiss)

idk why it took 2 years for that to start happening, i guess that was just my processing time. and then it took another two years or so to sort that out in therapy and im finally okay again and i can watch stuff with guns and suicide and not freak out. but now im scared of how this thing with my grandpa is going to affect me and how long thats going to last. i just want some peace and quiet :(

if u read all that, thank u. maybe give this a like to let me know. ive been deleting my vent posts a lot lately so idk if i will keep this up. my friends have been lovely and supportive, theres just not much anyone can really say to make it better. so it feels more comfortable to do a massive vent post like this thats optional to engage with. and ive always aired out my personal business on here so it feels right hehe.

[maddiecopesblog]

Conversation with my parents (and grandparents)

I have so far probably discussed this project with about 20 different people as I want to make sure I'm getting the opinions and thoughts of women affected by this as I go. I've also found it completely invaluable to listen to stories where people think they could've benefited from pockets, or have felt the labour that was expected of them was too much. Basing all of my work off my personal experiences is only going to be relatable to a certain number of people. I want my work to be accessible and relatable to as many people that I can.

I've brainstormed with all of my housemates, about 10 of my course mates, Ive chatted with shop workers and just people around town, its been a really interesting time I have sat down and discussed thoughts and suggestions with the people around me and they've brought some great insight. Ill list some of the stories here:

One woman told me about having missed phone calls due to rummaging around in a handbag for her mobile, she blamed a lack of accessible pockets for this

Another woman said that her boyfriend expected her to plan all of their dates and meals for the both of them, when she brought it up, he didn't understand.

Another woman told me she'd had her handbag stolen.

These insights are incredibly useful, showing me that the idea of 'invisible labour' is experienced by many, and that pockets are an iestablished issue that is yet to have a soluation. I wanted to speak to some more women of different generations, so I decided to interview some of my family members.

When I first explained the project to my mother, she was confused.

'Can't you just have a handbag?'

My heart sank, she just didn't get it.

My mother has worked very hard her whole life, she's endured male dominated workplaces, raised two children, volunteered regularly, protested often and is my biggest inspiration. She is also the most stubborn person I know. She, like many women, have lived a life of enduring casual sexism, she has adapted to the 'woman's way' of purchasing handbags and carrying things outside of your person.

When I went into more depth, explained how handbags are a creation to get women to spend more money and they also put women at risk of being robbed, she started to understand it more and could see the appeal of pockets.

My grandparents reaction was quite funny. My grandfather stated:

'Women don't actually want pockets, it would spoil the line'

Thanks grandad.

I think you'll find that every single statistic ever recorded on this topic states otherwise.

My grandmother on the other hand, loves it and has very much enjoyed telling her friends when she finds dresses and trousers with adequate pockets.

I want my work to speak to all women, young or old, so addressing things like the presence of handbags is really important because that seems like quite an important part of middle-aged women's thoughts about this. There is an element of just 'putting up with' casual sexism that middle aged women had to do in order to fit in with society and that is something I will need to consider in creating my outcome.

The solution to this problem needs to be accessible. it will be difficult to create one that can reach ALL women however I can do my best to reach as many as I can.

[sun-stormz]

Genshin Impact Visions & Gods

This has been bugging me since i started playing in mid november, but what makes a certain Archon give a Character their Vision. Considering i couldnt find any official info, I decided to do some research on each Archon and then on the player Characters we have of each element as of beginning of December 2020.

This will contain spoilers on characters & story!

Note: The travelers will not be included due to them not having Visions and having more then one Element.

I am basing this on overlaping themes and not on anything related to the actual Archon. I did add some info on the archons tho, due to this being about Visions and archons

“It is unclear whether Visions are directly granted by its element's corresponding Archon or by the nation's Archon. There is also the possibility that granting a Vision requires approval from both Archons. Yet another possibility is that they are granted by neither, and are instead given by the gods on Celestia.”

-Genshin Wiki on reciving Visions

Starting with my Favourite Element, Electro.

Electro wise, We have five Characters as of right now: Kequin, Razor, Beidou, Fishl and Lisa. The Electro Archon, God of Eternity, Baal, is the ruling Archon of the Area, Inazuma, whitch is the area we are getting in the 1.4 update in 2021.

To start off i read into any info i could find on Baal and i gotta say, she is a interesting Fellow. As of right now we know that Baal has locked Inazuma down and has initiated a Vision Hunt Decree, due to her thinking Visions should be under the sole domain of divinity. She also hasnt handed out any Visions since this decree which means all Electro characters we know have gotten theirs before this drastic change.

Now, why did these 5 characters get their Visions? Well each character has a different reason, from Razor wanting to protect those he calls friends to Lisa simpley saying it would be of use to her and just getting it. From what I've found there isnt really a big overlap in the reciving of the characters, but what is overlaping is their fixation on something.

Razor recived his vision due to him being fixated on getting stronger to protect his friends after he failed to while being dragged away by an abyss mage

Kequin was fixated on sharing her beliefs, that the people of Lyiue shouldnt rely on Rex Lapis and have their Pride and that their views are of Equal importance

Fishl was so fixated on a book series she changed herself to be like the main character, fishl and her Vision manifested in the form of Oz, one of the characters from said book

Beidou was fixated on killing Haishan, a sea monster, from a young age and recived her vision when she did so

Lisa is pretty much fixated on understanding magecraft and the cost of reciveing a Vision.

Now onto a easier Element, Geo

The Archon of Geo and Contracts, Morax, Archon of Lyiue.

Morax or Rex Lapis, was one of the oldest gods, defended Lyiue in the Archon war, the Currency in Teyvat, Mora, is named after him and as of Chp.1 Act 3 we know that he has taken the form of Zhongli and has retired as the Geo Archon.

Morax, Along with Barbatos, are the only two Archons of the Original Seven that havent been replaced.

Now, who are our Geo Characters? Noelle and Ningguang, two dedicated powerhouses! This one is fairly simple, thanks to voicelines we have of Zhongli since he came out as a player character (Bless the pity pull for giving me this man)

In his “About Ningguang” Voiceline he says: ”Despite the multitude of affairs she deals with in a day, Ningguang always continues to press on. A rare gem indeed. I'm reminded of the time that she used to walk barefoot from Yaoguang Shoal to the south wharf, trying to sell her wares as she went. Time is cruel to humans.”

Noelle recived her vision when Jean Acknowledged her hard work when she tried to get into the knights of favonius. in her “Vision” story it states: This was a lucky day that she would always remember, for she would receive recognition from two all-important sources this day: once from Jean, and the other from the gods. Her hard work has been remembered after all.

So for short: Hard working and dedicated = Geo Vision

Next up we have Anemo

Our wonderful Tone deaf bard, Venti or otherwise known as the Archon of Anemo and freedom, Barbatos, the not really ruling Archon of Mondstadt.

Barbatos is a freedom loving guy and refuses to rule over Mondstadt, the city of freedom and is by far the weakest of the Archons, despite this the people of Modstadt still love and adore their windy God.

I went into this one thinking “Oh this is easy, itll be love for freedom or something!” Nope, it surprisingly wasnt. Jean and sucerose recived their visions through their Determination it seems. Sucerose from doing her 159th Dandilion seed Simmering experiment and Jean seemed to be determened to be a good grandmaster and to protect Mondstadt.

That aside, i couldnt find many overlaps with the two, they are both free spirited and love what they do.

Now on to Pyro

Pyro, the Element of the Archon Murata who is also the god of War, is wielded by the fan fav Diluc, as well as Klee, Xiangling, Amber, Bennett and Xinyan.

Not much is known about Murata, Venti describes her as a “ wayward, warmongering wretch” and thats about all we know. She presides over Natlan.

Now to the characters, this was acually the easiest of them all: Passion.

Every Pyro user has a huge amount of passion that a rolemodel or Loved one ignited within them.

This one definitly surprised me the least and i am really excited for when we meet Murata and Natlan.

Diluc has the same passion his father had

Klee has a passion for Explosives that her mother ignited

Xiangling has a passion for food and cooking she got from her father

Amber got her Passion for Mondstadt and the outriders from her grandfather

Bennett got the Passion for adventure from all the old adventurers he calls dads, yes Dads as in plural, that raised him

Xinyan has a passion for Rock, tho i havent found out more of her story due to her being so new.

Now heading onto Hydro

Hydro, along with Dendro, is the only element where we do not know the name of the Archon. All we do know is that they are the Archon of Hydro and Justice and rule over Fontaine.

So straight to the Hydro characters: Barbara, Mona and Xingqiu.

I dont really count Childe due to the only thing talked about is his dilusion and i am rather confused on if he even has a real vision but i still love him lots

Im going to be honest this one really had me running the brain gears for a while.

All three recived their Vision as an extension of the self.

Barbara  got hers after helping a sick boy by singing to him to help him sleep through a fever, Mona rekindeled a learning aid to her vision, to aid her with her search for the truth of the rules of the world and Xingqiu got his after he explained the principles of his clans martial arts anew, litterally saying that martial artists should see Visions as a extension of the self.

Last but definitly not least, Cryo

Cryo, the Element of the Archon know as the Tsaritsa. We acually dont know her corrisponding ideal nor her acual name and this one was just as geargrinding as Hydro.

The Tsaritsa, Ruler of the fatui and the one that gives them their Dilusions, is one interresting lady. We get a description of her from Childe: “Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact, and that's why she had to harden herself. Likewise, she declared war against the whole world only because she dreams of peace. Her gaze was cold but pure, arrogant yet sharp. She was not only the sacrosanct Cryo Archon but a true warrior also.”

Kaeya, Chongyun, Diona and Qiqi, our current four Cyro userer, all have rather interesting storys when it comes to how they got their Vision.

All dont accept something

Kaeya felt guilty about hiding who he was from the family that adopted him after his father abandoned him to be a spy in Mondstadt, and told Diluc, someone he used to be very close with, the truth, since then he sees his vision as a stern reminder that he must live his life under a heavy burden of Lies. He pretty much doesnt accept the truth of his situatin and would rather live with that heavy burden

Chonyun is surpressing a part of himself, the condition he has, and as Xiangling says in Chongyuns stories, is denying a part of him. He trys to work around his condition and wont accept it as the way to go about how he practices exocrism.

Diona wont accept the truth about her father being a Alcoholic, and places the blame on the Alcohol industy instead of accepting that he isnt as high and mighty as she thought. She wont accept that her fathers bad control over his drinking habits is the reason he acts as he does and instead blames the alcohol industry.

Qiqi didnt want to accept her death nor does she really accept her Zombie like traits and only uses them when she needs to defend herself.

My theory is the Cyro Visions are recevied when you wont accept the grim reality as it is, if this is positive or negative variates

When it comes to the last element, Dendro, we sadly know nothing nor have we seen any dendro character in action. So that might be a addition later on.

I’m really interrested if we find out the actual criteria for reciving each Vision one day

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit. 

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

~

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

~

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them. 

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n).   Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things. 

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances. 

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more. 

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor. 

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber. 

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a  fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika." 

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

[hopelikethemoon]

Going Home (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Going Home Rating: PG-13 Length: 2400 Warnings: Angst and discussion of pregnancy complications, allusions to post-partum depression. Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set June 1997. I call this chapter, Javier finally having an emotional breakdown. Summary: Reader gets discharged from the hospital and Javier finally snaps.

Taglist:  @grapemama​  @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​ @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex​ @ham4arrow​ @hiscyarika​ @plexflexico​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​ @just-add-butter​ @snivellusim​ @amarvelousmandalorian​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited​​ @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​​ @longitud-de-onda​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​ @random066​​

“Bruno says he was a little scared.” Josie explained as she pretended to walk the dog up the blanket between them.

“He was scared?” You questioned as you ran your hand down her back, tilting your head to look down at her. “There’s nothing to be scared of, babydoll.”

Javier had been wise to keep Josie out of the hospital with you until after they’d taken you off oxygen and no longer had sensors attached to your head. She didn’t need to see any of that shit. She was still too young to fully understand the situation.

All she knew was that she had a new baby sister.

“Uh-hu.” Josie nodded her little head. “But then he remembered that daddy was big and strong and he didn’t need to be scared.”

Javier was across the room, passing Sofía off to her grandfather. “What was that about daddy?” He questioned, hands on his hips as he approached your bed.

“Bruno was scared, but you’re strong daddy!”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Your mommy is much stronger than I am. If Bruno had something to be afraid of, she’s the one who comforted him.”

“Oh.” Josie said, whispering to Bruno. “Did mommy help too?” She pretended to bark his answer and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Javier reached out and brushed his knuckles against your cheek, his thumb brushing over the rise of your cheekbone. “You look better today.”

“Yeah?” You leaned into his touch, sighing heavily. “I feel better today.”

“You’ve got color in your cheeks.” Javier tilted his head as he studied your face. “And your eyes… still glad to see them.”

Your heart clenched at his words and you lowered your gaze to Josie who was currently walking Bruno up your arm. There was a part of you that was dreading the fact that you were going home. Going home meant having conversations you weren’t ready to have.

Life in the hospital sucked. Monitors beeping, nurses walking in — no one could rest in a hospital. No matter how many times they told you to get some sleep. Javier wasn’t sleeping. The recliner that Chucho was sitting in, feeding Sofía from a bottle, had been left untouched.

It was June third and you were fairly certain Javier had only gotten five hours of sleep since you went into labor. And it showed. There were dark bags under his eyes, his scruff had transformed into a patchy beard, and he looked like the experience had aged him five years. But it wasn’t just this experience weighing on him, you knew the heaviest weight was the guilt he tried to shield you from.

“This is my fault.”

You had heard him.

But the hospital wasn’t the place to confront him about his guilt. Hell, you doubted he’d even humor the conversation once you got home. He looked at you like a man who feared sending the woman he loved to an early grave.

Tomorrow you would be going home. The doctor was pleased with the results of your MRI and the PET scan. The seizure didn’t seem to have caused any lesions or long term issues for you to be worried about. Your blood pressure had stabilized nicely and you had a whole bag full of medicines that would be going home with you.

The doctor had even assured you that you’d likely be able to breastfeed by the end of next week. You just had to keep pumping to keep yourself from drying up. That was one of the many things that was keeping you going. You had breastfed Josie for almost two years and you had been looking forward to having that experience with Sofía too. If she didn’t decide she prefered her father feeding her from a bottle over you.

Not that you could blame her. You hadn’t been there for her.

You clenched your eyes closed, trying to will yourself not to cry. It was stupid. So fucking stupid. What were you supposed to do? You had had a seizure, they had sedated you… It wasn’t something you could just choose to ignore. But still, you felt like you’d failed her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Javier questioned, taking your hand into his. “Are you hurting?”

You blinked, hastily wiping at your eyes. “I’m fine.” You lied and you knew that he knew that you were lying. You exhaled shakily, glancing around the room. “Where’s the go-bag? You remembered to pack the camera, right?”

Javier frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

“We didn’t take any pictures after Sofía was born.” You reminded him. “Get the camera and my hairbrush out. I’m sure this,” You gestured to your head. “Looks like a rat’s nest.”

“A bit.” He chuckled, reluctantly moving from your bedside to grab the go-bag. It was meant to be everything the two of you would need after Sofía was born, but it had gone largely unused given how things turned out.

“You are very pretty mommy.” Josie told you, reaching up to pat your cheeks with both hands.

“I’ll take your word for it, sweetpea.” You tapped her nose, making her giggle. “I’m going to need you to get up for just a few minutes, okay? You can go help your abuelito feed your sister.”

Javier picked Josie up off the bed. “You sure you don’t want to wait until we get home?” He questioned, brows furrowed as he looked back to you.

“No. I want to do it here.” You insisted as you pulled your covers off and pressed the button to make the bed sit upright. You inhaled and exhaled slowly, before you moved to get out of the bed. You were a little unsteady on your feet at first, but you focused on your center of gravity just like they’d practiced with you in PT.

“Do you need—“

“Nope.” You helped your hand to stop Javier from trying to help. “I’ve got it.” You assured him, reaching for your IV pole and rolling it with you towards the wheelchair. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but you still weren’t completely stable on your feet.

You looked towards him then, offering him a small smile. “You can brush my hair, if you want to.” You offered, pushing your fingers through the mess on top of your head.

“You sure?”

“It’s just like doing Josie’s hair.” You rolled the wheelchair forward, giving him space to wheel the rolling stool over to you.

Javier was gentle as he went to work brushing your hair, and he carefully picked out knots he encountered. It was nice — relaxing. Strangely intimate. But he was still treating you like you were breakable… which you hated, even if it was true.

“How does that feel?” He questioned, curling his hands around your shoulders. He squeezed gently, three little squeezes that reminded you of his love for you.

“Like I’m going to make you do that when we get home.” You quipped, turning your head to look back at him. “But do you know what the first thing I’m going to do when I get home?”

“Take a bath?”

“Very tempting.” You smiled a little. “But no. I’m going to make you go to bed.”

Javier leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “There’s so much to do when we get home.” He whispered as you played your fingers through his dark hair.

“Your dad’s staying with us to help with Sofía.” You reminded him, tracing your fingers over the hair at the nape of his neck. “We’ve got Monica to help with Josie.” Your brows drew together as he tilted his head to look at you. “You look rough.”

“I feel rough.” He admitted with a sigh, pulling back then. “Right. We were going to take a picture.” Javier didn’t look back at you as he got up and went back to the go-bag to dig out the camera. “Do you want to hold Sofía?”

“You can hold her. Josie can sit in my lap.”

“The lighting is good by the window,” Chucho supplied as he got up from the recliner to put Sofía back in her bassinet. Your eyes followed him across the room, until you caught Javier staring at you.

There was a lot that needed to be discussed.

Tracking down narcos was easy. Going after Pablo Escobar. Grappling with sexism in the workplace. Getting fucking shot. All of that was easy. Telling your partner that you felt like you had failed your daughter before she was even a day old? That wasn’t something that was easily confessed.

You didn’t even want to hold her, even when you did. You were afraid she’d somehow know, innately, that you had done something wrong. That you had failed her. And it sucked that you couldn’t get it out of your head. That your self doubt was overshadowing something that should’ve been good.

It didn’t help knowing that Javier felt guilty. You had wanted this to go right this time. To have an experience that wasn’t marred with stress and pain. But somehow the DEA had managed to overshadow everything again. And they’d keep overshadowing your life until you put the spotlight on them.

——

Monica and Connie had made a ‘WELCOME HOME’ banner for you. They had it strung across the front door of the house and inside they’d decorated with pink and green balloons — matching the colors you and Javier had painted Sofía’s room.

You put on a happy smile about the pseudo-celebration, but you knew Javier could see straight through it. Not that he seemed particularly thrilled about the surprise either.

He’d torn the banner down the second Connie and Monica left for the night.

“I missed this the most.” You remarked as you sank back onto the bed, sprawled out in the center. The hospital bed had been a fucking nightmare on your back and hips.

Javier was just standing there. Staring at you. Hands on his hips and his expression entirely unreadable.

You sat up on your elbows, brows furrowed as you met his gaze. “Babe, what’s wrong?” You questioned, swallowing thickly around the lump of emotion in your throat. “Javi.”

Something snapped.

His expression crumpled and his knees gave out on him. The weight of it all was too much for him to carry now that you were both together behind a closed door.

The sound of a sob rising up from somewhere deep within his chest made your stomach turn. It was raw, primal… true pain.

Javier had buried his emotions for so many years. Emotions left to fester, grief allowed to bore its hooks into him. Sure, he’d let out little bursts of what he felt, but it was never all of it.

It was never all of the anguish he’d held onto.

You forced yourself off the bed, despite how heavy your limbs felt. You sank down onto the floor beside him, taking him into your arms.

There was nothing to be said. Not yet. Not while his hot tears fell against the skin that the crook of your neck. His hands gripped at you, hard enough to leave bruise — bruises you’d relish over the tapestry of bruises on your hands and arms from IVs and drawn blood.

You had never seen Javier sob like this before. You had seen tears, you had seen him cry, you had seen the aftermath of nightmares… but you had never seen him like this. Inconsolable was the only word for it.

“It’s okay, Javi.” You whispered, running your fingers through his hair as you tried to soothe him. “I love you.” You pressed your lips to his shoulder, fingers balling up the fabric of his shirt at his back. “I have you.”

“I almost… I almost…”

“I know.” You ran your hand down the length of his back, “But you didn’t. And it isn’t your fault, Javi.”

Javier stiffened in your arms. “Baby—“

“No, Javier.” You pulled back, shaking his shoulders. “You have to fucking stop. You can’t keep doing this.” Your hands cupped his cheeks then, your eyes pleading with him. “This guilt is going to fucking kill you.”

“You almost died!”

“But I didn’t.” You snapped. “I didn’t die, Javier. And it wasn’t your fault! This could’ve happened to me, stress or not. My physical therapist had two healthy pregnancies and had preeclampsia with her third. It happens and it’s not your fault.”

Javier took your hands off his face, pulling away from you. “But it is my fault. If I hadn’t stirred up this shit with the DEA—“

“We have a four-year-old. I work for the police department.” You reminded him. “My life is already stressful.” You dragged your hands over your face. “But I can’t keep doing this Javier. I can’t handle knowing that you think you’re responsible for everything that goes wrong in my life.”

Javier stared at you.

You swallowed thickly, wringing your hands together. “I can’t handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” Javier nodded slowly.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You questioned, reaching out to brush your fingers over his forehead. “None of this is your fault.”

“I feel guilty.”

“I know.” You grimaced a little as you shifted how you were sitting. “The floor is not kind to a body that just gave birth.” You explained with a strained laugh. “We both need to sleep, Javi. It’s been a long fucking week.”

“Longest week of my life.” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, before he hauled himself onto his feet.

Javier held his hands out to help you up, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Javi.” You shook your head as you looked up at him. “We’re both tired.” You brought his hands up to kiss his them, lips pressing to each knuckle. “No one is at fault for any of this. But I am tired and barely holding it together right now.”

“I know.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “It’s just hard to accept it…” Javier sat down at the foot of the bed, sinking backwards. “That someone isn’t at fault. If it’s me… I can blame myself.”

“That’s not good for your health.” You reminded him, laying down beside him. You shifted close, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “We aren’t as young as we used to be, Javi.”

“No fucking shit.” He huffed, curling his arm around you. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You whispered.

There was so much you wanted to discuss. So many emotions you wanted to process but you didn’t know how. There was no amount of research you could do to handle this.

All you could do was sleep and hope that tomorrow would be one more better day.

[disaster-fruit]

could you tell us more about the brarg family au with the 3 babies and trans luci?

I definitely can! This au has been living rent free in my head since i started that drawing and I was actually sketching more stuff for the AU right before I got this ask so- I definitely can ramble more about it

This was supposed to be just a collection of a few hcs and now it’s a multi-pages word document the size of a fanfic so – Im really sorry.

I didn’t think a lot about their backstories tbh, though I have it in my mind that Luciano transition in his late teens and that he and martin either met after that or knew each other before luciano came out, lost all contact, and then met again after (and you can blame oxiosas fic for that yeah im not even subtle)

But I imagine them having some sort of meet cute and kinda progressing really fast in their relationship without realizing – yk, its just a fling, no big deal, yeah ive met his parents, yes I basically spend every weekend in his apartment, yeah I have a spare key now, ops I guess we’re adopting dogs and plants together- oh I think we’re married. Yeah. We’re married.

Ok but for real Luci does the proper proposal-with-a-ring-and-knelt-down-on-a-special-day thing and Martin is just bright red saying yes over and over again

It is Afonso (port) the first to be all WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN like… the night of their wedding.

They live in a house in a not too big city with two dogs, one cat, one parrot and all the birds that Luciano feeds and names that aren’t actually theirs. Still, they choose the house with two spare rooms because they always talked about having two kids.

In this AU they can buy a nice house and don’t have to worry about money and can raise kids like the world isn’t ending.

I think right after they got married they got in line for adoption. However, everything indicated that it would take a long long time so they started talking about the possibility of trying to have a biological kid. I think luci was the one to suggest it when he noticed martin had been thinking about it but not saying anything for a while.

Lots of boring doctor visits and confused doctors looking at luciano and trying to process it like the dumb cishets they are. Boring exams and all that, but everything is on track eventually, luci pauses his hrt and keeps his jockstrap on the drawer and they’re googling the best positions for fertility on those weird cishet sites and doing it like bunnies etc etc

Getting pregnant the natural way after years of testosterone is not the easiest thing in the world, so it takes a while. But eventually it works.

Both of them are kinda freaking out with this whole first pregnancy thing. Martin is the ultimate protective husband, and spends way too much time on the internet finding out what luciano can and can’t eat, what exercises he should do, and going to every single doctor visit. He’s very committed to it.

Luciano has to drink non-alcoholic beer and hates life. There’s a single teardrop shed every time he buys it. And drinks a lot of lemonade like it’s the same as caipirinha. Poor guy. Martin doesn’t help on that, life isn’t fair, he buys his own beer.

But he also has to drive absurd lengths to find the weirdest fruit or make the most hideous, blasphemous pizza toppings because Luciano is constantly craving absurd shit. But poor baby actually really NEEDS that chicken M&M pizza at 8am.

They’re super proud daddies though, and both their instagrams at this point are just baby belly pictures. Luci had top surgery on this au on my hc so also. Lots of shirtless pics. He looks like an old uncle with a beer belly and he’s PROUD. Just. Baby bellies all over.

Martin picks the entire baby layette. Because of course he does.

Their baby shower is a huge deal though. Their dads are there, Antonio brings an entire trunk filled with diapers and tells everyone how many tincho used to need when he was a baby, Afonso is cooking for everyone and talking about how he’s gonna be a grandfather (!!!). Iracema (pindorama) is scolding Luci about his bad habits while also quietly being a super proud grandma. Zola (angola) bought toys because she knows that’s what kids actually like, Samero (Mozão) keeps asking if they installed all the necessary security stuff in their house – we will, chill, we still have some months to go – Vera (Tomé) is teasing Simão (Timor) about him no longer being the family baby, Fatima (g.bissau) is another one who bought a huge amount of diapers, Rosinha (cabo verde) is taking pictures of everyone and everything, Sebas and Dani are discussing if the kid should speak Portuguese or Spanish, Maria brought a huge pink plushy as a gift, it’s quite a party.

Once they’re late in the pregnancy, Luciano mostly spends his time on Martin’s oversized t-shirts asking for foot rubs and not getting much sleep because the baby keeps moving. Martin on the other hand is a little nervous about being a dad, but absolutely loves feeling the little kicks and talking to the baby all the time, except when its 3am and he wants to sleep but Luci cant because of it so he just does his best to keep him company. He mostly ends up falling asleep on his chest though and doesn’t help much

I wrote all of this but I still don’t have a name for the girl lol Anyway, she’s finally born, and if martin was overprotective when Luciano was pregnant, he’s ten times more with his baby girl. Tbh theyre both kinda going crazy with this whole parenting thing, both are overprotective, tired, and have no idea what theyre doing.

Zola and Sebastian are the girl’s godparents. Sebastian isn’t very good with kids so when he takes care of his niece he either puts on a tv show and lets her eat whatever crap she wants, or relies on Daniel to do the actual taking care, since he is good with kids.

Luciano and Martin are very much neurotic first-timers and have all this schedule of what their girl can eat and when and when she has to sleep etc etc.

When Zola takes care of her, she just ignores it and does it her way. She helped raised Luci since he was a baby anyway, he survived just fine and even married and reproduced, she knows what to do better than both the dumbasses, and they never even find out.

Afonso on the other had follows everything when he’s with his granddaughter, determined to be a better grandfather than he was a father, and the baby loves him so he’s doing a good job.

They’re a very cute family yes yes

She grows up well and happy, a bit shy maybe but very smart and sweet, loves the dogs and her aunts and uncles and granddads (afonso more than antonio though)

By the way, Iracema is soft like butter with her granddaughter.

When she’s about four or five years old they start talking about having a second one, considering the age difference and all. So back to doctors, Luci stops the hrt again and they go back to trying, but again it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do it naturally after years of hrt.

But god listens to the prayers of such good catholic family, and right after they start thinking about a second child, they receive the news they will finally get to adopt a baby.

Luciano is the one to receive the news, he’s working at home when the social worker comes to tell him they can finally adopt. He’s extremely happy, he hugs the poor lady and is barely able to concentrate as she explains the paperwork that is left and the details of it because he can’t stop smiling.

He immediately texts martin saying something like “CALL ME RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO TALK” and it’s in happy caps but martin understands it wrong and thinks someone is dying or dead but then his phone is what dies so he gets home as fast as he can thinking all the worst scenarios just to find luciano jumping on him with a smile for ear to ear. It’s such a shock he takes a while to react but when he does you have two idiots so happy they can’t function.

It’s another girl, she has big brown eyes like her sister and it’s a few months old.

They quickly reassemble the crib and paint the second room to get everything ready in time to take her home, and the next week or so it’s nothing but all the family visiting to meet their new baby.

Since they managed to adopt, they decided to stop trying to have another kid. Luciano goes back to the doctor do some routine exams so that he can go back to testosterone and the doctor just awkwardly explains that, well, that won’t be exactly possible. Not for the next eight months, at least.

He’s quite shocked at that, and takes him a while to tell martin. They just got a new baby and do they even have space to raise three kids? Eventually it just escapes from him and martin is shocked as well, but ultimately both of them are just worried about their place being too small, and once they relax about that they can’t shut up about having another baby on the way to anyone.

Still, it’s not easy to manage, martin is just as worried as he was with their eldest, except that this time he’s simultaneously worried about their new baby and about Luci’s pregnancy. Poor dude needs a break asap. So he’s trying to do most of the work of caring for a little baby to spare luciano from the stress, while also taking care of him as well as he did the other time.

Luci is more chill about being pregnant, he’s done this before, he’s fine. He’s even a little too chill about it, as shown in the art, he still wants to carry their kid on his shoulder and having a few sips of martin’s beer is no big deal and honestly he’s fine, he can help with the baby, and Tincho just needs to relax and it will all be fine.

Again, poor tincho needs a break.

Some things don’t change though. Them being super proud daddies who do nothing but take pictures of their kids and Luci’s belly every chance they get. And they’re really happy and excited to have their house full and this big family.

Just a good cute family AU where nothing bad ever happens thank you very much.  Yet it took me almost 2k words to say it. I have no self control and I’m very sorry. However, if anyone has their own hcs to add about this whole au, I will be more than happy to hear and talk about this AU even more than I’ve already done.

[mary-tudor]

~HENRY TUDOR: A SOCIOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION.~

Today, I'll be discussing a character who left his mark in History, fathering a dynasty whose most proeminent members were his (second) son Henry VIII and his granddaughter Elizabeth I. Often overshadowed by his descendants, Henry's own deeds as a king and as an individual of his own days have been neglected until recently, when efforts from British historians have been working hard to change that. 

The reason why I decided to bring him here was not only due to personal affections, though they certainly helped it, but because there are aspects overlapped in social structures that shaped him. In other words: what's Henry Tudor as a sociological individual? Can we point him out as a constant foreigner or someone whose socialization process were strongly marked by the addition of two different societies? 

Henry Tudor was born in Pembroke, located in Wales, in January 28th 1457. His mother was Margaret Beaufort, a proeminent lady whose grandfather John Beaufort was the son of John of Gaunt, son in turn of King Edward III of England. The duke of Lancaster fathered four ilegitimated children (who were legitimated in posterity) by his (third marriage to his then) lover Katheryn Swynford, amongst whom John Beaufort was the oldest. Therefore, Henry was  3x grandson. to the duke and, despite what some might argue when Henry IV became king, in great deal to inherite the throne. Well, it's not my intention to deepen the discussion as to Henry's legitimacy or the Beauforts. 

Though his father's ancestry, Henry's blood led him to the royal house of Valois. His paternal grandmother, Katherine de Valois, was the sister of Isabella, who had been the second wife of the ill-fated king Richard II. She was also descended of Louis IX and his spanish wife, Blanche de Castille. Henry was also a royal man from the Welsh lands, as Owain Tudor, his grandfather, was related to several princes of Wales. By all these I said, the first thing one might think (considering 15th century and it’s nobility) Henry would receive a proper education due to his status. However, this would not happen in the strict sense of the word. Let us not forget that England was collapsing by the time of Henry Tudor's birth and his childhood. Why am I using the word 'collapse' to qualify the civil war we know named as wars of the roses?

Émile Durkheim, a french sociologist, would write several centuries later, about how a society is formed: he compared it to the working of a human body. If the head, the brain of our body does not work well, what happens? The body will not work well, certainly. Neither would the head work well if other parts hurt somehow. Although if you did break a leg, you could still make use of your brain, but as a whole how limited wouldn't you be? He'd also say that when the human body, or as he called, the society was sick, it was because of the social structures which imposed the human being to the point where there would be no individuality, no matter of choice. 

Such created social facts that were completely external (althoug well internalized through means of a process we call socialization) but coercitive. If they are not working, what does this mean? That soon another social facts will be replacing the former one. But between one and another, we have a "very sickly" society. Taking this understanding back to England's 15th century, it is not difficult to see what Durkheim was talking about. 

The king was the head of the English body. If we have here two kings fighting over one crown, fighting over the rule of an entire body... Well, then? We have the collapse, a civil war that lasted for the next 30 years. Here, it's less about discussing who started what but why they did what they did, and the explanation for it. Power is power. It's crystal clear, and a statement that, however simple might it sound, points to the obvious. Factions that fought for power intended to dominate others, using the concept very well developed by sociologists as Pierre Bourdieu and Norbert Elias. This domination is a large field, a concept that embrace all sorts of it. Looking back to England's latter half of the century, domination was peril. The head was about to explode. The society was ill... and dominated by it.

What were the values? What was the racionalization proccess of social action led by individuals that were not only individuals but a group? How would all of this affect Henry Tudor? It was not about merely blaming the capitalism, because such coercitive system wasn't present yet. But Henry was, directly or not, linked to the royal house of Plantagenets, whose eagerness for dominating one another and by extension the rest of the country would include him in the game. 

"Game." For Durkheim, this would imply an agitation, like a wave of sea, from which no one could escape from. Let's not forget that Institutions created ideas, renewed them, shaped them to the practice whether to dominate the weaker or to defeat the stronger. Whatever the purpose, we here have the Church, not the religiosity, but the precursor of ideas would subdue individuals to share (or manipulate to their own goals anyways) values in order to keep determined mentality to it. But also, monarchy was too an institution which held control over the lives and deaths of thousands of people. A monarch, as we know, is never alone regardless of how "absolut" they could be in different times and contexts. They were not above the law, either. At least where the socialization process is concerned. For the monarch embodied the content which was the law back then. He was literally the law. 

Furthermore, Henry's education would foresee this fighting, which I'm not merely referring to custody going from his mother to another, before finally staying under his uncle's responsibilities, as well as the civil war itself. (Anyone remembers Warwick executing Herbert before the boy?) 

See, we all know and comprehend today what trauma are capable of doing to someone. Such experience is the main responsible for shaping ideas, values and even costumes. Now, a society which is very much sick by it's own values and moral costumes (a point here must be made: the public consciousness always preached for a warrior, strong king, but has no one thought how this "common sense", validated by a general expectation towards the head of society, was what led it to... well, for the lack of better word, suicide itself? 

For it's widely accepted that weak kings do not last long. But that is when we deal with a good deal of expectations that, when turned to frustrations, bring awful results. If England's society was ill in it's very extreme sense of the word, was because the values they created turned against themselves and that would leave it's mark in a boy as Henry. And until the age of 14, he was still absorbing these concepts, these morals, values, costumes from institutions (let's not forget that a monarch shares such with the nobility that surrounds him, as was the case of House Lancaster,f.e) before he was casted out to Bretagne and, in posteriority, to France. Now, I believe you all know what was done whether in England or with our king during these 14 years spent outside his own country before he became king upon the victory settled on the battle of Bosworth field.

I am not interested in discussing historical facts. At least not now, as we are finally dealing with Henry Tudor as a social actor

----/-HENRY TUDOR: A FOREIGNER? AN EXILED? OR AN OUTCAST?--

These questions mobilized me as I came to read a text written by 19th century sociologist named Georg Simmel. He wrote an essay (pardon by any mistakes in translations done from here on) entitled "The Foreigner", in which he brings a sociological question at why  foreigners are seen as strangers who are never entirely immersed in the society they attempt to be part in. 

Here's an excerpt translated by me in which he explains it:

"Fixed within a determined social space, where it's constancy cross-border could be considered similar to the space, their position [the foreigner's] in it is largely determined by the fact of not belonging entirely to it, and their qualities cannot originate from it or come from it, nor even going in it." (SIMMEL, 2005: 1.)    

Furthermore, he adds:

“The foreigner, however, is also an element of the group, no more different than the others and, at the same time, distincted from what we consider as the 'internal enemy'. They are an element in whose position imanent and of member comprehend, at the same time, one outsider and the other insider." (SIMMEL, 2005: 1).

Here's why Henry, as Earl of Richmond, was not well seen by the Britons and the French, in spite of being "accepted" by them. Never forget that he would still be seen as an outsider by his own fellows. As Richard III would call Henry a bastard, one could understand this accusation with sociological  implications. English back then detested these foreigners and by the concept brought here by me from Simmel we can understand why. But we could also see being called a bastard as a way to point out Henry's localization. Where can the Earl of Richmond & soon-to-be king be located?

I have pointed this far the structures which were raised and caused a collapsed society to live broken in many, many ways and how this affected Henry this far. Seeing how foreigner he was, nonetheless, he did not belong neither to England (at first) nor to the Continent.

On that sense of word, says Simmel (2005: 3): 

"A foreigner is seen and felt, then, from one side, as someone absolutely mobiled, a wanderer. As a subject who comes up every now and then through specific contacts and yet, singularly, does not find vinculated organically to  anything or anyone, nominally, in regards to the established family, locals and profissionals”

Even though we find a dominant group of foreigners in France, as we are talking about of nobles displeased with the Yorkist cause and supporters of the Lancastrian House, they were not majority. Where can we locate Henry, then? We don't, because he was not a French and however well he could speak the language, it was not his birth language. The French culture was not passed nor naturalized by him through the teachings of a family or the church by the institutions: monarchy, church, family, parliament, etc; he would have been defeated a long time. But that he did manage to, using this popular expression, put things together and become the first king to die peacefully since Henry V, it tells us a lot. Not rarely an immigrant is accepted by a society whose demands are forced upon him, most of the times in aggressive ways. But it's not often either that we see a king occupying such place in society. 

Indeed, one might say that kings as Henry II and the conquerors before him were too foreigners, but not in the sociological way I'm explaining. Because the social structures were different. Henry's government were settled in a more centralized ruling, far more just and peaceful, more economic and less concerned with waging wars than his antecessors. The need to migrate was not 'forced', neither 'imposed' and even back to the 11th and 12th centuries were motivated by different reasons. That's to accentuate how English society evolved throughout the centuries. And I used again and again Georg Simmel to prove my point about casting a sociological light towards Henry VII not as a historical character so distant of us and who remains an object of controversial discussions, but a man of his times who was forced to deal with expectations that placed him in social positions nearly opposed to one another to fulfill each role whether as king or as a man. For some reason, the broken society shaped Henry as an immigrant, but as history shows us, it was this immigrant who helped shape medieval society, directing it towards the age of Renaissance and in posteriority to Modern Age.

Finally, to close this thread I leave here another quote (translated to English by me) found in the text written by Simmel: 

"The foreigner, strange to the group [he is in], is considered and seen as a non-belonging being, even if this individual is an organic member of the group whose uniform life comprehends every particular conditioning of this social [mean]. (...) [the foreigner] earns in certain groups of masses a proximity and distance that distinguishes quantities in each relationship, even in smaller portions. Where each marked relationship nduced to a mutual tension in specific relationships, strenghtening more formal relations out of respect to what's considered 'foreigner' of which are resulted." (SIMMEL, p 7). 

Bibliography: 

AMIN, Nathen. https://henrytudorsociety.com/

DURKHEIM, Émile. "The Division of Labor in Society”.

KANTOROWICZ, Ernst H.”The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Medieavel Political Theology.”

PENN, Thomas. Winter King: Henry VII and the Dawn of Tudor England.

SIMMEL, Georg. The Foreigner. In: Soziologie. Untersuchungen über die Formen der Vergesellschaftung. Berlin. 1908.

[almasidaliano]

epiphanies pt. 2 oct.19 238:

hai :&

fun fact about being a poet, or- writer; wherever i fall- sometimes you haven't the slightest idea what you need to say, but you have to write.

that's why i'm typing now.. slowly, unsurely. waiting for the light to flicker on and for it all to make sense.

good things are coming i think. and i should be happy right? i mean like ecstatic you know?.... fuck that.

maybe i should be laying on someone's couch disclosing this, however i choose to believe it reaches whom it needs, and even if this exhale isn't the one that helps me breathe at least it gives me space to take another breath, that being said:

fear does not exist. i have no fears. i'm not scared of anything. and the world thinks your reality has to be trafficking, and civil war for you to be numb to the ugliness. ugly has no concrete image, just characteristics.

my brother is dead. the love of my life, the only peace ive ever known is dead. a cousin i lost touch with years ago, one of the few on my maternal side that simply was as he existed is dead. a cousin i hardly remember is dead as well. a great aunt, a great grandfather, and a step grandfather as well. i attended two of those funerals. i stared at two lifeless bodies meant to placehold my loved ones. two lifeless bodies i could hardly recognize. bodies so cold, so stiff. i still dont understand how a body weighs anything with no soul to keep it grounded. why don't souls stay and bodies leave?

if i stay silent did i deserve it? shouldnt i have known better? you would think i would know better? nothing ever came of speaking out anyway..

imagine-- the sweetest girl, an athlete. active, beautiful, intellectual, selfless, caring.. she never had a place to "fit in", she always squeezed to fit until she was pushed out; naturally she moved around. she didn't like girly things. she wasn't filled out at first. pretty is safe, im realizing now, pretty and cute are safe.. she is naive. growing up with boy cousins and mostly brothers being one of the guys just felt like home. i suppose people are raised differently.. imagine she has this group of friends something like a family from after school programs. she is family oriented but her family tree is distorted. is she the apple that fell from a poisoned tree and tainted this one? is she to blame to the tragedy to come.. one by one her "brothers" cross a line, every time, all but one.. and one friend was fine. little did she know, when they grew up he too go would go.. the shocking part was that he felt entitled to her skin without her knowing.. everything about this recollection is disturbing. and the only time i tried to get this out, the wound was left open and the responses that i got ensured it wouldnt soon be closing. i want to scream, but i wont. i want to cry, but i dont. because i feel like everyone who has violated me will know. and they dont get that power.

im sorry. to those who feel #metoo.. because it took something like 3 years and it happening again, for me to truly realize im too weak to defend myself. too paralyzed. im cynical. im patient. if i fight i lose, if i freeze, i lose. being trapped removes the flight option, so i lose. no matter what i do. imagine conquering insomnia (kind of) just to never sleep again. because thats when he decided to invade you.

i have control over my worth, my confidence, me. and yet all that i can do is place accountability on me. for believing in humanity.

do you know how many times people promise to protect me? do you know the only one that did is dead now? ....

i wish i didnt ruin everything. i wish i was what people see/saw..

i wish i could still be me, without any of the pain at all..

[vsj2000]

A game of Chess

As a medical student, an important and memorable part of my journey has been to try and understand the complex cocktail of emotions brewing inside a patient’s mind. Experiences are the ink of the unwritten future. Indecisive. Unpredictable. We all have our stories, I’m sure you must too. We all face our own battles, our own demons. We are all afraid. 

I still remember when my grandfather was diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer. It’s been almost a year now. In his prime, he was like Superman- A man of Steel. I mean literally, because he used to work at the Tata Steel factory in Jamshedpur. Now he can barely climb a flight of stairs without stopping to catch his breath. When we got the news, it was probably the most morose and depressing one we’d ever heard. I mean, not that we’d never known anybody who had cancer, but this time it was my very own ‘Acharya’ (meaning guru).

Fear guides our survival. It is an innate algorithm with an unparalleled evolutionary significance. It is also the one emotion we’re most afraid to experience. Just a few months ago, I was working on Palliative Care at the Command Hospital in Pune. While on the surface, the patients seemed very accepting about the nature of their condition, little did I know that the gateway to their cellar of emotions was just one question away- Are you afraid of dying?

This seemingly obvious question opened the gates to an almost unexplored dimension of thoughts, fears and emotions. People never want to talk about death. Death in itself has become a whispered illness. It makes them feel vulnerable. It makes them feel human. It is when I learned that it is not our existence that scares us, it is our absence.  Interacting with patients, physicians and social workers, I learnt that fear is a direct manifestation of expectations. The more you have to lose, the greater the fear of death becomes. 

A patient asked me -”Is death painful? Does it hurt?” How do you answer that? 

On the other side of this spectrum, you’ll find the carefree patient. Like when I found Anjali, who was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the time. The first time I met her, she was watching stand up comedy on her phone while on chemotherapy. When I asked her what about her condition troubles her the most, she asked me to take a look across the room. I saw a few patients sleeping, a few just gazing at the hospital ceiling while laying in bed and more than a few dull, troubled faces. She then said- “These people were patients much before they had cancer. They regret  their past, worry about their future and ruin their present.” Today is a gift, that’s why it’s called the present- This was her motto. (Then we talked about Kung fu Panda :p)

In conversation with Colonel(Retd) NS Nyayapathi- Founder of Vishranti Palliative Care Centre (Care India Medical Society)

On the spiritual front, I gained rather interesting insights. Why do bad things happen to good people? Is God just and fair? Or is he all powerful?

On asking these questions, I realized that the world is divided into two belief systems. One belief is that God is fair and he loves his children and would protect them from all harm. But still, innocent people suffer.  This implies that God is not absolute. Patients of this belief system still redeemed their faith in God and believed that suffering was God’s way to test their virtue. 

The other belief is that God is all powerful and whatever happens is a manifestation of his will. Therefore, if this is true then God can never be fair because bad things do happen to good people and God is to blame.  Patients of the latter belief often became atheists and lost faith in God; or so I have witnessed.

AFMC Cadets at Vishranti Palliative Care Centre, Pune

Learning the power of human touch

I couldn’t help but ponder about the striking similarities between the art of conversation and a game of chess. I mean, reading out from questionnaires doesn’t get you this far. You have to improvise. It is an art of patience.  And like in a game of chess, there are also 3 phases to a conversation with a patient- The opening, middlegame and the endgame.

 The opening is where you try and establish a rapport with the patient. Patients usually don’t like talking about how many times they puked, coughed or whether their pain is a 6 or a 7. Honestly, they get bored. So, when I saw 10 year old Vishnu who was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia(ALL), playing around with his Superman action figure, I naturally spent half an hour trying to convince him that Batman could kick Superman’s butt. In the end however, he ended up convincing me why Superman is the greatest superhero of all time :)

 Some openings are better than the others. I remember asking a patient how he was feeling and he distinctly replied-”If I would be feeling well, I wouldn’t be in a hospital.” Pretty obvious don’t you think?

The middlegame is a much more progressive ground. It is rather important to lend a good ear at this point. While the opening decides the degree of compliance of the patient, the middlegame is all about building up on that trust and trying to understand the patient’s thoughts and concerns. It is at this juncture that a clinical evaluation of the patient would prove to be most fruitful.

 Hope is a wonderful thing. False hope- not so much. This is my endgame lesson. Probably the most precious gift from my experience with cancer patients was when one of them held my hand and said-”Thank you for giving me hope. I feel less scared now.” These seemingly plain, simple words hold a deeper meaning. They are inherent with the realization that just a small act could bring great meaning to someone’s life. But false promises are the most fatal form of expectations. While empathy is a great asset in communication, its extent must be well guarded by professionalism, honesty and truth.

The art of giving 

Part of the journey is the end. Mine has just begun.

सर्वे सन्तु निरामयाः। - May all be free from disease. 

The motto of Armed Forces Medical College, Pune.

  Learning to spread smiles

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “ plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

[she-wolf-of-highgarden]

Arya and Femininity (again)

I dont get the whole thing that Arya hates/looks down upon femininity. Before anyone brings up Sansa, lets remember the majority examples you can really give me involving Arya belittling femininity is with Sansa, a sister who she is compared against and found lacking (which is not Sansa’s fault, its the adults’ fault). 

I grant you Arya has a complicated relationship with traditional femininity, but look at how she reacts to other traditionally feminine women. She likes Lady Smallwood, she does not like that she has to dress in gowns but she does not hold it against Lady Smallwood. She thinks about going back to her.

“The Hound no longer watched her as closely as he had. Sometimes he did not seem to care whether she stayed or went, and he no longer bound her up in a cloak at night. One night I'll kill him in his sleep, she told herself, but she never did. One day I'll ride away on Craven, and he won't be able to catch me, she thought, but she never did that either. Where would she go? Winterfell was gone. Her grandfather's brother was at Riverrun, but he didn't know her, no more than she knew him. Maybe Lady Smallwood would take her in at Acorn Hall, but maybe she wouldn't. Besides, Arya wasn't even sure she could find Acorn Hall again. Sometimes she thought she might go back to Sharna's inn, if the floods hadn't washed it away. She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.” - Arya XII, ASoS

She hates sewing, but even admits that she would at least attempt it if it was Lady Smallwood having her do it. 

“It was quiet in the village. They had beds stuffed with straw and not too many lice, the food was plain but filling, and the air smelled of pines. All the same, Arya soon decided that she hated it. The villagers were cowards. None of them would even look at the Hound's face, at least not for long. Some of the women tried to put her in a dress and make her do needlework, but they weren't Lady Smallwood and she was having none of it. And there was one girl who took to following her, the village elder's daughter.” - Arya XII, ASoS

Look at how Arya looks at her mother. It’s clear that arya has issues with Cat, but its more about Arya not being up to her standards. The kid legitimately worries about whether or not Cat would pay a ransom for her. As an audience we know Cat would pay whatever she had to pay for Arya, but Arya doesnt know that. 

“That much was true, Arya knew. Knights were captured and ransomed all the time, and sometimes women were too. But what if Robb won't pay their price? She wasn't a famous knight, and kings were supposed to put the realm before their sisters. And her lady mother, what would she say? Would she still want her back, after all the things she'd done? Arya chewed her lip and wondered.” - Arya IV, ASoS

“Well," Arya said, "my hair's messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard." Robb wouldn't care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out. "I ruined that gown that Lady Smallwood gave me, and I don't sew so good." She chewed her lip. "I don't sew very well, I mean. Septa Mordane used to say I had a blacksmith's hands.” - Arya VII, ASoS

Arya has no issue with the fact that her mother is traditionally feminine. She never looks down on her for it or even really comments on it, other than to point out how good her mother was at being a lady and how Arya could not meet her standards. 

You could also use Cersei as an example. Arya says a lot of things about Cersei, but none have to do with her femininity. She blames her for what happened to Ned and what happened to Mycah and Lady, but not because she wears gowns or sews. She never brings up anything other than what she thinks Cersei did to her family. 

You also see it with Arya and Myrcella. Arya does not bring up Myrcella’s femininity, except in comparison to herself. 

“Arya glanced furtively across the room, worried that Septa Mordane might have read her thoughts, but the septa was paying her no attention today. She was sitting with the Princess Myrcella, all smiles and admiration. It was not often that the septa was privileged to instruct a royal princess in the womanly arts, as she had said when the queen brought Myrcella to join them. Arya thought that Myrcella's stitches looked a little crooked too, but you would never know it from the way Septa Mordane was cooing.She studied her own work again, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle. She looked glumly at her sister. Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear.” - Arya I, AGoT

Arya has crooked stitches and Septa Mordane callss her out for it and this doesnt seem like a new thing. Septa Mordane tells her mother that Arya has the hands of a blacksmith and does it in comparison to Sansa. That’s not going to feel good. Measuring yourself and coming up lacking is not going to feel good. Arya is 9. She’s not going to understand that the adults or the system around her is the issue. She is going to blame the closest things she can, herself and her peers. 

I grant you that Arya has a complicated relationship, but to flat out say that she looks down upon femininity and thats it simplifies it. And acts as though she is an adult or even a teenager. Pre-AGoT she is a sheltered 9 year old. She doesnt have a whole lot of experience. All she knows is that in her home she does not meet standards. 

[rennegades]

I’m in such a mood. I just want to change everything. 

I’m choosing to blame my dad because he offered the advice of using my “temporarily laid off time” to find something I like doing better and just get a new job on the other side of this mess and now it’s like. Hmm, maybe I should change all the things? Make myself happy with me again.

Which has so far led to:

dying my hair pure blonde again & not immediately putting “fun” colours in

deciding that yeah. i’m going to get the breast reduction that ive been contemplating for a decade

committing to a pure bred dog because every fucking rescue org is like “this dog is good with cats!” but when you do to the specific animal’s page it’s “lol actually they’ve never met a cat so we don’t know!” and I’d rather my cat not die

tearing the wallpaper off of my basement walls and discovering that it’s all bare drywall and I will have to mud and tape and prep and do about 10x more work than expected

buying lolita fashion for the first time since that disaster in 2008 (2009? shit when did tekuno wear my dress? that happened like a year after the disaster) (okay technically this purchase happened a couple weeks before I got laid off and I spent $500 non-refundable. part of me wishes i hadnt but part of me is going oooooo pretty dress!!)

deciding to tailor all of my clothing to my actual sense of fashion instead of whatever the fuck ive been doing

unfollowing blogs that post way too much political stuff even if they’re real life friends of mine because i use tumblr to escape that stuff thanks

and Im sure there are other things, but my mind is blanking and ive been looking at this post for twenty minutes

and in staring at this post for twenty minutes ive been staring at my username and icon for twenty minutes. ive been feeling disassociated with the name rennegades for awhile now. It’s my brand but. I don’t really like being called renne anymore. 

i accept sam because i can feel my great grandfather rolling in his grave every time someone does and that’s fucking hilarious (he swore there would never be another sam in his line because too many of his relatives were named samuel and so was he), so if you know me as sam then. it’s whatever. keep calling me sam.

but honestly i’d prefer my current pen name. which is rivienna. riv is an acceptable short form. if you follow that link you’re going to get hit with a lot of teen wolf self insert fanfic. i’d apologize, but i’m still actively writing it so i’m really not sorry.

anyways. i still want to hold on to rennegades for my art stuff, but I also kinda want to swap it out to a sideblog and use the main blog for fandom stuff again. i miss doing that. 

of course that means ya’ll will have to deal with a lot of buffy and teen wolf and star wars and mcu.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

if I could flip a switch and swap primary from rennegades to rivienna i would do it in an instant. 

[benevolentpanda]

Fantastic Beasts Oc Info

Name: Jimena Rosita

Last Name: Muerte Negro

Birthday: October 1

Age: 18 (Fantastic Beasts 2)

Blood Status: Half-blood

Physical Information

Gender: Female

Hair Color: Black

Eye color: Dark Brown

Appearance: 1920s wavy short hair, round face, a little meat on her bones, short stature, modest clothing, tribal earrings/necklace, old pair of brown boots and a set of fancy wrist restraints that control most of her magical abilities.

Country of origin- Peru

Wand Information

Wand wood: Chestnut

Wand core: Dragon (Vipertooth)

Wand length: 9 in.

Style: Whippy and smooth with interesting designs engraved near the rounded handle.

Best for: Offensive and healing spells

School Information

Name: Castelobruxo (Latin America’s School of Magic)

Year: I to IV

House: Undines

Extra Information

Personality: A bit of an old soul, a listener, loyal, introspective, curious when it comes to new magical herbs or magical creatures, zones out every now and then, observant with some things, and will do as told depending on what she needs to do..

Flaws: Jimena is very fickle/indecisive when it comes to making decisions that involve herself or her family. She wants to protect her two older siblings during the crimes they drag her into, but at the same time she wants to break free and pursue a better life for herself.

Likes: Reading about herbology and magizoology, magical beasts, all sorts of plants (magic and non-magic alike), poetry, music, writing in her diary, and ANYTHING sweet (candy or pastries).

Dislikes: Sea food, worrying about her place in the family tree, taking a special potion her older sister gives her when she’s feeling unwell, mistreatment of plants or animals.

Hobbies: Making Victorian terrariums (all shapes and sizes)

Characteristic phrases: “I don’t know, I prefer the company of plants and animals than I do people most days.” “Newt Scamander...Yes, my two siblings attended school with him I think.”

Powers/Skills: Has a good amount of knowledge of magical plants, healing spells, charms, and some wandless magic. Jimena has the strongest magical strength out of her three older siblings, however it does take a toll on her physical health depending on what kind of spell she uses. She has developed a spell that lets her boost a person’s magical strength however it can be very dangerous and she doesn’t use it often. Plus, it only works on people blood related to her.

Biography

Early Life: Jimena Rosita Muerte Negro was conceived out of wedlock to a Spaniard Auror and a Peruvian indiginous woman. Lucero Octavio Muerte Negro and Manua were their names. Long before Jimena’s birth, Lucero was taking a tour of South America. He was researching magical plants for an essay he wanted to publish in the Wizarding World before returning back to Spain to become part of the Spanish Ministry of Magic. When he stopped in a small village between Peru and the Brazilian border, he ran into Manua who was selling her tribe’s beadwork on the street. From that day, he became infatuated with her and she with him. However, it wouldn’t end very well for either of them.

After several weeks of being together, Maanua became pregnant. Lucero became very worried because he was already married and had a family back in Spain. Maanua knew of this but wasn’t upset for in her people’s culture it was normal for a man to have several wives or for a woman to have several husbands. Even though they weren’t officially married, Lucero really loved her more than his actual wife. His marriage to his wife was arranged and strained. He already had three older children and worried for the one Maanua carried. It was hard, but he had to return to Spain before Jimena was due to be born. Before he left, he promised Maanua that he would send money to her every month when he could.

When Jimena was three, Maanua was shunned out of her tribe for having a child with strange abilities. Maanua became a maid for a rich Peruvian family and did her best to hide Jimena’s magic abililities only when the family was around. Lucero on the other hand had his own problems to deal with. He was facing the consequences of being unfaithful to his wife (Fala Birch). His family members weren’t too happy with him and Fala became furious. Fala was emotionally and metally abusive to both Lucero and his children. The woman eventually started researching the dark arts. Fala wanted to hurt Lucero for ruining their marriage despite she herself being unfaithful to him during his tour of South America. She started planning the most cruel way to get back at Lucero.

At the age of seven, Jimena witnessed her mother being beaten by the mistress of the house in which they both served. This caused Jimena to lash out at the woman with her magic and in the process she destroyed part of the house. The Peruvian Council of Magic got involved and had to take Jimena away from Maanua. They also erased Maanua’s memories of Lucero and Jimena. Upon taking Jimena, The Peruvian Council of Magic decided to send her to Castelobruxo in Brazil where she could learn to control her magic in a safe environment. The Peruvian Council also sent a letter to Lucero of the events and for him to sign several important papers. Lucero was saddened to receive the news out, but was happy that Jimena would be joining a wizarding school like her two older siblings.

Upon Jimena’s arrival to Castelobruxo, the headmaster welcomed her and the other new students. Jimena’s first year at Castelobruxo was hard, but she managed as best as she could to get comfortable around others who had the same magical abilities as her. She also discovered that her great great grandfather was a former student at the school along with her own father. There was also some dark history, but she didn’t want to look into much of that. Jimena took her time learning and studying all she could during her first two years of wizard school. She loved herbology class, charms class, and classes on Magizoology. Some of the plants and creatures at Castlobruxo became some of her only friends. It’s not that she didn’t like the other young witches or wizards, she just felt more comfortable around other living things. Plus, it was a bit of a burden on her that there were dark roots from her family to the school and that her father was one of the best students Castelobruxo had. Jimena often received letters from Lucero and small gifts. She always wondered what it would be like to meet him in person instead of gazing at a small moving black and white portrait of him.

At the end of her third year at Castelobruxo, the students and the professors were attacked by a dangerous release of a forbidden giant magical plant that could spit acid. Once the attack got under control, a rumor spread that Jimena was to blame because a Ciapora evidently saw her go into the greenhouse where the headmaster kept the plant locked away. Jimena was questioned but she denied it until a male student (Davi) spoke up to defend her. There were smaller incidents involving other dangerous plants that almost got Jimena kicked out of Castelobruxo even though she had nothing to do with them.

The beginning of her fourth and last year at Castelobruxo, was terrible and would impact her for most of her young life. Unbeknownst to Jimena, all those incidents from the year before were caused by Fala Birch and Acela (Jimena’s oldest half sister). Fala found out that Jimena was at Castelobruxo and devised a plan to ruin her and hurt Lucero. Since Fala was now secretly involved with dark magic, she cast a temporary mind control spell on her eldest daughter Acela to pretend to be Jimena and commit the crimes at the wizard school. When Jimena’s fourth year started, Fala and Acela cornered and attacked Jimena after the school had comeback from a fieldtrip. Fala was set on destroying Jimena as Acela cast a spell over the plants and some of the magical beasts to raise havoc to keep anyone from helping Jimena. At the time the headmaster was coming back to the school with Jimena’s father as a surprise. Jimena’s only friend, Davi went up against Acela to attempt to help her but didn’t stand much of a chance and injured his wand holding arm in the process.

Before Fala could cast a spell to get rid of Jimena forever, the headmaster and Lucero came just in time. Thus, a battle commenced. The headmaster managed to take out Acela as Lucero faught Fala. Fala, full of rage and completely losing her mind, fired a spell at Lucero. Jimena witnessed her father fly backward before letting out her magical strength in anger. Before losing control of herself, Jimena’s other two siblings ( Carlotta and Lando. They dropped out of Hogwarts to commit petty crimes before catching wind of their mother’s plans to hurt Jimena and use Acela. So they followed Lacero to Brazil) managed to step in and stop her. However, Fala was quick to cast a curse on Jimena before the headmaster took her down. Carlotta and Lando cast a temporary sleeping spell over Jimena and vanished without a trace with her.

A few years after the events at Castelobruxo, Jimena and her two older siblings were hiding in Paris in 1926 through 1927. Fala Birch was in Askaban and Lacero...well the spell she cast on him caused him to become unresponsive. He’s alive but doesn’t talk or function normally as he used too so he was sent to a Wizard Nursing Home. Acela Negro Muerte starts working for the British Ministry of Magic to try and find Jimena and her siblings. She eventually tags along with Newt Scamander and the gang.

Living with Carlotta and Lando wasn’t the easiest transition for Jimena. The curse that Fala cast on her was one that took away her voice completely. Carlotta and Londa tried multiple times to break the curse but were very unsuccessful. They also put magical gold bracelets on Jimena that acted like handcuffs to keep most of her magical strength at bay. She could still use magic, just not as much as she used to when she was in school. Her two siblings also found that if she used too much of her magical strength, Jimena would get weak and ill. So they “handcuffed” her with the bracelets to try and keep that from happening (they also feared for their safety because they realized how strong she is compared to them). Carlotta and Lando treated Jimena well for the most part, but they weren’t good people. Carlotta and Lando were more interested in committing thievery, gambling, and petty crimes than they were in being good wizards. They would take Jimena on crime runs that were a lot more dangerous. One time they broke into a muggle bank with the help of Jimena and stole 900 dollars without being caught.

Despite refusing to go with her siblings on some crime heists, Jimena spends the majority of her time in their apartment. She takes the time to make terrariums and sells them secretly without her siblings knowing because they warn her about leaving the apartment when they aren’t there. On her trips away from the apartment, she explores the city every now and then. On one such occasion, she came across Circus Arcanus and decides to see what it’s all about. Fascinated after watching her first show, she snoops around the circus tent after the performances. She gets caught by Credence Barebone and they have a very awkward first interaction. Until her attention is drawn to gloomy looking magical plant that is in need of some care. Before she can examine it Credence tells her to leave before his boss comes. She eventually forms a sort of friendship with Credence and Nagini. She also starts to have feelings for Credence, but chooses to keep them to herself since his eyes are solely on Nagini. Jimena actually wants the best for the love birds and assists in their escape from the circus.

One evening, Jimena overhears her siblings talking about Gellert Grindelwal and the Global Wizarding War. They start wondering if they should follow him. Jimena on the other hand feels uncomfortable with the idea until her siblings take her to hear Grindelwald speak at a big gathering.

At this same gathering, she spots Nagini and Credence. Jimena immidiently feels concerned and even more mixed feels when she spots Acela. As Grindelwald asks who will join him by passing through the blue flames, Carlotta and Lando cross over. They pursue Jimena to join them. Jimena willing follows until Acela calls after her to try and change her mind. Jimena hesitates until Carlotta calls to her again. She just barely crosses through the fire to join her siblings/Credence/Grindelwald and survives along with Queenie Goldstein.

[weirdlittletoasterboy]

IM VERY ANGRY AT MY MOTHER AND I KNOW I SHOULD TALK TO HER ABOUT IT BUT I KNOW SHE'LL ONLY TURN IT AROUND ON ME AND BLAME INSTAGRAM SOME FUCKING HOW

SHE PROFF READ SOMETHING SAYING HOW I WAS FUCKing DESTROYED BY THE MGTOW / INCEL BELIEFS MY GRANDFATHER HAS NOW BECAUSE HE USED TO WATCH ME THE MOST WHEN I WAS YOUNGER YESTERDAY. AS SHE WAS LOSING HER SHIT BECAUSE SHE WAS HELPING ME WITH "EASY" MATH I COULDN'T GET SHE DECIDED TO SAY IF MY GRADES STAY SHIT SHE'LL TAKE MY PHONE AWAY AND MAKE ME STAY AT HIS HOUSE UNTIL SHE COMES HOME WITCH CAN TAKE 3+ HOURS IM TRYING TO GET BETTER I WANT TO BE HAPPIER AND MORE OPEN TO EXPRESSING MY FEELINGS WITH HER BUT ITS SO FUCKING HARD ITS HALLOWEEN AND I WANT TO WORK ON MY JANE PRENTISS COSPLAY BUT INSTEAD IM IN MY ROOM CRYING BECAUSE EVEN WHEN SHES CLAM I DON'T TRUST HER ANYMORE AND I DONT EVEN WANT TO BE IN THE ROOM WITH HER IM TIRED OF HER BULLSHIT APOLOGIES BLAMING ON DAD OR WORK SHE FUCKING USES THAT FOR 14 YEARS AS A VALID REASON TO APOLOGIZE BUT ME OFTEN APOLOGIZING FOR SHIT BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT ISNT. I CANT EVEN WORK ON MY HALLOWEEN THING WHILE FEELING LIKE SHIT BECAUSE IF I DO THAT ILL BE SAD IN IT AND IVE BEEN ENJOYING MAKING IT UNTIL NOW!

[amilynh]

Okay, let’s try this again. I’d love a DVD commentary on Leia and Hera’s conversation in “War Orphans.”

Excerpts included from “War Orphans.” [I hope you’re happy...this is longer than the fic itself...  LOLOLOL!]

Before she even touched him, the princesspulled him away, holding more tightly if anything. “I’ve got him,”she snapped.

“I’m so sorry–”

“Don’t.”

I knew from the time I got the promptthat I desperately wanted to see Hera and Leia interact, and I used Jacen asthe catalyst, having Hera need to do a job and Leia casually volunteer to watchJacen (to everyone’s surprise and Hera’s embarrassment).  I did a bunch of assembling ofinformation…that Hera is about 10 years older than Leia, that Leia (likeLuke) is only about 3 days younger than Ezra, and that neither of them has everlived in a time where the galaxy was not at war (even though there is a lull inopen hostilities on the Core Worlds after the rise of the Empire).  We knew by the time I wrote this that Leiaand Hera were both on Yavin IV, that Hera flew at the Battle of Scarif, thatshe was likely to have been on Yavin again when Han and Luke returned from theDeath Star was a Super Compartmentalizing Leia, and that Hera flew against thesecond Death Star.

I thought quite a bit about how wellthese two women would know each other, and I decided that they would know eachother by name, reputation, and from planning meetings, but that, sadly, sincethey move in different circles–by social standing and, in particular, by rolein the Rebellion–they wouldn’t be friends.

I believe Leia was prickly from themoment she was captured on the Tantive IV until, well, after Han’s rescue fromTatooine.  I think that was most noticeablein the period between her imprisonment on the Death Star and the evacuationfrom Hoth; I think Leia was just…existing then, and I think that the Leia weseen in ESB very much did not expect to survive the war.  In many ways, I think she considered herselfa dead girl walking; she’d cheated death already (on the Death Star, by notbeing on Alderaan, in countless raids and on countless missions, in dodgyspacecraft….) and everyone she’d ever loved died in front of her eyes aftershe’d been relentlessly tortured.  I thinkher prickliness is entirely a self-protection mechanism…and a side-effect ofher depression, survivor’s guilt, rage, grief, and single-minded vendetta againstthe Empire.

I liked having everyone surprised at hervolunteering to take care of Jacen because ALL of the above would lead anyoneto believe that the workaholic princess who is the Face of the Rebellionwould…be too busy, not like kids, have no capacity to deal with a child’semotions, etc.  However, I believe Leiais 100% a pragmatist, and if Hera was more needed in the air than Leia was inCommand?  She’d volunteer in aninstant.  I do think, although she doesn’tthink this way about herself, that Leia believed in the need to keep in mindwhat they were fighting for:  children,customs, loved ones.  Leia only eschewedthose because hers are all already gone; she doesn’t HAVE anything left to livefor when she thinks about after the war (not yet…)…but Hera does, and Leiacan safeguard that. 

Even so, she’s prickly with anyone whosees her “weaknesses,” and with anyone who questions her.  Having her refuse to hand over Jacen, havingher refuse to accept comfort or sympathy from Hera…she can’t.  She just absolutely cannot let anyone touchthe depths of her grief, not even kindly. She packed it all away before comforting Luke, before saying “We have notime for our sorrows,” looooong before this, and she’s not about to look intothat box herself; I believe she feels, at this point before ESB, that if sheever looked–really looked–at the gaping, yawning maw of grief that is thedestruction of Alderaan…she would never, in her mind, recover or climb backout of that chasm.  Grief that great isbottomless and it’s daunting to look at. So, here, she has this child with her who fears losing his parents theway she has already lost hers, this child who never saw and will never seeAlderaan, this child who reasonably could die or lose his mother (as he’salready lost his father even before his birth), this child who is already makingmilitary plans because that is what his entire life is immersed in…and theutter trust in a child who will ASK Leia if his mommy is going to die(something Jacen can’t ask *Hera*…), and to whom she couldn’t bring herselfto give a harsh answer to (because, let’s face it, we’ve seen Leia with Wicket:she’s a sucker for kids), but to whom she can’t quite fully outright LIE…andyet…she might be wrong.  And so thiskid melds into her, sobbing, and falls asleep on her **like she’s a realperson**…not a princess or a leader or a figurehead or a mascot…and all ofthose things she has tucked away…she can’t deny their realty as they press ather in the form of a warm little kid, treating her like the kind of real personSHE can no longer see herself as.  And,of course, a kid who is openly grieving and crying over the very losses andfears that Leia tries to pretend she doesn’t notice in herself…that’s a toughsituation NOT to cry in.  And I reallywanted Leia to dissolve into that emotional place she denies herself for thefirst three years of time in which we know her.

Then Hera comes in and sees her, sees theversion of her that NO ONE WILL SEE, DAMMIT…the version of her she tuckedaway and boxed up deep inside herself when Vader was rifling through hermind…and it is almost as much of an intrusion as the torture…or so it seemsin that first moment.  And NO WAY is shegoing to hand off the child who is her one tether, her one lifeline in thatmoment, and the catalyst for her own emotional outlet: the ONE person who hasever treated her Just As Leia in the past 2+ years (without the weight of allthe knowledge of the Death Star and Alderaan and Who She Is and What She StandsFor…because Han treats her Just As Leia, too, but he does so as someone who onlyknows Post-Alderaan Leia)…because Jacen knows Bail is dead, that it wasbecause of the Empire, but, to him, it’s just a simple fact without the WEIGHTthat is attached for the adults.  So Leiasnaps at the poor kid’s mother.

“It was no trouble. You hadimportant work to do.” Leia swallowed audibly. Breathed. Breathed again.She gestured to the scattered toys. “He’s going to be a great general,like his mother and grandfather. He planned an entire assault on that tooka ofhis.” Her voice grew less damp with each word.

“Princess, I can take him if…” Heraleft the offer hanging.

Leia tightened her grip on Jacen. “It’sLeia,” she said, voice even. Her small, gloved hand stroked Jacen’s back.“I got him to call me Leia. You should too.”

Then Leia starts to try and pull herselftogether:  act like a Princess, act likea Diplomat, comment on someone’s skills, give an assessment, give orders. Shestill can’t let go of this child, but she can put her façade back together, onecool, calm compliment at a time.  And,simultaneously, I want so much for Leia to have some *women* around her, so sheopens herself up, just a tiny bit, by encouraging a first-name relationshipbetween her and Hera.  I think Leianeeded women around her so badly, and Hera, along with Shara Bey, are two ofthe few named women we knew were part of the Rebellion at this stage.

Leia peered around Jacen’s head thenleaned back. “Your son led his troops to victory over his tooka. Then heheld up three X-wings told me, ‘These ones died fighting the Empire. Like mydaddy.’”

“Why would you tell him that?” Leiademanded.

But…that leads straight back to the cruxof the matter…who this child is, what he knows, who this child’s parents are,and the reality of being a child who knows their parents might die at any timebecause, well, just like Leia and Hera, Jacen has already lost a parent to theEmpire, too.  And Leia, who is AllPragmatism, oh, she Just Cannot with the idea that this child might know fartoo much, even though it IS pragmatic and realistic.  She has this momentary break with her abilityto can because can’t they have just one thing that is not touched by theEmpire?  Can’t there be SOMETHING that theEmpire hasn’t tainted?

“After he said his father died, hesaid, 'Like your daddy.’ Why would you tell him that?”

And to make things worse, Jacen knowsabout Bail…he knows SO MUCH MORE than he should, and Leia, used to being the subjectof gossip, can only assume that someone is talking about her EVEN WITH THISCHILD.  So, as much as she admiresGeneral Syndulla’s piloting and leadership skills, part of the reason she won’trelinquish this child is that she now has serious reservations about the otherwoman’s judgement in terms of parenting skills. AND she feels that, not only has Hera seen her cry, seen her “weak,” butif Hera will gossip to her small child, what else might Hera tell about thiswhole day…Leia babysitting, Leia crying in a distant tunnel…  And, of course, when Hera, who sees that thisis a manifestation of the Force, starts to say so, it sounds like the worstkind of assumption-making and victim-blaming, and Leia goes right back on thedefensive…and lets one of her most closely-held secrets slip in the process.

“I didn’t tell him anything,”Hera said. “It’s possible someone else did, but I think it was you.”

Leia turned, her eyes flashing and dangerous.“I told him nothing of the kind.”

“I don’t think you,” Hera paused,bit her lip. “I don’t think you told him on purpose.”

“You think I just accidentally let slipto a toddler that the Empire blew up my entire planet before my eyes?”

They’d made her watch, Hera realized. Becauseof course they did.

One of the questions that I like to askpeople for their head canons about is, “Who do you think knows that they madeLeia watch the destruction of Alderaan…and when do you think they learnedabout it?”  In my head, it’s Han, Luke,and (probably) Carlist Rieekan, and (probably) Mon Mothma.  I don’t actually think that Hera is on thatlist in canon (even my personal canon), but the idea of having her find outhere was tantalizing, and gave me the chance to talk more about how much thesetwo women, these two mothers (one current in the story and one, at the time ofthe story, a future mother), these two leaders…how MUCH they have in common, and,simultaneously, how differently those similarities have presented.  This is particularly and additionallypoignant given that it’s possible that Jacen might have been among the Jedistudents slaughtered by a four- or five-years-younger Ben Solo, which wouldeven more horribly link their stories. But this line “because of course they did,” is one of my favorites.  I like giving Hera the information notbecause Leia made a decision, but because she’s ripped open, and although she’sreconstructing her shields and walls…she hasn’t got them really working, andshe forgets to filter herself.  I likehaving Hera’s stomach drop because she knows…she KNOWS how the Empire works;she’s been tortured by them too, as was Kanan, as have been others Hera knowsand loves…and yet, she was a) too preoccupied to think about this at the time(see: having a baby) and b) this is pretty low even for the Empire.  But Hera, like most of the Rebellion, doesn’treally believe ANYTHING is too low for the Empire, and although she hadn’tactively thought about what must have happened, I know that she wouldimmediately recognize that OF COURSE.

Leia scoffed. “Luke doesn’t even knowthat. I never told him. And he says he can’t see into people like that.”

“Kanan could.”

Leia scoffed. “If Darth Vader couldn’tget something out of my head, I doubt–”

“You had to protect yourself fromVader.” Hera had no idea how Leia–a kid Ezra’s age–had managed that, butapparently she had, and without the Force. Hera shook away the thought. The wellof feeling there was too deep. Focus, Hera. “Not many people feel aneed to protect themselves from a 3-year-old.”

I wanted Leia to be on such a tear that shedidn’t even realize until after she blurted it out that she was giving more informationto Hera than she’d probably given even to High Command…and certainly morethan she speaks of.  I want so much forLeia to have more people who KNOW how badly she’s been hurt, and who will talkwith her or listen to her or give her a place to crash, judgement-free, if sheneeds.  I want her to have comfortingwomen around her…and for them to do that well…they need to know things thatLeia Organa Very Much Does Not Talk About.  As I questioned how Jacen could get past Leia��s(impressive) shields, I realized AS Hera was about to say it that, well, ofCOURSE Leia wouldn’t be powering up Super Shields around a 3-year-old…and Ireally liked getting to let Hera say that, letting Hera remind Leia that thereis nothing WRONG with her, that different circumstances call for differentresponses.  

I also liked lampshading Leiahaving the Force by having Hera (who, again, is FAR too concerned and FAR toopreoccupied to examine it closely…and FAR too impressed by this amazing youngwoman) think about how it seemed odd and even unlikely that Leia could have enduredthat kind of extended torture without giving something up AND without the Forceto use as part of her self-defense. Little does Hera know that Leia WAS using the Force…just unconsciously(another of my headcanons) and passively; if it were otherwise, Vader would havesensed it.  There is nothing I love morethan Force-using Leia, so I had to have at least a hint at it, even though itdoesn’t fit in this story to have it be explored more fully…of course, this also allowed me to highlight how LITTLE they know about the Force.  EACH of them has known next to NO ONE who is Force Sensitive and all of what they know about what is possible is from that limited, limited source.

Leia chuckled mirthlessly. “If you heardHigh Command, you might see otherwise. When Shara Bey’s son was born, you’dhave thought an acid lizard had got loose on base.”

This line was merely because I wanted tomake a joke about High Command being FREAKED OUT about having babies/childrenaround…even though it’s the reality of a rebellion this size; they MUST allowchildren in order for their parents to be able to be there…but it doesn’tmean that these folks who still remember and want to restore the Republic are*comfortable* with that.  Of course, tothat end, I spent 2-3 hours searching for a critter that is canonical and thatI could use as an example of what they’d imagine might have got loose in thebase.

I really enjoyed having Leia’s hard-edgedvoice that could cut transparisteel, the description of Jacen asking if, sinceLeia’s mama died in the war, if that meant his mama would die; that is kidlogic, and I still like it.  I likedhaving them end up crying together.  Iliked having Leia point out what Hera feels she should have known…but whatJacen has been hiding from her…and I like that both women understand thatthere is no alternative, no way to honourably pretend they don’t know thesethings because, well, they are simply real, and no grief or fear from any ofthem or this toddler can change the fact that they are both utterly committedto this being the only option: to fight.

Leia’s jaw hardened. “Don’t you daredie.” Her eyes bored into Hera’s. That glare was sharp in a way thatreminded Hera of Kanan.

Hera nodded.

“Just…don’t you dare. I promised him Iwouldn’t let you die.”

“I always fly to come home.” It hadto be enough. It was all she had.

“Fly safe, General Syndulla. Don’tmake me a liar.”

And then I loved getting to drop anotherhint–that fiercely sharp otherworldly stare of Leia’s that reminds Hera ofKanan–about Leia’s Force sensitivity. ANYTHING I can do to play with that makes me happy.  And I love Leia exacting a promise from Herathat Hera can no more keep than Leia can keep her promise to Jacen.  Of course…there is a little more to thosepromises than there would be without the Force behind them…but it is just alittle when the Greater Good of the Force is flowing toward the destruction ofthe Empire.  I know, of course, that Herasurvives the second Death Star assault, so I like planting this conversation,knowing that it will turn out well, but knowing that it is fraught for both ofthem.  

I love this scene and this story somuch.  Thank you for asking about it!