#once again my husband has all the correct opinions

[lavenderleahy]

"They really missed an opportunity with witch!sam. That could have been his thing."

[dcdreamblog]

What do Think Of Superhero cults like The Cult Of Superman?

Superheroes have always been religiously...thorny, depending on the kind of religious worldview you're looking at them from.

From Hawkman's tales of pagan reincarnation, to the Spectre's claims of being god's righteous right hand, the arcana of Dr. Fate, even just being confronted with a worldview in which human beings are able to do the impossible. There's lots of reactions to this, a crisis of faith, rejection of the heroes outright as frauds or even agents of evil. Then, of course there's the kind that you mention.

"Worship" of superheroes has taken a lot of forms. Some people have be rebuked by the Catholic church for instance for "praying for superheroes too often", like they were trying to make them into saints if the Holy See is to be believed. The most high profile version is, like you said the Superman Cult

(Image of a procession put on by the Cult in the wake of Superman's funeral, Daily Planet)

Originally called "The Fellowship" under a troubled young man named Robert Galt in California they raised a lot of hell in their original incarnation, starting an all out gang war with a rival group called The Consortium some of its members even gaining superpowers for a short period under unknown circumstances. They became nationally famous in the wake of Superman's apparent death, treating him as an almost Christ-like figure who died for humanity's sins and would arise from the dead to bring those who believed in him and his "deeds" into a better world as "The Man of Tomorrow". When Superman returned to life indeed less than 6 months later and their "better world" failed to materialize as Superman of course had no interest in dividing the world along ethical lines, any more than he had been before his absence their loudest period ebbed.

They're not GONE, that's for sure. When I lived in Metropolis I saw them in their funny blue robes out on street corners, or saw their literature in waiting rooms. An offshoot of their movement even tried to burn Lois Lane at the STAKE for "rejecting" Superman in favor of Clark Kent. Superman and Batman put a stop to that foolishness very quick, of course. (There are still jackasses who harass Lane and her husband to this day for reasons like this.)

Look, showing all my cards, I'm an atheist. I don't believe in any "higher power" as such. I know that magic exists, that various beings claiming to be connected to gods of various pantheons or even to BE gods themselves also exist. But I don't believe in any of them as some all good creator deity who holds my eternal soul in hostage for my good behavior. I do good because it is good and for no other reasons, and of course I take INSPIRATION in that from the heroes that I've studied but I'm not about to start sacrificing goats about it.

Superman is a man. Not a human man, of that much he has been very honest. But he's a person, blessed by abnormal circumstances with the power to do good and he uses that power to do right by others. To attribute that to divinity would be to undercut the message he has always (ironically) preached, that WE are capable of being better, as we are.

If you ARE religious, you can of course correct me. But the mainstream religious opinion these days seems to be counting our superheroes as blessings. Delivered in the manner that any other blessing is delivered by whatever divine hands you believe in. Maybe you are a Christian who truly believes that those who claim to be angels walk among us once again in the form of The Spectre or Zauriel. Maybe you believe that even if they're not LITERAL angels of the lord, they do good work in his name so what's there to worry about. My advice. Do good in "their name" by letting them set our example, not because you fear some kind of wrath from Superman on high. It seems like it makes him VERY uncomfortable.

[rnn11203]

How much do you think Demetrius/robin tried with Sebastian? I kinda see all the parents of stardew to be well meaning in a sense that i think they do truly love their children but they get swept up and do wrong due to their circumstances, resentment, and insecurity.

I think Pam loves Penny, but her addiction, raising penny on her own, losing her job… yk? All that pain turned into more pain, i think Pam knows penny has done far too much for her, but is too ashamed to fully realize it, so to cope she internalizes it and blames penny all over. Obsesses over her own sacrifices and her own pain and ends up neglecting her.

I think Jodi loves Sam and Vincent, but she also feels resentful, lamenting about a life not lived, she married young and now worries about a husband who is different from when he left. She’s afraid that Sam’s turned lazy, but also didnt want to repeat the wasted youth she missed out on too, she bottles her emotions and it creates anxiety for Sam specifically. Kent too, its interesting that Sam feels indifferent to his fathers return isnt it? All that lost time, strangers now, Sam had grown fine without him and perhaps this creates guilt for both of them.

I think Pierre and Caroline love Abigail, honestly, i dont think the “rumors” bother Pierre THAT much, i think sometimes he feels it, maybe after a particularly rough fight with either of his family members but i think he truly loves her, he’s her dad after all no matter who her father is. Caroline too, i think it’s just this unspoken thing for them, let the town gossip, they love their daughter. I dont think they understand her very well tho, and yk, she doesnt think they do either. Its one of those things where the more you try to understand, the less you hear. Abigails relationship with her parents reads more cliche teenager to me though, i headcanon that their relationships settle as she ages. I think Abigail would move out of the valley and travel frequently but i think shed make trips back to her family often. Mostly for holidays. I think Caroline specifically would still feel anxious and wish she didnt travel as much, but i think her and Pierre’s relationship gets better in the future too. (It’s funny, Pierre is one of the least popular characters but i actually really like him).

Which brings me to Sebastian, Robin, and Demetrius. Again with an unpopular opinion, when i first played, i really liked Demetrius. Although i did feel that robins side of the arguements were more “correct”.

I headcanon Sebastian’s age to be around 22-23~ while Maru’s is 18-19~. I also headcanon that Sebastians father simply just left while Seb was around 3~. Im curious to how others think him and robin met, im unsure if its ever mentioned in game but honestly i think they met due to work. Demetrius has stated that he studies the local flora and fauna and Robin is a carpenter, i imagine she has a lot of knowledge about pelican towns native plants and animals. I think they were smitten, i can see robin liking Demetrius more nerdy/dorky behavior and robins stern, playful, spitfire personality has captured the hearts of many players after all.

Sebastian comes off as a Velcro kid to me, i think he’d be a huge mamas boy and feel almost threatened by Demetrius. I think robin and Demetrius would marry quickly, and honestly i think Maru was a planned pregnancy, I think robin wanted to give Sebastian a sibling so he’d be less lonely, and i think they’d figure that bonding would happen easier if they were closer in age. I see this being very upsetting to Sebastian, i think he’d see his father once in a while but when hes around 12-13 it’s just.. silence.

Honestly, i think Demetrius would try really hard to bond with Sebastian. But once Maru came along both him and robin were just.. busy. I think Demetrius would unfortunately think “wow this is my first child!” And it alienated Sebastian. I think Sebastian feels abandoned. Replaced. Unwelcome. Which is why he struggles with opening up to others and prefers being alone.

Unfortunately i think robin and Demetrius would just think Sebastian was a more difficult child and that Maru was an easier baby. I think this would embarrass Sebastian and shame him, i dont think they ever meant anything by it but i do think Sebastian was a fussy child who wanted to be soothed. But after their comments, he’d isolate himself so that he too, would be an “easier” child for them. As Sebastian ages i think robin would feel she didnt do enough for him, i think she worries about him often but almost feels like it’s “too late”. I think eventually Sebastian would come to resent and feel mistreated by all his parents and as his behavior worsened, he’d get compared to Maru even more, furthering the resentment and pain he feels. I do think he’d be a meaner older brother though, causing Demetrius to be more protective over Maru causing stronger feelings of “you’re not my dad!” And etc…. Can you tell im sleepy yet?

TLDR: i think they would try their best but ultimately end up sidelining him, causing him to act out more until he just didnt care anymore.

[darklinaforever]

https://www.tumblr.com/darklinaforever/757552705757708288/httpswwwtumblrcomdarklinaforever757551571008?source=share

Oh, this brave new world, where rape can be called anything at all. If a woman lives in a world where sex with her husband for the sake of duty is the norm, it DOES NOT TRAUMATIZE HER. So why the sympathy? She's fine, it's the norm of her world.

Actually, her words that she is happy do not contradict her words at dinner, because their meaning was to show that marriage is not scary at all. At the time of dinner, she was happy with her life and confirms this in the last episode, saying that she was happy before she became queen.

People can behave differently with different people. Yes, Aegon raped the maid, but that doesn't mean he sleeps with Helaena, who he's obviously not interested in as a woman at all. He has maids, whores -why does he need Helaena? Or do you think that all he does is raping women 24/7? Btw, you can deny the actors' words as much as you like, but this is canon, because Tom and Phia said that Aegon did not touch Helaena for entertainment and except for sex for the sake of duty (which obviously Helaena agreed to) they had nothing. And yes - in the phrase "he only pays attention to me when he's drunk" there is not a word about rape and sex in general. Have you ever seen Aegon in the show? He rather comes to her to cry that his mother does not love him.

Live in denial if you want. Not my problem.

The episode was very clear about what Helaena's sentence really meant.

Why the hell would Aegon II be verbally correct with Helaena when he's been drinking when he thinks she's an idiot he has nothing in common with ? (and don't let their children be taken away from me because clearly Aegon II always didn't care royally about his children, until the day his son became his heir) Once again, what you say is not consistent with what the show gives.

And where did I specifically mention trauma ? I rightly said that Helaena clearly didn't realize what she was going through, and not just because it's the norm in his world and his family but probably also because of his visibly disconnected personality.

And, beyond Helaena, I assure you that somes women of the time were traumatized by "marital duties" whether it was the norm or changed nothing.

And no, just because the actors say a few things doesn't mean it's canon in the show.

The example of Olivia Cooke that I gave is quite explicit on the subject.

The actors give their opinions. Downright headcanons sometimes.

We can take into account what they say when it is consistent with what the show shows and suggests.

And what the cast of Aegon II and Helaena are saying has no real backing on the show, whether you like it or not.

I don't care what the actors say.

I want proof in the show I'm watching, not in interviews which add nothing to the canon given on screen.

Throughout the episode we are shown Aegon sexually aggressive, even at the table where the dinner happens and where Helaena's speech is made.

The subtext is very clear.

Nothing suggests to the viewer that what Helaena means is that in fact Aegon II comes to her only for complain about his misfortunes of their mother who doesn't love him when he is drunk.

At no time in this episode or those before it where he is present is this kind of scenario suggested.

And that's what counts.

Either way, Aegon II is still a little shit of an alcoholic rapist who enjoys watching children fight in an arena and harassing his little brother.

Don't get tired of trying to defend him to me.

The fact that he asks for his mother and is full of the fact that she doesn't love him doesn't soften me for a single second.

That he suffers, it does him good.

[box-architecture]

"You're so cute, Sammy."

Sam whimpered, turning his head to the side. In Dream’s -usually correct- opinion, this only made him cuter. He grinded tiny circles into his lover's hole, delighting in choked moan he got in response. They were taking things slow this morning, no need to rush, but Dream couldn't help but want to push for a little more, to see how many noises he could get out of his sweet, adorable husband.

He'd always been a little greedy. Hadn't Sam said so himself once, back in prison?

The thought was soft and amused, but he didn't say it out loud; Sam wasn't supposed to be fretting over the past. Not here, not now. Dream wanted him pliant, with all the pleasure his body could take. A good boy, all for Dream.

"My good boy." He murmured. Sam keened, arching as he clenched down around Dream's cock. Dream hummed in satisfaction, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Without preamble, he began to thrust again, quick and shallow. He'd deepen it over time, of course, he wouldn't let his love go without, but Dream was in a gentle bliss, the kind that came from knowing how good the buildup could be.

Sam's noises were more than proof of that.

"You are mine, aren't you? My Sammy? Made for me?" Dream asked. He pet his beloved's flank, smiling at the way Sam's eyes went wide. "It feels like you are. Your hole was made to take me, I think. You feel so good around my cock."

Immeadietly, Sam's hips stuttered, trying to take him further, deeper.

"Yes." He gasped out a sob. "Yours, all yours, Dream, Dream, please-"

"I've got you, Sam." Dream reassured him, leaning forward to fuck him deeper. "You're doing so good. My good boy."

Affection bloomed in his chest as Sam warbled and hissed in embarrassed pleasure. Dream nuzzled the fluff of Sam's creeper belly, fighting the urge to stop thrusting just to lay on top of him and bask in their connection. Another time, maybe, where Sam could cockwarm for him, or he for Sam.

Dream felt paws pet the back of his head. He looked up to meet Sam's desperate face.

"Dream, are you, can I- please, I need-"

His paws were so gentle, clearly trying not to claw Dream in their attempts to hold him. Dream slowed his thrusting and took them both into his hands. He pressed them against his cheeks, to cup his face the way Sam wanted.

"You're so good to me." Dream kissed a pawpad. "My husband. And I'm all yours."

Sam warbled, a wet note in his voice. Dream stroked his paws with his thumbs.

-

I wanted to write Dream topping Sam and also Dreams POV and also its really nice to picture, years down the line when they're all adults For Real and not dumb 20 somethings, that Dream has healed and is Living and able to laugh very softly as he thinks of how Bad it was but it doesn't hurt anymore

And for Dream prison becomes something he's able to think about without pain, able to make jokes that aren't self depreciating or intended to hurt. But for Sam it's never going to be that, because of what he did, the person he became, even if Dream has forgiven him and they're in such a good place now

And they're both Valid and Good and Understandable and

Like obviously in an abusive situation the victim comes before the abuser, but also also I really like. Abusers becoming better, reflecting on their behavior, anxious and traumatized through the self-realization. Sam did not come out of prison okay. No one did.

And Dream wants Sam to be happy and healed and so even if it's safe for him to talk about he understands why it's not for his puppycat husband and he respects Sam's differing needs and and. I know I'm overexplaining but it's Important. To Me

Their relationship isn't just Sam taking and being remorseful all of a sudden it's both of them Wanting Wanting Wanting and changing to be able to fit together again, to love each other like they want to.

And with awesamdrunz it's Punz countering Sam's more abusive tendencies learned from prison so that that growth can be Facilitated and Sam already thought Punz was handsome and strong and pretty but as he starts to self-realize and reflect on prison he's able to understand Punz and fully falls in love with them instead of just the Possessive Yearning and the need for them to be around to make Sam's brain go brrr properly

(Because Sam Has All The OCD you see. And if things aren't a certain way he will Simply Perish.)

But it's better now and they're better now and Dream is in love with his big silly puppycat who isn't a good person, but that's okay, because neither is Dream, neither is Punz. He isn't 20 anymore, crushing on Sam because Sam is so upright and lawful (but also because he's handsome, strong, and so smart with redstone-)

He's in love with Sam now, because Sam is helpful around the house, has a nice laugh, is so strong but works with such a delicate thing like Redstone that requires gentleness. He fucks Dream like he's something worth wanting and his ears perk up when Dreams cane taps against the floor.

Being with him Feels Good, Feels Safe, after so long.

Dream is living in the present now, instead of trying to get back to the past.

[theblogtini]

So, do you think that Charles and Kate are really on the letters? Or is what Omid wanted make people to believe? Or they indeed are, but is because they say something ‘meh’ and H&M wanted to make people believe they are racists!?

I know that topic is super complicated, but if I’m honest, I don’t think Charles and Kate said something so outrageous to be labeled as ‘racists’. And the version has changed a lot that I don’t know what to think. First was only one royal, then she said that was while pregnant, then H said that it’s before even the engagement, first were ‘several conversations’ and then just one, etc. I just don’t see Charles telling him that the better their future children were white or he won’t give titles nor security or Kate telling him that she was worried because maybe if the children weren’t white that would look bad for the monarchy, which is what they basically said of how conversation went.

Also, MM can claimed that were Charles and Kate, but how are we sure they really were?

I think Charles and Catherine were really named in the letter. The "source" from Montecito said that Meghan "never intended for the names to be public" but there was no denial or correction. So I'm assuming they were the ones accused.

BUT I don't believe it's true that they necessarily said anything racist.

Meghan said that - during a conversation she wasn't even a part of, that happened when she wasn't even present, before she was even engaged to Harry - there was "concern" about how "dark" a baby might be.

We KNOW FOR A FACT that Harry has had this conversation before -he admitted as much on TV.

My guess is that Harry was speaking/joking with his father and sister-in-law about Meghan's genes wiping out his gingerness (again, as he has admitted to doing on TV). And at the time there was NOTHING malicious or anything even presumed about the conversation. But as time went on, as Meghan became more bitter, as Harry and Meghan's hate bubble grew, and as she realized that in order to try "win" or "beat" Catherine she needed to be a victim, she decided to take a VERY INNOCENT conversation and turn it into something incredibly mean spirited at best, and evil at worst.

But ... Meghan hasn't provided any PROOF of this. Harry has flat our refused to speak about it (during the Oprah interview he was VERY uncomfortable when it came up and literally said he didn't want to talk about it) and he said during his Spare press tour that his family is not racist and he never claimed they were.

Claiming that someone is a racist is a HUGE accusation to make, and Meghan hasn't backed it up once. She actually hasn't even directly said it - she's insinuated it. She's implied it. She's let people draw their own conclusions. But she's never outright said it. And she has never done a single thing to confirm it.

In my opinion, the fact that she won't provide proof of such a serious accusation tells me that she KNOWS it wasn't what she's trying to make it seem like it was. She knows no one was being racist. She knows no one was trying to be hurtful or harmful or malicious. Someone - whether it was Catherine or Charles or even Harry himself (because again, Meghan wasn't even there) - made a comment and Meghan decided to capitalize on all of the "the UK is so racist toward her" rhetoric and let that accusation stick there.

If it's true - she needs to prove it. And she CAN'T because she wasn't even there. But even if she wasn't there and she 100% truly believed that what was said was racist, she could easily go out and say "This is what was said. Yes, it was a second hand conversation, but this is what my husband told me was said and this is how I've interpreted it, and I am very hurt and disgusted by these comments and I am owed an apology."

She hasn't done that. And she won't do that. Because she KNOWS that wasn't the case. At all.

And also... it makes even more sense now that Catherine was the one who said that "recollections may vary" needed to stay in the statement. Because she KNEW what was going to happen - she KNEW that Meghan was going to say that she was the one who said it (which does give credence to the fact that Charles and Catherine were the ones named in the letters) and - therefore - she knew that it was important that people understand that what actually happened and the Sussex retelling of things were very different.

[theflyindutchwoman]

It's been a while without the rookie so between the fanfics, the wishes for chenford and the ideas of what chenford could be and others shows who focus more on relationships, maybe it got lost that the rookie isn't as angsty that what some peoples think it is right now. Angela/wesley for the past 3 seasons, nolan/bailey in s4 with the ex husband, they got their up and downs but they don't break up. Once they have their endgames the show don't throw breakups for the fun or angst of it. The show priorites isn't relationships dramas, if it was they could have done SO MUCH MORE in s4 with chris,ashley and chenford. This is also why I respectfully don't understand peoples who think a breakup would be fun for angst because the only angst you'll have is them looking at each other for 3 sec if we are lucky like in 5x3 and then they'd be off doing their cops things. Waiting week after weeks for this would be boring and annoying as hell after waiting 5 years. And I know some peoples are worried about it, but a breakup wouldn't be spoiled.

Honestly, I just think people were simply stating what they wished to see. Someone asked them a question and they answered. It was about their preferences… I know that when I received a similar ask in the past, the logistics of the show didn't necessarily factor in my reply.

I can't speak for anyone who would like to see a breakup - or anyone else for that matter - but I think it's pretty fair to assume that what they want is a separation that makes sense, that is properly developed, with decent screentime and a real storyline that involves far more than just 3 seconds of pining here and there. The same way I want to see Lucy and Tim face some ups and downs : it's under the assumption that it is going to be written in a beautiful way and not rushed. And it is technically doable. Take episodes 5.08 to 5.12 for instance : Tim and Lucy had a fair amount of screentime dedicated to their relationship. The writers could easily use that same amount for a more angsty storyline or a breakup. Especially if it's related to UC : it could be linked to a case. A bit like 5.20 and 5.21. Though a shorter season does present a bigger challenge, that's for sure.

And you're right, the show doesn't really do 'breakups/reconciliation' storylines. Actually, it doesn't really do 'breakups'… Rachel, Gino and Isaac are still waiting for one. Jokes aside, the show did have a storyline like this for Wesley/Angela, but that was at the very beginning… I don't know if Bailey/Nolan broke up once it was revealed she was still married, but since it was solved by the next episode, I guess it's a moot point. Same with Nyla/James. And with her sleeping with her ex-husband, there was a reason to go there (though I'm grateful we were spared a 'who's the father' storyline). All these arcs could have been much more dramatic, that's for sure. So far, the show hasn't really leaned into that side. That's why I'm a bit sceptical that they would do a plotline like this. On the other hand, Tim and Lucy's relationship has been far more developed… So it wouldn't be completely beyond the realms of possibility either.

I also doubt that Eric would spoil something like that. More than once. Then again, this is the same guy who made a video last year with his new uniform, spoiling his promotion in the process. So who knows?! I have to say though, the timing of this makes me curious. As far I can tell, he only started talking about breakups after he was directly asked about his opinion on the matter. Not before. I mean, I may be wrong on the timeline here since I don't check his cameos. But that's the way it appeared to me. It could be that he received more information in-between… In which case, talk about perfect timing. That said, I get why some would rather be prepared or are worried. That's not my place to judge them.

(I won't take the risk of tagging anyone here, not in this volatile atmosphere, but feel free to pitch in or correct me).

[backjustforberena]

Do you have any opinions on Rhaenys’s mannerisms throughout the show? (Checking her nails, smirking in the background?)

Oooh, okay, this is a good one. I'd love it if you gave me some specific examples because the ones you have chosen are the ones that the fandom at large (love or loathe Rhaenys) has latched onto. I think that's partially because Rhaenys is pretty statuesque, pretty hard to read. She doesn't gesticulate or snap or have any particular habits or ticks that other characters do. That makes her difficult to contest with, in comparison to the other more volatile characters. And so we put a lot of importance on the bigger movements which we believe to be more easily defined as a character trait.

You've picked a great one as an example of this: the nail-checking. Correct me if I'm wrong (honestly, please do) but Rhaenys does this once in the show. It's amazing, adorable, and in her first two minutes of screen time but we never actually see it again. But the fandom latches onto it because of those things. Myself included. For me, it's a very keen insight into her feelings surrounding the tourney, her feelings about court and about her life as it is at the point in time that we meet her in the series.

She's at a tourney, celebrating her cousin's heir about to be born. She isn't wowed or excited by the bloodshed, as the young girls are. She's not swooning at knights or even really gossiping, other than to tell her husband how distasteful it all is and how predictable. She's not entertained particularly, not like Viserys, or Beesbury making bets behind them. She's more on a level with Corlys; they have their back-and-forth and it introduces their dynamic - the honesty between them and their positions as outsiders. Honestly, she's drinking wine and getting through it. She's got bugger-all else to do. No agenda. No pandering. No goal. I think there was an interview with Eve where she said that, at the start of the series, when we meet her, Rhaenys is probably a little bit bored and a little bit frustrated because she's roleless in court but no less visible. That comes across here. All that is required of her is to sit.

And the smiling. Lordy did her smiles get vilified or overblown and exaggerated in some people's commentary. At least in my mind. Please feel free to disagree. Again, I don't know which example you are thinking of specifically as she smiles in the background of a few scenes. They're usually for vastly different reasons as well; sometimes they are false and sometimes they are true but most of the time they are tiny.

I can hazard a guess though and say you are talking about the look that Rhaenys gives Rhaenyra and Daemon as she exits the Painted Table room, before Rhaenyra and Daemon have their little showdown? That seems to be the one that people have a bit of a hard time with in addition to the way Rhaenys acts in general during that episode, in regards to Rhaenyra (not bowing, not wishing to remain, not declaring herself as soon as she arrives on Dragonstone, the way she delivers Viserys's death etc etc).

Rhaenys's job, and the groundwork of her relationship with Rhaenyra, has always been to watch. Rhaenys probably knows by this point that she's staying on Dragonstone. She knows her grandkids are going nowhere and by that scene, we've had Otto come and declare his terms.

I think that smirk is a comment on Rhaenyra and Daemon's dynamic. In the first Painted Table scene, when Rhaenyra is first crowned, Rhaenyra is unsure and unsteady and a bit overwhelmed. Daemon takes charge. He has plans he has already been executing. Daemon doesn't really listen to Rhaenyra and commits their dragons to war (including Rhaenys's) if needs be. He's done things that Rhaenyra doesn't like, but ultimately she doesn't fight it or assert herself. Whereas Rhaenys, when faced with that behaviour from Daemon ("To declare for his Queen") tactfully tells him to simmer the f*** down and stop counting his chickens before they hatch.

But now Rhaenys is seeing Rhaenyra actually consider peace terms and, when Daemon oversteps, Rhaenyra takes charge and asks everyone to clear out. Rhaenys is proud. Rhaenys is seeing that maybe, just maybe, she has what it takes. Considering that the most Rhaenys has known of Rhaenyra is her mainly relying on her father to get her out of scrapes and not really having that much political instinct as well as not listening to good advice when it's given, it's a bit of a change. There's little in "Lord of the Tides", for example, that would give Rhaenys confidence in Rhaenyra's ruling ability.

Would she have liked to have stayed and watched? Yes. Who wouldn't? But that shot is a reminder that whilst they've all been plotting and planning and declaring, Rhaenys has been watching and waiting and looking for a Queen.

Thank you for sending this ask in x

[defensivelee]

I realize I have not spoken much about the Jacobite I actually know so I am going to YELL about him here now in a very disorderly fashion bc he has recently left and i am actually kinda sad :((

ok so he's a catholic priest and he is mexican. if you know anything about us you will know that we are not the target audience for jacobite propaganda (whatever that may entail), so obv i was never suspecting any jacobite shenanigans from this guy nor from any other guy where i live

but THEN one night after mass i was hoppin back outside and on my way out i hear this man say one (1) thing that made me STOP IN MY TRACKS. he says "ustedes conocen los jacobitas, seguidores de jaime el segundo..." ("you all know of the jacobites, followers of james ii...")

idk what he was talking about and i didn't stay to listen. but that was all i needed. HE KNEW ABOUT JAMES THE GODDAMN SECOND AND HE KNEW ABOUT THE JACOBITES

so i go and tell @acrossthewavesoftime and we decide that i should talk to this guy and see what he knows. originally i was legit not gonna talk to him but i'll admit i was curious too. from there i talked to him many times, i would say like about 7-8 times, and he said plenty of stuffs that i told Radegonde (which was always hilarious). here are the highlights, all the spicy opinions!!

-the first time i spoke to him, i asked him his thoughts on James (under the guise that i needed the knowledge for school). he went on a bit of a rant that i dont remember much of, but i do remember he said that what James did was honorable (something like that i think??) and that giving up his kingdom for catholicism isn't something anybody would do. said he would be fine with making James a saint but that he isn't a jacobite (implying he knows that there are some still around)

-also in that first time, he called William an enemy of the bible (which Radegonde referenced on her blog once and it made me choke)

-for some reason i thought it was a brilliant idea to tell him of the green stockings kink. he made a face at it and said he would look into it. idk if he ever did bc he never mentioned it again............

-i asked him if he thought it was weird that spanish wikipedia has James as "Jacobo" rather than "Jaime" (which is more correct honestly) and he said it was very strange, implying that he has been on wikipedia

-on that note, he called James "Jaime" but didn't call William "Guillermo." understandably so bc it is very funny

-apparently he has been to France (and speaks French!!! wow!!) and that's how he learned of James. i can only imagine what he saw there

-i asked him his thoughts on Mary and it was really interesting bc it seems that he thinks of her as a victim! specifically he said that he couldn't blame her bc she was obeying what her husband wanted and claimed that even if she hadn't wanted to go depose James, William would have done it anyway

verdict: a jacobite even if he denies being one. i get the vibe that he does NOT like William......

so i think this guy's really interesting bc he's actually. not that bad of a priest?? like one time this dickhole at church was ranting things against trans people yknow the usual insults and my jacobite priest was sort of...side-eyeing him. he did not look too happy. an ally? something else? i have no idea. idk how openly trans i look but he was at least very much willing to talk to me.

and thats the thing that i'm actually sorta sad about, bc i feel like i got to know more about him than just the jacobite part of him. like this post is about his Very Fascinating Opinions but also sometimes i had a rough time at church and listening to him talk was funny so it made me feel better. he also genuinely said hello to me sometimes and would listen to MY opinions very attentively

he recently switched over to another church, which means i won't get to see him as much anymore if at all, but last sunday i saw him he said he hopes he gets to see me again

in conclusion. very strange thoughts but not a terrible priest by my standards! oddly i miss him now but it is what it is :(

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

"Tell me Darling..." she said, wrapping the collar around my neck. "Are you still nervous about meeting my husband?"

"No Mistress..." I said, feeling her secure the latch behind my neck.

"So you aren't anxious about the things he'll do with you once he holds your leash?" she said as she pulled out my mane from the collar's tight hold.

"No Mistress." I said.

"Interesting..." she said. "You certainly were before... Back when you first came to us... So why aren't you nervous anymore?"

"I don't know Mistress..." I said truthfully. "You did my daily training... Then I fell asleep... Like I always do because your lessons are so mentally draining... And when I woke up... I didn't feel nervous anymore..."

"How strange..." she said, slowly combing my hair with her hands. "You were still so nervous yesterday when you woke up from your nap... What was different about today?"

"I don't know Mistress..." I said. "All I know is that I'm not nervous anymore."

"It seems to me like something changed inside your mind..." she said and I couldn't see it, but I could feel the smile in her voice. "Like someone went in while you slept and switched off your nervousness..."

"That's impossible." I said instantly. "My apologies Mistress... I meant no disrespect... I... I know you use Hypno-therapy in your practice... But... I... I just don't believe hypnosis can do that."

"Don't worry Darling, I feel no disrespect from your lack in belief in my craft." she said, still lovingly combing my hair. "You are entitled to your opinion and if you don't believe in the power hypnosis has to reshape someone's mind, then that's perfectly fine."

"I'm sorry Mistress... I truly don't..." I said, feeling utterly convinced, but also sad that I couldn't be one of those serving girls that believes in everything their Mistress does.

"So you really don't believe that I could use my talents to help you get over your nervousness?" she asked.

"It would be wonderful if you could Mistress!" I said, genuinely feeling like it would. "It would make it so much easier to properly serve you and your husband."

"That it would..." she said and again, I couldn't see her face, but I could feel the smile in her voice. "I could put you in a trance... Play around in your mind and change things... Sculpt your thoughts and desires until you were the perfect serving girl... I could go deep into your mind and slowly erase anything that would hinder your service to us and prevent you from being our ideal submissive... Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"It would Mistress!" I said, feeling a little sad. "I'd really love it if hypnosis were real and it could help me be better for you both."

"Maybe we could try it out sometime then..." she said. "Maybe you'll discover that hypnosis is more potent than you believe it is."

"I'll try if you wish me to try Mistress..." I said. "But I'm afraid I'm too convinced that it's fake and wouldn't make a good subject... Which would only waste your precious time."

"You might be right Darling..." she said. "Thankfully, you came to us with your own desire to please and serve my husband. So no hypnosis was needed to help you accept our offer. Correct?"

"Yes Mistress." I said, smiling at the thought as a gentle pleasure haze enveloped my thoughts. "I've always wanted to have a Mistress and a Master..."

I felt goosebumps erupt along my skin as the soft wave of pleasure receded.

"And my husband and I always wanted to have a beautiful and devoted slave girl to enjoy..." she said, making me blush.

"Things worked out so beautifully for all of us... Didn't it Mistress?" I said, feeling warm all over.

"It did Darling..." she said. "As if someone had reached into our minds and re-programmed us to have the exact desires we needed to fulfill their designs..."

"That would be intense if it were true Mistress..." I said, trying to wrap my head around such an elaborate scheme of hypnotic manipulation. "But also kind of hot if I think about how much better I could serve you both... A shame hypnosis can't do such things..."

"Yes... A real shame..." she said softly as she walked around to face me. "If only I could snap my fingers and slip into your mind whenever I wished..."

I was about to tell my Mistress that I was more than willing to do anything to serve her, but my voice fell silent as I watched her lift her finger in front of my face. She had trained me to do many things, but the one constant she always insisted on was that she required my complete focus when ever she lifted her finger like this.

She had trained me to respond to it so much that I didn't even need to think about what was required of me. My body had obeyed the requirements of her gesture so many times that it responded without hesitation or thought. My mouth closed and all my thoughts scattered away to make sure I could fully focus on her fingers. Nothing else existed as I waited for my Mistress' inevitable command.

"Sleep." she said as she snapped her fingers.

A wave of happy bliss flooded my mind, pushing my already scattered thoughts further away...

[jweekgoji]

Yandere! Viktor x reader x Yandere! Five

HEEEY! It’s the Hargreaves kids’ birthday today, and you know who else? I have!! hehe i just want to take the opportunity to let everyone know 😎 i was planning to write a whole bunch of posts in honor of this, but due to illness i will write 1 or 2 so…. happy birthday to Sparrow & Umbrella Academy, me and the rest of the lucky ones that wasn’t adopted by Reggie!🎉🎉

Let’s start from the beginning, okay?

Almost all of Viktor’s life is self-loathing and endless attempts to live like a “normal” person, but something goes wrong every time.

Leonard? Dead. Sissy? Dead. Harlan? Dead.

Seriously, this is some kind of cruel joke on this poor man. Didn’t he deserve to finally be able to love and be loved?

And it would seem that nothing could be worse.

But unfortunately it can always be worse.

Viktor meets someone in his life who makes his life happy again, as bright and filled with love as when he was with Sissy.

And it would seem, why is Viktor still unhappy? Why does Viktor feel good and bad when you are near him at the same time?

Why does Viktor feel like he’s a kid and stuck at the Academy with his dad again? Why does he feel like he has to be around Leonard again? And most importantly…why does he feel like he’s stuck in the situation with Sissy and her husband again?

And he hates it. Fucking hate this feeling. This frightens and annoys him, he wants to hide and run away, but at the same time he feels that he will explode.

Don’t get me wrong, Viktor doesn’t hate you, he just feels really bad about having a huge crush on… YOU. No, let me rephrase that, he have a huge crush on a person who already in relationship. In relationship with Five.

Fuck.

Once again, Viktor got stuck. One part of him says it’s okay, Viktor is a grown man, it’s okay when people fall in love and he can get over it.

The second part says that Viktor is disgusting, he shouldn’t feel this towards you. You are already in a relationship and you are happy. You are not Sissy. You don’t need to be saved. And besides that, Viktor shouldn’t take away anyone’s happiness, especially if it’s Five, his brother and the only person in the family who appreciated him.

Therefore, Viktor chooses the only correct path in his opinion. He will try to do everything himself, not talk about it with someone, like Allison or Luther, hell no, if Five finds out, then most likely you will find out! And Viktor doesn’t want that.

But how can Viktor stay so far away from a cutie like you? You are the clear sunshine in his life, his muse and inspiration, the only living person that keeps him going strong.

And Viktor would try to get rid of his feelings for you. But don’t expect him to distance himself or try to find someone else to replace you. In fact, I see this picture in his head, how he convinces himself that he is stronger than this and he will simply get over his crush on you like “that’s wrong, I really shouldn’t fall in love with them” but as soon as he sees you, his mind goes to “never mind. what was I talking about? oh, right, my love for them!”

And I just can’t help but see the picture of how Viktor literally radiates joy next to you.

Viktor can sit on the couch, listen and watch his family talk about something, and Viktor would remain quiet and calm, no one would notice that he was sitting with them all this time… until you just look in to the Hargreaves house and like “hey!” and Viktor would be like “omg! it’s them!!”

Viktor is literally puppy. Hold him closer, love him, hug him, pet him, give him everything and protect him!! how could you possibly say no to him when he have those pretty eyes??

And you know what? He takes advantage of this. Viktor may be one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, but he’s not as innocent as you think.

“Would you like to go shopping with me?” he asks, looking at you with his big puppy eyes.

You turn to him, smiling slightly and he smiles back at you. He always smiles when he’s around you, you think, but wasn’t he always like that?

Viktor always seemed to treat you like you were his family. He could share anything with you and you could share with him. You would understand him and always help, and he, in turn, trusted you with all his heart and you appreciated it, knowing how much it means to him.

“Of course,” you say, and run your hand gently over his shoulder as you walk past him. “Give me a minute.”

And he nods, obediently waiting for you until you return. He could wait for you for hours if that meant you would only spend time with him. With no one else, of course.

Viktor thought about you and about what his life could be, if everything was finally according to his desire. What if he met you before Sissy or Leonard? Could he be as happy now as before? Or would he fail again? Or maybe be happier?

“Where are you two going?”

Viktor flinches and his attention is fixed on Five. He was so lost in own thought that he barely noticed Five enter the room. Not that Five wasn’t a master of sudden appearances…

“Oh, uh, we-” Viktor starts and smiles nervously, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Just take a walk. Do you want to join us?” you appear behind Viktor.

Your hand gently rests on Viktor’s shoulder, as if trying to calm him down and relax, but despite the calming gesture, Viktor barely noticeably trembles under your touch.

Five narrows his eyes at this and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes on the two of you and Viktor noticed how much the former peaceful atmosphere had changed.

Viktor’s smile becomes more forced. He wants to keep this picture where everyone is happy and nothing is happening, but for some reason Viktor is sure that Five can see everything, he thought, and as soon as Viktor notices how your hands are still on him, he catches himself and moves away.

You look at Viktor in surprise, not understanding why he reacted like that, but you remain silent and instead glance at Five and then at Viktor.

Five glared at Viktor for a few more seconds before he nodded and gave you a small smile.

“I would love to, dear.”

Viktor sighs.

Things didn’t go as Viktor had planned.

He expected that this would be another reason to be alone, only he and you, but unfortunately, he should have known better, because he didn`t know that the situation would turn into a banal “third wheel”, where Viktor was the third wheel, while you and Five enjoyed each other’s company quite pleasantly.

Of course, you weren’t evil enough to forget about Viktor’s existence while you were with the Five, no. In fact, you paid enough attention to the two guys, the only “but” was that every time you touched Viktor the slightest, whispered something in his ear and laughed quietly, probably saying some stupid joke, Viktor could feel how Five staring at him.

You preferred to be blind, or did you really not notice how tense Viktor was every time with you, especially under the strict supervision of Five. You didn’t quite get it, given how close the two had been since childhood.

But did it ruin your time? No. Viktor and Five? It is hard to say.

You were constantly pulling either Viktor or Five by the sleeve, pointing to different store windows or any object that caught your attention, saying something like “ah, look over there, Viktor!” or “let’s buy this thing Five, please?” to which 7 would nod and laugh softly with you in response, and 5 would grumble at how childishly you would behave.

“Damn, wait for me a bit. I seem to have forgotten something.” you stop abruptly and turn around, quickly apologizing until you leave in a hurry.

Viktor turns around and looks at your figure, mouth open to ask if you need help, but he trails off, deciding to stay in awkward company with his brother.

In the past, the two got along very well, enjoying the peaceful silence and Viktor would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

“I see how you look at them.” Five starts.

“Huh?” Viktor’s eyes widen at his words, after which he visibly stiffens. “What are you talking about, Five?”

Five tilts his head slightly, smiling, his back pressed against the wall.

Viktor awkwardly rubbed his palms and looked away, as if a boy who was being scolded by his father, and he blushed, going through the possible options for words.

“Listen, Five, they are very nice and sweet, but we are just friends and…” Viktor defends himself.

“Please, don’t lie to me,” Five speaks calmly and patiently. “Tell me the truth. We are family after all.”

Viktor sighs and looks around to make sure you’re nowhere near, after which he leans against the wall next to Five, rubbing his temples.

“And what if you right? Yes, I, uh…I kinda like them and I know that they already in relationship with you,” Viktor is actively gesticulating, looking down, nervous. “Don’t think I’m trying to steal them from you, god no, I mean, you’re probably mad at me but I would never do this to you Five.”

Five patiently listens to him and replies after a moment. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Wait, your not?” he blinks few times as he looks at Five.

Five nods and Viktor smiles at the gesture, visibly relaxing.

“You are still young and young man like you tend to be like that.” Five pats Viktor on the shoulder and he looks away, smiling slightly. “But next time, think twice before taking my partner on a date behind my back.”

Viktor nods weakly, choosing to remain silent instead.

Five notices your figure in the distance and he waves lightly at you to get your attention. You smile brightly at the two men and quickly run up to them, out of breath.

“Sorry, I’m a little late. Are you two all right?” you said, worried.

“Of course, everything is just wonderful.”

[pluviophile-imagines]

Hello I have just a tiny idea for usurper Gojo,,, he has taken over my mind, thank you for the wonderful drabbles hehe >.<

So after he takes the throne, I imagine that not everyone supports him and there are many instances of attempted uprisings, assassinations, and/or plots to remove him. I think they’d all be crushed pretty quickly, especially with Gojo’s wits and power. But what if there’s one attempt that was too close for comfort? Either aiming for Reader (because even though he tries to hide his affections in public, the fact that he claimed you when he first took over is motive enough), or aiming for Gojo directly. I think it would be especially unpleasant for the perpetrators once they are caught; Gojo makes an especially severe example of them, and after that no one dares to try anything ever again.

OOP— yeah,,,,, yeah heres the masterlist (usurper!gojo tag, once again the concept’s from @saintshigaraki i am simply insane and cant stop)

warnings: talk of violence/murder, attempted poisoning, lil bit suggestive

he tries to keep it from you, as if your reach in the court isn’t threaded more firmly even than his own. as if the royal guards do not prefer your company to his, as if you’re such a fool you wouldn’t notice how he’s come to bed long after you’ve gone to sleep every day for the past week—he tells you it’s dull financial advising, you know it’s because he’s been busy torturing a man. an assassin, you’ve been told; a poisoner who hadn’t even made it out of the kitchen before being caught.

you also know he’s back earlier tonight because he’s executed another man—the one who hired the hit, one of his own cousins. ordinarily such a thing would be dealt with swiftly, except that the food found dosed had been not your husband’s but yours, and your king does not take kindly to threats against you. the maids had told you all of that days ago; it’s the guards that tell you he assembled the court without you, hours past sunset, and made a display of cutting down his own kin for your sake. ruthless, they tell you, savage, lest there be any doubt in his affections for you.

he comes back to your shared bedchamber without a drop of crimson on his clothes, but the satisfied air about him and the heavy drum of bloodlust you can see in his eye tell you that your information is correct. still, you greet him casually and don’t bring up your discontent as he removes his blindfold and makes himself comfortable on the bed, unabashedly peering at you while you sit at your vanity pretending to ready yourself for sleep. he’s silent with his staring, and you are silent as well, busy ruminating on how you’re feeling until you come to the conclusion that the only action of his which has sparked your ire is that he has chosen not to share them with you—no, you’re not bothered by his barbaric display, but rather that he did it without informing you. with your opinion found, you are ready to initiate the conversation.

“so?” you begin casually, gaze flitting up to meet his eye through the mirror. “are the conspirators dead, then?”

at first he gives no response, but when you turn in your seat to face him he rises to stand and strides over to you. lacing his fingers with yours, he pulls you to your feet—holds you close, leans down to press his forehead to yours.

“can’t get anything past you, hm? not with your brain.”

“well, are they?”

“yes. of course. they’ve hardly earned the title of conspirators frankly, not with that pitiful display.”

“mm.” you purse your lips and pull away, turning your back on him. “lovely to know that you’d accept my death if it were at the hands of a competent man.”

he follows you swiftly, eases his arms around your waist and rests his chin in the crook of your neck. his tone is easy, light—amused, perhaps. “i don’t believe i said anything of the sort.”

“i do not find this amusing, my king.” despite your tone, you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, drawing a contented noise from him which he buries into your nape. “i’m displeased by you.”

“are you, now?” his lips quirk against your skin, and he shifts, his whole body moving so that he can trace kisses along your jaw. “i’ll just have to please you, my queen.”

“satoru.” the name makes him pause. you tighten your hold on his hair, pull him to rest against your shoulder again in an attempt to halt him. “you killed your kin for me and attempted to hide it. did you truly think i wouldn’t find out?”

“not this quickly,” he grumbles, petulant, entirely unsuitable for a king who had just slit the throat of his own cousin before an audience.

“people chatter, especially when you require the attendance of the entire court. but since we are being honest, i knew of the whole ordeal the moment it happened—i do believe i was made aware of the poisoning before you were, my husband. so tell me, why did you torture a man for a week and choose not to inform your wife? why did you so courteously invite my companions to witness this execution but neglect to extend that invitation to me?”

he doesn’t speak for a moment. his breath comes hot against your neck, not quite a sigh but certainly a deep breath—then he turns his face into your hand, leaves a fleeting kiss against your palm, and lifts his head.

“they need to learn, hm? how would they have learned if i’d let this go?” his eyes are manic, the closest you’ve seen to what they’d been that night—yet the moment they meet yours they soften, reverence seeping in. he stands to his full height behind you, hand coming beneath your chin to tilt your face upward so that he can loom over you and press a kiss to your brow; he’s gentle with you, but the steel at the core of his tone is more than palpable. “i won’t show mercy, certainly not when it comes to those who wish to harm you. you cannot ask me to be forgiving with such things.”

you realize with those words that he believes you’re balking at the brutality, that he thinks you timid and soft. he thinks you don’t know what he does to maintain his power, as if you’re not intimately aware of the monster he’s had to become—as if you hadn’t come face-to-face with it, with his blade.

you think you probably shouldn’t be as endeared as you are. you certainly shouldn’t turn around, wrap your arms around his neck, and tug him down into a real kiss to reward his actions, yet you still do. it’s addicting how quickly he melts to your affections; you know how intimidating his size must be to so many but it’s impossible for you to fear it when he’d drop to his knees for you at a single word.

when you pull away he doesn’t let go—he whines at you, a wordless protest, and buries his head into your shoulder to nip at your skin.

“i’m not angry with you for refusing mercy,” you mutter to him, “i’m angry with you for lying to me. i am your queen, your partner. you will not do this again, you will tell me the next time you intend to cut down a man in my name.”

he pulls back and opens his mouth, eyes wide, but you cut him off by lunging upward to peck at the corner of his lips.

“it’s in your best interest to comply, husband. you cannot hide things from me.”

“i know, wife.” his sigh is love-struck. “i’m a fool to have tried.”

[arrowflier]

Unpopular opinion after a very sleepless night: civilians should be not be allowed within ten feet of fireworks ever.  EVER.

It’s Not Even the 4th Yet You Fuckers

It’s been a rough day.  They woke up too early because the damn birds were so loud—they live in a place with songbirds now, how the fuck did that happen—and the pilot light went out on the gas stove Ian was so proud of owning in the middle of trying to make breakfast.  It took so long to get it going again that Ian didn’t even have time to shower before running off to his volunteer shift at the hospital, which meant Mickey’s morning routine of interrupting said shower was ruined, too.  Then Ian was late coming home after some all-hands emergency and it was all Mickey could do to get his husband washed, fed, and put to bed.

That’s where Ian is now.  Head pressed into the pillow on the wrong side of the mattress, mouth open as he breathes, lashes fluttering as REM sleep drags him under.  Mickey watches from the armchair in the corner, pajama-clad legs tucked up underneath.  There’s something special about being awake when Ian isn’t; being the one to watch, to protect.

And despite the crazy day, he’s content.  He’s got his home, he’s got his husband, and he’s got a million days ahead of him to—

*Boom*

To murder their new fucking neighbors.

He’s out of the chair and down the stairs before Ian can so much as twitch.  This is already the third damn night they’ve pulled this shit, and while it might have been fun the first time—peering out their bedroom window to sneak looks at fireworks they don’t have to pay for—it’s getting old real fast.  It’s not even the fourth yet, for fuck’s sake.

Another boom rattles the house as Mickey trips over the landing, barrels into the front door.  He fumbles with the lock while the continuous hiss of sparklers gets louder, closer, and slams it open with a grunt.

“Hey!” he shouts once it’s open, leaving the door gaping behind him as he stomps across their porch in bare feet.  “The fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

No response.  There’s a group of teenagers across the street, in pastel polo shirts and fucking khaki shorts, but they don’t look up from the mass of boxes they’re rooting through.

And hey, Mickey gets it.  He was a kid, once.  He stole more fireworks than he could count, set them off in fields and under bridges and over the river without a second thought.

Maybe if these kids reminded him of himself even a bit, maybe if they looked like making shit explode was the only thing holding them together, he would have had some sympathy.  

*Boom*

The next one sounded more like gunfire than a firework, and no.  He probably wouldn’t have.

“I’m talking to you!” he shouts, striding forward into the street without bothering to look.  “You tryin’ to get somebody killed out here?”

“Relax, grandpa,” one of the teens says, bored, not even looking at him.  “Fireworks never killed anybody.”

“They’re about to kill you,” Mickey returns, glowering.  “Cause if you wake up my husband, I’m gonna shove the next one so far up your ass your mouth is gonna shoot sparks.”

“Uh huh,” another guy says mockingly.  “I’ve met your husband, man,” he adds, “and there’s no fucking way he’d be okay with the way you’re—”

“Mickey?”

Mickey stiffens.  Glares one more time at the asshole that just spoke, who has a shit-eating grin on his face like he knows what’s coming next.  Then he looks up to where Ian is peering through their bedroom window, eyes squinted and hair tussled.

“Go back to bed, Ian,” he calls back.  “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Mickey,” Ian says disapprovingly, voice carrying easily.  “What did I tell you about yelling at the neighborhood kids?”

Someone titters behind Mickey, and he fights not to roll his eyes.  Instead, he steps to the side, providing a clear view from the window to the mess of people and firework debris on the corner.

Ian leans forward, only the window screen keeping his head inside as he strains his eyes.

“Those aren’t kids,” he corrects himself after getting a good look.

“Nope,” Mickey agrees.

“Oh.”  Ian appears to think, one hand scratching through hair bright enough that Mickey can see it even from across the street.  “Okay then.”  He turns from the window, then returns a moment later.

“Bring me up some tea when you’re done?”

“Sure thing babe,” Mickey promises.  “You want a cinnamon stick?  Some honey?”

“No, just you,” Ian returns.  “Don’t be too long.”

He turns away from the window, and Mickey turns back to the gaggle of teenage boys watching with open mouths.

“You heard the man,” he says with a wicked grin, cracking his knuckles.  “Let’s make this fast.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Prodigy Path (S.R.)

Summary: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style. Request: Spencer and reader are parents and they realize their young child is a genius like Reid and Reid refuses to put them on the same genius path he was put on as a kid because he doesn't want them to deal with what he had to deal with as a child prodigy Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Domestic Comfort/Fluff Content Warning: SpEd, education, teachers, arguing, crying Word Count: 4k

MASTERLIST

My husband has many tells. His emotions are clearly displayed in every inch of his existence if you care enough to look, even for someone average like me. Which is why I knew before we even made it into the classroom that he was nervous. With bouncing legs and fingers cracking as he pushed curled fists against his jaw to try and hide the way his lip quivered with unspoken thoughts.

There was nothing I could say to make an elementary school a more comfortable place for him. They were nothing but a constant reminder of a childhood filled with teachers, therapists, lawyers, and doctors. A collection of professionals with one shared goal of using a little boy to achieve whatever they needed to. All justified with the belief that later, he would understand. He would be grateful.

But that wasn’t how it happened. If any of them had checked in on the boy genius after he stopped being ‘useful’, maybe they would have figured it out.

“Are you alright, Spencer?”

I already knew the answer. I also knew he would lie. Just a harmless little nod of his head to maintain whatever calming effects he could from the blatant attempts at self-soothing. He was already used to having to stock up on good feelings as much as he could, acutely aware of how important it was to rid himself of any sign of discomfort or anything even slightly resembling the word ‘no’ before the teacher came.

Which is exactly what happened. When our names were called, his back straightened and his hands, still balled in fists, fell like heavy rocks to his side. Everything about him when we finally made our way to the two small chairs in the teacher’s office felt cold and clinical. Nothing like the lively, bubbly man I knew.

I understood why, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. The poor woman on the other side of the desk wouldn’t get it, though. All she saw was an arrogant man who thought himself too good for a place like this.

If only people could see what I did. I think they would be kinder when they looked at him.

“Well, Dr. and Mrs. Reid, it should come as no surprise to you that your daughter performed exceptionally on the competency tests that we gave her as part of her IEP. She’s very bright,” she started.

A bad start.  

“She’s good at tests,” Spencer corrected with finality.

The teacher wasn’t going to argue, although I got the feeling she missed the importance of the distinction. That competency, ‘brightness,’ and performance were all very different things.

“Very much so,” she laughed. The kind of laugh that hides a deep discomfort. It wasn’t entirely her fault; talking to Spencer when he was like this was very much like arguing with a brick wall that somehow still outsmarted you.

“Her… ability to perform well is actually why I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of switching her to a more advanced classro—”

Spencer cut in swiftly, once again with a steel jaw and biting sound, “We’d have to ask her.”

“Of course, her opinion is very important but—”

“It is the only thing that matters to me.”

From the unintentional sidelines, I watched the exchange like one might watch a collision from the passenger seat. Perhaps it might be possible to grab the steering wheel, to try and prevent what I thought was coming. But that came with different risks; of overcorrecting him past the point of self-preservation. We would still crash, and he would also know that I didn’t trust him to fix the problem himself.

“I find that a lot of kids don’t really understand the long term consequences of a decision like this,” the teacher explained, folding her fingers together tightly. As her knuckles blanched, I felt the tension that I knew would form in Spencer’s gut at the implication that he hadn’t thought of any of her concerns first. As if he hadn’t thought of them 30 years ago. As if he hadn’t lived through the decision being made for him.

“Well, I do,” he said, trying and failing to control the tilt in his voice from turning to outright hostility, “I know what the consequences are, and I also know my daughter, and I know that she’s smart enough to figure it out for herself.”

Then it happened. The thing I was waiting for.

The woman turned to me, the other one in the room like her. Not a genius, Agent, or doctor. Just a plain, average Jane.

“What do you think, Mrs. Reid?”

But I couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. She didn’t know him like I did.

“I think my husband knows these things better than me,” I laughed, nervous and cautious before I added, “And I trust my daughter.”

Her face fell when she reached the conclusion she ought to have expected. I would be no more help to her than the useless sheet of statistics in front of her, urging her to convince us to acknowledge that our daughter could accomplish more if only we would let her.

I felt her compassion, but all that Spencer would hear was the condescension that certainly did exist underneath it all.

“She’s only seven.”

“Ted Kaczynski was eleven when his family allowed him to skip a grade, which he later described as one of the pivotal moments in his life that led to him becoming a domestic terrorist.”

The tension in the room was so thick that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And if the increasing force behind every breath in Spencer’s chest was any indication, he was suffocating all the same.

“I’m sure that you wouldn’t allow that to happen to your child. You skipped several grades to my knowledge, and you turned out to be very accomplished,” she offered with a hand outstretched and shaking under the weight of the vitriol Spencer was spewing into the room.

It wasn’t her fault, but we couldn’t explain it to her. Not when Spencer was too scared to even raise a hand while he spoke. Too paralyzed in perfect, acceptable posture and hidden twitches of his fingers.

“Accomplished isn’t an objective test determined by IQ points or degrees. The only kind of accomplishment I want for my daughter is the ability to make decisions for herself,” he said, his voice growing louder and cracking between strained cords, “To choose her own path and future, and to never let anyone tell her what she has to be just because it would benefit them.”

Once again, the room fell silent. I watched as the teacher slowly removed the shocked, disturbed expression from her face and replace it with the more appropriate sympathy. Unfortunately, my husband also has a tendency to cling to whatever he perceives as the more genuine truth.

Worded slightly differently: my husband holds onto grudges for dear life.

“Dr. Reid, I don’t mean to offend you. I just want you to understand she is capable of more than this—”

It was the end of the line. I’d chosen not to grab the steering wheel, and I could see now that it had been a mistake. I’d missed the way he was struggling to maintain control on his own and now it was too late. By the time he stood up from his chair, he was too far away for me to grab hold of his hand and rub soothing circles to bring him back. He was already on his way out, readjusting his suit jacket that must have felt similar to restraints from his past.

“Then I’m sure that she is better equipped to make the decision for herself than you are.”

The door shut, not slammed, but just enough to make his absence known. Two shaky breaths were released at once, and the two of us left behind in the wake of his anxiety exchanged a knowing set of silent glances.

“My daughter is very bright,” I finally said, hoping to explain my husband’s good heart in only a few words. Unfortunately, there was no way to do that. So, instead, I drummed up all the courage I could and added, “But so is my husband.”

“I never implied anything different.”

She hadn’t, but she had. In her own way, she’d questioned the only one of us who truly understood what it was like to be so stunningly different. Odd enough that it sometimes felt like they were the only two people on Earth like them. And while our daughter had her father, Spencer wasn’t so lucky.

He had been alone for as long as he could remember, which was a terribly long time.

“The things we experience in elementary school stay with us. Being a kid means that you have no power. Everything is decided for you,” I tried. The words didn’t sound right. But I kept going, wishing more than anything to have the same proficiency at language in this moment, even though I knew she still wouldn’t have understood me then.

“My daughter may get to pick skirts or slacks, but no matter what she chooses, they still have to be khaki or navy.”

“I don’t think this is about uniforms, Mrs. Reid.”

“Because it’s not,” I agreed. And unlike Spencer, my hands were free to move and collapse tired over my heart. Hopefully, it served as a visual representation of how intensely I felt and believed the words that followed.

“I’m not as smart as my husband or my daughter. I won’t ever be able to understand what it’s like to be both the youngest and smartest person in the room, but I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

Again, I felt the empathy she tried to project. I understood it because her and I spoke the same language. She could look at me and know that I only wanted what was best for my family without requiring the extra steps that were required to understand my husband.

“The children here are very used to prodigies,” she posited sincerely, trying to rebuild a bridge that had already started to burn, “It’s not like public school. It wouldn’t be like it was with him.”

But that was precisely the problem. This was just another unknown, one which we’ve only seen result in negative outcomes. If it had been mine or Spencer’s life on the line, we might have taken the chance. But it wasn’t about us.

“I don’t care if the chance is minuscule that she’ll be hurt by this decision, because there is still a risk there. And if I put her in that position even though she didn’t want to, I would hate myself for it.”

I could sense the judgment before she spoke. That didn’t stop her from saying it, though.

“You can’t shelter her from the world.”

As my blood began to boil, I looked at the space that stretched between us. I stared at the bridge embroiled in flames and realized that Spencer was right to light the fire. Because the truth was that she wasn’t giving us any new information. She had simply chosen to prioritize the potential of a child over the life that already existed in front of her.

And no matter how hard anyone tried, we just weren’t willing to do that to our daughter.

“You’re right,” I laughed, because I really found it funny how easy the answer seemed, “But I can let her choose for herself and support her choices even when they hurt me. Being smart shouldn’t be a death sentence for a normal childhood.”

“She won’t ever have a normal childhood.”

But what was normal, anyway? Was it something I even wanted my daughter to have? If it meant blindly following the path laid out for her by test results and authority figures, I wasn’t so sure. Above all, I just wanted her to be happy. The way that Spencer was never allowed to be. So I also stood from my chair with feet desperate to find him, and a relieved smile that accompanied the light feeling in my heart. I took a deep breath as I looked at the telltale symbols of childhood that didn’t fill me with fear or anxiety.

“Well, I’m willing to let her try,” I said quietly but confidently, “I think she can figure it out.”

The trip to the car felt so far knowing that Spencer was there alone. I tried to step faster, eventually just breaking out into a strange half-jog regardless of the odd stares. It didn’t matter to me what anyone else thought about our strange, imperfect family. Because I knew that as soon as we had our hands together, everything would be okay.

But things weren’t okay when I found him. He was slumped over the dash of the passenger seat, his suit jacket scrunched over his shoulders because he was too tired to even bother taking it off despite the discomfort. I heard the rage behind the nearly silent sniffles, and as soon as he heard the door shut for the last time, he didn’t hold back the words any longer.

“They really expected us to make that decision without even asking her?” he spat, clenching his teeth any time he was given the chance.

“I know,” I whispered back with a hand on his shoulder. I felt the tension start to fade away the longer the warmth sunk through the fabric. But then it was too much, and he shot up from his spot with arms that had come back to life after being held down for too long.  

“It’s her life! She’s not just... just a tool for their rankings or a trophy for their wall!”

Tears stung at my eyes just from seeing the red lining his, and I wondered how much he’d feared this day. How long he had seen it coming and held back concerns because he wasn’t entirely sure what it would mean for all of us. But he’d miscalculated. He’d underestimated just how much it would hurt to see the same thing he’d experienced happening to someone he loved. That fury, that despair and desperation, exploded from him like gas thrown on a fire. “She’s a person! She’s my little girl!”

It was no surprise to me when the tears started to flow again. Spencer didn’t even try to hide behind his hands. They were too busy finding me and holding on with hands gripped tight with the soft fabric of my skirt. The one place that he knew he would be safe and understood no matter the barriers that might exist.

“I know that you just want the best for her,” I reassured him. My hands ran through his unruly hair that reminded me of our daughter’s to an uncanny degree. And it accomplished the same thing, too. Within a few minutes or necessary catharsis, Spencer was able to steady his breathing well enough to shift into a more comfortable position with his head against my shoulder.

“They don’t know what it’s like. To be just one thing. Every failure, every mistake… They seem like the end of the world when the stakes are so high,” he mumbled, “They become the only thing that matters. All that you are.”  

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me,” I laughed. Cupping his face in my hands, I forced him to look at me to see how much I meant it when I replied, “I already know that you are a wonderful father.”

Then, in a weak attempt to prevent the tears that were already forming in his eyes, I pressed a hard kiss against his forehead.

“Let’s go see her. I’m sure she’ll have something to say about it.”

And Spencer laughed, too. A relieved, joyous sound that signaled an end to the spiral. When he sat back up, I took the time to help him remove his jacket unbutton the top few in the hope that it would help him understand that he was returning to the one place he would never have to be anything other than himself.

I think it worked, too, because by the time we made it home, the only evidence of the meltdown was irritated, tired eyes. Thankfully, our daughter was too happy to see us back to make any mention of them.

“Dad!” she shrieked, standing in her seat on the sofa and nearly toppling over the furniture to get to him faster.

“Hey!”

“You’ll never guess what I made while you were gone!”

“What is it?” he shouted back before scooping her up into his arms and hugging her just discretely enough that she wouldn’t notice how badly he needed it.

“A computer!” she continued, now waving an excited hand for me to approach, too. But Spencer stole her attention away again, with shocked gasps and an equally squeaky voice, “You made a computer?”

“It just counts numbers and does some very rudimentary formulas... for now,” she muttered with a mischievous sound that we would both ignore (for now), “But it’s really cool! Come look!”

So there we sat, as a full family tracking piles of redstone dust and switches flow across blocks on the screen. But every time our eyes got tired of the blue light, we would look just a few feet to the right to watch her bounce in excitement with a controller in her hand.

Eventually, watching wasn’t enough, and Spencer crawled onto the floor so he could pull her into his lap. She melted into his embrace like she always did, haphazardly and with a familiarity that almost made me jealous of their relationship. But then I would realize just how lucky I was to have them both in my life.

After she had settled back into the game, Spencer started to speak, slowly and with an astounding amount of vulnerability.

“Hey, how do you feel about the idea of you skipping forward a couple grades?”

“You mean… Like leaving my friends?” she asked without ever taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yeah, you’d be with older kids.”

She paused, taking a few seconds to consider the idea. Although I couldn’t see her face, I knew exactly the expression she made as she squeaked, “Eh.”

“What’s ‘eh’ mean?” Spencer returned with an amused chuckle.

“Wouldn’t I be just as bored in fifth grade as I am in third?”

“Yeah, probably after a few weeks.”

Her little feet kicked the air as her whole body squirmed, obviously bothered by the topic but also knowing she would have to answer. With a very familiar sounding sigh, she continued, “And what about in a couple years? Will you let me date older people? They’ll be my peers.”

“A couple years?” her father responded with an ever-rising pitch, “Can’t you put that off until a little bit later?”

She did not relent.

“The heart wants what the heart wants, Dad.”

Spencer blew air from shaky lips that showed an enormous amount of restraint. “Within reason,” he warned.

That tone was always enough to make her laugh, which she did. But once that sound faded, she set the controller down on the floor and turned her full attention back to him before muttering, “I don’t know… It sounds like a lot. Older kids kind of scare me.”

“It’s not that bad. You get used to it. I’m sure you’d find friends. You’re very likable.”

“You’re my dad. You have to say that.”

“I don’t have to,” he corrected with a gentle poke of her nose, “I just want to because it’s true.”

But there was still so much on such small shoulders. It was as obvious as the way her legs started bouncing just like his did when he was nervous. Even as Spencer tried to play with her hair or do anything that he could think to distract her from the nerves, her voice was shaking as she worked up the courage to finally answer, “No offense dad, I know you did the whole skipping grades thing but… It kind of sounds awful.”

I watched from my seat on the couch as Spencer’s smile stretched steadily over his cheeks. “I’m not offended at all,” he whispered, and I wondered if she could hear just how true it was. I wondered if she could feel the relief that washed over him with an answer as simple as ‘No thank you.’ But then she spoke again, reminding us just how much she valued our opinion.

“I think I’d rather stay with kids my own age. At least for now.” Turning to look at me before scared eyes glanced up at her dad, she bit her cheeks one more time before muttering, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Spencer whispered back.

“Thanks. I was scared when my teacher brought it up.”

“It’s your life,” he insisted with both hands holding her cheeks the same way we always did, “You get to decide what you want to do with it.”

And while it would take a while longer to decide what the real answer to that question would be, the immediate answer was obvious. She threw her arms around him just he had done to me, affirming my theory that as long as we had each other, everything else would be okay.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too,” he mumbled back into tiny brown curls before he let her go once more. But she stayed, burrowed in his lap while she resumed her game like the whole thing hadn’t happened. I think Spencer preferred it that way.

It didn’t take long for us to all get tired from the exhausting emotions, and within an hour we had all settled into bed. I’d almost forgotten about the conversation entirely before I noticed the way Spencer still flipped anxiously back and forth in our bed. I waited a little bit longer to turn off the light, opting to just wait for him to turn to me and explain what had him so worried.

The next time his eyes met mine, he let out a dramatic whine with the words, “A couple of years? She’s seven!”

I snorted at how he had latched onto the most trivial aspect of the night, making the executive decision to torment him just a little bit longer. “I’m pretty sure she already has her eye on a few candidates, you know.”

“I didn’t even notice romantic attraction until I was like… thirteen!” he blurted out. It was too funny not to keep laughing, repeating the eloquent way our daughter had asserted herself before.

“The heart wants what the heart wants, Spencer.”

“Well my heart wants to go to sleep, along with the rest of me,” he scoffed, flipping away from me for a minute out of his own stubbornness. Trying to avoid the inevitable. But when I flipped the light off, I heard him whisper again, “Couple of years… that child will be the death of me.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

Looking for more Dad Spencer fics? Find my rec list here!

[edwardskhakipants]

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.  

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.  

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.  

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested.     Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.��

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.  

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to. 

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats. 

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo.  “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

[olehistorian]

Ok. So here’s my Downton Abbey: A New Era review: not really spoiler-y, but might be if you’ve not seen it yet.

I just saw the film this afternoon. The theatre was full, approximately 100 women and about two men. Many came in groups and sat together.

I plan on going back next week because I’m sure I missed some things and I just want to go again.

In my humble opinion A New Era was much, much better than the first movie. Honestly, I can now pretend that the first movie was some bizarre Julian Fellowes dream - a la Bobby Ewing in the shower. All the out of character things never happened. Molesley never made an idiot out of himself in front of the King and Queen and the downstairs crew weren’t running around scheming and playing the tricksters.

A New Era is the movie that should have been made in 2018. I think it hit the right tone between comedy and drama. I would have loved more of a true downstairs plot line, but there were a few nuggets of fan fiction-y stuff to keep me happy.

🗝🍷Chelsie - Seeing Charlie and Elsie at home, reading in bed was worth the price of admission alone, even though it was a short scene. I liked that Elsie was less snippy with Charlie in this movie as opposed to the first film. She was once again the nippy-sweetie as opposed to just being nippy. She was genuinely empathetic to Charlie at the end of the movie when they’ve learned not so shocking news. That’s the Elsie Hughes I’ve come to know and love; don’t know where she was in the first film, but I’m glad she’s back. Same with Charlie. We got to see his different sides, not just grumpy bear. The scene with Mary was touching; I love when Charlie shows his father figure, tender side. Chelsie have obviously settled into a happy marriage and all appears right in their world. Also, in the role reversal scene, Elsie was every inch the upstairs countess. I’d have loved to hear Charlie and Elsie’s conversation about her costume. I have a feeling he was impressed.

Mrs. Patmore - at one point, Mrs. P. looked like she’d just rolled up from her house of ill repute. 🤭😉 But, I’m here for it. The scene with her plotting at the dinner table was funny, and sweet. Mrs. P deserves a happy ending. You go, girl!

Daisy - was much less annoying than normal. Obviously, marriage agrees with her. I enjoyed seeing her and Andy settling into young married life.

Baxley- the movie theatre erupted into applause. Nothing more needs to be said.

Anna and Bates - they are happy. Finally.

Thomas - hopefully, he will finally be happy.

Denker - wtf happened to her hair?

I’m less interested in the upstairs folks, but that doesn’t mean I’m uninterested.

Mary - where is the Blessed Lady Mary? Hello? 😂 Seriously, I like Mary when she’s nice, but I like her bitchy side too. We got one snide remark at Edith’s expense. Maybe Mary has matured which is good because it is clear that she’s the new Dowager. Her life has already paralleled that of her grandmother even down to the type of marriage they have/had with semi-absentee husbands. Still, Mary’s quip game needs some work to live up to her grandmother’s standards.

Edith - is using her brain again. Thank goodness for that.

Cora and Robert - are blissfully happy, but why is Robert so tan?

Tom and Lucy - will be living at Felsham Hall. I wonder what Lady Jane thinks about that?🤔

The Dowager - Dame Maggie Smith - 👏🏻👏🏻. I was warned about the last 30 mins of the film, and that analysis was correct. Two hankies were definitely needed. A group of 20 year olds sitting down from me were sniffling too as were some other ladies at the opposite end.

I will say that seeing a few of the actors was a bit jarring as they have, quite naturally, aged (haven’t we all?). It reminded me that Downton can’t go on forever with all the same actors. Of course, I’d love a tv spin off with the Carson’s running their B&B with Mrs. P and Mr. Mason popping by, perhaps little Johnny Bates comes by after school for cookies. Ah, fan fiction!

It seems like Julian Fellowes has tied up all the loose ends neatly. Carson is back in charge, Cora will live, and Mary is facing up to her destiny as Downton matriarch.

If this is Downton’s farewell, I’m well-satisfied.