#or at least desire to love is there somewhere. and believing that having a child is really the only somewhat meaningful thing she can do

[loderlied]

mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 20)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

A few hours later, when most of the guests had left and Edward had fallen asleep, you took the time to have a conversation with Robert who appeared rather anxious about recent developments.

Sitting beside you on the chaise longue inside one of the guestrooms, he expressed his concern regarding your involvement in this dangerous lifestyle shared by your family. According to him, there were mentions of drug trafficking and killings amongst some of the men and this worried him greatly.

"You knew about all this, didn't you?" Robert probed gently, searching your eyes for answers. You hesitated briefly, weighing whether to divulge your knowledge or maintain the facade. Ultimately, honesty won out, driven by a genuine sense of trust that developed between you two. Nodding solemnly, you confirmed his suspicion.

"Yes," you paused momentarily, pondering the best approach to discuss this sensitive topic. "I know that my family is involved in illegal activities, and I also know how dangerous these activities can be. This is why I did not want you to come here with me. This place is nothing but trouble." You confessed to Robert honestly, shaking your head slightly.

"So the fire at the hotel wasn't an accident then?" Robert asked curiously, recalling how much danger it put you in.

"No, it wasn't an accident. The fire was targeted at us. Shelby Company Limited owns the hotel and I...," you began to say without completing your sentence. "You know, don't worry about it. We are safe here with my uncle," you tried reassuring Robert, though deep down you weren't completely convinced either. You knew that Tommy would do anything to keep you safe but he cared much less for Robert's wellbeing.

"I do not like it here Y/N. Your uncle appears to be a dangerous man and whilst your father seems to have found God, I feel as though his past is rather dark as well. There are men with outside, with guns. There are at least ten of them and your uncle has been carrying a loaded weapon for the entirety of the evening. When he returned with you from the fire, his clothes were stained with blood. It worries me greatly, my dear," Robert continued expressing his concerns with a heavy heart.

Your expression fell, sensing the weight of his words, yet understanding where he was coming from. 

"I know Robert, but we will go back to Boston soon and all will be fine, yes? In Boston, we will be safe and far away from my family", you promised, attempting to alleviate his apprehension.

"Yes my love, but you need to promise me that you aren't involved in anything dangerous, alright?" Robert insisted, placing a gentle palm on your shoulder, seeking reassurance. Feeling both guilty and relieved that he believed in you, you nodded your head firmly.

"Alright! Now get some sleep while I tend to the little hungry monster," you then said as you heard Edward screaming from the nursery next door. With a soft smile on your face, you glanced at Robert who nodded understandingly.

Standing up, you walked toward the doorway leading to the nursery, calling out softly, trying to coax the baby to silence before disappearing into the next room to pick up your son.

Gently rocking him against your bosom, your heart ached thinking about the uncertain future ahead for your tiny boy and, just as you looked for somewhere to sit down, Tommy's maid Frances entered the room.

"He looks a lot like his father, doesn't he?" Frances observed. She too heard the cries and offered to take you the reading room for sake of peace and quiet, allowing you to breastfeed your son comfortably. 

"I suppose he does Frances," you responded absentmindedly, as you thought about your situation while following Frances down the stairs and into the dimly lit library. 

"Would you like some help?" she offered kindly, recognising the strain on your face. "It must be hard having a young child in your care alone," she observed as you struggled with your dress. 

Feeling grateful for her support, you smiled warmly and accepted her offer, but just as Frances was about to take Edward so that you could get comfortable on the sofa to feed him, Tommy came walking into the darkened  room. 

"I've got him. Thank you, Frances," Tommy spoke before gently taking his son from your hands. 

"You may leave," he then told his maid while looking down at Edward affectionately and, immediately, his demeanor changed drastically upon seeing him as his heart filled with pride and possessiveness. 

"Yes sir," Frances nodded respectfully, exiting quietly leaving only the three of you in the darkness of the library. As she closed the door behind her, the moonlight filtered through the windows casting eerie patterns across the walls and floor.

You sat down silently watching as Tommy cradled Edward close to his chest. By this point, he had stopped crying now, despite being hungry, which surprised you considering how demanding he often was.

The tender way Tommy held him seemed almost instinctual, hinting at what might lie beneath his harsh exterior as, now, there were moments when he showed compassion and vulnerability - qualities usually hidden underneath layers of bravado and brutality. 

"He is quite similar to you in many ways, isn't he?" you commented, feeling an odd mixture of admiration and trepidation as you looked at Edward, your son, nestled snugly in Tommy's strong arms.

Without speaking, Tommy acknowledged your observation with a simple nod, studying the features of his son intently. His eyes traced every curve of the baby's round cheeks, captivated by the resemblance.

Edward had Tommy's blue eyes and full lips. His skin was covered in tiny little freckles that dotted his nose and forehead and you knew that these same freckles would eventually grow more prominent as he aged, becoming part of his distinctive charm. 

As you watched Tommy hold his son, you felt a sudden surge of emotion flooding your heart, making it race. Despite the circumstances surrounding the conception of Edward and your complex familial connections, witnessing Tommy's paternal side made you realize again that even he possessed humanity.

Although deeply rooted in crime and violence, the bond between him and his son revealed something else entirely – something fragile, unspoken, and profoundly personal. 

"I do have to feed him soon Tom," you remarked after observing the silent exchange between father and son for several minutes. 

"Yes, of course," Tommy nodded graciously, handing the squirming infant back to you, his touch lingering around Edward ever so slightly longer than necessary while you lowered the top of your dress.

"I should give you some privacy," Tommy murmured, stepping away from you slowly, but you shook your head and smiled.

"You can stay if you like. It's not that you haven't seen my breasts before," you joked lightheartedly, trying to break the growing tension between you and Tommy. But instead of replying to your remark, Tommy remained silent and still, his gaze fixating solely on you and his son. 

He looked at you in awe and disbelief, marveling over the fact that you gave birth to his son. The revelation struck him harder than he expected it to. For once, he couldn’t find any words to speak, lost amidst the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his brain.

Uncomfortable with the intense silence hanging in the air, you took the initiative to diffuse the awkwardness. 

"I miss the days where we were close, Tommy," you whispered gratefully as you started to undo two more buttons of your dress.

Bending forward to make access easier for your son, you glanced upwards to see Tommy watching your movements, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. Unsettled by his piercing gaze, you cleared your throat nervously and continued, focusing on your task.

"I miss these days too, Love," he replied somberly, his voice hoarse with emotion. He shifted uneasily in his seat, unable to meet your eye directly.

Silence enveloped the small space once more, thickening with the tension radiating off both of you. Sensing the moment growing increasingly fraught, you broke the tension with another comment.

"If you missed the time we spent with each other, then why did you never write to me?” you ventured, hoping to gain insight into his changing behavior.

However, your question hung heavily in the air, stirring up waves of guilt, confusion, and regret within Tommy. Unable to face the truth himself, he chose evasion instead.

"Things changed. I knew we couldn't be together, so I needed to distance myself from you," he muttered dismissively, his eyes finally finding yours, conveying sadness and loss. 

"Do you love Lizzie?" you asked suddenly, wondering whether Tommy was merely settling because of the expectations placed upon him due to his position. 

His brow furrowed as you posed such a direct question. Taking a deep breath, he let forth a heavy sigh, choosing his words carefully.

"Love takes time," he began cautiously, "I love our daughter, Ruby and, maybe one day, I can love her mother too," he explained, causing you to chuckle, which was a gesture he willfully ignored.

"Do you love Robert?" Tommy suddenly countered, his tone turning confrontational.

"Well, no...it's complicated," you answered hesitantly, struggling to articulate your own feelings for your lover. "We met during difficult times, and I found solace in someone I didn't think I would ever meet," you explained reluctantly and with a shaky voice.

"Alright, then tell me Love, do you still love me?" Tommy probed further, his curiosity piqued as much as his jealousy. He leaned closer, searching for signs of weakness in your eyes.

Your heart raced as your pulse quickened. Swallowing hard, you tried to hide your emotional turmoil behind a facade of indifference. However, Tommy noticed your struggle instantly.

"It doesn't matter because, whether I love you or not, won't make a difference at all," you confessed candidly, your voice breaking as you uttered those painful words. The weight of them settled between you, causing your hearts to skip a beat simultaneously.

"What happened to us Tommy? Why am I sitting here, holding your son, yet I am so far apart from you?" you lamented sorrowfully, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. This confession hurt both of you deeply, reminding you of a connection that was irreversibly severed and, just as Tommy was about to respond to your statement, his fiancée Lizzie barged in. 

"Come to bed, Thomas!" she exclaimed impatiently, oblivious to the delicate balance of raw emotions simmering in the room. Her presence brought relief to Tommy, offering a welcome distraction from his tumultuous inner battle. 

Avoiding any mention of your conversation, Tommy calmly rose from his chair and bid goodnight, kissing Lizzie softly on the cheek.

Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he exited the room swiftly, eager to escape the palpable tension. 

Watching him go, you bit your lip anxiously, struggling to comprehend the multitude of emotions coursing through your veins. You turned toward Lizzie, trying to gauge her reaction to your encounter with Tommy. Surprised by your display of familiarity, she raised an eyebrow curiously, seemingly confused by your interaction. However, deciding against prying further, she dismissed the situation altogether.

Closing the door gently behind her, Lizzie left you alone with your thoughts and emotions. With a sense of desolation, you gathered yourself and proceeded to prepare Edward for sleep. Nursing him until he fell asleep, rocking him gently in your arms as you hummed a melody passed down generations in your family. The comforting rhythm of the song calming not only Edward but also serving as balm to your wounded soul.

Meanwhile, outside the nursery, Tommy stood motionlessly, the events transpiring inside having left him reeling.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[rowena-rain]

Sooo in your fic is it canon that Voldemort is completely and utterly oblivious to how relationships/attraction works while Harry is objectively the more 'experienced' person? Cuz that's what it seems like tbh. Vee is SUCH an idiot sometimes. He wants to fuck Harry so bad it makes him look (and think) stupid.

Great question! I apologize in advance—I can already tell this is gonna be a long Voldemort meta post lol.

My head canon for Voldemort more generally—but particularly in the Heir de la Mort—is that he falls somewhere on the Asexual Spectrum (I don’t consider Cursed Child canon, btw). Specifically, I think of him as basically aroace with a big exception for Harry.

He may have had sex in his younger years as Tom Riddle, but if he did, it was purely transactional. Just another tool to manipulate people or get something he wanted.

A big part of his becoming “Lord Voldemort” is that he tries very hard to shed any semblance of humanity because for him, it represents vulnerability and his humble origins as the poor, unwanted kid who grew up in a muggle orphanage. Part of that shedding of humanity is (at least outwardly) rejecting things like relationships and sex because he believes those are weak things that mere mortals do. So, once he fully adopts the persona of Voldemort, I don’t think he even has transactional sex anymore.

I do see him as having a general desire for human connection (though this gets more and more repressed the older he gets). But he’s never actually felt sexual passion or desire, let alone romantic love, for another person.

That is, until Harry comes along.

I think Voldemort initially feels pulled to Harry because of the horcrux, even before he knows about its existence. The fact that Harry literally contains a piece of his own SOUL makes him grow to understand Harry in a way he’s never understood anyone before, and that opens the door for him to start feeling emotions he’s never felt.

So, long-story short, I guess, Voldemort is oblivious here because he’s experiencing actual attraction to another person for the very first time in 70+ years! Up until now, he’s been too single-mindedly focused on killing Harry to really notice anything unusual going on, or if he did, he probably just chalked it up to really, really, REALLY hating him and wanting him dead. But now that he isn’t actively trying to kill him, he has the opportunity to feel new things. At first through the horcrux connection, but as time goes on, that line will become more and more blurred.

It also doesn’t help that he’s severely lacking in self-awareness more generally. Like, he’s magically brilliant, no doubt. He’s very book smart, very clever, cunning, etc. And he’s exceptionally good at manipulating others, which means he has to have some level of emotional intelligence… He just reaaaallly doesn’t have the self-awareness part. Or the empathy part (yet).

But Harry is a mirror—not just because he contains part of Voldemort’s soul, but also because he’s the only one bold enough to stand up to him. Basically, through Harry, Voldemort is slowly being forced into a situation where he has to confront his own humanity and start actually learning empathy. But I don’t wanna say too much, so I’ll stop now :)

[possessedopossum]

Why do people love to project their family issues into fictional women so much? [I need to bitch about the way fandom treats Caterina]

I've seen so happen to Leandra. You yell one (1) time at your child on screen and you're the worst mother in Thedas. Obviously women need to learn how to turn their emotions off when they have children and you can't express your negative feelings even if your other child had died a terrible violent death on your eyes 5 minutes ago. Btw you can't explain such feelings in a calmer "healthier" way either bc that would mean therapy speech and that the game has bad writing. No feelings for mothers, okay? They're robots.

Leandra haters walked so Caterina Dellamorte haters could run. While I get it that Caterina isn't beating child abuse allegations, Caterina's image in fan fiction is truly something else.

Since WHEN she is homophobic??? Since when she is racist??? Is there a transphobic line from her I somehow missed? Did she misgender Rook somewhere?

Caterina is a character of questionable morality and yet fandom insists on her being way worse than she already is. Please I beg you pay attention to the source material. She isn't 100% evil. Not only Teia makes it out alive after calling Caterina "nonna", we also learn that Caterina is secretly very fond of Teia. I wonder why.

Caterina doesn't beat the shit out of Lucanis and Illario just because she is an evil abusive control freak. She does so because that's what crow training is. She does so to ensure her last surviving family members continue to stay alive. She isn't throwing her fucking flip flops at Lucanis for bringing home a bad grade on his math assignment. Or just because she had a bad day at work.

If I had to judge her parenting skills, I would be more concerned with Caterina's favoritism and her treatment of Illario. The harshness of crow training has nothing to do with Caterina's personality. She isn't even the worst crow trainer. Whoever trained Zevran, Taliesin and Rinna didn't even care if they live or die. Caterina cared. Mistreatment of Illario is however 100% Caterina's fault.

I would also be concerned with the reasons of her favoritism. Is Lucanis actually better than Illario or is he somebody Caterina can project her grief for her dead daughter into? Her favorite daughter being Lucanis' mother seems too much to be a coincidence. And it paints Caterina in somewhat sympathetic light anyway. You can't grieve for somebody if you have never loved them in the first place.

I don't understand writing Caterina as a terrible (grand)mother-in-law for Rook who romanced Lucanis. There are zero cases of her being rude to Rook. She looked reasonable but stern enough to be the first talon in eight little talons. Ofc she's still hard to deal with and there may be conflicts but there are literally no reasons to believe she is a bigot. Boiling it all down to petty fights between her and Rook for who gets Lucanis looks pathetic. He is ~35, for fuck's sake. And she is what, at least 70? Caterina wouldn't have 8 grandchildren if she was so possessive. Rook is also a god-killer which is a great PR move for house Dellamorte, having not one but two god-killers.

The desire of some rookanis shippers to strip Lucanis of almost everything he is looks so off to me. Death IS his calling. He IS aware that his family isn't exactly perfect, he doesn't need Rook to tell him that. Why is it so hard to understand that people may love something and understand all its flaws at the same time?

The petty envy from some Rooks screams "pls somebody help me I'm very insecure when it comes to relationships and splitting affection" without characters' authors recognizing the envy for that it is. Why do you want Rook to be the center of Lucanis' life so bad? Why do you want to strip him of his love for his family, profession, his friendship with Neve? What will be left of him if you do so?

I'll wait some months before opening ao3 again. It did give me a thousand yard stare. Would like to hope that at least the mischaracterization will go away eventually...

[themysteriousauthor18]

Alastor comes out as Ace to Lucifer

(HEY ALL MY ACE'S OUT THERE! If you are or are not a radioapple shipper thats fine. But...I'm praticing trying to write Alastor as ace, or I think grayace? (please feel free to correct me.) Anyway I'd like the opinion of people on that spectrum to tell me how good or bad I did. And were I could improve if needed. Thank you! And thanks for reading!

The current scene is set somewhere in the 1990s. Alastor and Lucifer have been dating (around) a month at this point (can be changed later). Lucifer and Charlie are having a sleepover at Alastor’s house (they do this often now) and Lucifer is laying in bed with Alastor while Charlie is bunking it with Alastor’s mom in her room.(?) The concept of gay is a new concept to people in this era and while its legal its frowned upon. So being asexual is an undiscovered thing and while Alastor is ace he doesn't understand it. Or understand its okay and there isn't something wrong with him.

Lucifer liked Alastor’s house. 

He liked how warm, cozy and inviting it felt opposed to the gigantic mansion he owned. He liked how small Alastor’s bed was compared to his own. Because his bed felt empty. Hallow. Alastors was small and cozy and because it was small it made them have to lay closer to each other. Which…neither ever seemed to mind. 

He liked it here. 

He liked taking Charlie out along the banks with Alastor to go exploring. He liked how warm the neighborhood was. How kind they were to Charlie. How the fellow kids in the neighborhood played with her. It was such a stark contrast to the wandering judging eyes of his own neighborhood.

As Lucifer lay there though, Alastor in his arms. He felt something was off. Alastor felt…tight. His body was tense. “Alastor?” He asked, gently. His voice is quiet. “Are you awake?” It had to be almost midnight if not early morning by now. But since the birds were quiet, he assumed night.

“Mm.”Lucifer lays there for a moment. He’s unsure if Alastor is really awake or if he’s sleep talking. He’s about to try going to sleep himself when he feels Alastor move in his arms. When he opens his eyes Alastor is moving away and sitting up. Lucifer lays there for a moment, watching Alastor with growing worry as he sits facing away from him. He’s hunched forward and his head is hanging low. 

After a moment, Lucifer sits up too. 

“Whats wrong?” He asks carefully. 

Alastor's response is immediate. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay?” He shifts forward but Alastor turns away. So…he keeps his distance. 

They sit there in silence for a few minutes. Lucifer tries to fight the anxiety growing in his chest like a beast. And the desire to start pacing around the room. He settles for tugging at the sheets repeatedly. 

“I understand we have been together for a month now. And this may seem sudden. But I believe there’s something we need to talk about.” 

“ …I’m listening.”

Alastor looks nervous, he’s staring at the wall without a hint of a smile on his face. Lucifer noticed Alastor smiled a lot as a person. A long sigh comes from him. And at least a few minutes pass before Alastor even tries to speak again. It's like he’s contemplating dropping the subject altogether. Lucifer’s grateful he doesn’t. Because he’s not sure he wouldn’t be able to not worry about it if he knew something was on Alastor’s mind. And that it was bothering him.

“I…” He starts, messing with the bottom of his hair. “I’m not a very big fan of sex, or…sexual activities in general.” 

The statement catches Lucifer off guard. Because…well, like Alastor said they’d only been together for a month. And sure he’d known plenty of people and friends who had done way more than he’s done with Alastor in a month. But, he enjoyed that they were taking things slow. After literally marrying someone at 18 and having a child at 19 (even though he loved Charlie very much)  just to be divorced not long after, taking things slow was what he desperately needed. Having said that, neither of them had even glanced at the topic of sex. So to hear Alastor bring it up felt…strange.

"Where's this coming from?” he decides to say. Unsure about what he should say on the statement itself yet. He needs to know where Alastor’s mind is at first.

Alastor is fidgeting. Being around him for this long, he’s picked up on the notion that Alastor does that when he’s nervous. Not a man to typically wear his heart on his sleeve. But it's not entirely difficult to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling if you knew what signs to look for. 

Lucifer slides up, and places a gentle hand on Alastor's forearm. Alastor doesn’t look at him. He’s looking down, his long hair covering his face and making it impossible to see his expression. But he doesn’t move away, or move the hand. “Hey, you can talk to me Al. I’m not judging, I’m just trying to understand what's going on.”

It makes him worry when Alastor doesn’t seem to relax. Even when he’s said that. But Lucifer waits there, patiently. The two of them tangled in the sheets, sitting together. Eventually Alastor does speak again and it's slow and cautious. Maybe even a little…scared?

“I’ve never…been a fan of sex. Or sexual things. It's just….it's not something I could ever really get into. That's not to say I don’t like it? I just like it in a different way?” He leans his face into his hand. “I’ve only had two relationships in my life. And maybe that’s pathetic for someone who is 25 but that doesn’t matter. I suppose 3 if you count us but I’m not counting us in this particular situation.” Lucifer frowns, unsure of what that’s supposed to mean. Should he be worried? He keeps those thoughts to himself for now, letting Alastor go on. 

“The details of those relationships aren’t important. What is important is that they both were very physically intimate people. They both liked to indulge in sex quite a lot. And I tried to satisfy them both when I was with each of them. But I felt…uncomfortable, with how much it happened.” Alastor shifts, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. Lucifer can see his eyes now but not the rest of his face. His eyes are dark and they are facing down. Away from him. “My first relationship was with a woman. And naturally I lost my virginity to her. But I remember my reaction to sex itself was just… ‘that's it?’ She seemed to enjoy it and love it. But I didn’t, not really.  I liked that it made her happy. I tried to like it as much as her. For her.” 

Lucifer remembered Alastor discussing his second relationship briefly, on the night of their first kiss. He remembered that one was with a man. He briefly wondered if Alastor was into both men and women or just men now? Another time…

“Eventually, we’d been together for long enough that I thought I could bring my discomfort to her. And talk about it. But she took it as an insult. That just because I didn’t particularly enjoy sex itself, I didn’t love her. But that wasn’t what I was trying to say. However she didn’t see it that way,” he pauses. Lucifer sees the way Alastor’s shoulders tighten. “She looked at me like something was wrong with me. And that was that. And I was on to my next relationship within a year. You already know about that one. But what you don’t know is that the end result was more or less the same.”

Lucifer wants to hug him. …He doesn’t.

“I…I actually quite enjoyed Vox’s personality. He was similar to me, in a way. We both liked to dance, we liked jazz and singing. We shared a lot of common interests. And once again I thought we’d be on the same page if I voiced my discomfort. But again, he had a similar reaction. He didn’t take my statement as not loving him, but took it as there being something wrong with me. ‘How can a man not love sex. You're a man. Are you sure you like men? Because maybe you just prefer to bed a woman.’ Is essentially what he told me.”

“What a dick.” Lucifer mutters, unable to help it.

Alastor actually chuckles, just a little.  “Yes that…didn’t feel too nice to hear.” He shrugged, “he also said that it was something I’d learn to like in time. And that I was just getting bored, or it was because it was new. So…we tried a lot of things. …I tried a lot of things for him. But I didn’t like any of them. I liked how he seemed to like it. But, I didn’t like it. And I didn’t really like how much we did it. I just wanted to hang out or cuddle honestly. Having sex was…fine, once in a while but I felt guilty. Like, there was something wrong with me because I was never as into it as they were.”

“In the time I’ve come to get to know you, Lucifer. I’ve learned you are a very open-minded and down to earth man. That’s something I’m very grateful for, because it was something those two lacked. But you are still a man, a person. And I imagine you still have needs and desires. And…” Alastor hesitates, he swallows and continues a bit more cautiously. “Truth be told, I’m a bit scared. That I will disappoint you the same way I disappointed them. So, that's why I’m bringing this up now. I do adore you, and Charlie. But I can understand if this…if me being broken like this deters you from going any further in this relationship.”

“Alastor.” Lucifer says abruptly, Alastor flinches. He flinches?! Lucifer tried to hold his tongue but couldn't help it anymore. So he lets everything spill out about what he’s been thinking. Uncaring of how messy it comes out. 

“There’s not a damn thing wrong with you Alastor. You're not broken or anything.” The brunette finally looks at him, and he’s…surprised? Taken aback? Like he was expecting him to say something else. Lucifer continues. “Look, I…I’m not really that into sex either. I like it, sure. But that's not all there is to a relationship.” He shrugs, his cheeks tinting pink a little but he continues to look at Alastor. He needs to know Alastor is listening. “I love hanging out with you, I love it when you go with me and Charlie on outings.” He pauses, taking one of Alastor's hands in his own and squeezing it. Alastor smiles. Lucifer does too. “I like this. Just sitting here in bed with you. I like having these sleepovers where we just lay in bed and talk about things we like. Or talk about our day…I like you. And I want you to be comfortable with me. I don’t think it’s weird that you aren’t into sex. It’s fine. And you shouldn’t think you're broken or anything like that because you're not. You're amazing Alastor. And if you're not super into sex that’s completely fine with me. As long as I can still smother you with kisses.`` He pauses, “if that's something you're comfortable with?”

Alastor grins. His face lights up. “Always.” Lucifer pulls Alastor in for a hug and he gladly accepts. Pressing his face against Lucifer's shoulder. Lucifer holds him there like he’s protecting him from the world. And Alastor holds onto him with a new found love.  “Should we ever get to that bridge though…” Alastor says, his voice a little muffled but Lucifer can understand him. “I…I wouldn’t be against it. With you.” 

He can see the tips of Alastor’s ears tinting red. But he doesn’t make a comment on it. “Yeah well…” Now Lucifer blushes. “Likewise. But…let’s just enjoy being together for right now.” 

Alastor hums, more than happy to do that. His body finally relaxes in Lucifer’s hold and before either of them know it they’ve fallen asleep. 

[meanbossart]

Hi, just a warning for the following unhinged question. (I'm getting baby rabies.) I love seeing Dadstarion and Famstarionnstuff all over tumblr- AND of course that lil thing you drew with Drow and Astarion and fucking little Bhaalings into his belly sparked the question-

DOES DROW WANT KIDS SOMEDAY? UNCONSCIOUSLY? SUBCONSCIOUSLY? Like with the whole Sarevok, epilogue reveal, is it spoilers to ask how your Drow would deal with the new sudden urge to procreate? (Sorry if this is actually a spoiler for ANE future chapters) BUT If so, how does it manifest? Does he start nesting? Hoarding even more shiny crap and dirty rags than usual? Does he start adopting every mangy orphaned cub they come across? Does his dirty talk in bed just get progressively more and more disturbing and natally oriented that even he starts thinking "wtf" post encounter? Does he ever think about putting a round bundle under his shirt and pretending it's his and Astarions dhamphir love-child?

Also IF yes to any of the above, What would Astarion's reaction be?

TYVM

Unhinged fan of yours

First of all I love unhinged questions. Those are my favorite questions. This is an unhinged couple and It's what they deserve, so thank you for this LOL

This topic, at least in this context, never comes up in ANE so I think i can answer it without anything being considered a spoiler.

"Currently" I definitely don't think either of them consider the idea of children in the slightest, while both probably get on with kids relatively well, in their own weird ways (kids love weird people) they're strongly in the "don't want kids and never will" frame of mind despite any joking and uh thematic dirty talking.

THAT BEING SAID, they are both bound to exist for a long time. Depending on how things turn out for him, Astarion's lifespan is either a good 700 years or a big Ol Forever. Drows also live for up to seven centuries and I don't even know whether or not DU Drow's particular kind of Bhaalspawn-ness doesn't affect that, as you could argue he's some type of demigod. The idea that they may change their mind at some point is not out of the question.

In regards to DU drow getting a baby fever in the future, I do think it will be something they have to deal with. Obviously, him and Astarion can't procreate as they are, and even if magical options exist DU drow is still aware that it would be a bad idea to follow through with it. I have honestly no clue how a desire like that would externalize, but - and I hate to be a downer but I assume you want my sincere answer here - based on Sarevok's letter I don't actually think it would be as fun as the bedroom talk or the cracks he makes - it sounds like it would be a spiraling depression and state of unfulfillment that they would simply have to learn to cope with if he is to remain childless, peppered with a profound yearning for a More he can't quite pin down. Luckily I think Astarion's character has demonstrated time and time again that he has the ability to be extremely sensible towards that type of thing, and he would be pretty much the ideal partner in those circumstances (especially if we're talking an older, more mature Astarion). An adoptive child could sate that, or it could not, I have no idea, but I don't think he would ever just say "yeah fuck it lets have/get a kid" in response to it.

Either way, as I mentioned above I believe it's not out of the question (if not inevitable?) that they could come to become someone's guardians someday regardless, especially if they ever become more firmly settled in life and the people they are. I doubt it's something they will ever actively seek out (I don't really see them ever completely retiring from a dangerous lifestyle of their own will) but maybe they stumble upon an orphan or, more likely, kill some kid's actual parents and out of guilt keep it for long enough to develop a bond. Lets say this happens out on the road - maybe they want to at least drop it off at a city somewhere where the thing would have a better chance, but ultimately decide against it for whatever reason... Yeah I could see something like that happening lol It's a cute thought, and funny enough I don't think they would make the Worst parents, assuming their character developments continues in a generally positive direction.

[obibail]

sometimes you have such big emotions about tiny minor characters with barely there backstories that you give them semi-fleshed out backstories to be sad about, i guess. anyway, i love rolan, cal, & lia so much

Age-wise, Rolan is obviously the oldest, and Cal has middle sibling who always has to play the peacekeeper vibes but it also feels like he should be the youngest. Rolan is probably in his late 20s, whereas Cal and Lia are probably early to mid-early 20s. It’s also entirely possibly that they’re twins.

but so. Rolan says “gone” and not “dead” when asked about his family when you cast speak with dead on him and that makes me think he’s been not orphaned but abandoned by his family. It would also explain why he says he’s “just Rolan,” and doesn’t mention a family name. Sure, lots of people within Faerun may not have family names and maybe he legitimately doesn’t, but it could also point towards him being stripped of or rejecting his family name, especially considering he was from a human-majority city that would likely have a surname custom. Which could also explain why he is so fixated on becoming a powerful wizard and chasing a destiny because he was abandoned by his family, he denies or was denied his family name — possibly because he’s a tiefling (considering that canonically tiefling lineage can be dormant and come out in generations even with entirely human or otherwise fully planar humanoid parents) — and made to feel like he was wrong, a mistake, like he was nothing, like he was worthless. He’s going to prove them undeniably wrong.

It could also also explain why he is so protective (beyond the obvious that he loves and cares about them immensely) of Cal and Lia and gets so angry at himself and at the pc when he can’t save them on his own and instead has to be saved, because he takes it as a personal failing that he’s not good enough or strong enough to protect the people he loves. It could also explain why he is so hesitant/can’t quite accept that Cal and Lia have so obviously claimed him as family because his blood family abandoned him and he can’t quite accept that his chosen family chose him. He didn’t just chose them, they actively chose him.

If he was abandoned, I think it happened decently early on in his life but he was old enough that he knew why they were leaving and for it to shape him growing up. Pre-teen, but definitely older than 7 or 8. If he was actually orphaned, it was as a much younger child, but I don’t think so. There’s so much bitter bitter resentment and anger and a lot of externalized self-hatred in this man that does not mesh with being orphaned, and especially not with being orphaned young, at least in my mind. (There’s also an acceptance of being treated not just badly but legitimately abusively. Even though he knows he could take on Lorroakan and win, he accepts being beaten because he thinks he needs to. Get this man therapy.)

Either way he likely spends the last half of his childhood/early adulthood in an orphanage where he is often overlooked or outright mistreated because of his heritage. It’s also possible that this is how he meets Cal and Lia, who would’ve been taken into the orphanage’s care when their parents died. Which works vaguely with my idea of their ages, Rolan being solidly a teenager and Lia and Cal somewhere around 10 to 13 when they meet.

With Cal and Lia, I believe quite strongly that they were definitely orphaned rather than being abandoned. Adventurer parents maybe, considering their strong senses (especially Lia’s) of justice and morality and their desire to help people, as well as their obvious appreciation for found family and their dedication to adopting Rolan. Doting parents who fostered incredibly strong familial bonds and who loved their children dearly, but put saving others over raising those children, especially as they got older. Possibly their parents died while out adventuring, leaving them orphans probably just before their teens, old enough to know what their parents were doing and how they died but also young enough to internalize and romanticize the idea that they died heroes protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves.

I also just love the idea of these devastated newly orphaned kids with hero parents dedicating themselves through their grief to befriending an incredibly reclusive and resentful Rolan who is so close to aging out of the system that he’s just biding his time for the day the orphanage kicks him out. He would be SO resistant to being befriended, especially by two pre-teens, deadset against being vulnerable and letting people close enough to hurt him after a lifetime of being rejected and overlooked, but Cal and Lia are stupid stubborn and deadset on befriending him and don’t give up until they’ve done it. Attach themselves at the hip to him and refuse to budge.

He ages out of the system when they’ve only been there a year or so, and by then the three of them are nearly inseparable and a touch codependent, and so being separated takes a toll on all three of them. Cal and Lia spend another few months there before they kind of just… run away in the middle of the night and move into Rolan’s tiny room that he can barely afford. They make it work.

[lauraneedstochill]

I've never liked to think that Aemond is evil, just someone who's been hurt too much time and time again and saw no justice for it; do you think he's evil? or that there's more to it than simply that? That he genuinely cares about people, his mother, his family?

I do not consider show!Aemond evil — I’d like to believe that, as the definition of the word suggests, you have to be more immoral and wicked, perhaps even a bit sadistic to be downright evil. I see him as calculating, emotionless, cold, and that paired with everything he’s done makes him a villain but not necessarily evil (…yet?).

his current feelings, though? I have no fcking clue because the show is doing a very poor job of explaining them properly. to me, Aemond from Season 1 and Aemond from Season 2 are two different people.

🔪 S1 Aemond, yes, he cared about his mother (she sought justice for him when no one else did, she offered him comfort even when she couldn’t fully understand his struggles), his family (he’d grow up thinking he had to step up and be the responsible one — to eventually take pride in becoming someone his family can rely on), and he knew what loyalty was, despite not being ecstatic about the order of things (Alicent did drill “in the world we must defend our own” into her kids' heads, and you bet, he was the fastest learner). the real tragedy of Aemond — to me — was about his deepest desires and his arrogance clashing with the picture-perfect image he’s grown into and didn’t mind portraying as it got him the love and trust of the ones he cared about, the approval and respect of everyone else. but his desires are too big and burning, and his arrogance is only fuel: of course, he deserves it all and he should take it — and he can take it BUT it will ruin the image he’s crafted and the bonds he’s formed. raised by the woman who put duty above all, can he betray everything she taught him to believe in? there are a few ways things can go from there but all the paths lead to his self-isolation and his downfall, although he keeps trying and trying to prove something till the very end, and it’s sad because it’s relatable — we are all trying, we all hate feeling that we are capable of more but simultaneously aren’t enough. if only he put all that effort somewhere else, maybe he could’ve been happier but we will never know. he dies young.

🔪 but S2 Aemond? they packed his character development in the tiniest bag and it’s never been opened once. the writers are so keen on blaming Aegon for everything, they don’t realize that making Aemond do a 180 because of one unfortunate joke is a disservice to the character. him deciding that regicide and fratricide aren’t a big deal is as wild as it is dumb: there’s no way he didn’t know it would damage his relationships with the very few people who loved him. how long can you milk “he was bullied as a child” before it bites you in the ass and makes your super-cool-much-wow character look like a thin-skinned boy who holds on to every offense instead of idk MOVING ON? because he did get his justice — he got the biggest dragon as a fuck you to the people who made fun of him for not having one, he only got stronger despite losing an eye, he got to be his mom’s most precious son and he DID get Luke killed (even if by mistake, the result is still the same — the bastard who maimed him won’t ever make fun of him again). how is that not enough? who and when decided that Aemond becoming a bully himself would be a great achievement? why holding him accountable for what he did isn’t fair but him being vengeful left and right is praised and cheered for? and he is not complex, I’m sorry, he just isn’t. he’s been robbed of proper reasoning and conflict, and I am getting tired of trying to peer into his one eye to get a hint of emotion while S1 Aemond could at least grant us little outbursts here and there to confirm that he is a human being and he can successfully keep his facade up while also having feelings.

S1 Aemond was many things, all of them fascinating. S2 Aemond makes me want to skip to the scenes of Daemon getting high and scared in some leaking castle (and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s the point?).

anyways, I hope Ryan Condal will be out of job when the show is over.

[koukouture]

Ok no because hear me out-

When Emet Selch/Solus first appears near the end of Stormblood his conversations with Varis make me think a little y'know. Idk if I hallucinated this, but I think he says something along the lines of "you were always so emotional" to Varis. Or like, he insinuates that Varis has always had little control over his emotions.

(I haven't gotten to shadowbringers yet plz do not spoil too much. also apologies in advanced if I am wrong abt Solus/Emet Selch)

Solus was undoubtedly a horrible father and grandfather- and Varis is too- but Varis was sensitive as a child. Like he's genuinely just a guy- according to the wiki, like he denounced a massacre and disbanded the legion responsible. Also, his dad died and that kind of left Solus to be his paternal figure which was definitely super fucked up. Given how much Solus belittles him even in death and when he's the emperor- he was no better in life.

And idk where I saw this, but I think he actually genuinely loved his late wife? Y'know, Zenos' mom who died in childbirth or something? And listen, he's only twenty years older than Zenos- he was a young father. Can you fucking imagine that? Being raised by your asshole grand daddy, and then your loving wife fucking dies and leaves you with an entire new human being at like twenty.

My point is that Varis isn't a monster like the rest of the imperial family. No I'm not defending him, but he somehow just turned out pretty normal compared to the other two memebers of the royal family we know of. He has sympathy, he has morals, he has (or at least, used to have) a line he will not cross. Yeah he turned out a militaristic tyrant, but he was a normal fucking guy at one point and we definitely see that it peeks through a bit. Like I kinda remember he at least tries to be diplomatic when he meets with the alliance and the scions, and he still seems hurt by Solus' words. Idk man I just- he's not completely gone. He has some humanity left in him and he isn't as unapologetic as Zenos or Solus/Emet Selch.

And listen, I'm not defending his parenting style either- but I do understand why he just had no desire to be present in Zenos' life. After having Solus as his parental figure for most of his life, I think he has a fucked up idea of parenthood.

See, I think he loves Zenos somewhere deep down but yk generational trauma and maybe he's even a little envious of what Zenos is. Zenos is this paragon of mortal strength; a prodigy. Varis was no doubt great when he was younger as well, but Zenos is just so strong, unfeeling, and self assured- things Varis was expected to be when he was younger. He wasn't any of that though because we know (or I know because I hallucinated it) that he was emotional when he was younger. Also, Varis was just kinda neglectful towards Zenos, no? He never outright abused him or gave Zenos reason (for most of his life at least) to believe that Varis hated him. Idc if it's not canon, to me, I don't think he hates Zenos. Hates what Zenos had become maybe, but he seemed genuinely distraught or at least shocked when Elidibus was in Zenos' body. Like he took offense to it so you cannot tell me he doesn't at least care a bit.

Idk man. I don't even think I was able to get my point across that well?? I have lotsa thoughts bc I'm writing a little thing. Once again, not defending Varis, but he's very interesting to me in this regard because generational trauma is a song and dance any ethnic child is familiar with so I just had to share my two cents.

[prettymrswright]

Harlem Nights

pairing: rosalie otterbourne x black!fem!reader

background: as a singer and musician growing up in the heart of New York, you constantly had people, places, and things to be inspired by. every chance you could, you were finding places inside those rooms you always desired to be in. there was nothing more you wanted to do but perform. most of your family wouldn’t be so ecstatic about your ‘unrealistic’ and ‘unstable’ ambitions. But you knew deep down that you had what it takes. You’d soon travel down to Harlem’s hottest club of the early 20th century, ‘The Cotton Club’, and an interaction with one of your inspirations would change the trajectory of your life, forever.

content: fluff, flirting, playful banter, intimacy. a lot of sweetness + sass. warmth. little explicit language.

word count: 6k

authors note: 2nd fic down. this one was very fun to create, making it fitting to the time. I have such a sweet spot for Rosalie, I had to dedicate this one to her and all her glory. as a singer and musician myself from NY, this was very special for me. I hope y’all smiling and blushing because I was smiling and blushing writing it! enjoy. p.s. chile i kinda wanna make a part two, this was teaaaa.

taglist: @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @saintwrld @verachii @ventingfanfics @abenomeiiii @vampzxi @shuriszn @dejaonline @mysticalmarss @shurislover @msplayas @naomis-daydream @sweetalittleselfish-honey

pinned to my page is my new taglist form. if you wanna be tagged in specifics, go fill that joint out! thank you. (i also have an opt out option for those who no longer want to be tagged if they already are). <3

A warm, summer rain pitter-pattered across the glass of your bedroom window as you began cleaning up your space. It was a comfy afternoon, almost evening, the sun peaking through the clouds and beaming down on the town, preparing for its set. It was gorgeous outside. And despite it's rather saturating nature, many people were outside on their front porches. There were so many things to do in Harlem. So many places to see. And yet you felt you could die of boredom. If you weren't busy cleaning or babysitting the neighbors kids, you were receiving a 15-page verbal essay from your mother about how dangerous the city was and how 'there ain't nothing in Harlem but drugs, scams, and prostituting!'. I mean sure it could be dangerous at times. But where in the world isn't? You just knew that as much as there were frights, there were sights. Opportunity was left and right in this town. All your favorite artists and musicians grew up right here, and you wanted to join that list.

“Alright, Y/N/N,” your mom began, putting on her jacket, grabbing her things, and approaching your bedroom door. I’m off to work. Remember to drop the evening papers by Miss Jeanine after you finish cleaning. And no clubs!”

You sighed with immediate annoyance. “But Ma—“

“No butts!” She warned sternly. “Unless it’s yours in that bed there, immediately after. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You respectfully reply, feeling defeated.

You were 21, soon to be 22, but Mother didn’t believe in ‘legal adult decision making’. As long as you were her child and under her roof, you complied by her rules. You understood her always being protective over you; You even appreciated it. But at this moment and time of your life, it felt more like a hinderance than anything else.

“Alright now. I’ll see you later. I love you,” she says on her way out.

“Love you too Ma,” you reply faintly, and with that, the door shuts.

You fall back down on your bed behind you, with a big exhale, staring up at your popcorn ceiling. It was such a lovely day. You should be somewhere dancing, or hanging with your best friend Josephine. Even watching the neighbors kids wouldn’t be so bad right now. At least you’d be out in the backyard.

Tonight was also one of hottest summer nights to be at the Cotton. Billie Holiday, Ma Rainey, and Salome Otterbourne were all performing. It was certain to be a full house, for sure. The three black female jazz pioneers were on tour, and this would be the only time in a while that anybody would be able to see them all perform in one night. Dozens of people even travel from out of state on nights like these. That also meant that there’d be a bunch of travel scouts and agents, waiting on more talent to grab and take under their wing. You were nauseated at the thought of even missing it for a moment.

You got up to finish your cleaning, and halfway through, you heard the door open and shut, followed by a familiar voice that you knew and loved so much.

“Why the long face, sugar?” It asked, making sure you’d turn around to see their smile.

“Grandpa!” You ran to him with open arms, beaming with joy.

Your grandfather was your best friend. Since you were a little girl, he took you under his wing. Your dad left to pursue his music dreams when you were younger, so your grandfather was also the Dad you never had. He always spoke life into you, and made sure that no matter what, you knew that you were capable of any and everything. He also instilled you with the unwavering confidence to back that. Grandpa’s think-pieces were like gold. He was very wise, and had been through it all. He’d always say:

'Don’t let anybody take you for a fool! Not even me!' And laughed. But he was serious. "What's going on? Lorraine got you in this house cleaning all day again?" He says in your defense, as he often does. You let out an exhausting puff of a sigh before plopping back down on your bed. "Yea Pop. As usual." You shifted your body towards him and stared at the ground in deep thought, pausing before continuing. "I mean, life has got to be a little more exciting than this, don't it?" He laughed a low, hearty chuckle. "There's always more excitement, Y/N/N. You just gotta find it. Don't wait for opportunity, create it!" He says affirmably, allowing you to comfortably reveal what you've been thinking about all week. "I really wanna go to the Cotton tonight, Grandpa. Salome Otterbourne is performing tonight! And a bunch of other singers and talents and--well--I'm gonna be here, missing it." You look down and fidget your thumbs around each other. "Well why don't you go?" He asks. "You know Mama don't want me around no clubs, Pop. Besides, I told her I would take the evening papers down to Miss Jeanine." You reply in slight aggravation. "Ohhh," He scoffs and waves his hand down in dismissal. "Don't let that child stop you. I'll take the papers down to Jeanine." Your eyes lit up in pleasant surprise and excitement. "Oh you will?!" "Don't worry about it." He says, a confident smirk creeping onto his face. "Go on and enjoy yourself. I don't know where Lorraine gets all that strictness from anyway. Me and Betty ain't raise that child like that. Besides, she's seen and DONE worse." You both share a big laugh. "Thanks Grandpa. You're the best!" You jump up and wrap your arms around the big guy, holding the embrace for a while. "Anything for my favorite granddaughter." He says jokingly. "I'm your only granddaughter, Grandpa." You reply giggling. "I know. Now gone and figure out what you're going to wear. I hear that Mrs. Otterbourne is looking for another back up vocalist for her band." He tells you as if he just revealed the world's biggest secret. You, performing with Salome Otterbourne and her band. Your stomach turned and the mere thought of it. You kissed your Grandpa on the cheek before rushing to the bathroom to get ready for your highly anticipated night. Your mind rushed with all the possibilities of the night's events. You'd be in the same room with people and experiencing things you've once only dreamed of. Intimidating it was, but your desire to even just be in that energy was bigger. .. After lotioning up and powdering down, you slipped on a cool lavender silk midi dress, with spaghetti straps and a flowy, skirt-like bottom. You leaned into the mirror of your vanity, shaping up your thin brows, rolling on your winged liner, and coating your lips with a nude pink gloss, a shade brighter than your natural lip color. You used your same liner to add your infamous faux face moles; one above your lip, one at the tip of your nose, and one at the top corner of your cheek bone. You placed two diamond stud earrings into your ears, decorated your left wrist with a rose gold watch, and clamped your custom microphone necklace around your neck, gifted by your Grandfather. Lastly, pulling your look together, you peel off your bonnet and hair net, coat your fingers with oil, and take out each of your curls, wrapped around perm rods. You fluffed and shaped your hair into its short, curly and tapered state, much like Sheila Guyse. You stood and wrapped your mesh shawl around your shoulders. You walked over to your tall, door mirror and scanned your body, turning each angle, before spritzing your figure with Blue Grass, by Elizabeth Taylor. You always put effort into your look, but tonight was definitely a little extra. You needed to look and feel the part. Like you belonged there, just with everyone else. You grabbed your white clutch hand purse, matching your white pumps before walking out to the living room. "So," you say to your Grandfather, doing a quick and excited 360. "How do I look?"

"Oh, Y/N," Grandpa says swiping across and covering his mouth to conceal his emotional expression. "You look beautiful. Just like your grandmother." Grandma has passed when you were 7. You had faint memories of her. But one thing you did remember, was how madly in love your Grandfather was. You always said you'd want to be loved just like that when you were older. All the family would constantly remind you of how much you looked like her, and even carried a lot of her personality traits.

"Thanks, Pop." You reach down to hug him and wipe his tear before stepping back and giving him an 'It's okay' smile. "Alright, I'm heading out!" "Alright now, have fun and be safe! Be back by 11, and please, don't give your mother anymore reasons to kill me." He says, almost pleading. "You got it, Pop." You chuckled and walked out the door, closing it tightly behind you. You looked out at the busy block and took a deep sigh before walking down your porch steps and strutting down the street, on your way to the Cotton.

..

When you arrived, the scene was just like you imagined, only even bigger. Bright lights cascaded from all around the venue, and herds of people were beginning to gather. Cars were beeping and honking, forcing to navigate through traffic with all these people taking up the area, many cars stopping just to see what was going on. Above your head were the list of household names making an appearance tonight. Men and women all throughout the area were dressed up in their absolute best. Valet was working overtime & security was tight. It felt like something out of a movie.

You staggered in front the building, and before you knew it, it was your time to walk in. It was no turning back now.

There was a warm, dim but radiant tone to the room. You seen pimps, hustlers, singers, showgirls, every type of personality you could imagine.

Sounds of bass, saxophones, and pianos filled up the club with a soothing but strong undertone. You walked in, looking around in awe at the set up. The seats were almost filled. You were certain you had to sit in the back, but you didn’t mind. Being in the room was enough. Just as you turned to go back, you spotted your best friend Josephine, sitting in front with an older gentlemen.

“Y/N!,” She called out to you, waving you over and patting the seat next to her.

“Girl!” Overwhelm with excitement, you almost run to where she was and accepted her seat offer. “What are you doing here!”

“I didn’t tell you?” She questions. “My Uncle Johnny is playing bass for Mrs. Holiday. I tried calling to invite you, but your mom said you were busy.”

Typical mother. You really wish she’d stop answering for you. You rolled your eyes, but decided not to build on it.

“Oh, well good for him!” You say with sincerely, with a bright smile.

The two of you briefly caught up before the lights dimmed and the announcer came out to direct what would be one of the most riveting moments of your life.

..

A few acts had already performed, and you were completely enamored. Jazz and blues were your absolute favorite genre, but to hear it live and in person in all its emotion and vulnerability was euphoric. It was life changing. Entertained you were, but all in all, you felt a strong confirmation. You were certain that this was the path you wanted to take. Every strum of string, every note belted, sent chills down your spine. Singing and performing, especially with a live band felt so natural. It felt warm and welcoming— like a warm fudge brownie with cold ice cream on top. The contrast was clear, but together it went so well.

“And now ladies and gentlemen,” The announcer began. “I present to you, singer, musician, and hit phenomenon, Salome Otterbourne!”

He disappeared into the curtains, his presenting arm being the last thing to disappear as Salome approached the stage from the other end. The crowd erupted; cheers, claps, whistles. You turned to grab Josephine's wrists, that were wrested in her lap, the two of you looking at each other and exchanging an excited squeal. She was stunning. She stood tall above the silver microphone on its stand, wearing a powdered pink blouse and skirt set, with a hat and a flowered wrist garnish to match. She had on white silk gloves, covering the hands that held the stand, one up high and one down low, close to her lips and she began to sing her rendition of Bessie Smith's Tain't Nobody's Bizness If I Do. There ain't nothing I can do, or nothing I can say That folks don't criticize me But I'm goin' to do just as I want to anyway And don't care if they all despise me If i should take a notion To jump into the ocean 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, do, do, do If I go to church on Sunday Sing the shimmy down on Monday Ain't nobody's business if I do, if I do

She sang every word as if she wrote it herself. It was fitting, seeing that Salome was a confident, self-assured woman. You looked around to scan her band. There were two guys on strings. Another on the sax. One on trombone. And to the left of Salome, the pianist. A woman. She was the only other woman on stage besides the main singer, and she was playing for her. It was rare to see female musicians. And not only was she playing piano, but she was singing backup as well. She was gorgeous. She had pretty, cinnamon brown skin, narrow, sparkly eyes, and the prettiest smile you ever saw. She was on the taller side and had a slim but sturdy frame. Her hair was in a pin-curled bob, parted to the side, accentuating her sharp jaw structure. "Who is that?" You semi-whispered to your friend, intrigued. "That's Rosalie Otterbourne." She leaned in and whispered back, eyes still glued to the stage. "Salome's niece, if I'm not mistaken." "Oh." You reply back. The only thing you could say really. She was breath-taking, and seemingly just as talented as her aunt. As the song continues, she briefly averts her attention the crowd and her eyes are met with yours. Stopping and holding her gaze for a second, fingers still tap dancing with the instruments keys, she slightly tilts her head and flashes you a smile. You felt your heart begin to take on an unfamiliar arrangement of beats. Taken aback, you sheepishly smiled back, shakily lifting up your hand to give a small wave. She acknowledges it before returning her attention to her piano and back at Mrs Salome as they join in on the next verse. If my friend ain't got no money And I say, "Take all mine, honey" 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, do , do do If I give him my last nickel And it lives me in a pickle 'Tain't nobody's business if I do, If I do

“Holy shit, Y/N/N,” Josephine tugs at your side. “I think she just smiled at you.”

Okay so she saw that too. Surely it wasn’t for me directly. She was being courteous to her audience.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted once again.

“How y’all doing tonight New York? Y’all good?” She asks scanning out to the crowd. When answered by more cheers and whistles, she continued. “Alright, that’s what Salome Otterbourne like ta hear!”

“Tonight is a very special night for me. I’m back home and I have to say you all make me feel so welcomed.” She says with a sassy smile. She proceeds to introduces all the members of her band, leaving her for the end.

“And last but certainly not least, on the piano and back ground vocals, my lovely niece, manager, brain and backbone, Miss Rosalie Otterbourne!” She stands tall and blows a few two-handed kisses out across the room and seals her welcome acceptance with a big warm smile. For whatever reason, in the moment, it felt as if time stood still.

Time progressed as Salome and her band finished out their set. You were sad to see it end so soon. It was such a beautiful arrangement of music. People began to scatter; some leaving, some going to the bar, some going to dance. Some even went to ask for autographs and things of that nature. After awhile the chaos began to subside, and there Salome and her team was, alone, packing their things. You wondered if it was your time to approach. Even if she didn’t get to hear you sing, at least you could express to her how much her music quite literally saved you. As all these different thoughts browsed through your brain, your best friend, Josephine, took a page out of its catalog, as she often did, turning to say,

“Look there go Salome and them, finally by themselves. You should go say something!" She exclaimed, mid-chew of her olive that previously rested in the middle of her martini glass. You began to get sheepish. You had thought the same, but you now you were unsure. "Say what, Jose?" She turned to face you completely. "I don't know, but make your existence known. Tell her you sing or something!" "Yeah," you scoffed. "And embarrass myself?"

"Now, don't start that mess," She began, ready to get you together, as she often did. Not to mention she was the only one who could besides your grandpa. "You and I both know you're just as talented as anybody on that stage. And we always both know that you aren't shy." She was right. Being nervous about meeting an idol was regular, but you had prepared yourself for this moment over a million times. But you weren't sure why this specific time had you tucking your tail. "Besides," she continued. "Maybe you could introduce yourself to that pretty gal, Rosalie." She flashed you a smirk. Your eyes grew so wide they almost popped out of their sockets. Josephine could read you like a book. You never discussed or confessed aloud of your feelings toward other women. Not because you were ashamed, but you felt much like the song; ain't nobody business if I do. You choked out a breathy, nervous chuckle before you could began to speak. "Wha--" "Oh, save it. Now go!" She gave you a small but hefty push towards the direction of the stage. You stumbled forward, looking back to grill your best friend before straightening out your dress, dusting yourself off, and taking a deep breath. With that, you took all the confidence you did in that moment and used to it fuel your feet's motion toward the front of the stage. You'd been up there for all of maybe ten seconds before you were spotted. Her loud and heavy laugh drifting from off the end of her last sentence to her bandmate, she turned around from her kneeled position and gave you a small smile. "Hey Sugar. Can I help you?" "Oh n-no Miss Otterbourne I jus--" she shook her head and cut you off mid-sentence. "Please, child, Salome is just fine." You half-smiled at her correction. "Well, Salome. You were phenomenal tonight. Your voice and your arrangements are just what jazz has been missing." You say to her sincerely, hand in hand. "Aren't you sweet," She chuckles at your sincerity. "Well thank you, Sugar. I've worked hard for my sound. You know what they say, you want something done right --" "Do it yourself." You both say simultaneously and you laugh. "I'm with you on that one." You were pleasantly surprised how down to earth she was. "This is exactly why I'm in charge of keeping things together. Auntie where'd Ernie put that cas--" Rosalie came out from behind the stage, stopping mid-sentence once she'd seen you. "Who's this?" She points, asking what of your presence as if you weren't standing right there. You mentally laugh at her rudeness, knowing she didn't purposely mean to do it. "I'm Y/N." "She came to tell us how much she liked the show." Salome helped you finish your introduction. "Is that right," She asks rhetorically, raising her eyebrows, intrigued. "What part striked you the most?" You felt a wave of vibrations flow through your abdomen, immediately thinking of the glance the two of you shared in the midst of the performance. "W-well, I really enjoyed your rendition of T'aint nobody's business. I could relate on personal levels, but I felt that you could too. Especially that bridge. Salome, your vibrato is unreal. And with your tone, Rosalie, it blended perfectly." The singer and her accomplice looked at you with impressed eyes. "Well, well. That's some very specific terminology, Miss Y/N. Are we speaking to a fellow musician?" Rosalie asks, eager to hear your response. "Yes. A singer." You chose the confident route. You wanted to continue their interest. "Really?" Salome says matter-of-factly. "Well let us hear something, sugar!" You were having a hard time grasping that this was reality. You lived in the R.E.M part of your brain, playing out the different scenarios that would lead you to an interaction like this, but you never thought it'd be so soon. "You sure?" You ask honestly. "I know you're a busy woman." "Nonsense. Salome leave when Salome gets good and ready." She reassures you, speaking about herself in the third person once again.

"And if your voice is as pretty as you are, then we're in for a treat." Rosalie says, tossing a wink in your direction.

You felt a lump in your throat begin to form and hurriedly swallowed to force it to subside. You felt your cheeks began to heat up like a stove. Receiving a compliment was one thing, but receiving one from a woman of Rosalie's stature, successful, pretty, and poised, was another. You tried your hardest not to let it phase you, but you couldn't help but to let a flattered smile creep onto your face.

You briefly turned around to find your best friend across the room, smiling and giving you two thumbs up.

The band's bass player came over to take your hand and help you up the stage steps, directing you to where the mic was, still plugged in and hot.

Rosalie walked over to her piano and removed the cover she had just recently placed.

"Any preferences?" Rosalie asked.

"The Very Thought of You." You answered confidently, knowing how well the song complimented your voice. "Do you know it?"

"Billie Holiday." She says with a smile, proving her knowledge. "Like the back of my hand."

"Let's do it." You say, ready to take advantage of your moment.

Rosalie began fingering through the keys of her piano, playing up the intro of the song. As the melody began to fill up the venue, the people who remained in the building all focused their attention to the stage. You closed your eyes, let in a huge breath of air, and began to sing.

The very thought of you

And I forget to do

Those little ordinary things

That everyone ought to do

I'm living in a kind of daydream

I'm happy as a queen

And foolish though it may seem

To me that's everything

In this moment, it was you and the melodies that filled your ears alone. You sang just as you would if you were home in your room. Your voice was smooth and velvety. It could serenade you to sleep, or it could fill you with emotion. It was soft, two octaves away from breathy. It was easy to be attracted to your voice alone.

The mere idea of you

The longing here for you

You never know how slow the moments go

Till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

You glanced in Rosalie's direction, secretly searching for a reaction, and was met by a dazed stare and watery eyes. Even outside of her usual, self-assured nature, she was so beautiful. You wondered what thoughts were flying through her pretty head.

You walked over to the piano and sat at the edge, close to Rosalie, and finished out the song beautifully, never breaking eye contact with her.

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It’s just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

Rosalie scanned your face with adored eyes as she played out the outro. You held your gaze, adlib-ing out the rest of the song and began to get lost in the pool of her pretty, chocolate brown eyes. The eruption of the crowd before you is the only thing that broke you from the hypnosis she placed you in.

You stood up again in front the crowd, placed your hands on your heart and gave a bow. You were so proud of yourself and simultaneously stunned. They loved you. The crowds reaction just confirmed all those nights you journaled about feeling called to be in the limelight. In the distance you could see Josephine, practically jumping up and down, mouthing “That’s my girl!”

It was a long, loud applause and standing ovation. At this point, people were beginning to get curious about who you were and where you even came from. With that, the cat-calling also began.

“Hold on, where you from, baby?!“ One man shouted.

“Can I take you home?” Another one followed.

You were too starstruck by your own self to be annoyed by men and their ignorance. In fact, it humored you in this moment. Once the crowd begin to subside, Salome ran up to you.

“Well I’ll be damned!” She says, clasping her hands together. “Sista you can blow!”

Nods and sounds of approval were given by the rest of the crew.

“Says you!” You say brightly. “Thank you, Salome. And thank you for allowing me to sing on your stage.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” She says, leaving you with slight confusion. “What does the rest of your weekend look like?”

Cleaning. Possibly babysitting. Absolutely nothing exciting.

“Nothing much, really.”

“Well, I have a couple more stops to make and perform at before we get back on the road. I want you to come perform with me.” She says sincerely.

You were there with a stunned look on your face. You were at a lost of words, and when you finally find them, they come out more blunt than you expected, “Quit playin’.”

The older woman laughed. “Serious as a heart attack, Sugar. Leave your home number with Rosalie, and stay by the phone. We have business to discuss.” She walked off to other side of the stage. You had to conceal your urge to scream your head off.

“Looks like you got yourself a job,” Rosalie began to walk up to you.

“Thanks to you. Where’d you learn to play like that?” you ask genuinely interested.

“Where’d you learn to sing like that? I thought you was just bull-jiving.” You both laugh.

“I’ve been singing since I was a little girl. My mother always put me in the church choir, and I enjoyed it, so I held onto it.”

“Well you definitely got soul.” She exclaimed.

“Thank you.” You say, blushing at her intense focus on you as she spoke.

“So tell me,” She moves closer to you. “Did you mean what you said?”

You tilted your head slightly at her comment. “What did I say?”

“I see your face in every flower, just the mere thought of you, my love” She speaks the lyrics of the song you just sang.

You weren’t expecting that at all, your body slightly trembling underneath the words her forwardness.

“It’s just a song, Miss Rosalie.” You professed, keeping as much ground as you could. “I am a performer, and I performed.”

“Ahh,” She says nodding sarcastically. “A performance, was it? A stunning one, might I add.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her sarcasm and her witt. The girl was indeed charming. And she wasn’t buying that you didn’t feel the tension that was brewing between the two of you.

“Rosie,” Salome called out. “We going on out to the car, when you ready, we can be on our way.”

“You got it,” Rosalie responded.

“Y/N!” Your best friend came running towards you, and you kneeled down towards the edge of the stage. “Girl you killed it! Brought tears to my eyes, I love seeing you in your element girl, you gone be rich!“ She rambles, saying the last part through clenched teeth. She stops and looks up.

“H-Hi Miss Otterbourne. Rosalie. I’m Y/N’s best friend Josephine.” She introduces herself.

“Hello darling,” Salome smiles. Rosalie waves.

“Well, girl,” she was now whispering. “I gotta go, my man is outside waiting for me, but call me when you get home and tell me EVERYTHING.”

You erupted in laughter. Josephine loved her some him.

“You so crazy. Enjoy yourself, and get home safe.” You say back, momentarily reaching for your best friends hand and squeezing it caringly.

“I will girl!” She runs off and out of the venue.

“Well, Miss Y/N,” Rosalie turns to you. “Where do you live? We could drop you off home.”

“Oh that won’t be necessary,” You assured her. “I live right up the street.”

Rosalie paused for a minute. “Come with me,” she grabbed your hand and the two of you scurried out through the exit backstage.

The warm outside breeze grazed your skin as the two of you began to walk semi-dark, summer streets. It wasn’t freezing, but it was a slight bitter chill that left you feeling more on the cold side.

“Here,” She took off her black, furry jacket and placed it around your arms. “It looks better on you anyway.” You gave a toothless smile at her comment.

“Did you actually enjoy my performance tonight?” You ask, somewhat serious.

“Did I?” She scoffs as if you said the most outrageous thing. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

You look down in nervousness. “You’re not so bad yourself. I mean I always knew she had other talented people in her circle but you,” You paused. “You have such a melodic voice. I enjoyed it very much.”

“Well thank you. Much like you, I keep my accolades undercover. It’s like a pleasant surprise. You think you know me and then— boom.” She illustrates her sentence, flicking her hands open, emulating fireworks.

“Well I don’t know how surprised I’d be considering how confident you are,” You say with an instance. “People like that always have something going on.”

“It takes one to know one, right?” She looks at you through low lids, her figure standing a few inches taller than you. For a while it’s silent. Suddenly, you blurt out something you’d only ever think of to yourself.

“Rosalie have you ever loved a woman?” You ask, almost regretting it, but still wanting to know her thoughts. She furrowed her eyebrows in interest, waiting for you to finish instead of answering right away.

“In the way.. you ain’t ‘supposed’ to love a woman?” you continued emphasizing the quotes, finishing your thought.

She sighed in relief. You sensed that you possibly could’ve opened a safe place for her to speak.

“I have loved women since I learned to walk and talk. My aunt and my band family are the only ones who know. They’d say, ‘Ole Rosalie couldn’t catch a man if she put a bra in a net!’ But they knew I didn’t want to. They ain’t give me no trouble. But everybody story ain’t like mine.” She opens up to you and you look at her with soft eyes.

“What about you?” She then turns to you, returning the question. “I’m guessing you have.”

“Nobody knows about me. Nobody but my bestfriend Josephine. I’ve never even been in love before. Not with a man either. But tonight, standing next to you I- I don’t know. I felt kinda like a school girl.”

Rosalie begins to laugh at your confession. She thought it was sweet. Secretly, she felt the same.

“Oh, stop it, It ain’t funny!” You say defensively, tapping her shoulder, but she continues to laugh. And you continue to fall. Before you could pull your hand back, she grabs it, and pulls you into her. The two of you stop walking momentarily, and it’s you, her, and this lonely street. She places a hand on your waist, the other still holding your hand, and comes close enough to your face to separate the two of you with a single piece of paper.

“Dance with me,” She breathes into you.

“But we ain’t got no music,” You say back, smiling foolishly at her impulses.

“Yes we do.” She begins to hum The Very Thought of You, and the two of you sway side to side, your feet moving in a circle around each other. You begin to him with her, the two of you harmonizing on every chorus. In this moment time stood still. An overwhelming feeling of adoration and excitement washed over you. You felt like the only girl in the world. She had a way of building on your romantic tension, all while making you feel like you gained another best friend. It was the perfect night, and you never wanted it to end.

The two of you stop your tango, and she pulls you in, kissing you ever so slowly and passionately. You felt yourself melt into her, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm. You finally pull back and share a long gaze, her arms still holding you. Your moment was interrupting by a loud honk from a car coming around the corner.

BEEP BEEP.

“You two ready?” Salome smiled, hanging out the passenger window. “Get in!”

Rosalie led you to the back seat, her getting in first and you following, closing the door behind you.

“What’s your address, sugar?” Salome asked. You gave it to her, and off you all were.

“Oh,” Rosalie began, “Before I forget,” She grabs a pad and a pen from underneath the seat to give you. “Can’t leave without your number.”

You smile and take the materials from her hand.

555-8269 Y/N. You wrote in its red ink, drawing a small heart next to it, and kissing the paper, leaving the mark of your now halfway glossed lips. You folded it up and handed to her, and she delicately placed it in her purse. She slid her hand over top of yours, which now rested on your knee, and interlocked your fingers.

“I’ll be expecting you,” You say softly.

“First thing tomorrow morning.” She affirms to you, holding her intense gaze. She lifts up your hand and places a soft, gentle kiss on the back of it.

Before you knew it, you were pulling up in front of your house.

“Thank you again, Salome. I had a wonderful time.” You express, full of gratitude.

“Don’t mention it, doll. I’ve had a great night myself. Now make sure you stay by the phone, hear? You gone be a star. And I’m gone make sure of it.” She says, turning around to face you from her passenger.

“And I think my Rosalie is very fond of you.” She looks at her niece with a proud and accepting smile. Rosalie gives one back.

“Yes ma’am.” You say, blushing of slight embarrassment but also appreciation. You step out the car and walk up your concrete steps.

“Y/N,” Rosalie says out the window. You turn around.

“Yes?”

“Goodnight.” She says, holding onto every moment she has left of this night with you.

“Goodnight, Rosalie,” You say sweetly, but teasingly.

You walked into your home and crept up to your room, careful not to wake anyone up. You run up to look outside your window and watched as the car drove off. You couldn’t believe this was your life. But you were glad that it was.

All night your head spinned, accompanied by thoughts of you and Rosalie. The instant chemistry between the two of you left you in such a fuzzy state. It was the beginning of something new. It felt warm and welcoming— like a warm fudge brownie with cold ice cream on top. The contrast was clear.. but together, you went so well.

[pochipop]

＃KAZE TO KI NO UTA !! ♡ — I STEEP YOUR HEART IN MY CHAMOMILE TEA (SERGE X GILBERT).

#. synopsis! — serge will love gilbert until the day he dies .

#. characters! — serge x gilbert .

#. warnings! — angst, explicit mentions of death and canon-typical dark content .

#. word count! — 1.4k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — please accept my humble kazeki spotify playlist <3

It was never that Gilbert didn’t love Serge as much as Serge loved him. No, it wasn’t a matter of choice, or want, or desire, —it was a matter of possibility. By the time they met, it was much too late, although Serge never wanted to believe it. He was a smart young lad, but a child is always a child. And Gilbert was a child too, even if he didn’t seem it at times. They were doomed from the start; by the heavens, by God, by earthly forces and celestial ones alike. They were doomed by every season, by every whisper of wind, by every hand that had ever touched Gilbert’s aching frame, stealing more of him away.

When he met Serge, there was nothing left to give, no matter how badly he’d wanted to. He was a void, some cosmic hole of nothingness that sucked things in and never spat them out. He was broken, and tattered, and torn at every edge, —and he did love Serge for whatever that was worth, but in the end, it wasn’t much. Gilbert was living on Serge’s borrowed time, feeding off his warmth, pulling him under. . .

The sun sets upon another day, one that Gilbert never saw, and Serge sits alone in his room, dressed in clothes that don’t feel like his own. Because they aren’t. He’s always been more tall than he’s ever been proud, and this ruffled collar and gold-buttoned vest may have looked dashing on his father, but they swallow Serge up just like Gilbert used to; trading one prison for another.

At least when it was Gilbert’s doing, Serge felt more like himself.

But here he sits in this stuffy manor, brown eyes flickering across the ornate paintings hung about the room. They’re all trimmed in subtle bronze, carved into filligrous vines, and it’s all so melodramatic that it’s giving him a headache just staring at them. The art itself is expertly done, —mostly flowers and cabins stuffed somewhere off in the woods. For a moment, Serge thinks to himself that he should have run somewhere like that with Gilbert, somewhere they could have hidden themselves away from the world for as long as it took him to get well. Forever, maybe, if that’s what he needed. 

It’s a pipedream now though. Gilbert is gone; has been gone for years, and yet Serge still finds himself thinking of him as if he were soon to walk through the door at any moment’s notice. He can’t eat chestnuts without tasting Gilbert’s burnt flesh on their surface, can’t sleep in any bed without the ghost of Gilbert’s arms encircling him, —and sometimes they’re softer than others, but they never change their size. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, Serge can still smell Gilbert on his sheets; one’s that he never even laid on. He hears his voice when he plays piano, humming along to the melodies he plays, —he feels him when the wind rustles, when the sun shines, and when rain takes over the skies.

If there’s one thing Serge knows for certain, it’s that Gilbert will live inside him for as long as it takes to make things right. He’ll apologize a million times for mistakes he never had the chance to make, and he’ll pour an extra cup of chamomile tea, even though Gilbert probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway.

He’ll sit and think far too often about how Gilbert would have grown in tandem with him, —getting taller, and warmer, and kinder, like Serge was melting ice in his palms. He’ll visit his grave and tell him about his days, even if he’s never really felt Gilbert there where his name is carved into marble and brownstone. He’s the only one who ever visits these days, and it would be a shame to let his resting place become some overgrown mound of weeds. Maybe Gilbert wouldn’t mind, but Serge does.

He’ll try not to cry as much as the days go by. Time hasn’t healed his wounds the way he thought it would, —but he’s not doing himself any favors with the way he digs his fingers around in them every morning, desperate to keep them festering like some metaphorical maw of devotion. It’s what Gilbert always did, picking at his cuts and his bruises to keep them around.

Serge will bleed on every inch of Lacombrade Academy, then on every stone on the streets of Paris, just as Gilbert would have wanted.

He’ll carry this guilt like a cross on his shoulders, —unadulterated and proud, each step heavy with the weight of remorse. Serge will lug this love like a burden and a gift from some forsaken savior, a constant companion, shaping to the contours of his soul, merging down to the muscle. This is where he feels closest to the writhing boy he lost to the rain and the mud and the horrors of his mind. This is where he feels Gilbert so strongly; in the sinews of his being, rotting on the inside but sickeningly sugar-coated.

He puts an extra cube of sugar in Gilbert’s tea and watches it dissolve, then takes a sip of his own.

It’s mild, —floral, and maybe it would be soothing if Serge allowed for it to be. He won’t, of course.

Shadows dance off the walls in the late evening light. The air is thick with melancholy, the kind that permeates the tea in Serge’s delicate porcelain cup. He almost smiles when a whisper of wind from the open window makes the curtains quiver and snuffs out the candlelight on the clothed table. Gilbert never did like romantic gestures. He preferred something raw and much less tangible, clawing at Serge until he came apart, just so he’d put him back together.

And he always did. . . Until he couldn’t. Serge always knew how to fix Gilbert; how to pull him in and soothe the ache, until the echoes got louder, until Gilbert got high enough to block them out, even when it came at the cost of blocking Serge out with them. At least he was delirious at the end. It’s a somber sort of comfort knowing Gilbert wasn’t in the right mind when it all came crashing down, —but more than that, it’s a reminder to Serge that it’s his solemn duty to keep those memories alive until he’s food for the worms to eat.

There wasn’t enough love in the world to save Gilbert from himself, and Serge has yet to reconcile with the bitter truth that he knew that all along. He’d known it from the moment they met in that claustrophobic dorm room when Gilbert came crashing in, teetering on the edge. It was only a matter of time before his sadness caught up to him. He was running from ghosts and the whispers of his mind, from the attention he craved and begged for, and found in the arms of whatever upperclassman or old, nasty man he could sink his teeth into for a night.

And Serge couldn’t kiss that away.

He couldn’t ever hold Gilbert tight enough, so he settled. He settled for the tanned hands brushing golden strands from his face, caressing him gently even when he begged to be hurt. He settled for whispered words against his neck instead of canines on his flesh, for big, brown, innocent eyes that were just so disgustingly kind. Gilbert settled for love when he wanted to be hurt.

Worst of all, he liked it.

He liked how Serge held his cheeks and kissed his tears away and how he always kept the promises he made.

Now, Serge sifts through memories of pale skin and lean muscle, —emerald eyes that never really had a spark. But heaven knows they were so, so pretty when Gilbert wanted them to be. His heart wanes like the humble moon, the ache of loss still ever-present, no matter where he goes. He lives with a chill that follows him wherever he ventures, undeterred by the warmth of his tender memories or the cup of quickly cooling tea in his palms.

Gilbert’s love was never perfect, and it never came without great costs, but Serge would have traveled to every end of the Earth to keep it. He’d have paid every price imaginable just to pull him from the depths and breathe new life into his fragile lungs.

But it’s too late now. . . So Serge sits alone at this table, holding a cup of chamomile tea the way he once held both their hopes and sorrows. He clings to what he has left, —the reminders of what he lost and what he gained. 

The last sip lingers like Gilbert’s lips always did on his collarbones, and Serge settles the empty cup back onto its saucer.

[saturnaftertaste]

thst last ask got me thinking, do you think tabitha could've matched betty's freak

while the feminist in me would love to say yes i simply have to say no. unfortunately not tabitha does not match betty’s freak because tabitha is a real person and betty is a Real person

on a basic level it’s a no because while tabitha is from chicago and has the street smarts to survive riverdale, tabs’ life seems to have been pretty normal up until she came to riverdale. her parents’ biggest problem with her is that she chose to leave behind her promising future in the big city to run her granddads old diner, which, understandable. big-crime-city-living aside, tabitha seems incredibly well adjusted. betty on the other hand is basically composed of several layers of incredibly tightly-repressed shame anger and fear dressed in a pink sweater and a ponytail pulled too tight. basic character construction-wise tabitha’s freak is somewhere on the scale like blowing a lot of money on a new car and then driving really fast through the city with her girlbesties, and betty’s freak is moreso like sneaking around in the night pouring gasoline on people so they would spontaneously combust soon after (freak here being represented by what they would desire to do if there were no consequences.)

narratively, on the other hand, according to my interpretation of canon at least, there is a significant gap between these two and their roles in the story. like i said earlier, tabitha is a real person, and betty is a Real person. tabitha is AR (after riverdale) when jughead has finally exited the bubble and seen how people in the real world outside of riverdale operate. she does not have the same baggage that the rest of the cast do, like, at all (whether that’s sloppy writing or significant of her being a late-stage addition is up to interpretation). she’s level-headed, hyper-competent and endlessly empathetic which leads me to believe that in the story of riverdale, tabitha tate was not based on a real person. she’s too exactly what jughead needs -> tough-love street-smart self-confident woman who is sympathetic and kind but likes him for him and doesn’t just pity him (which is what he believes his relationship with betty was). it’s too convenient - if you looks closely at season 5 the way jughead and tabitha become closer is very formulaic and out of character for the way the show is written - tabitha has empathy for jughead before they become a thing and extends her good graces multiple times even though jughead is practically not her type - he’s not charming, he’s not kind, the s5 version of him was in fact rude, aggressive, addicted and incompetent. the scene i’m thinking of specifically is when tabs takes him home after the key party at cheryl’s and she puts the blanket on him. everyone can see the fondness coming, because the music and the bias of the camera plays into it, but story-wise the romance is almost entirely left-field.

betty is, on the other hand, BR (before riverdale) but more importantly she IS riverdale, so to speak. since jughead starts and ends the story of riverdale through betty’s perspective, she goes through the most transformation throughout the series as she graduates from repressed sensitive schoolgirl to grizzled competent FBI woman. betty was also, as per the narrative, written by a pre-new york jughead, who does shoddy work at best and incomprehensible at worst, so adult betty remains somewhat childish in her directives - in her childhood bedroom, with her childhood love, with her child/teenagehood best friend…betty is written as a caricature of a girl next door with a. nothing to back it up and b. never allowed to transcend that. betty never fits the stereotype because one twist after the other reveals that she’s not actually a “northsider” that she’s got “serial killer genes” her sister has incest-twins, becomes a prostitute and then gets murdered. she has a serial-killer brother + brother in law. every next-door aspect of betty’s life gets flipped and yet she is still not allowed to move past that tag!

fundamentally, tabitha could never match betty’s freak, because tabitha is a plot-c character and betty is a plot-a character. if the town wasn’t alive, i doubt they would’ve interacted at all! but betty’s purpose as protagonist for the town means that she interacts in some capacity with everyone - but she interacts with tabitha least. mostly tabitha interacts with archie because whose freak matches archie’s…ding ding ding! you guessed it! jughead! no surprises there. but betty and tabitha are not built to complement each other - the differences in the contexts of their creation and the contexts of their roles in the story are too different for them to align.

[jungwnies]

when love lasts ♡ 6 〰・unspoken・〰

table of contents | next

previously...

Soobin sits back up properly to look at you, "I'm all ears."

"I don't think me and Jaemin will last if I stay here." You confessed, almost in a whisper. You wanted to cry, but you knew your relationship was inevitably going to end. "I love him, but I don't think I can do this long distance thing."

—

Soobin looked at you dumbfounded, he didn't know what to say, "Maybe, I don't know, maybe you can try the long distance thing and see if it works out, and if it doesn't that's okay." He consoles, "At least you can say you tried."

You laugh, "I'm sorry for dumping this on you, this was supposed to be your fun last few days."

Soobin chuckles, "I don't mind, I'm sure it's hard making friends who aren't trying to take advantage of you in Seoul."

You nod, "It is."

—

The last few days were fun, you felt relieved telling someone your feelings about your relationship, and you didn't feel overwhelmed.

It sucked how the moment you came back from Seoul, everyone was leaving. Your boyfriend, your best friend, and even your sister in a few months to attend university at Yonsei.

Maybe it was a better idea to stay in Seoul, but you really did miss home. Even if everyone was leaving.

—

It was Soobin's last day in Ansan, you were at his place helping him pack, while Jaemin was out with your dad, again.

"I can't believe you're leaving so soon." You tell him, folding clothes into his luggages.

"I don't want to leave, I miss being home so much."

You sit down on his bed, "I've been thinking..."

Soobin sits down next to you, "What have you been thinking?"

"I think I should move to Seoul." You suddenly tell him. "I mean, it's not definite, but maybe I can find a job and live in Seoul."

Soobin nods, "I think, you should do what your heart desires."

You laugh, "I don't know what it desires."

"How are you and Jaemin?" Soobin suddenly asks.

You shrug, "We're okay, but it's a little awkward." You confess to Soobin, "I don't know what to do, I just want us to be happy."

"If you're unsure, I think you should stay here." Soobin advises you. "You shouldn't have to move somewhere you didn't really want to be, just to make your relationship work."

"Yeah, but he's an idol, it's not like he can move here." You argue, not rudely, just trying to defend something. Whatever that something was.

"Yeah but honestly Y/n, it seems like you're bending backwards for this relationship, and all he does is argue with what you do for him." Soobin admits.

You stand up from Soobin's bed, "That's not true, I messed up, I basically ditched him this whole vacation so far."

"If you were really happy being with him, would you really have ditched him?" Soobin tells you, standing up as well. "Y/n, I just want you to be happy, and if at any point in time you're unhappy in your relationship, you shouldn't feel the need to stay."

You nod, "I am happy with him, I just missed being here, and you brought out the child in me again."

Soobin laughs, "I could say the same."

"We should get going, otherwise you're going to be late, and the driver has been waiting outside for at least 45 minutes now." You tell him, beginning to haul out some of his luggages and boxes.

Soobin puts the last box into the van and shuts the trunk, you pull the boy into a tight hug, your arms around his neck, and his arms holding your waist tightly, "I'm gonna miss you so much." You mumble into his chest as the two of you hug each other.

Soobin's head rests comfortably at the top of your head, "We'll see each other again soon, I promise."

You didn't want to let go, and quite frankly, neither did Soobin. There was something so comforting yet bittersweet about this hug.

You see Soobin go off and you begin to walk home. It wasn't late, it was quite frankly very early. It was still 11am, and no one was home, not even your sister.

You walk inside and throw yourself on the couch, you felt like something was missing, and you couldn't exactly put a pin on it.

You end up chilling on your phone while laying on the couch, eventually falling to sleep.

—

"Babe," You hear as someone pokes your arm. "Babe, wake up."

You mumble something incoherent and you open your eyes, Jaemin is finally home.

"Jaemin, I think we need to talk." You mumble, tiredly.

2024 © jungwnies | my bad for the late update i've been so busy </3

[gralunaisland]

being a Graylu shipper am i the only one that doesn't like the idea of Lucy or anyone else being a Gruvia Shipper?

About Fairy Tail members being either complicit or enablers of juvia abusing Gray

You're definitely not alone, my friend! I personally am a Gralu shipper, but I don't necessarily agree just because of that.

I've said it in a post before, but I became an Anti gr///vian first and a Gralu shipper second. I totally understand people who don't like a certain ship just because they ship those individuals with other people, and I think that's a perfectly valid reason to hate a ship, as we can hate ships for mostly any reason. So, yes, being a Gralu shipper gives me another reason to not like it if Lucy were to ship gr///via because that basically just reconfirms that they don't like each other.

However, for me personally, I hate it whenever Lucy (whom I don't remember supporting gr///via very much if at all, but she definitely didn't actively oppose it to the best of my knowledge), Erza, or anyone in Fairy Tail/the FT universe supports gr///via mostly because that makes them, at best, complicit in juvia's abuse of Gray, and, at worst, enablers of this abuse.

I refuse to believe that manipulative and toxic affection was the true moral of Mashima's Fairy Tail, even if his characters actively advocate for it. I think he lost sight somewhere along the line of what it truly means to be a Fairy Tail member, and that means to be a loyal, compassionate, brave friend who always looks out for each other and love one another. juvia is none of those things, not even loyal to Gray, because what she does is a detriment to him, and she's really just loyal to herself and her "love" for him. Yet, Mashima promotes her behavior by giving her what she so desperately coveted in the end and by forcing his characters to be completely OOC and back up juvia, the slobbering, nasty, selfish pig, and not their loving, stalwart brother-in-arms and victim here, Gray.

That is despicable.

What's more, beyond how awful it is that FT people would rather back juvia than Gray, it's just bad, lazy writing. In no world would juvia be able to abuse other people and manipulate them and bully women and yet also be praised and protected and loved by those same people. Erza should have never sided with juvia over the 413 days matter or berated Gray for "not being clear enough" when he's been plenty clear. The other FT members shouldn't have ever blasted Gray for "leading juvia on". No one should even like juvia or want to be her friend because of what a b*tch she is.

Yet of course, everyone loves her for NO REASON. There are so many reasons to hate her (and honestly not one good reason to love her in my opinion), but does Mashima care? Absolutely not. juvia is his self-proclaimed self-insert's waifu, after all.

Anyway, true FT fans should be enraged that juvia lockser is one of the main people we are encouraged to be like in this show. They should be indignant that juvia has been made a poster child for this anime, when she embodies none of its values. They should refuse to accept this as healthy and desirable. They should balk at the fact that their beloved characters endorse juvia's actions and life choices, which are wholly unacceptable and unhealthy not only to herself but most importantly to others.

But lots of fans delude themselves, and the fans drive Mashima, so unfortunately, here we are, with a whole cast of characters who promote and affirm juvia, the least deserving of the Fairy Tail members.

For the record, I am not really talking about the fans who acknowledge juvia's toxicity but still like her and the ship because of a sort of suspension of disbelief. Honestly, there are many problematic or evil characters that many people like, and I usually see no problem with it if you are able to separate your fictional fantasies with reality. (Some deeply problematic things I do not excuse though). For example, I like Sukuna from JJK. Do I think he's a good person? Aaaaabsolutely not. He's a completely awful person. But still, I think he's cool and his power is sick, so I like him.

My issue lies within the area of the FT community who refuse to accept that juvia's behavior is deplorable and who attack anyone who tells them otherwise. These are the rabid fans who'd go for Mashima's throat if he dared to not make gr///via canon. I don't believe the fans who know juvia is a bad person but still ship gr///via would be so up in arms about it because this sort of self-awareness indicates maturity to me.

[Sidenote, the really aggravating and only thing that sets juvia apart from the characters who are literal villains and douches is that juvia isn't treated like a bad guy within the story. Sans some uncomfortable stares and sweat drops, she is largely treated like family, and everyone loves her. When even the canon material itself won't acknowledge a character's toxicity and awfulness to itself, of course there'll be people who don't think she's toxic. I hate that Fairy Tail lies to itself in this way. It just helps to turn the deluded fans against well-meaning Antis who speak literal objective truth, that the way juvia acts is not okay in real life.]

Anyway, those are my two cents, thank you for your patience and ask!

[glitterguts13]

The case of the missing prompt has been solved. Mainly because I resubmitted -3-

Anyway hiiiiii. I would like to submit a prompt for Genshin about preggy harem Aether. He’s got a lil harem, polycule situation with Xiao, Kazuha, Childe and Gorou. He’s obviously got his lil alien/celestial biology so he can manipulate his equipment and even has multiple wombs and as such he’s carrying a baby from each guy. I’d totally love to just read about a fluffy, steamy day in his life. Getting loved and doted on and fed and having his tummy rubbed and all of his whims and desires and needs cared for by all of his boyfriends whether they be comfort, sexual, whatever it is. I also want for Gorou to be knocked up too. He’s only been knocked up fairly recently and he’s only 3 or 4 months along so he’s not all fragile like Aether quite yet. I specifically do want a steamy scene between them where Aether and Gorou press their bumps together and make out and such. Hope this isn’t too much and can get the creative juices flowing >3<

I'm glad you found it doll! I was gettin curious what it was too ^^;; TW: weird pregnancy sex. The first word to come to anyone's mind when they see the rag-tag group of...lovers? Friends? Rivals? Is just how bizarre they are together. Aether is well-known around Teyvat for his charming nature, everyone who meets him seems to fall for his smile. Making friends comes as naturally as breathing to him.

No, the issue stemmed from just how Aether managed to get the aloof Xiao, battle-happy Childe, calm and collected Kazhua, and the great general Gorou all in one room together without it ending in at least one death. It didn't make sense, but no one was going to open their mouth and question it either.

"Spoiled." a thick, juicy slice of pork dangled between the ends of Xiao's chopsticks as he held the morsel up to Aether's lips. The traveler takes a bite eagerly, moaning in delight.

"I can't believe you made me go all the way to Liyue Harbor for this." Xiao picks up another slice of pork, this time, popping it into his own mouth. No way was he going all that way to not enjoy some of it as well!

"You could have said no." Aether teases, letting his lover feed him another slice.

"If I did, you'd have just gotten one of the others to go instead. At least I can get there faster." he wasn't wrong in the slightest, whatever Aether wanted, Aether got. With four little ones growing snuggly in his belly, each of the men had only grown more possessive.

The biology of the blonde was strange, unheard of in Teyvat. The closest thing they could equate it to would be one of the half-animal species. Gorou, was the closest to him in a sense, his kind was known for carrying litters, bellies full of pups much smaller than a human baby. Aether seemed to be similar, in a way.

Propped up against Childe's sturdy chest, Aether sighs, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. The richness of the meal sat heavy in his gut, leaving him feeling a little too full.

"Spoiled like a princess~" Childe teases, running his hand along the heavy swell of Aether's belly. Their unborn child kicked and rolled under the flat of his palm, making the travler groan in discomfort.

"They never settle down these days." he whines, poking at his belly.

"That much means their strong and healthy. You're doing a good job keeping them safe." Kazuha moves closer, stealing a bit of pork from the takeout box. There's an annoyed huff somewhere behind Xiao, and Aether peeks over his shoulder to see Gorou. The general was curled up on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

"Come here Gorou," Aether extends a hand to his lover, "This includes you too." his precious puppy had been moody these days, the soft swell in his belly growing more noticeable each passing week. There was a hint of jealousy whenever he looked at just how much the others pampered Aether, and while he tried to remind himself it was only because Aether was much farther along, he still felt a little isolated.

Kazuha wraps his arms around Gorou, pressing a string of kisses down his neck and over his shoulders, mumbling something only the two of them could hear. Gorou's ears twitch, cheeks turning bright red and he struggled to wiggle from the Anemo user's grasp.

"Kazhua! Don't...don't say things like that!" he hisses, scurrying closer to Childe. Kazhua chuckles, waving the general off.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing!" Gorou all but hides behind Childe, tail tucked between his legs, the tip coming up to tickle the underside of his belly.

"I said if he's feeling left out, I'm sure Aether wouldn't mind making him feel better."

"No!" Gorou yelps, "That is most certainly not what you said! You said, 'why don't you and Aether put on a show for us?' Like some kind of pervert!" Childe and Xiao shoot each other a knowing look.

"Don't even start! You can't expect Aether to do something like that right now!" groaning, Gorou rubs his temple, irritation causing a mild headache. The whole lot was just a group of horny perverts, that's what had gotten him and Aether knocked up in the first place!

"Gorou," Aether chuckles, voice dripping with honey, "Come here." he doesn't move, staying behind Childe and pouting. Stubborn, Aether thinks, hauling himself off of Childe's lap and moving closer to the puppy general. Gorou doesn't make any effort to hide, cheeks flushed hot pink as his eyes traveled up and down Aether's body.

"I know it's been hard for you," Aether coos, pressing a kiss to Gorou's cheek, "Let me make you feel better."

"N-no! You can't be doing something like that right now! You need to rest, take it easy!"

"In that case, why don't you make me feel good?" a smile tugs at the corners of Aether's lips, and Gorou reddens even further.

"Do you...want me to?"

"Only if you do." the choice was freely in Gorou's hands, and the little general wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. Tail wagging wildly, he gently nudges Aether to lie down. Xiao and Kazhua retreated out of the way, hungry eyes watching their lovers situate themselves.

"If it's too much, you'll tell me, right?" Gorou whispers.

"Without a doubt." Aether assures him, settling down against some pillows and letting Childe undress him fully. Swallowing thickly, Gorou's eyes trace over every part of the traveler's body. His belly was full and round, chest growing a bit softer as his milk came in, cock already half hard. He was beautiful, and Gorou couldn't help himself.

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to the top of Aether's belly. A soft giggle escapes his lips, belly bouncing as he laughs. Soft lips trail down the curve of his stomach before the flat of his tongue licks a stripe down over his belly button. Aether sucks in a breath, cock going hard.

Seeing his lover's reaction only spurred Gorou on further, tail thumbing against the floor as it wagged. He licks again, teeth nibbling at Aether's navel. The traveler moans, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

Childe is watching from behind Gorou, eyes flickering over to Xiao and Kazhua. The three of them share a silent agreement, they could be trying that themselves later.

"You look so cute..." Gorou whispers, "Can I...I want to...try something."

"Do it." Aether doesn't need details, just actions. Shifting around, Gorou carefully straddles Aether. Lowering himself, he presses the gentle swell of his belly against the heavy curve of Aether's. He pressed down, gasping as he felt Aether's unborn children kicking against his belly in protest. It's reflexive, the bucking of his hips, belly dragging against Aether's as his cock smears precum along the traveler's thighs.

Looking up through his bangs, Gorou catches sight of Xiao and Kazhua, cocks in hand, watching greedily.

"More. Gorou, I want more." Aether whines. A voice from behind draws them from their little world.

"Fuck his belly." of course, Childe would be the one to speak up and say what the other two were thinking. Gorou lowers his head, looking deep into Aether's eyes for an answer. He nods, smiling.

Gorou was a messy lover, always getting too caught up in pleasure to think. It's no different now, his cock grinding against Aether's swollen gut. It's firm, with a little give, and he's careful to not press down too hard. He ruts against it, breathy whimpers and moans filling the room. Aether's back arches, pushing his belly against Gorou's cock further, cumming when he feels the puppy general's dick rub over his overly sensitive navel.

Gorou isn't far behind, bottoming out quickly when he feels Aether's cum splatter against his ass. Thick ropes of cum coating his lover's stomach and chest, leaving them a sticky mess.

"Holy shit." Childe gasps, eyes wide.

While he can't see them, Aether is all too aware of just how heavily Xiao and Kazhua are breathing behind him. A mischievous smile passes over his lips as he lets his head fall back to look up at the other two men.

"So, which of you is gonna get knocked up next?"

[avelera]

Giving Sanctuary Behind-the-Scenes: Destiny

Who is Destiny in Giving Sanctuary, how does he differ from his canon counterpart, and what lesson was he trying to teach his siblings in Ch. 18 of Giving Sanctuary?

So I've answered this in a few places, but I thought I'd post somewhere more publicly about what lessons Destiny had for his siblings during the events of Ch. 18 of Giving Sanctuary.

First of all I will note, readers are not expected to agree with Destiny's methods. He is an eldritch being and I try to do him justice at such. It was an interesting thought exercise to try to operate as someone with absolute knowledge but who lacks absolute power. Which is to say, Destiny can see all the choices his siblings have made and and branching paths of varying probability of choices they will make, but he can't compel their actions, he can only guide them by inserting himself into the process, which he does sparingly.

Below the cut, I will go into an exploration of Destiny's personality, goals, and lessons as I wrote them in "Giving Sanctuary", which is a deliberate canon divergence AU that originates from a choice Destiny made long before the events of the story begin.

There will be spoilers up to Ch. 18 of the fic, so be warned if you're not caught up:

To begin, a quick disclaimer: the Destiny of Giving Sanctuary is not meant to be 1-to-1 exactly the Destiny of the comic canon, though I do my best to cleave to his overall vibe while also engaging in the Butterfly Effect - one choice made long ago has impacted all of the Endless, which I use as blanket cover in the fic for why some actions by characters in the story might be mildly OOC or not agree perfectly with comic canon. However, it is a privilege I claim as a transformative works author. That said, having characters be in-character is very important to me, so by and large, points of divergence are carefully considered when they occur.

The Background - where Giving Sanctuary diverges from canon

The original point of divergence in this story began at least around the time of Orpheus's death (though its first stirrings may have been earlier) when Destiny made the calculated decision to save Dream's life 2,500+ years into the future by advising Death not to grant Orpheus's request for "super immortality".

(Side note: Orpheus in Giving Sanctuary is already "immortal" in the same way Calliope and Dream are, ie, immortal but they can be killed if extreme measures are taken to destroy them by beings of equal or greater power, because I find the comic canon idea of him being purely mortal when having an Endless father and a Muse as a mother to be completely baffling, and I believe it's more emotionally resonant if Dream expected his son to live for many thousands of years. It also better and more sympathetically explains why Dream was so cruel and detached at his son's wedding in the comic: he saw the entire Eurydice episode as a phase, a spat of youthful rebellion that would fade as his then 18 year old (of potentially thousands) son matured and lived beyond a single mortal lifetime to see just how painful it would be to love a mortal woman.)

To get back to Destiny: the Giving Sanctuary Destiny saw that Orpheus's fate was inevitable, that he was doomed from the moment he fell in love with Eurydice because as a child of the Endless, he too was bound by the restriction that loving mortals only brought doom, and Destiny did his best to make sure Dream would not be destroyed by his son's desire to die and that Orpheus would be granted the mercy of a quick death that returned his soul to the cycle of living and dying without spending 2,500+ years in a fate worse than death as a living severed head, largely abandoned by his friends and family, until Dream is forced to kill him in Brief Lives, and thus seals his own fate due to the restriction against the Endless spilling family blood.

Dream learned from Death after that Destiny had advised her against granting Orpheus his wish (the wish she, by the way, granted to Hob). While Dream eventually forgave Death because she is his favorite sibling (currently) and because she too was grief-stricken and apologized to him after she saw the results of following that advice, ie, Orpheus's death, however there are still some traces of bitterness and lost trust by Dream towards Death, Destruction, and Destiny, because Destruction sent Orpheus to Death for help (just as he did in the comic), she denied it based on Destiny's advice, and Destiny gave the advice, and none of them warned Dream that his son was taking on a suicide mission to save Eurydice.

Now, the mission itself did not kill Orpheus, but when he failed, according to the myth and canon, he played a song so sorrowful that the maenads (divine servants of Dionysus) descended upon him to tear him limb from limb, and his dismembered body washed up upon the shores of Naxos and was collected by Calliope and Dream (once found) and buried there. Unlike in canon, his severed head did not live on. Is Dream hypocritical to blame his siblings? Yes, absolutely, he missed the signs that Orpheus was in danger because he was deliberately giving Orpheus the silent treatment and had stopped listening to his dreams or checking in on him. He is also grieving and looking for others to blame, irrationally if realistically.

Ultimately, Destiny's choice set us upon a timeline where Dream fully lost his son that day, there is no lingering sense of guilt because the severed head of Orpheus is still dubiously alive somewhere. However, this on the one hand deepened a rift between Dream and his siblings but on the other, allowed him to fully open up to Hob in 1689 in this 'verse because Orpheus was fully dead and he could without reservation open up about his grief to Hob, as he could not/did not in canon, which allowed both of them to find healing with each other.

Who is Destiny in Giving Sanctuary?

All of this is to say: we are starting from a 'verse where Destiny is A-OK with allowing short-term grief in order to allow long-term healing and more importantly, the survival of Dream and his other siblings.

Destiny's siblings are stubborn, competitive, and infinitely powerful beings. This means in order to guide their actions, Destiny when he does intervene in this 'verse, often relies on reverse psychology and "spite as motivation". He also has his own personality, so while other methods might work, like being a nicer person, Destiny is his own entity and operates through that lens. He is not, as I view and write him, a very touchy-feely person.

Destiny's task requires him to keep a certain emotional distance, one might say he loves his siblings but he does not necessarily like them or feel particularly bothered if he sees less of them from day to day. He is an introvert and a workaholic, think Dream but on steroids. He is also the eldest and therefore the most powerful of the seven.

Given the emotional absence and cruelty of their father, Time, and their mother, Night, Destiny has taken on some of what he sees to be the responsibility to look after his siblings as a second father. However, like his siblings, he too is the victim of Time and Night's cruelty and neglect, so his vision of what a good father would do is limited by his experiences. Unlike Death, who interacts regularly with mortals and therefore has developed a more sophisticated view of what a caring relationship looks like, Destiny is emotionally underdeveloped and direct. As he sees it, simply being less cruel than Time is an improvement. He sees himself as a protector on the macro level of his siblings, but not responsible or overly concerned with their short term happiness. Keeping them alive is his priority, though that does include making sure they're not suicidally miserable.

Destiny's Lessons for His Siblings

Destruction: As I mentioned, Destiny's goal is to keep his siblings alive and if the point of divergence was his awareness of how Orpheus's death would lead to Dream's self-destruction one day. As such, "Why didn't he stop Destruction from leaving?" is a question that has arisen and it's a good place to clarify: letting Destruction go was saving him, and so Destiny "allowed it" or rather, did not prevent it by intervening sooner. With 6 strong personalities to balance, he does not have the omnipotence of simply aiming for a universe where all the siblings are mentally stable, happy, and industriously working at their designated roles. There's no universe where all of those are possible at once. While Destiny personally disapproves of Destruction leaving, he prefers that his brother is alive. When Destiny said reality would be wounded by the loss of an Endless, he was in his own, indirect way, talking about his own heart. That's about as close as Destiny ever gets to saying, "I would be sad if any of you died." Yeah, he's that repressed.

Dream: Many readers were struck by how Destiny's actions seemed designed to drive Dream away from the family, to which I answered: yeah, isn't that interesting?

Destiny is, as mentioned, by necessity a master of reverse psychology and spite-as-motivation, because of how stubborn his siblings are, particularly Dream. So let's walk through the takeaway from this dinner arc, starting from Ch. 15, and what Dream has learned, because we are dealing with Destiny having complete knowledge of how to nudge branching paths, which means everything that has happened since Jessamy showed up, including Jessamy showing up, is guided by his choices of when and how to intervene for maximum benefit.

1 ) If Destiny had called a conclave, Dream would have gone immediately, resentfully, and returned to the status quo in which he and Hob were dancing around each other, refusing to use their words, for who knows how long.

2 ) Sending Jessamy instead means a messenger Dream will listen to, it also inserts Jessamy's 3rd person perspective into the relationship between Dream and Hob, breaking the logjam of miscommunication. Dream learned that Jessamy approves of Hob, Hob learned that Dream isn't keeping him a secret from the other people in his life and indeed, values him. Hob was slowly introduced to the how the Dreaming works, even if he didn't totally get it right away, the fact he doesn't get it was introduced to Dream and to Jessamy. (Ch. 15)

3 ) Jessamy was there to interrupt the morning of panic following Dream and Hob's first, *ahem*, "tryst* shall we say. Without a friendly 3rd party to interrupt the panic they were both experiencing, Dream would have done anything to make Hob happy, including answering Hob's request to use the boon to "go back to the way things were". Dream interpreted that as, "Go back to being friends" which would have effectively mind-wiped Hob as badly as Dream did Ric Madoc years later. Dream having a healing relationship like the one that was blooming between him and Hob end after a week because he permanently lobotomized his lover by trying to return them to a state of "friendship" that never existed because Hob never saw Dream as just a friend, totally uncolored by romantic or sexual interest, would have broken Dream, undone all the healing he'd done and worse, confirming all his worst views of himself as incapable of being loved or loving others without destroying them. I cannot express just how dark Dream would have gotten if that had happened. This was averted by the dinner.

4 ) Dream (thanks to his interactions with Hob) learned how to stand up for himself without blowing up at the Endless family dinner, so it was important he attend. He learned through his siblings that Hob does desire him, and always will, that Hob has been literally haunted by Despair these past 80 years and more, and he had a valuable heart-to-heart with Death, who added her voice to the loved ones in his life like Jessamy who pointed out that the misunderstanding might not be what it appears and Hob doesn't really understand the Dreaming yet. Dream was able to calm down and was in a good place to gain perspective. He is now armed with this knowledge and resolved to do better, communicate better, and has been talked out of some of his worst instincts (such as abandoning Hob out of guilt) and learned the truth about why he and Hob were introduced at the time he needed it most: after that first disastrous tryst nearly ended the relationship before it started.

5 ) Dream made an overture of peace to Desire. Granted, it was framed as something he should do not something he would when he said he should ask for mercy and for them to knock it off with the grudge match, but it was a step in the right direction of voicing his weariness with the fight, even if Desire wasn't ready to hear it in the moment.

6 ) Dream saw Destruction's note, something that never would have happened if Destiny did not collect it for him, because Dream was never going to go to Destruction's realm before the note dissolved. Thus, the idea was introduced to him before the Brief Lives canonical arc that he could retire instead of destroying himself, something that in this universe he also would never learn because it took talking to Orpheus's severed oracular head for Dream and Delirium to find Destruction, which is no longer possible now because he's dead.

7 ) Dream swore off his family, or at least, all family except Death and possibly Delirium. This is not necessarily counter to Destiny's intentions. Every interaction Dream was having with Desire was only driving their feud deeper, and Destiny is at peace with not seeing his siblings as often. He sees them all the time anyway since he Knows All and he's an introvert who thinks in terms of eons. If anything, it's a relief. But more importantly, Dream finally makes the break from his sense of family duty that he must subject his mental health to the battering it takes mostly from Desire. He is now more purposeful in who he chooses to interact with, his found family of loved ones like Hob, Jessamy, and Lucienne, and his favorite sister Death (with an exception made for Delirium).

8 ) Dream is now returning to Hob, restored with hope that the relationship between them is possible and indeed, desired, with the revelation that he has not told Hob enough about his existence, and most importantly, resolved to do better and make his feelings known clearly rather than dancing around them forever. He returns to seeing just how badly a month without him left Hob, unequivocal proof of Hob's love and devotion towards him, his fidelity that he stayed during that absence (just like being at the New Inn in 2022), and without any possibility of lingering illusions that he means anything less than the world to Hob.

Whew, that was a long one, I'm amazed if you're still reading but, ONWARD!

Death:

Death began the dinner by saying she was nervous about leaving her job for four (4) hours after presumably not taking any other break. I know "Sound of Her Wings" doesn't make this point explicitly, but that is deeply messed up and unhealthy. Destiny made the point that as Endless, they are shaped by their forms in return and thus certain allowances must be made for the fact that they are not emotionally impervious concepts. They are people-shaped so they have people-shaped needs. Including the need for rest and some sort of work/life balance. (Destiny is being a hypocrite in this respect, but he is trying to get his siblings to have work/life balance even if he does not.)

The assumption from most readers was that a month away from her task was meant to show Death she can't take a break but as Desire pointed out, Destruction's realm is still there years later. If Death delegated more, perhaps to other psychopomps of other religions, the personal touch would be maintained and she could take a break on occasion.

This might be the most obscure of the lessons taught by Destiny, since canon doesn't show us Death breaking down, per se, when her duties get to be too much. But this is something that could/would happen in a few eons, and Destiny is taking steps to avert it now by showing her that hey, actually, a month away wasn't as catastrophic as you feared! Life (and death) goes on without you! You need to reevaluate how you approach your task before you break and then existence is super screwed because you leaving or self-destructing totally is catastrophically worse than you learning to take occasional breaks before that.

Desire:

Desire's is a bit more of a slow-roll, but as mentioned above, Dream finally used his words to say he's tired of this fight with Desire, setting into motion the possibility of it drawing to a close at some point in the distant future, or at least reaching a mutually agreed cease-fire.

Also worth noting that Desire was introduced to the idea that maybe some of the things they blamed Dream for were not entirely his fault like Destiny slowing time to punish Dream but punishing all the rest of them too is Destiny's fault, not Dream's and Destiny is A-OK with Desire blaming him if it stops the destructive bickering with Dream, because Desire would never dare take him on.

This will have a long-term impact of not necessarily stopping but perhaps reducing the severity of some of Desire's later plans for revenge against Dream.

Despair:

Despair had an absolutely fabulous time throughout the dinner and did not need convincing to be there. Family time on its own, dinner and a show, was more than enough. ;)

Delirium:

Delirium also got family time with Death and received the message she would have received at the end of Brief Lives from Destruction that he loves her, but he will not return.