#since i live in a different country than my family the only horrible practicality that hit me so far is the unexpected cost of

[terpia]

Apologies for the bummer, too personal post, but just because I need to vent (if that's even the right word here) -

What is it about the death of immediate family members that feels so unreal? My stepfather died unexpectedly this weekend, and even though I have fully internalised that on an intellectual level, on an emotional level it hasn't hit me at all yet. Same happened when my grandma died, it felt like it took my heart months to actually catch up to what happened.

[dusty-daydreams]

Alright so I’m going back through my asks now that I am done with bridgerton and I came across two hate anons 27 days ago - I think from the same anon that has since been deactivated

And again I don’t post hate anon’s directly because this is my space and I get to choose what comes into it

But I do like to address what I’m being accused of (maybe someday I’ll be able just to snort in disdain and delete it and not say anything)

Alright

Point 1

I am “obsessed” with Penelope recieving consequences for a variety of reasons. First because I think that it is basic good practice in story writing for the characters to receive consequences for the things that they do - actions have consequences. It’s basic writing, especially drama writing character x does y which has z consequences and I think it’s bad writing when character x does y and z never happens.

Also this idea that “Penelope didn’t do anything wrong she doesn’t need consequences”

First - you aren’t going to convince me that Penelope didn’t do anything wrong. Even the show things she did somethings wrong - even though I think that Penelope did a lot more things wrong that the show does.

Second - consequences aren’t just for doing things wrong. Consequences are a fact of life, if you work well at work consequences include promotions, raises, commendations, and pizza parties (depending on the job and the level of exploitation). If you aren’t a good friend consequences include being lonely etc.

Consequences are for everyone good and bad and they should be for all characters.

Point 2 - “Penelope was just telling the truth about Marina and those other girls”

I’m going to begin this discussion by saying something - my family is part of a deeply conservative religion and many of my childhood friends come from that religion. They don’t know that I’m Bisexual.

Would it be ethically alright for you or anyone else to out me to my childhood friends and family, just because my sexuality is the “truth”?

If you think yes then we are fundamentally different from each other and I want nothing to do with you.

If you think it wouldn’t be okay I wonder why you think it’s okay for Penelope to “out” women’s sexual secrets to their deeply conservative society likely leading to ostracisation just because she is “telling the truth”

And aside from Marina and the Bridgertons whom she had close intimacy with and was entrusted with secrets - how Cana we possibly know that everything she writes about is the truth. Her primary source is the gossip shared among servants, which is not guaranteed to be accurate.

True or not - it doesn’t make what Penelope does okay

Point 3 - “People like secrets - it makes them feel better than everyone else”

While this might be true - people like keeping secrets because they feel good having something that other people don’t know and people like learning exposed secrets because appearance v reality is just a thing people are fascinated by it’s not the only reason

A lot of people keep secrets because it’s not safe for people to know certain things, or keep secrets because it truly isn’t other people’s business

Besides - of all the characters with secrets that let them feel superior - you don’t think that Penelope “Whistledown is Power - I am going to challenge the Queen of my country because I am riding my secret into a power trip and a superiority complex” Featherington isn’t the worst offender?

Rapid fire round

Point 4 - “Why does Penelope have to apologise?”

Because she ruined people’s lives and hurt people and when you hurt people you apologise

Point 5 - “Why can’t I tolerate a fat woman using power that she built?”

Because she used her power to hurt people

Because she built her power on the backs of other people’s private lives and secrets and they didn’t consent to being written about

Not because she is fat - strangely I - a woman who is overweight don’t have a problem with fat women being in power - just horrible people being in power

Point 6 - “Why do you hate Penelope?”

This might come as a surprise to some people but I don’t hate Penelope - not really

I think she is a super interesting complex character that was done a disservice by writers that wanted her to be a flawless girlboss and not a complex antagonist that could be redeemed

[kaccvcate]

second autobiographical essay below

The first sixteen years of my life I spent with my mom, and they were honestly the motherfucking worst.

My mom met my step dad larping when I was about 2, he was 16, and she was 26. She got pregnant, they got married, and he started sexually abusing me right away. When my brother was born, I couldn't stand him and was a complete cunt to him (sorry dude, I was a kid and I didn't know better.)

When I started school, I struggled to focus and did very poorly, and my mom and step dad would beat me and take all my things out of my room except for furniture, and lock me in there except to use the bathroom, for months on end, until they thought my grades were good enough. My step dad would come into my room at night and touch me. He would also jump out at me around corners and "wrestle" with me (pretending to wrestle for fun so he could squeeze my tits.) I would struggle and yell, and bite him as hard as I could, and my mom would punish me for hurting him. Sometimes he would do it in front of her, and when I complained to her, she would call me a liar. (His name again: Rigel Cameron Freeman.)

We moved pretty much every year because my parents struggled to maintain jobs. Mainly we lived in different parts of Gainesville, Florida, but we also briefly lived in Raleigh, North Carolina. At school I was usually the only non Christian kid, and I was a complete asshole because my family life was so horrible, so no one liked me and I was bullied constantly. I spent a lot of time in class, and all my time at recess, drawing and making up imaginary friends, or reading books about talking cats (I was very misanthropic, something I still struggle with.) When I was in late elementary to middle school, I made a few friends I still talk to. That was also the same time as my first suicide attempt (5th grade), and when I started self harming.

When I was 12 I dyed my hair red, and my friend's dad named me Red (their family were Irish and Cherokee.) I had been called lots of other names before that, basically something different by each relative, and the only thing everyone could agree on was that none of them suited me (and no one ever called me my government name.) After I was named Red, I dyed my hair every other color you can think of, but my name has stayed the same.

The same year, I moved to Miami, and that began a new isolated phase in my life that led to me becoming interested in magick. My mom had never lived in a major city before, and we ended up moving to a pretty sketchy neighborhood (gunshots almost every night, drive bys, etc.) In our home country (Mississippi) kids are simply expected to fend for themselves outdoors until supper. Now that I was trapped inside with my incredibly abusive family, I had nothing to turn to but the internet (something I'm sure many of us here can relate to.)

I became interested in magic through mythology. I had always found other pre-Christian cultures fascinating, since I wasn't allowed to learn anything about my own, and I discovered through Wikipedia and Google searches that people still practiced the pagan European religions of my ancestors. Through neopaganism, I began to learn about ceremonial magic extremely quickly, feeling as though it was the one piece of my life I'd been missing, finding that I had an innate understanding of something other than visual art for the first time. It wasn't long before I was ready to try my first invocation. I had always wondered if I had a "spirit animal," or a guide, which I knew must be part of my subconscious, and recognizing immediately that I could use ritual meditation to access this, I crafted my first ritual based on some uninitiated wiccan articles I had been reading, and what implements I had laying around. I set out a circle of stones, invoked the four quadrants with a candle at each cardinal direction, laid out offerings of oil, salt, and water, lit an incense cone, and two additional candles for the Mother and Father. My practice is very different now, but my results at the time were extraordinarily intense. When I closed my eyes, this is what I saw:

Dense forest, high on the mountain. It's foggy and overcast, but it's summertime. The rocks are covered with moss, thick and green. I look down at my sandy brown forepaws and know that I am a panther. I begin to stroll, and I can feel the power in my muscles. I'm strong and free.

I opened my eyes, and was back in my bedroom, surrounded by rocks and candles. Shortly afterward, my mom mentioned Scott Panther to me for the first time (I didn't remember meeting him as a baby.) I'm sure it will confuse some that my first experience with a native archetype, my family animal, was through a European style ritual. Hey, think how I feel! I should have been able to take peyote and meet a mountain lion face to face to earn my name, like any decent person. Unfortunately, since I was so isolated, I didn't have the privilage. My connection to the panther is extremely deep - some of my first dreams were of being a cat, and the first time I prayed (age 8) it was to "StarClan," which, for the uninitiated, is the clan of dead cats who live in the sky in the children's book series Warrior Cats (I still like to think my cat ancestors are up there watching.) I've always studied cat behavior and embodied cat energy, even before I had any vision, but in my life that was treated as something annoying and strange by the people around me, rather than the sacred mystical practice it was. When I had cats in my life, I prioritized them, often over my own health and safety. Even though I only have a dog now, I still consider cats to be my teachers. I can't say whether my conceptualization of reality and my experiences is native, or European, but I would guess it's a mix of both, like me.

I started high school at MAST Academy in Miami, a school for "future scientists." My family always discouraged me from drawing or playing music, often my instruments would be taken away or sold, or I would have nothing but lined notebook paper to draw on (I would only get things I needed for school.) Since all I had to decide a "career" on was my passion for non-human animals, I thought I might be a zoologist. It was a lot less horrible than most other high schools in a lot of ways, and a few of the teachers even treated me like a person (cheers.) I started visiting my dad a little during this period, he began teaching me about Jewish mysticism and Kaballah, what little I could understand, and I began to read from his collection of books on magick and the occult.

During my second year of high school, my mom and step dad moved to the Netherlands, and brought me with them. I was too young and shy (scared) to have any fun, and I just thought about suicide constantly. My mom would never stop yelling at me about everything, telling me how l worthless I am. I caught my step dad taking pictures of me as I got out of the shower, and my little brother told me he caught him watching me sleep through the window over my bedroom door (you could stand at the top of the stairs and look right through it.) I became paranoid he was going to start raping me again, like he did when I was younger, and slept with a knife beside me, when I could sleep. (Again, his name is Rigel Cameron Freeman, and he is a computer programmer who works in the video game industry.)

The only positive part of my life during this period was an online death cult I joined, called Les Fleurs de la Mort. I can't talk about our practices in detail, but it lead me to get really into gardening, which was probably the healthiest possible pastime for me. I don't think I've spoken to any of my fellow Fleurists in years, but if any y'all are reading this, meow.

After I turned 16, I got the chance to visit my dad back in Miami (court ordered), and I refused to return to my mom. I haven't heard from my mom or step dad since then, except for a handful of extremely rude emails from my mom before covid, and I hope that's the end of it.

Rigel Cameron Freeman, the pedophile who made my life hell and molested me constantly throughout my childhood, currently has sole custody of my youngest sibling, who's 9. (He was born after I left, and we've never met.)

[eemamminy-art]

desire, failure, guilt, hate, and heartbreak for whichever oc you like~

I'm going to answer these with a few different OCs, since different OCs come to mind with the prompts! It'll be long so let me put a read more cut! Also please proceed with caution as this dives into some very dark and heavy topics (thought not in great detail).

oc asks: not-so-nice edition

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

This question makes me realize that a lot of my characters don't really have big lofty dreams, at least not in the present. I think some of them have backstories with big dreams, but otherwise they're just getting by.

Mal, my stardew valley OC, might be the best suited for this question. He really craves love, community, and family. He was an unwanted child, so his mother made damn sure he knew it, being very cold and then having bursts of anger and verbal abuse. He was close with his grandparents but only could ever see them sparingly, but he built up this fantasy in his head of living with them on their farm and being a happy little family. He does inherit their farm when they die and drops out of university and basically throws away all he's been working toward up until that point in order to move there, but he quickly finds that the quaint little community he remembered as a child isn't quite what it seems. So even in attaining what he thought he wanted, it still takes a lot of work after that to build up a home and community that makes him feel loved and like he finally belongs somewhere.

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it? & guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

Putting these together because they tie together really well for Cam, my fallout OC. When he was a teenager, he went on his first job with an older girl he considered a friend, a mentor, and a bit of a crush, Nerissa. She worked for a caravan as a guard, and Cam had been practicing his sharpshooting for a while and was going to ride along.

There was a raider ambush and it was a total slaughter. He choked in the moment and just froze, then hid, and continued to freeze. He watched people die gruesomely, and as something truly horrible was about to happen to Nerissa he ran. He ran so far he didn't settle down anywhere until he had reached the other end of the country several years later.

It messed him up pretty deeply. He fell deep into alcohol, took to cannibalism to survive and found he kind of liked it, which added another layer of guilt to his already guilty conscience. It gave him a complex about women, the thought of ever being with a woman after letting Nerissa be tortured and presumably killed made him feel like he never had the right to ever love any woman. Just haunted by his actions that day, forever.

It's something he does eventually work through, but not until over a decade has passed, and along the way he was as self destructive as possible. He's bi so he would only ever sleep with men during that time and would let them be just horrible to him, he never allowed himself to get close to anyone, he numbed the pain with liquor but often found his guilty conscience kept him awake at night. He'd throw himself headlong into danger because he felt he had nothing to lose, but always, always that survival instinct would kick in and he'd use whatever dirty tricks he had to in order to make it out alive.

Boy has had it rough lol I think even when he starts working through all of that trauma finally, it takes a very very long time for him to start to forgive himself and be kind to himself.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Unsurprisingly, my wol Leigh hates the Garlean empire. He was born in Ala Mhigo and was forced to seek refuge in Ul'dah at a very young age like so many others. His parents were of Ala Mhigan and Doman descent so he had double the baggage when it came to hating the Garleans too. He was robbed of not only his home, but his family, and the chance to ever see his parents' homelands for the better part of his lifetime.

It becomes a little tricky for him, since his story is a little bit canon divergent and there are some Eorzean nations that ally themselves with Garlemald, and he has no choice but to work with them at various points. He has to watch his tongue, which is one of Leigh's worst skills lol he always speaks before he thinks, and has struggled to keep himself from getting into a political incident by speaking his mind about the empire.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

I think all of the three I wanted to write about here have faced heartbreak of some kind or another.

Cam: I already mentioned above about Nerissa, but he went through some further heartbreak later on too. He got into a several months-long situationship with a guy who had a jet problem, and although it wasn't great it was the only companionship he'd ever really had. So when that person ultimately suffered an overdose eventually, it honestly devastated him. In his grief he cannibalized a good bit of him, in some bid to keep a part of him with him. :')

Leigh: He tried a little bit of dating in his youth but nothing ever really panned out. He and his best friend tried kissing one another but there was no spark, so they managed to keep things amicable after that little bit of experimentation together. He did end up getting into a relationship with the son of a wealthy businessman in Ul'dah, but the class divide and Leigh being an Ala Mhigan unbalanced the relationship dramatically. To keep up appearances, his "boyfriend" would ridicule him in public, treat him like the scum of the earth, but then lavish him with gifts and praise in private. It really messed with his self esteem and sense of worth, and gave him a disdain toward the rich.

Mal: I think this is not nearly so extreme as the other two, but Mal's heartbreak centered around his sexuality. He's interested in men but he's asexual, so in high school he had gotten into two relationships which both ended up with the other boys mocking him and rejecting him for it. It gave him a bit of a complex, and now he's somewhat self conscious about his body, since those boys referred to it as being "broken" for not reacting in the way theirs did when it came to intimacy.

[hobbitfalls135]

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard Light Novel Volume Five Review

So...this is going to be a little different than usual. I am going to go through my opinions on this novel by chapter. Spoilers ahead!!

Case 1: Citrine Undaunted:

I'm really glad that they went more into depth with Shimomura and Seigi's friendship. It was interesting to see Shimomura point out the fact that Seigi didn't call him by his first name (Haruyoshi). Of course, it was when Shimomura was leaving for Spain for flamenco guitar studying. He just sprung that on Seigi out of nowhere, it reminded me of when Seigi just up and left to search for Richard in England. I thought that that actually made sense for him since he was always carrying that guitar around.

Shimomura also knows what's going on with Seigi and Richard and he even tried hinting that to Seigi. And, like the lovable, oblivious idiot Seigi is, he has no idea what his friend is talking about.

I had spoiled myself a bit with TVTropes.com, but now I can finally say I know who the heck Maya is. Great character and I really hope I get to see more of her.

It's good to see Richard and Seigi practicing Seigi's English. Maybe he will actually be able to understand the others when he goes to England again. Probably.

Pretty short case, but was enjoyable and I finally know who Maya is.

Case 2: A Visage in Sardonyx:

Mr. Homura is finally getting married! Three times the charm I guess. Poor Seigi wants to stay far, far away from him so he doesn't accidentally get in the way. Again.

Sweet Home Alabama with Mr. Otomura. I quickly read this case once he mentioned that his unrequited love was his stepmother.

Richard telling Seigi that he could invite Tanimoto to the store was actually pretty sweet and we all know that she's only going to care about the gemstones cause she's an aro/ace queen.

Mr. Otomura is onto something as well cause he just straight up asked Seigi if he and Richard are dating. We all know that they will be, but first Seigi has to stop being oblivious.

Another shortish case, but I hope that we eventually get the scene where Tanimoto ends up visiting the shop.

Case 3: The Majesty of Zircon:

Yay! More Saul scenes! Plus the backstory of Saul and Richard meeting! It was really great to see what Richard was like before meeting Seigi and after his fallout with his family.

Monica is another great character and I'm really glad that she was able to get out of the arranged marriage she was a part of. What kind of horrible family would try to kill someone with acid? It makes me glad that I never had to live in a country where marriage practices are like that. Anyways, I'm glad that Saul took her in and that she's going to be able to have surgery to help her face.

Richard trying to get back the tiara that Monica had gotten from her father was really sweet, and thank God Saul managed to find Richard before that creepy director guy took him back to his hotel room.

Jeffery definitely deserved that punch from Richard when he basically told Richard that he gaslighted Deborah's entire family and Deborah herself to break off the marriage. Start of villain Jeffrey~

At the end of the case, Saul also knows what's going on with Richard and Seigi. And, once again, Seigi is oblivious.

I really loved this case cause I love a good backstory.

Case 4: The Grace of Peridot:

Chieko is finally brought into the story and surprise, surprise! Her daughter is Mr. Homura's soon-to-be wife! The backstory with Chieko and Catherine plotting to make sure Catherine and Ashcroft do not get back together and Chieko is able to return to Japan is basically the same in the anime, it just goes a little bit more into detail in the novel.

I love how Mr. Homura invites both Richard and Seigi to the wedding and the two of them arrive together. Even the owner of the sushi shop next door to the shop thinks that Richard and Seigi are together. And, again, oblivious Seigi.

This case was really good as well, right up there with the fourth case.

Case Extra: Andalusite on Christmas Eve:

Henry wished Richard a Merry Christmas! I'm glad that everything that happened in England is slowly getting resolved.

Loved the ending where it was just Richard and Seigi bantering back and forth. They're just so adorable.

Really short case, but enjoyable!

Case Extra: Tiger's Eye Look Back:

This one was only seven pages long, but it still has oblivious Seigi, Seigi still thinking Richard is beautiful, and more training in English.

Extremely short, but still good!

All in all, really good light novel, and now I have to wait until November for the sixth one! And that means three more months until Seigi's biological father comes into the scene. I will not be putting the book down once it arrives.

[hopeful-infj]

I'll stand on this soapbox once, and only once, since the election is soon.

If you love war, crime, chaos, and poverty -- vote Harris!

If you love your fellow Americans and want a more free, more peaceful, more prosperous world -- vote Trump!

Donald Trump will...

Lower prices

Lower taxes

Negotiate an end to bloody (and preventable) wars

Fight rising crime

Seal the border and deport violent rapists, murderers, and sex/drug traffickers

Provide pathways to citizenship for people who want to contribute positively to the country

Bring back American energy independence

Cut useless bureaucracy and regulations

Strengthen the economy by saving manufacturing jobs and funding innovation

Provide school choice for all students (so that they aren't trapped in horrible public schools)

Address unethical farming & food manufacturing practices making American's sick

Create opportunities to support American greatness on the world stage.

Like it or not, Trump's voter block IS the unity party this time around.

Kamala Harris will...

Lead the world into more violence and hyper-inflation

Will weaken the productivity and self-sufficiency of our nation to protect itself

Her ambitions will destroy any chance at hope for prosperous conditions in this country

She will degrade and violate free speech and the second amendment rights of Americans (who need to defend themselves in high-crime areas and isolated areas)

She will steal more money (much more) from every working person's wages and every small business's income, killing jobs and hurting middle class families

Her administration will weaken our safety and defenses even more than they have been.

Her stated policies display spite, condescension, and blatant disregard for our culture, our constitution, our history, our economy, our children, our law enforcement, our sovereignty as a nation, rule of law, American minorities (yes, in many ways), and much more.

Furthermore, SHE SAID SHE WOULD DO NOTHING DIFFERENTLY THAN BIDEN. TWICE.

Kamala hates half the country; she's not good at hiding it. Trump does not. She lacks confidence, and all formidable enemies of freedom would use her as a doormat, as they have Biden. For better or worse, the world listens when Trump talks, and he's good at deterring bad actors from making big moves.

For all his faults, Trump loves the USA deeply (all of it except perhaps the hacks and liars in fake news media, lol) and he is competent to protect us from impending wars and economic ruin. By extension, the entire planet is better off. That's just the way it works. The world wouldn't have lost millions of souls to violence if the United States had been awake at the negotiation table -- untold numbers of Palestinians, Israelis, Ukrainians, and Russians are dead or permanently wounded because of the dereliction of the Biden Admin and, I repeat, Kamala says she'd do nothing differently (including surrendering the people of Afghanistan back to Taliban rule in a sudden and humiliating act of cowardice and incompetence.)

If you're a single-issue voter on abortion, Trump is not going to interfere with it. He merely released the issue from federal control. It is now a state-by-state issue and you can vote accordingly where you live. Most red states today have more liberal abortion laws than any nation in Europe (sad, but true).

If you hate my guts for posting this--even if you wish death on me--I wish you nothing but peace and blessings. I too held radical left beliefs at one time.

Don't be tricked like I was! Consider why those on the radical left can't tolerate a simple difference of opinion, and reevaluate whether everything they've told you about Trump and the right is true. Look into it for yourself. The left is not the side of love and light and progress and inclusivity that it pretends to be. It's the opposite, in fact. Its radicals represent a cult that loves death, hatred, division, chaos, lies, segregation, and tyrannical authority. It discards you if you deviate in any way from the party line.

Needless to say, I am proudly casting my vote for TRUMP 2024!!! And for the protection of your future and my children's future, I am humbly inviting you to do the same, just this once, even if you're a democrat.

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law��� around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[sturchling]

Hey can you do a daminette fanfic where marinette transfers to gotham because of lila's lies and becomes the class favourite, then lila's class goes to gotham for a trip and, unlike the french class, this one can see through her lies and work together with damien to protect marinette and expose lila. Adrijon pairing and lila salt and alya salt please

Marinette felt nervous as she approached the gates of Gotham Academy. She had never thought she would leave Dupont, let alone Paris. Now, here she stands in a new country, at a new school, on the other side of the world from her home. She had never wanted to leave Paris, she truly did love the city. But Lila hadn’t left her a lot of options.

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

Lila had stayed true to her word for once. She had systematically removed Marinette from her friends. Marinette had been so sure that her friends would see through any lies Lila told about her. But it didn’t take much from Lila to convince the class that Marinette was nothing more than a bully. It had been heartbreaking. Marinette had tried everything she could to convince the class that Lila was a liar and tried to prove her innocence but nothing worked. The only people that believed her were Adrien and Chloe.

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

Adrien obviously knew that Lila was lying and stayed by Marinette’s side, despite the class’ pressure to leave the bluenette. Chloe believing her had surprised Marinette. But Chloe had known Lila was a liar since that incident with the Ladybug summoning dance. Of course, even without that, Chloe would have known. She may not like Marinette, but even she knew that it was utterly ridiculous to think of the girl as a bully. Marinette was the furthest thing from a bully. 

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

But as time went by, even their support wasn’t enough. The class got worse. They were harassing Marinette any chance that they had, and Adrien and Chloe couldn’t be with Marinette constantly, though they tried. It was eventually decided by Marinette’s family that a change of scenery would be good. They looked at several study abroad programs, eventually deciding on Gotham Academy. The school was excellent and even had a very well reputed arts program. It was perfect for Marinette. Luckily, Gina had a friend in Gotham named Alfred that she had met on her travels who, after speaking with his employer, agreed to host Marinette during her time in Gotham. Soon, Marinette was packed and on her way to Gotham.

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

That is how Marinette found herself living at Wayne Manor, in Gotham, about to start a new life at a new school. To say she was nervous would be an understatement. She would have been even more nervous, if not for Damian standing at her side. When she moved into the manor with Alfred, she was introduced to his employer, Bruce Wayne and his sons, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. They all immediately like Marinette, as a lot of people had a tendency to do. They quickly started acting like her older brothers, and made Marinette feel at home in Gotham. 

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

So, on her first day at Gotham Academy, she was being escorted in by all of the Wayne boys. She was in the same class as Damian, which made her feel slightly calmer. Damian had agreed to stay by her side, knowing how nervous she was to meet her new class. After everything that happened in Mrs. Bustier’s class, Marinette was worried that the same thing might happen here. That she might become the class outcast and be alone again. 

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

Needless to say, that obviously didn’t happen. When Marinette was escorted into the classroom by Damian Wayne, it definitely got the attention of her new class. Damian wouldn’t hang out with just anyone. They became curious about this new girl, and were instantly charmed by Marinette. The whole class became very fond of the designer and they were all fast friends. And they acted like friends. They didn’t always ask Marinette for impossible favors, and they helped Marinette as much as she helped them.  Adrien and Chloe would often visit her as well, and when they couldn’t visit they made sure to video call with her everyday. Marinette was the happiest she had been in a long while, starting to forget the problems she had in Paris. 

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

 But trouble had a way of finding Marinette. It was during one of their video calls, that Marinette found out that Mrs. Bustier’s class was participating in a program that had them visit classrooms around the world and learn how schools taught in different countries. And of course, the American school they would be visiting is Gotham Academy. And of course, it was Marinette’s class that they would be joining for the week. Just like that, all of Marinette’s worries came crashing back. What if Lila targeted her again? What if Bustier’s class started harassing her again? Or worse. What if Lila turned her new class against her? 

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

Damian had grown quite close with Marinette over the last several months. They had even begun dating, much to Gotham’s collective surprise. He had learned almost everything there was to know about Marinette and loved her quirky personality. So, when Marinette grew quiet and nervous like she had been when she first arrived in Gotham, Damian quickly noticed the change in her behavior. Marinette changed almost immediately after her latest video call with her friends. He tried talking to her, to try and fix whatever was wrong. But she would just say “I’m fine.” and walk away, trying to handle everything herself. She didn’t want to bother Damian with her drama. But Damian wasn’t going to give up, he was going to help his angel with whatever was bothering her. 

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

He also had contact information for Adrien and Chloe so he reached out to the two, trying to figure out what had changed during that video call. That is when he found out about the visiting Parisian class. He instantly knew what Marinette was worried about. She must be worried about the liar making people hate her again. As much as he wished that she wouldn’t worry about it and trust that her friends here would have her back, he couldn’t expect that after what happened in Paris. Of course she would still be worried about it. But Damian was going to make sure that not only did the liar not mess anything up here, he was also going to keep that horrible class as far from his angel as he could.

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

He only had about a week to get things in place, but that was enough for Damian. He gathered the class together one morning, when Marinette was out of the classroom. He told them everything he knew about the Parisian class and what they had done to Marinette. Needless to say, Marinette’s new class despised the Parisians before they even arrived. They couldn’t believe everything they had done to Marinette, but they were determined to protect their friend for the whole week. And to try and destroy the liar that had hurt her. They had no idea what kind of lies to expect from this Lila girl, but they knew she must be a gifted liar to make anyone think that Marinette is a bully.

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

Bustier’s class had arrived and Lila wasted no time trying to impress the Gotham class. She went on and on about her usual stories, while also adding in some new Gotham centric ones. Like how she had helped Batman several times, and how she is very close with the Waynes, practically dating Damian. But then immediately contradicted that by claiming that she was dating Adrien Agreste, completely ignoring when Adrien denied it in front of everyone. Mrs. Bustier’s class ate it all up, as usual. But the Gotham class just stood in shock. This girl was a terrible liar. How did this other class believe a word she said?

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

But Marinette’s worries were partially realized fairly quickly. Once Mrs. Bustier’s class saw her sitting in the classroom, they started in on her. Lila tried to cry about how Marinette had bullied her and the rest of Mrs. Bustier’s class started yelling at Marinette. The young designer started to shrink into herself, until she noticed that none of her new classmates seemed to buy it. They were all glaring at Mrs. Bustier’s class and circling around Marinette to shield her from her old class. 

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

Mrs. Bustier’s class finally noticed that the Gotham class was shielding Marinette and glaring at them. Alya became infuriated that they were standing in the way of them defending Lila. “Why are you protecting her?! She is nothing more than a bully! She bullied Lila horribly when she was in Paris, you have no idea what she did!” Lila pulled out the fake tears and cried some sob story about all the horrible things Marinette had done to her, expecting that when she peaked out from her hands after, this new class would now turn against Marinette and be glaring at her. But when she did look, this class didn’t look impressed. They were still glaring at her, some even rolling their eyes.

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

Lila, after seeing this, quickly turned back to her class, realizing that this Gotham class wouldn’t be easily swayed. “They don’t believe me! I’m just trying to warn them!” The Parisian class consoled their crying friend, while Alya stepped forward to defend her friend. “How could you keep protecting that monster?! She bullied my best friend and is a horrible person!” The Gotham class collectively rolled their eyes, before Damian stepped forward, having heard enough. “We are still protecting her because unlike you, we don’t turn on our friends on the word of a liar.” Lila wailed louder, trying to earn some sympathy, which just enraged Alya more. “How dare you! Lila isn’t a liar! Where is your proof that she is?!” Damian pulled out his iciest glare, making most of Mrs. Bustier’s class back away. “Where is your proof that she is telling the truth? Regardless, I know she is a liar. Marinette is the sweetest girl I have ever met, a literal angel. There is no way she would bully anyone. Besides that, I know that the liar’s stories about the Wayne family are completely made up.” Lila whips around, forgetting that she is supposed to be upset, angered that this boy had called out her best lies in front of this new class. “And how do you know that huh?! Not like you would know the Waynes. I will get my Damian down here and he will make you regret calling me a liar.” 

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

The Gotham class couldn’t hold it in anymore. They all started howling with laughter at the liar who didn’t realize what she just did. Even Marinette had started to smile.  Lila shrieked, “What’s so funny?! Why are you all laughing?!” Damian stared coldly at Lila. “They are laughing cause you just said you are dating Damian Wayne and didn’t even recognize him standing in front of you. I am Damian Wayne, and I have never met you before.” Lila stood shocked, trying to think of anyway out of this. “W-well, I said we were practically dating. Besides, I am dating Adrien.” Adrien had had enough and pushed to the front to stand in front of Lila. “No you are not! I don’t like you. I have never liked you. Besides, I am dating someone else.” As if on que, which if you ask him he will deny that this was planned, Jon Kent burst through the door making a beeline for Adrien. “Sunshine! Finally came to see me again! Jon hugged Adrien tightly, while Mrs. Bustier’s class just stared in shock. They had really thought that Adrien and Lila were dating, but keeping it quiet so his dad didn’t find out. Or at least, that is what Lila had said. Slowly they began to realize that maybe just because Lila said so, doesn’t mean that it is true. 

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

The rest of the week was spent quietly. Lila kept trying to win over this new class, while also trying to win back favor with Mrs. Bustier’s class but that was a lost cause. Alya kept trying to defend her friend, refusing to acknowledge that she was a liar. The rest of Mrs. Bustier’s class did finally see the light though and apologized to Marinette. Marinette did forgive them, but they still weren’t going to be friends again. The damage to the relationships was too much. The week at Gotham had ended for Mrs. Bustier’s class and they left. Things returned to normal for Marinette. She was surrounded by Damian and her new friends, who truly cared for her. She was the happiest she had been in ages, and was finally able to rid herself of the fear that Lila would ruin everything again. She felt safe and happy, and nothing was going to change that. 

[terubakudan]

This may be an old article from 3 years ago, but these cultural aspects/observations still apply even today. And though this is strictly a Chinese perspective, a lot of these everyday life bits are observed in Overseas Chinese communities in countries such as The Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, etc. as well as countries heavily influenced by Chinese culture like Taiwan, Japan, and Korea.

I've always liked learning about other cultures and making comparisons between how things are done East vs West. Which probably stems from growing up with two cultures and Mom raising me on American movies xD

So the irony is if you asked me how many Chinese, Taiwanese, or Hong Kong actors I know, chances are I know as much as you do xD Like Jackie Chan, Andy Lau, and that's about it. But if you asked me about Western (specifically American and British) actors, then I have a useless brain dump of movie trivia and who was with who in what movie xD

Hmmm, both Taiwan and the Philippines are two distinct cultures but both look up to a certain country and are fascinated by that. In Taiwan's case, Japan and the US for the Philippines. In both cases, this is due to being under the rule of those countries in their history. Taiwan being under Japan for 50 years, and the Philippines being under Spain for 300+ years, followed by periods of American and Japanese rule. To put it simply though:

Taiwan is "mini-Japan with a very Chinese culture".

The Philippines is "former colony of Spain with lots of American influences".

But unlike the author, I've never set foot in any Western country, so my understandings are strictly what I've observed in media, which while it can be accurate, doesn't compare to actually experiencing the culture.

Some further elaboration on most points:

#1 We quite literally use chopsticks for everything. We use it to pick rice, viands, vegetables, fruit, smaller desserts, almost all the food you can think of.

But where do you put your chopsticks when you're not using them? Just put them on top of your bowl or flat on your plate. But do not ever stick them vertically. It's taboo, since it looks like incense sticks, which we use to pray for those who have passed, like our ancestors or during funerary services.

#3 The majority of Asia is obsessed with fair/white skin. In my time at the Philippines, I grew up watching all these Dove Whitening commercials and my classmates often commented on how fair my skin was, how they envied it etc. In Taiwan, girls often say they don't want to 變黑 (biàn hēi) 'become dark'. Japan and Korea too are not innocent of this either (if their beauty/skin products weren't a dead giveaway).

People here at Taiwan often mistake me for being from Hong Kong or Japan (as long as I don't speak Mandarin with my heavy accent xD). A Taiwanese classmate of mine joked that she often gets mistaken for being from Southeast Asia due to having a darker complexion. And while I laughed it off with her at that time, looking back, I now realize she was lowkey being racist. xD

And believe me Filipinas have mentioned literally being told 'your skin is so dark' here in Taiwan, or being given backhanded compliments like 'you're pretty despite having dark skin' and...*facepalms*

My point is, beauty is not exclusive to skin color. People who still think that are assholes.

#5 Not to say we don't have salt and pepper, but yes soy sauce and vinegar are the classic condiments you see on the table, be it at home or at a restaurant.

And if I may add, Taiwanese love their pepper. xD If you ever get to eat at a night market or a smaller "Mom n' Pop-style" restaurant here, some dishes/soups tend to add quite an excessive amount of pepper. Not like anthills, but quite liberally and way more than average. Enough that you see traces of pepper at the bottom of the food paper bag or swirling in your soup. xD

#6 I know this all too well from personal experience. In my years of studying at Taiwan, I always had roommates. 3 in my first school (I graduated high school in the Philippines pre K-12 so I had to make up 2 years of Senior High), followed by 2 in college, with the exception of 1 in freshman year.

My college did offer single person dorms but at around 9000 NTD ($324) per month compared to around 6000 NTD ($216) per semester. Because I wanted to save, the choice was obvious for me xD. But ah, this doesn't mean I don't value personal space, in fact I love having the room to myself, and since both my roomies would go home to their families every weekend, weekends were bliss for me xD

And you don't have to be friends with your roommates (that's an added bonus however), you just have to get along with them. I was quite lucky to have really great roommates all throughout my schooling years.

#9 In the Philippines, we do. Owing mostly to American influences and maybe being predominantly Catholic? xD

#10 *sigh* Chinese parents and parents from similar Asian cultures tend to put too much emphasis on grades, so much that kids could get sent to cram school as early as elementary. This is because what school you get into could literally affect your future job opportunities, and while that's not exclusive to any particular country/culture, I feel it's especially pronounced here in Asia. I'm really lucky my own parents weren't that strict about it. However, if your parents don't point the mistakes out to you, chances are you'll do it yourself, if you're an Asian kid like me anyway. xD It just becomes a habit.

#11 My family is an exception to this. xD We do say 'I love you' directly, but complete with the 'ah eat well ok?', 'don't scrimp on food', 'sleep well' and similar indirect words/actions of affection. We were doing 'Conceal, Don't Feel' before it became popular. xD

#13 I'm kind of confused about this but this has sort have changed over the years in which eye-contact is now more encouraged. But don't stare, especially at elders and authority figures. Sometimes it's just shyness though. xD And I've observed this with my own Taiwanese friend, especially when I'm complaining or ranting to her about something. xD I'm a person who likes to express my opinions strongly, which tends to scare/alienate some of the locals here, as doing so is kind of frowned upon. Thankfully, she does listen and offers her take on things.

#14 Ah this. xD In the Philippines, this is a common greeting known as beso-beso, and I freaked out too when an auntie did that to me. xD Needless to say, Mom lectured me later on what that was. ^^"

#16 Along with #3 another crazy beauty standard. In my view, people always look better with a little meat on them and when they're not horribly thin. Asia still has a loonng way to go with accepting different types of bodies if you ask me. This combined with modern beauty standards has made the pressure for women especially to 'look beautiful' higher than ever.

I know many people love them but please, starving yourself or glorifying eating disorders is never OK just to get this kind of 'ideal' body. I'm not part of the Kpop fandom, but even I think when idols get bullied just for gaining the least bit of weight among other insensitive comments, that's really going too far.

#17 'If you want to make friends, go eat.' <- I couldn't agree more. In the Philippines we have a greeting: 'Kumain ka na ba?' (Have you eaten?) . Similarly in Taiwan, we have 吃飯了沒? (chī fàn le méi), both of these can mean that in the literal sense but are often used as greetings instead. By then which invitation to having lunch/dinner together may or may not follow. Food really is a way for us to socialize and to catch up with what's going on in each other's lives. Not to say we don't have regular outings like going out to the mall, going shopping, etc. but eating together is a huge part of our culture, be it with family or friends.

And while I'm at it, some memes that are way too accurate good to pass up xD

Parents, uncles, aunties alike will fight over the bill xD

Alternatively:

You just space out until your name is called xD

My parents are guilty of the last one. Logic how? xD

#18 True. xD I like giving compliments out to people but I have a hard time accepting them myself, though I've learnt how to accept them much more now than before. We're kind of raised to constantly downplay ourselves so we often say things like 'ah no no' or 'I'm really not that good'. The downside of this of course is that it can come off as somewhat fake. xD

Again from personal experience, that same classmate who made the lowkey racist remark, she was good, she was on the debate team, was a honor student, knew how to mingle with people, but she downplayed herself way too much, while praising me but I honestly thought that she never really meant it from how she treated me. She wanted to keep me around her yet make backhanded compliments at me and she didn't want me socializing with my other classmate who is now my friend. *sigh* It was only after discussing this with one of my roomies did I realize how this 'excessive downplaying' might come off to people like me who more or less grew up with a more 'Westernized' mindset. I'm not saying brag about your achievements but don't be overly humble about them either, which can also be a turn off.

#20 We do tend to be a lot more realistic on how we view things, neither entirely optimistic nor pessimistic. We try to think of things practically and often analyze things on pure logic. A downside of this however, is that Chinese people can be overly practical. Taiwanese for instance don't like to 'find inconveniences' and generally keep to themselves, meaning, they won't help you in your hour of need even when they do have the capabilities. Sounds really harsh I know, but in my 6 years of living in Taiwan, while this doesn't apply to all the people, a lot of them really do only find/talk to you when they need something.

So for some people saying Taiwanese are 'friendly', that's BS xD If you ask me, Filipinos are infinitely more friendly, and again while not all, generally make more of an effort to help you when you need it. I really felt more of a real sense of community during my years growing up in the Philippines compared to Taiwan.

#21 Children do tend to stay with their parents well into college and adulthood, since Chinese families are indeed very family-oriented, in a lot of cases, grandparents often live under the same roof as us as well! And it really does save a lot of money. I see there's a real stigma in the US when it comes to "living with your parents", but that's starting to change especially because of Covid and having more and more people move back in with their parents.

Housing unfortunately is pretty much hella expensive no matter where you go, and Taiwan is no exception. Steep housing prices and the very high cost of raising a child (schooling + buxiban fees, etc.) contribute to a very low birth rate and thus an aging population like Japan. It's not uncommon to see both parents working in Taiwan.

#23 I'm an overthinker myself, but I totally agree with the author that the best is to strike a good balance between these two. Which I guess is why I love drawing or any other related creative attempts, it helps me be more spontaneous or well, creative! I like to remain intellectually or artistically inspired.

#24 Is French high school really like that? xD My friend did watch SKAM France and more or less got a culture shock from what was depicted on the show. I can confirm however that most high schools both in the Philippines and Taiwan require students to wear a uniform, only in college is everybody free to wear casual/civilian clothes.

#26 Ah this is part of our Asian gift-giving etiquette xD We always open gifts later after the event/meeting and in private. Never open them in front of the person who gave it to you or in front of others. This is to prevent any 'shame/embarrassment' that may result both to yourself and to the gift giver. I know this may come off as something weird since some people may want a more honest response or immediate feedback when it comes to gift-giving, but that's just how it is in our culture. You're always free to ask us though (in private) if we liked the gift or not ^^"

#28 I want to say the same goes to drinking, partying, and drugs however xD Those are things which are still frowned upon in our culture. And to be honest, whenever I see those in movies, it does kind of turn me off xD It doesn't mean that we're "uncool" or "boring", we just think that there are much better or healthier ways of "having fun".

#31 Is this true in France?! Man I would kind of prefer that instead of people being on their phones all the time xD This kind of goes with #20 in that Chinese are overly practical or logical, and don't read fiction as much as nonfiction. My Taiwanese friend is an exception though, she's a bibliophile who loves the feel of paper books compared to e-books, and it's a trait of her that I like a lot. Both the Philippines and Taiwan however have a huge fanbase when it comes to manga and anime though.

I'm all for reading outside of "designated reading" at schools especially. Reading fiction improves your vocabulary too, and can be quite fun! It helps you imagine and really invest in a world/story, and if you ask me something that I feel Westerners are better at, they're more in touch with their emotions and creativity, and are thus much more able to write compelling or original stories. Believe me, I've seen a fair amount of Chinese movies that rip off Western movie plotlines xD

#33 Nothing much to add on here..except that since I'm a "weird" person, Mom often jokes that she got the wrong baby from the hospital. xD

#35 True. While I agree with the care and concern that your fellow community can give you, the downside of this is we tend to only hang out with our own people, e.g Chinese with Chinese, Taiwanese with Taiwanese, etc. I've seen too that it's especially hard to make friends in Japan and Korea as a foreigner. Not only is there the language barrier, but the differences in culture too. In a way, Asians can be pretty close-minded on getting to know other cultures or actually making friends with people from other countries. I know this all too well being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, being neither "Filipino" enough nor "Taiwanese" enough. xD It's more of people here being too used to what they're comfortable with.

#36 Oh this is something I feel that Chinese students and other students from similar cultures should really improve on. xD How will people respect you if you don't speak your mind?

I felt bad especially for my Spanish teacher in college, granted it was an introductory course (Spanish I and II) but the amount of times that our teacher had to prompt a student to recite/speak even with clear hints already made her (and me too) extremely frustrated. The thing is, these are college students, I personally feel they don't have any reason to be so shy of speaking and technically by not doing so they're slowing the pace of the class too much and a lot of time is wasted.

Unfortunately you can't always be very vocal with your thoughts and opinions in most Asian cultures. I would say strive for that, but at the same time, play your cards well, especially if you're in a workplace setting.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading and here's a cookie! 🍪 I'm not perfect and there's bound to be something I missed so please let me know if you spotted anything wrong. Feedback/questions are very much welcome and please feel free to share about your country/culture's differences or similarities!

[gentrychild]

BNHA chapter 291 reactions

That’s one adorable child and that’s also one horrible way to die.

Not that we’re sure that he actually die, since 1. He is here and living his full theater kid potential. 2. For anyone who is reading BNHA vigilante, you would know that it’s not the first time AFO grabbed a hero student who may or may not have died.

Now, my question is “Where do that lower jaw bone came from?” Can you still extract DNA from something that was practically cremated? If not, does AFO have a room with a bunch of bones that he can drop on his way out?

Also, how old is Touya here? I know he looks younger than he is but is he old enough to be in UA?

I. Need. Answers.

That’s the second kid who got white hair after a ridiculously powerful quirk appeared and I now have other questions.

Such as, will I get a white-haired-Izuku anytime soon?

By the way, can we consider that Tenko and Touya have quirk singularities?

1. I can hear half of the writing community weeping because Touya had red hair. And at least one other person grumbling because Touya changing hair color with the seasons.

2. It’s incredible how tiny Touya doesn’t look like the Touya we know. He had a completely different demeanor.

3. Good to know Endeavor was not always a dick. 

Don’t mind me, I am just fascinated at seeing tiny Touya looking at Baby Fuyumi (while clutching my chest because them being twins is jossed). That’s the most adorable thing I have ever seen.

Also, very relieved to know that Rei agreed to have several kids.

Now, I need to know what happened to make that family collapse.

Touya is wearing different clothes than in the first image so that means he might have some resistance at first but his fire grew too hot for his body.

Now, my question is: how come he couldn’t regulate the temperature of his flames like fire users in his family?

Am I... feeling bad... for Endeavor?

Oh my.

You know, you might have been invited if he had known you were alive.

I love Dabi’s face here. He is such a little shit.

Reminder that they are all stuck here until Shigaraki actually tells Machia to move. 

I don’t know about you but I find it absolutely hilarious that Gigantomachia picked them up, brought them to the most dangerous place in the whole combat zone as the number 1 hero and the craziest hero students around are here, and is now refusing to move.

Honestly? If Dabi wasn’t accidentally holding the floor, they would have been incinerated.

What are you trying to say, Harima Oji? 

Are you a secret Todoroki family member too?

Or did you hear Shigaraki call Izuku little brother and you’re now trying to wrap your mind around everyone around here apparently being related and this war being the messiest Sunday family dinner ever?

I actually wanted to talk about that because this DNA test is absolutely useless. I can assure you that people probably can’t even read those pages and even if they can, it would be just so easily to fake.

Actually, you know what? If Dabi didn’t do that on his computer on his own, I would just be so disappointed because waving a DNA around is just pointless in this situation.

Especially as I don’t see when he had the time to get some blood from the Kyushu fight? He only had the time to take two steps in Endeavor’s direction before running like hell when Miruko arrived (which was a rare sign of common sense, so kudos to him, I guess.)

You hear that sound?

That’s the sound of Dabi destroying his family every chance at being normal once again. Forget all the progress they made, they will now be under public scrutiny forever, everyone having an opinion on their family.

That will wreck them.

And I am not even talking about Rei.

I see that at this point, Dabi is just ending for everyone’s career...

I am just going to stay there and stare at the wall as I am thinking about Dabi broascasting a murder on every screen of the country.

That’s just so disrespectful to Twice. He fought for his friends and instead, Dabi turned his last moment in him desperately pleading.

Also, that was a really dumb move.

Listen here, kids, when you throw a mind-breaking revelation at someone, you stick as close to the truth as possible because if people find anything that doesn’t make sense, your whole story will be doubted.

Also, casual reminder... 

Hawks recorded what was going on. 

That means that if this recording thing is found, they can discredit Dabi’s entire story.

At this point, I am just trying to see if he still has his wings. That’s all I am asking. A confirmation that his feathers will grow back.

Just... stay asleep, Hawks. Rest for a week or two so someone can sort this mess. That’s your best course of action because if you woke up now, you would probably crawl back into a coma.

Was that a bird pun?

Now, that’s just being mean.

I think I remember than in Japan, being related to a criminal is not good, but since BNHA is set in the future, maybe things changed?

If not, I am curious to see how this revelation will affect Hawks. You know, just for sociological purposes.

*hangs on to Izuku who is related to the worst villain this country had ever know, and who actually destroyed Kamino and almost murdered All Might not too long ago*

*squints as I am trying to know what they are advertising*

Dabi: “Think more critically! Try to see things through my point of view, right after I admitted I killed 30 people!”

Reminder that the OG group who fought Shigaraki sacrificed everything to stall him, they are half dead, and they are now facing the end of their society as they know it.

That’s what despair looks like.

Be careful what you wish for, Todoroki Enji.

Shouto is just breaking my heart right now. This is a nightmare. He is the boy who made sure that they were alone when he told Midoriya about his family history. He is the boy who was just started to consider forgiving his father, or at the very least, working so their family would be happy. Things were starting to get better, and now, he has to deal with imminent death, his, his friends and his father.

He isn’t even asking Endeavor to fight Dabi. He will do it. He must know that Nejire and him simply can’t win against the LoV and Gigantomachia but it’s not like there is anyone else.

Everyone is down and right now, the number 1 hero is too shocked to even blink, and if he doesn’t pull himself together in the next second, they are going to die.

Damnit, Shouto actually called him father.

Hey, remember that attack that incinerated a noumu with Regeneration? That attack that Endeavor had to use high in the sky or the collateral damage would have been hellish, in every sense of the word?

Yeah, they almost all died right there.

WE STAN ONE HERO.

BEAST JEANIST, BACK FROM THE DEAD, READY TO JUDGE DABI FOR HIS CRIMES AGAINST FASHION (and also the war crimes, if you insist). 

THAT’S WHY YOU FACT CHECK EVERYTHING, DABI. SO YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE AN IMBECILE AFTER YOU ACCUSED THE NUMBER 2 HERO OF KILLING THE MOST FABULOUS MAN OF THE COUNTRY.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot:  Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

 ---

~*~*~ = time skip

---

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again.  He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places.  It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

[hearts-hunger]

dralshy’a ka’ra (brighter stars): chapter one || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Series Summary: In the lake country of Naboo, you and Din romance each other under summer’s brighter stars. || Part Two of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: After docking the Crest at the harbor, you and Din while away the afternoon exploring the city hand in hand.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut (eventually) | Word Count: 3.1k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So, I loved writing Mr. and Mrs. Djarin so much that I decided to give them a vacation after all the stress of Ciryc Ca’tra. Basically, it’s Din being the sweetest husband ever. It’s technically a sequel, but I’m fairly certain it can be read as a standalone series. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

“Isn’t the sunshine wonderful, Din?”

You tipped your face up towards the bright, cloudless Naboo sky, feeling the sun on your cheeks like a kiss from a dearly-missed friend.

You heard a soft laugh come through Din’s vocoder. “Yes, it’s wonderful.”

You looked over at him and gave him a bright, sun-squinty smile. “You’re not even in it.”

He was leaned up against the side of the Crest in its shadow, as relaxed as someone in full armor could be, his arms crossed over his chest as the sunshine glinting off the bay cast shimmering reflections on his beskar. You knew he was monitoring your surroundings with care - even in the port of Naboo, where you’d never known there to be any trouble, your husband was nothing if not observant.

“I will be,” he said patiently. “But there’s no use in me sweating through my armor before we’ve even docked the ship.”

You were waiting on the harbormaster to come by and check that everything was in place with where you’d landed the Crest, and even though you knew Din had done everything by the book, he still preferred to have a conversation with the person in charge wherever he left her. You came over to him, stepping into the shade from the Crest, and rested your arms over his.

“Hi,” you said with a smile, looking up at his helm.

He chuckled. “Hi, yourself.” He leaned in to gently tap his helmet against your forehead. “Are you happy to be back?”

“Yes,” you said, earnest and sincere. You’d only come back to your home planet once since you’d been married, and that was to let your family meet your new baby. That time, you had only stayed for a few hours - Din had worried about coming at all, as the authorities on Naboo surely knew the price on his head and didn’t care that the kidnapping was, in reality, the rescue of a youngling from a murderous Imperial warlord. But he knew how much it meant to you that your family be able to see and hold your new baby, and had whisked you and your foundling into your small village in the countryside under cover of night. The expression on your mother’s face when she held your baby for the first time was something you would always treasure, and you would never be able to truly thank Din for letting you have that, even as dangerous as it had been for him to arrange.

This time, you were here without the baby; you’d taken him to Sorgan, to stay with Omera and Winta for a few days, and you knew he was having the time of his life playing with the other children in the village for hours on end. Din had made good on his promise to take you on a trip after the frozen planet - somewhere warm, where you could rest and enjoy being with each other without a care in the galaxy. You also knew he was paying good money to keep your ship off the radar; an old ship like yours was bound to draw attention, and it was only with a generous amount of credits that it would be able to go by the New Republic regulations without getting flagged.

“Thank you for bringing me,” you said.

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” It was just like Din to treat grand love gestures as everyday kindnesses to you. You would have attributed it to the Mandalorian way of life, where selflessness was expected in every aspect of one’s relationships, but you knew the way he treated you with such gentleness and kindness without ever being asked or expecting anything in return was just in your husband’s nature.

“Are we going back to Trask after this?” you asked. You didn’t want to spend your holiday worrying about what you’d do after it was over, but you knew it had to be on your husband’s mind.

He studied you for a moment. 

“I think so,” he finally said. You’d stopped there long enough to bring the frog lady to her husband and get the Crest halfway flyable again, and then taken it to Peli for more extensive repairs. It was almost as good as new, and it had taken you to Sorgan and then here to Naboo with little trouble.

“I still need to find the other Mandalorians,” Din continued. “I thought of letting you stay with your mother while I did, but...” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be apart from you like that. I can’t keep you safe if I’m not with you.”

You knew he was thinking of your baby as well as you, and you gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“We’ll come with you to Trask,” you said. “I understand you not wanting to leave us for that long. But for now, the baby will be fine with Omera for a few days. You don’t have to worry about him.”

He sighed. “I know,” he said. “It’s just... it was harder to leave him than I thought it would be.” He seemed to think he’d said something wrong, and quickly tried to mend it.

“Not that I don’t want to be here with you,” he said. “I do. It’s nice to have a break and just be with you, cyare.”

You smiled. “I know what you meant,” you assured him. “It’s hard for me to leave him too, but he’ll be fine with Omera.”

You reached up and draped your arms around his neck; his hands moved to your waist and the small of your back, holding you close to him.

“And we get a few days all to ourselves,” you said. “With no broken ship and no horrible spiders and no frosty beskar.”

He gave a wry hum of agreement. “Basic requirements for any vacation, I think.”

You laughed. “I think so too, but with our luck, we should take what we can get.”

You could have stayed in his arms like that for hours, but you felt him straighten and pull away from you a little; you turned your head to follow his gaze and saw the harbormaster coming over to the Crest. You stepped back into the sunshine, content to let Din handle the logistics of docking the ship while you basked in the warmth.

“All set,” Din said after a few minutes, putting a hand on your back to gently get your attention. You opened your eyes and almost had to close them again at the bright shine of his beskar in the sunlight.

“Great,” you said. “Is that a defense tactic for you Mandalorians? Blind your opponent with your shiny armor?”

He laughed. “Knowing us, probably.” 

You wound your arm around his and hung off him like a new bride, leaning your head against his bicep as you walked down the port street together. You drew attention - Din’s armor would always attract curious gazes wherever he went - but the people of Naboo were not aggressive or overly suspicious. Travelers of all kinds came to enjoy the sights of the beautiful city and the countryside, and as long as they didn’t cause trouble, the locals were happy to let them be.

“Do the people around here dress this fancy all the time?” Din asked.

You considered the locals that walked the streets, noticing their long, flowing dresses and ornately stitched suits that you’d grown up wearing and seeing everywhere in your childhood. You were so used to it that it hadn’t even occurred to you that it would seem out of the ordinary - you and Din were the ones who seemed out of place, with his armor and your plain shirt and trousers.

“Yes, but it’s not considered fancy,” you explained. “Even those who do manual labor still have some sort of detailed stitching or bright colors on their clothes.”

Din looked over at you, seeming to take in your outfit. “Do you miss it?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes.” It had been a bit of an adjustment when you first married, but it just wasn’t practical to wear anything that ornate when you were the wife of a bounty hunter. It attracted too much attention and made for a clumsy getaway, if you ever needed to make one. It didn't bother you now, and you were happy to dress in a way more suited to your lifestyle, but you imagined it would be a fun change of pace to wear a pretty dress every now and then.

He put his free hand over yours where it rested on his arm, gentlemanly and comforting. “I’m sorry I can’t give you... nice things. The things you were used to when you lived here.”

“Oh, Din,” you said, looking up at him. “You don’t need to apologize. I love our life, and I don’t regret anything that had to change to let me be with you. I’d give up every nice thing in the galaxy to be with you if I had to.”

His laugh was a little regretful. “Haven’t you, for the most part?”

“No,” you said honestly, hoping he would understand how much you meant it. “I mean, yes, it’s very different from how I lived here, but I don’t care about all that stuff, Din. There’s nothing I’d want more than you and our son - nothing else would make me happy.”

His gaze was steady, and you wished you could see his expression.

“I love you,” he said finally.

You smiled. “I love you too,” you said, leaning your head against his arm once more. “And besides, your son would pull every last thread of beading off of anything I decided to wear that was fancier than this.”

He laughed, and you were pleased to hear that it was more relaxed. “You’re probably right about that, cyare.”

You walked arm in arm through the streets of the city, taking in the sights and sounds of the beautiful streets of Theed. Even when you lived on Naboo, you hadn’t ventured to the capitol much - your family lived in the hill country, and you only came into Theed for special occasions. In your travels with Din, you rarely visited such a bustling city center; most of his work was conducted on the scrappier, less hospitable planets. 

You dragged Din to a halt in front of a market stall with all sorts of candies and sweets, spotting something you hadn’t had since childhood and now simply couldn't go another minute without.

“What is it?” he asked. He didn’t much care for sweets, but obliged your proclivity for them all the same.

“Plasma cloud,” you said, pointing out the pink swirls of egg whites and sugar. “My father used to bring them home to us when he came to the city on business.”

Din reached in a pocket on his belt and handed you a few credits, and you grinned at him with childish excitement.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on the side of his helmet before you went up to the stall owner for your treat. You came back with a bag of them in hand and one already popped in your mouth and handed Din his change.

“I’ll save a couple for you for later,” you said around another bite. They were better than you had remembered them, and reminded you of long summer days spent playing and waiting for your father to return home from the city.

“I know you don’t like candy,” you said, winding your arm around his again. “But you have to try a bite, at least.”

He chuckled. “I’ll try them for you, cyare. Are they good?”

You nodded. It was all good - the sunshine, your sugar-sticky fingers, Din beside you for a leisurely stroll through the city. You couldn’t remember the last time you and your husband did anything with leisure besides collapse in your bunk at night, and you determined you’d make a better effort to make happy afternoons like this one a priority for both of you.

“So, lover mine, where are you taking me?” you asked, happy to let him lead the way. He hadn’t given you any details about where you were staying while you were here, and you’d assumed you were going to stay with your parents, but it would have been impractical to dock in Theed and travel all the way to the hill country. You guessed he could have wanted to stay in the city, but that didn’t seem like him, and you looked up at his helm while you waited for his reply.

He looked down at you. “It��s a surprise.”

You grinned. “Okay. Is it somewhere in the city?”

“No,” he admitted. “We can stay for a while longer, but we should be heading out of the city before the sun starts to set. If I was drawing attention earlier, I'll be the most popular guy on Naboo come nightfall.”

You hummed in agreement. “It’s because of your winsome personality.”

He laughed. “Yes, that must be it. Mandalorians are notorious charmers everywhere they go.”

“Well, mine is,” you said. You traced the Mudhorn signet on his pauldron, the one that matched the pendant you wore around your neck. “I hope our kids grow up to be like you, Din.”

He looked over at you, perhaps as surprised as you were by the unexpectedly serious and heartfelt sentiment. You blushed, but you didn’t quite know why until you realized that you’d said kids, plural, and it had slipped out before you thought of the implications.

He seemed a little lost for words for a moment. 

“Thank you, cyar’ika,” he said, and you knew how much he meant it. “That’s... very kind of you to say.”

As always, his humility endeared him to you. You touched your fingers to your lips and then to the bottom of his visor.

He was quiet, and you knew him well enough to know that his cheeks were pink under the helm. Then, most likely with a gentle smile, he lightly nudged his shoulder against yours.

“I hope our kids grow up like me too,” he teased. “I’m what the Mandalorians call a ‘ramikadyc mando’.”

You smiled. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

He shrugged, easing his discomfort with the self-aggrandizing nature of the joke as he explained it to you.

“It’s used to describe someone who takes on the best of Mandalorian training and lives it to the fullest. Endurance, determination. Confidence, but justified by their skill. I’ve had the pleasure of knowing several Mandalorians who deserve the title.”

You wanted to say that he deserved the title too, but you knew he’d be embarrassed by it and wave you off. You settled for pressing closer to him, and he pressed closer to you in return.

You whiled away the afternoon in the city, window shopping and admiring the beautiful architecture as the sun sank lower in the sky. Music drifted from the concert hall, dreamy and elegant as it mixed with birdsong and people’s friendly conversations. You stopped to admire a great swath of flowering vines that had covered the side of a weathered stone building, the deep wine color of the blooms catching the fading sun.

“Millaflowers,” you said, recognizing them from a dress your mother had when you were very small, hundreds of the little blossoms carefully stitched into the fabric. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Din very carefully plucked one and tucked it behind your ear. “Even more beautiful on you, cyare.”

Your cheeks warmed as you reached up to touch his hand, surprised and delighted by the tender gesture.

“I love you,” you said.

He gave a soft laugh, affectionate and warm. “I love you too, ner sarad.”

You twined your fingers with his. “‘My flower’, right?” you translated.

He hummed in agreement. “It isn’t used that often, but I think it’s nice. I once heard an older Mandalorian say it to his wife, and I thought to myself that I’d like to call someone that one day.”

“Did you really?” you asked, endeared at the thought. “Oh, Din. You’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” he said sweetly. You leaned close and he obliged you with a gentle tap of his helm against your head.

“Let me take you to bed,” he said softly.

You blushed; better than anything, your husband knew how to make you feel desirable, and you were pleased with the affection and want in his voice.

You put your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said, your voice a little wobbly and lovesick. He put his hands to your waist and drew you to him, and you suddenly wished there wasn’t so much beskar between you.

He held you for a moment longer before he released you to take your hand, leading you back through the winding streets until you came to the lakeside on the opposite side of the city from the bay. The warm lights of the city reflected over the water, and lights flickered from houses nestled into the mountains that wound around the body of water that seemed to go on forever.

“That’s where we’re headed,” Din said, pointing out a small cluster of lights just visible around the curve of one of the mountains. “Near enough to the city, but no neighbors.”

You gave him a wry grin. “Any particular reason that might be important?”

You would have bet good money he smirked under his helmet. “Yeah. I’m not very neighborly.”

You gave his shoulder a playful shove, and his laugh was bright and warm even though his modulator.

“We’re taking the ferry there,” he said. “It should be here soon.”

For the sake of Din’s dignity, you didn’t start jumping up and down with delight, but you wanted to. 

“Are we really riding the ferry?” you asked.

“...yes?”

You grinned. “I’ve never been on it before,” you said. “Mother’s deathly afraid of boats, and we didn’t go into the city with dad. I’ve always wanted to, ever since I was a little girl.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m honored to be the one taking you on your first ferry ride, cyare. I’d have planned our trip a little differently if I knew you were that easy to please.”

You knew he was kidding, and you wondered what else he’d planned. Everything so far had been lovely; you didn’t need anything more.

“What else do you have planned, Djarin?” you asked, teasingly suspicious.

He cocked his head at you. “Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue?”

You laughed. “Sure, but we both know I’m as impatient as they get.” 

He gave an affectionate hum of agreement. “Yes, cyare. I know.”

He put his arm over your shoulder and drew you close, his posture relaxed and open. You leaned against him as you waited for the ferry, watching the gentle waves on the water with more peace and contentment than you’d had in a long time.

Read chapter two!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic​​​​​​​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​​​​​​​, @stardust-galaxies​​​​​​​​, @theorganasolo​​​​​​​​​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​​​​​​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​​​​, @remmysbounty​​​​​​​​, @bitchin-beskar​​​​​​​​ ♡

(since this is a continuation of Ciryc Ca’tra, I kept the same taglist - I hope that’s ok 👉👈)

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

[chemicallady]

Daddy is home

Greg Sanders x Reader

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading this. If you want some fluff with just a little sadness, you're in the right place.

Couple: Greg Sanders/Female!Reader

Category: Mostly fluff with a little piece of angst. Family slice of life for Greggo.

Content Warning: none

Summary:  Reader is use to feel Greg absence.... but what about is own children? And Greg? What's more important? His job or his family?

*****

You are use to feel Greg absence, almost every night and, sometimes, even for days. It wasn't a big deal when you two started to see each other. You were a grad student, looking for a PhD out of town - searching for a new experience- and he was a lab tech at the crime lab in Vegas. Your relationship had worked for 5 years while you were in Salt Lake City, even if you constantly missed him so much and viceversa. He spent a lot of utahns weekends at your apartment and you came back in Nevada for every break.

After your PhD graduation you came back to Vegas and he proposed to you. It was an hard time, Warrick was dead, he had printed is first book on Vegas history and you just settled down at UNLV. You had lived togheter two months and then he proposed. Of course you said yes and the two of you had a small cerimony at the Eclipse, Catherine's casinó. It was an intimate cerimony, with your friends and co workes and relatives from Norway and (your hometown/country.)

You had worked hard on your post doc as a teaching assistant and a researcher and he has continued his job as a csi. You have always prefered working at night the days you didnt have any class, in order to be awake when he came back home in the morning.

It worked since you discovered that you were pregnant. Both of you were so excited to become parents, it has always been something that you desire, having your own kids. Start a family.

After Bjorn birth, by the way, everything changed. You have started to work in the morning and sleeping at night in order to provide the best standard of living for your son. And, after two years and half, Jodie came to the world, complicating thing but coloring your life even more.

You constantly miss Greg, of course. You miss your youth with him, the mornings spent in making love with jazz music in the background before a lazy afternoons sleeping in his arms. The days he came to the University after job to pick you up.

But both of you love your family.

It's stil working.

Because you love him and Greg loves you more than anything.

More than that, he is born to be a dad. He was scared as hell, but he perfect fits that role.

Even more, he is methodical.

He is really good in keeping job separating from his personal life, even if his coworkers are his family. And yours as well.

☆

...But is hard for kids to understand why dad is never home. Especially for Bjorn, who is the eldest. He has started to notice this situation in the last weeks and you have been scared of this moment since you gave birth to him.

《 Why daddy can't come today?》

You look at your baby boy, feeling really sorry for the whole situation. It is his first baseball match with the pre school team as a player in the field from the first minute and it means a lot to him.

Bjorn's really smart for his age, he understand that his parents jobs are important because is a duty... But is natural that he feels so betrayed. He is still too young to even imagine how demanding is Greg's job.

《Because daddy has a case》, you try to explain with a soft voce, caressing his blonde hair with two fingers. He seems totaly like his father in this moment. 《He has to catch this big bad guy and-》

《Why uncle Nick is not catching him for daddy? Just for today! 》

《Because they work togheter, sweetheart... you know that. We already talk about daddy's job...》

Not in a specific way, of course. Greg is more like a super hero to Bjorn.... he is too innocent and young to know how cruel and horrible could be the world sometimes.

《It's not fair. He never came to see me play》

《That's not fair... you know that daddy is so sad for this... he ask me to shot everything so he can see it as long as he will be home!》

That doesn't help.

《And I'll be already in bed》 he snuffles, before running in his room, nearly cry.

You don't know how to manage this. Both of Greg and you are really indipendent.... that's why your wedding is so strong, because you don't need the other around one all the time.

But for Bjorn is different. He needs his daddy as he needs you. Most of that, he wants to make Greg proud of him, shows him how he has improved thanks also to their weekend practices on Sundays.

You are still thinking about a solution, but Jo start to cry from her playbox.

You have to speak with your husband and decide what tell to Bjorn, togheter.

He deserves a good explanation.

☆

It's late when Greg comes home.

He is surprised when he notice that the kitchen lights are still turned on. You are sitting at the table, looking at your laptop as you can't really see it.

《 y/n, baby?》, he calls you, waking you up from your thoughts. 《Are you ok? It's like 3 in the morning, sweetie.》

《Yeah, I was looking over some notes from next week semenary when I realised how late it was, I decided to wait for you to come back.》

《Thanks, after a couple of double shifts, I really need to speak with my wife》, he says with a smile, before kisses your lips and take a sits next to you. 《I've missed home in those last two days.》

《Have you slept a little?》, you ask worried. When a case is so demanding, the team works till they are exhausted. 《Did you have a propel meal?》

《...I ate two sandwiches Dr Robbins' wife made for us.》

《....there is some roast left. I'm gonna warm it for you and then I'll put you in the bed at least for nine hours, bright man》

He laughts a little. 《Yes ma'am.》

You stand up, caressing his hair, after place a kiss on his head. 《Tell me about the cause. Was that bad?》

《More like a nightmare....》

He starts talking about the brutal abductions he was working on those last days. In the meanwhile you are cooking for him. You open a good bottle of wine your father sent to you last week and prepare a couple of fine glasses. Is not a problem for you when Greg talks about his job. For some unknown reasons, it grows on you during the years togheter. You also have helped the team sometimes with you competences. It's quite normal for the two of you speaking about your day. It helps to split away the stress and find always your connection. And is always reliving for you see that even if the job is so demanding physically and emotionally, Greg can totaly handle it. Not only. He loves is job. Even in dark days like this one.

《Poor girls....》, is the only thing you can say, while you're watching your husband eat like he was starving. 《No one deserve this kind of fate...》

《Think at the parents 》, he observes, moving his elbows quickly. 《If someone would have done something like that on Jodie, I'd went mad.》

You stop thinking about the case immediately.

《Sorry for the unhappy connection.... but if you are not too tired, we need to speak about our boy.》

Greg looks at you surprised. 《What about him? Bad day?》

《Yes》, you answer, surprising him even more. Bjorn is really talented in sports, unlike his father. 《He played 10 minutes than he had an argument with the coach and spent the rest of the afternoon warming the bench.》

This is unusual. Bjorn is a good lad. Always smiley and obedient at preschool. Teachers love him because he is so good and he knows a lot about science and stuff even if he is four. Mom is an academic, a college professor and daddy is a scientist. How could be different? He is also responsible and he always take serious the baseball trainings. That's the first time he disobey this much.

《What happened y/n? Oh, no. Let me guess.》 You look him cover his own face with a hand. 《He is mad at me, isn't he?》

《Yep babe, he is really mad at you. And at me as well. By now, I think he is mad at the world because you didn't come today.... I explained him that's not your fault, but...》

Greg sighs 《But it is my fault. When he born I swore to God that I'd be a good father even if my job is.... the 70% of my life.》

《But you are》, you say with a stubborn tone in your voice. 《You are a good father. It was just and unfortunate Saturday. He have never missed a game before. You'd be there if it wasn't for the case. 》

《I know but he deserves more than all those 'if' statements. 》 You look at him, feeling the heaviness of this thoughts. 《I should stay in the lab.》 He finally says and you realise a long sigh. This is not going to be an happy conversation, not with your regretting husband weak moment. 《The moment I met you, I knew you were the one. I wanted to start a family before changing job, work on field. It was a stupid decision. If I continued to work as DNA tech we would have more money and more time to spend all togheter.》

《.... I throught we were out with 'if' statements.》

《Y/n, honey-》

《Don't you dare 'honey' me, Greg Sanders.》 You stop him. You keep his hand in yours and smile. 《You are an amazing father. One day, when he will be older and wiser, he will understand. Now is easy to handle the situation. If you spend a day with him, he'll forget about it. Is just a kid, G.》

Greg seems not satisfied. He feels like an idiot, not thing about how mad is son would be noticed his absence. But he also trust your judgement. He always says that you are an amazing mom and even more, the best of wives.

So he smiles back.

《Maybe you are right.》

《Maybe?》, you ask with an ironical tone. He stand up and comes near to you. He offers his hand and you keep it, staning on your feet.

《Sorry Dr Sanders》, he replies, while you are wrapping your arm on his neck. 《You're completely right y/n. I'm already planning an afternoon, just for boys.》

《He'll love it》, you reassure him, before asking for another kiss, with more passion. You both find a good arrangement so you can clean the kitchen and try to sleep at least three hours.

.....or maybe do something more interesting with you husband, who seems to have plans, looking the way he is lifting the t-shirt of your pijama....

You are use to feel Greg absence, that's true.

But when he comes back, well.... that's the moment you realise how much you actually have missed him. And how much you love him and be loved in return.

○Fin○

[ohnopoe]

Once Upon A Time | Frankie Morales

Ship: Frankie Morales x Reader Prompt: “What happened to their happily ever after?” “Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just once upon a time.” Word Count: 3.6k+ Tagging: @remmysbounty​ (requester) Author’s Note: If anyone... wanted more on this story... lmk because I kinda got invested whilst writing this ngl

This is part of my follower celebration! Click here for info!

It was a story he knew better than any other. A story ingrained in his mind, with every detail as clear as day. The words might change, but the world never did, a story of friendship, a story of love, a story that he would turn into something magical and foreign, and do his best to hide the reality of.

It was a story that Sophia knew just as well, but that never stopped her from asking for it. Night after night, whenever Frankie would go to put his little girl to sleep, she would ask for the same bedtime story, eyes wide, pout in place, and Frankie, well, he could never say no to his daughter.

The story was a part of the bedtime routine at this point, and it hurt just as much as it brought a smile to both their faces.

Sometimes he would tell of adventures, times when the two protagonists would go off to distant lands, fighting for their country and their families. Sometimes the tales would be simpler, funny instances that seemed just a little too familiar to be made up. And sometimes, if she tried hard enough, Sophia could almost believe she remembered being there for some of them.

It always revolved around the same two characters Frankie had long since given up on renaming them with every story, sticking to the pseudonyms he had given them so long ago; even if the names didn’t truly fit. But sometimes, sometimes they were joined by others, three or four friends who would always seem to linger in the distance, never taking centre stage, but never truly leaving either.

There was a near endless number of adventures for Frankie to tell, but they always came back to the same story at the end, a story of a friendship deeper than any other, a story of love.

At five years old, Sophia had grown to love story time more than Frankie ever could have expected. At one time, convincing her it was bedtime had been a task and a trial, and even his friends had been at a loss for what to do. But then you had floated in, hiding your own nerves as you offered your god-daughter a warm smile, wrapping her in your arms as you carried her to bed.

The story had been different that night. You hadn’t gone for one of the ridiculous number of books Frankie had bought in an effort to appeal to his daughter’s brimming imagination, no, you had gone into your memory and stolen stories from reality.

It was the first time in a long time that he saw Sophia relax and surrender to bedtime. Curiosity and wide eyes kept her focused on you and you alone as you weaved memories into something magical, and far more child friendly than the reality of them had ever been.

Frankie never mentioned the way his heart warmed at the sight of you sitting there on the edge of Sophia’s bed, never dared to bring up the way he adored watching the two of you interact, or how he wished it were a permanent part of his life. No, he simply stood there with a smile plastered on his lips as he watched from the doorway until his little girl was sound asleep and you gently ushered your way back to the living room to return to the group of friends that you had arrived with.

Over a year later, and he continued on what you had started with a bittersweet smile. He wasn’t as good with words, and he’d stumble as he tried to turn real life threats into mystical parallels, but he’d never fail to put on voices that made Sophia laugh, and he never missed a night time story, no matter what was going on.

Tonight’s story was a soft one. There were no tales of your joint time in the special forces weaved into tales of Knights serving a magical kingdom, no heroics or daring rescues. No, tonight it had been simpler, the memory of the two of you relaxing together as you simply drove for as long as you could, camping out in your car when you got too tired to go on, and just enjoying a weekend off with your best friend.

He could remember that evening clearer than what he had eaten for lunch only hours ago. You had been exhausted when he finally decided to pull over for the night. Curled up in the passenger seat, with a sleepy smile playing on your lips, it was the most at ease he had ever seen you in all your years of friendship. The stars had shone brightly, the open air making them gleam all the more as you turned to face him in the car that had felt far too small all damn day.

“This is nice,” the words were mumbled as they slipped past your lips, your exhaustion pulling you closer towards sleep with each passing second. And maybe it was the fact you were already falling into sleep, curled up awkwardly as you were, but the next words you spoke gave him the slightest flickering of hope.

“I’m glad the other’s were busy,” you admitted, each word slurring further into the next. “I’m glad it’s just us.”

Years had passed and still those words were ingrained in his memory. Of course, in tonight’s story it hadn’t been a car but a carriage, the two knights, because you were far stronger than any princess, travelling together through magical realms that were just as beautiful as that night sky had been. But even in his retelling some things remained the same, and your words… well, he could never replace those.

Frankie was so used to seeing the angelic features of his daughter fast asleep at the end of each story, that it stunned him to look down, pulling himself from the memory and the hope he had once had that you might one day be something more than friends, to see those same curious eyes staring back at him.

“You should be asleep,” he offered with a chuckle. After all, he could never truly be mad at his little girl, not when she was staring at him with questions dancing in her gaze. It wasn’t uncommon that she would ask questions about his stories, little things, things that seemed irrelevant to him but meant the world to her, but usually they came earlier in the night, long before the stories would reach their climax. “Go on then, what do you want to know?”

Shuffling her way up her bed until she was sitting upright, that same stubborn determination of her father reflected back at him, she pulled her toy frog, aptly named ‘Leaf’ into her hold as she stared back at him determinedly. He could practically hear her mind whirling, trying to find the words to ask whatever was distracting her from sleep tonight.

With a frown, and a tilt of her head that reminded him eerily of Santiago, she spoke carefully, almost as if she was scared of the answer. “What happened to their happily ever after?”

Frankie paused at the question, visibly shocked. He had expected another of her eccentric ponderings, questions of hair colour or clothing or something that gave the story depth but no real significance. He had never even considered the end.

The truth was, the ending hadn’t been anything remarkable at all. In fact, the mediocrity of it almost broke his heart. Time had pulled at you both, a short lived relationship for him with a woman who had never really gelled with his daughter, a new job that took you a few states over… And then somehow it had been months, hell, it had almost been a year now, and he hadn’t even spoken to you through text.

But maybe that was a good thing, maybe this was the chance you had been bereft all these years. For so long you had been there for him, for the whole damn team. Your own life lingered in the shadows, pushed aside so you could help him adjust to suddenly having a child, to being a single parent all at once, so you could help Will’s confidence in public speaking, so you could be there to support Benny at every fight.

Now you were further away, but you had a job you had dreamt of, you didn’t spend every waking moment on a group of men who never could quite figure out how to function without you. Didn’t you deserve a chance at something real? Something that was purely your own?

Sure, it wasn’t the life he had dreamt of, you weren’t by his side, but you must be happy, and that, hell, that meant so much more to him.

With that same bittersweet smile that dragged at the corners of his lips every time he recounted one of your adventures together, Frankie pulled at Sophia’s blankets, trying and quickly failing at getting her settled again. But she was determined, wiggling away from her father’s attempts as she stared resolutely back at him.

A heavy sigh, and he glanced away, terrified of how she might react at learning the horrible truth of the world.

“Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it’s just ‘once upon a time’,” he admitted. And, damn it, when had he started to think of this as a love story? When had he given in to the fact that he had fallen so damn hard for his best friend, even now, so long after you had left.

“Maybe that’s because it’s not the end,” Sophia pondered, although there was a resolve behind each word, as though she was answering a question whilst asking it.

The soft plush fabric of Leaf was pushed against Frankie’s hand, a silent attempt at comfort from the little girl who somehow always seemed to know too much. “You should call Y/N,” she spoke softly, but decisively; the impact of her words louder than anything she could have shouted.

Frankie’s head jolted up, any walls that had once been in place shattering as he heard your name fall from his daughter’s lips. He had been so careful, always making sure to fictionalise the tales, even your name, to make it something far from reality. How had she figured it out? And when?

Perhaps it was merely a coincidence, his little girl recognising a similarity between what she had once seen between the two of you and the characters he spoke of each night. Perhaps she hadn’t truly figured it out. Perhaps, and even he could admit it was beyond hoping, perhaps she just missed you too, and was thinking of you and the stories you once offered when you’d come to visit.

But, while there was a sad longing in his little girl’s eyes that burned away at him, it was not the strongest of emotions he saw there. This wasn’t just his little girl missing a friend, she was too focused, too set in her decisions. She had to have figured things out, and it had Frankie gulping nervously.

There was no risk of her telling you, not when you hadn’t spoken in months, and if she were to tell Pope or the Miller brothers? Well, it’d hardly be news to them. But still, something about her just knowing how he felt about you made things so much more real.

For so long you had been an unattainable dream, a picture of love that he would never dare reach for knowing Sophia had to be his number one priority. But now you were something far more terrifying, you were real.

Of course, he had no misconceptions that you’d ever actually go out with him, especially now that you had moved away. No, you’d laugh at the suggestion, thinking it was a joke the boys had put him up to, surely. But knowing Sophia wanted this rather than fought against it… somehow there was something damning about that thought.

Pulled from his thoughts as Sophia took back her precious Leaf and began snuggling back into the warmth of her blankets, he offered a smile that was anything but convincing as he struggled to find the words he needed.

But she beat him to it, holding out her little finger with the same determination she had held all damn night. “Pinky promise me you’ll call her,” she spoke, still focused even as her voice became muffled behind the toy she hugged close. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a suggestion, it was a demand.

At any other time Frankie might have laughed at the way the words were almost barked, he might have even scruffed up her hair and teased her, his little princess demanding she get her way. But he was still far too lost in his own mind to even comprehend the ridiculous tone he was met with.

Perhaps it was time to give you a call. It didn’t have to be an admission of an undying love that had settled within him years ago, and it certainly didn’t have to mention the fact that he told stories of you every night to the little girl who had wrapped him so thoroughly around her little finger that he had given into her demands of calling you without so much as a moment’s discussion. But it would be nice to hear your voice, to know you were ok. Even if it broke his heart to hear how happy you were in your new life, even if he found out you had everything you had put aside in the past, it would be worth it just to hear your voice again.

With a heavy sigh, he leant forward, entwining his pinky with the little finger of his daughter. “I pinky promise.”

Sophia nodded in response, like a general sending her troops into battle, even as her shoulders began to droop against her pillows. It seemed that now, satisfied with the fact she got what she was after, sleep was finally starting to creep its way over her.

“Good.” The word was softer than her demands, although she would never admit it as she snuggled further into bed, her eyelids beginning to droop as her other hand came to tighten her hold against Leaf. “You should do it tonight,” the words were almost mumbled now, eyes slipping shut as she spoke. “Tell her I miss her.”

Frankie sat there far longer than he usually did, just watching his little angel as she drifted peacefully into sleep. She looked so pure and sweet when she was asleep, no hint of the conniving way she could control her father in sight.

She was growing up too fast. He used to think that parents said it too often, overused the term to a point it had become a cliche. But watching her now, the way she had been able to put pieces together when he had worked so hard to keep them a secret, the way she had made him promise to call you, not that he ever needed much convincing… It was hard to reconcile that this was the very same little girl who still thought mud pies were fantastic fun, the same girl who had curled into him in fear when Santiago had bought crackers for the fourth of July and unintentionally terrified her only months prior.

He was procrastinating, even he knew that. But somehow the idea of leaving the terrifyingly pink and green room, (never trust a five year old for matching colour combinations, that was a lesson well learnt), made his promise feel all the more real.

The night was pitch black now, no hints of dusk lingering in the sky. Hours had passed as he simply sat there, lost to his thoughts of you and the terrifying possibilities of what calling you might entail.

The perfect job, a nice apartment, your life was finally what you deserved, and he was anything but thrilled to hear about it. He knew it’d break his heart to hear just how happy you were away from him. He knew because each time you had spoken after you first moved had hurt so damn much that, in a truly cowardly manner, he had let more and more time slip between the phone calls until they had ceased all together, all out of the fear of the pain he was bound to feel.

It would only get worse, he reckoned. Soon enough you’d find love, you’d start a family, have a picture perfect life, and he’d be nothing but a piece of your past. He could cope with that, so long as you were happy, that’s what he had always told himself. But when you spoke of how great your new job was, of how nice your community was, that green monster ate away at him with a ferocity he had never expected to feel.

He had to just get it over with, stop thinking about it and just call. If he didn’t, he’d be lost to his thoughts all damn night, and that was never a good idea.

He was pulling up your contact before he even left the softly lit bedroom, thumb hovering over the call button as he shut the door ever so carefully.

He could do this. It was just a call, it didn’t even have to be long.

What surprised him most as he finally pressed the green button was the excitement he felt at the thought of talking to you again. Sure, he was terrified, but the thought of hearing your voice… it still felt far more like coming home than it ought to have.

The shrill ring of the tone felt horribly loud, echoing through the silence of the small house almost tauntingly. But Frankie persisted. He could do this… most likely…

With each ring, a hole seemed to grow within Frankie’s chest. You must have been busy, probably out with new friends, maybe even a date, enjoying your new life, the life you deserved. He almost hung up, considered it with more conviction with each echoing ring, but he couldn’t tell Sophia a lie, and he couldn’t just give up now. Maybe it would ring out, maybe you had even changed your number. One way or another, he’d see it through, if only so he would be able to meet his daughter’s gaze in the morning.

And then the sound cut off suddenly, and it was replaced by something that stole his breath away.

“Frankie?” you sounded almost hopeful, questioning if it really was him, rather than why on earth he was calling.

He would never tire of hearing the way you said his name. It didn’t matter if it was in teasing or happiness, hell, he’d even take the way you groaned out an irritated ‘Francisco’ when he’d embarrass you with stupid jokes. There was just something about the way his name came from your lips that made it sound like so much more than just a name, it sounded wholesome and pure and so damn important.

“Hey,” he spoke with a huff of laughter that felt awkward and forced.

He sounded just as insecure as he had that first time you’d met, Will dragging you over to meet the rest of the boys after he’d quite literally run into you during orienteering earlier in the day. Frankie had been anything but smooth, used to hanging with the boys, and not some gorgeous woman who stole his breath away.

Had you always been on base? How had he not seen you before? He was certain he would have remembered seeing that smile before, and those eyes. The moment you met his gaze, he had been lost, and any attempt at speaking had come out so damn garbled that it had taken him weeks to get the others to shut up about it.

It had been far too long since you’d spoken, all those years of comfort that had grown between you reverting back as his insecurities crept their way back in once more. But, damn, was it good to hear your voice again.

“How are you?” the question was so impersonal that it had Frankie closing his eyes in embarrassment as soon as the words had left his mouth, wishing he could take them back, wishing he could have been smooth and suave, anything but the awkward mess he seemed to be as he pottered around the house anxiously.

Your breath caught on the other side of the line, a giddy smile filling your features as you curled up on the sofa of your apartment. God, it was good to hear that voice again.

“I’ve missed you.” The words passed your lips before you could even think to stop them. The admission was far more than he had asked for, but it felt so good to get it off your chest. You had missed him from the moment you had left, hell, you had missed him from the moment you agreed to take the damn job that had uprooted your entire life.

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted with a sigh of relief, letting your words curl around him like a comforting blanket. Maybe you were just being polite, sure, but he doubted it. You never said something you didn’t mean, at least, not to him, and he was holding onto that fact desperately as his pacing finally came to a halt. “I wish you were here.”

Damn, he really had no control over his mouth, did he?

But before he could berate his idiotic mind for forgetting to filter thoughts from speech, he heard the way you inhaled sharply. Your words followed quickly, leaving no time for him to over analyse the sound.

“So do I.”

[queensdivas]

Peonies Chapter 8

It has been a while since I've posted about Grigor or The Great. Y'all I have been busy with finals and another fic on archive that has been my favorite thing to write. If you've ever watched The Terror from AMC then you'll enjoy this.

But I haven't forgot about one of my favorite fics. Never.

Other than that! Here we go after weeks of not writing.

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

The idea of falling asleep after today just sounds nauseating. Seeing the horrors in front of me then coming back to my apartment for Peter wanting to kill me. Then for Grigor to storm off due to the fact that he thought I would lay with my own cousin by marriage. Yes I’m well aware that’s still a common practice amongst the Monarchs of the world but not in my book!

Turning my head to watch the flames slowly begin to die down before my eyes. The room was beginning to spiral into that infamous Russian cold. I didn’t feel like throwing another log on since part of me thinks I deserve to be in the wintry world that I have chosen to live in.

This plan for making Catherine the ruler of all Russia is becoming stale. What have we done that’s been achievable anyhow! Go to the front to feed a bunch of soldiers! You saw what happened when I alone tried to help Peter! Catherine influenced a new Patriarch yet the women of the court still find Catherine to be an annoyance. There has been absolutely no effort or somewhat change Catherine has done to make things more in her favor. God she is a child thrown into a world that she has no idea what she's doing. Although I should be guiding...but...

What good am I doing here! I feel as if I’m just now a fuck toy for Grigor to feel a womens touch since his wife is with the Emporer on a daily basis! Throwing the blanket off me to march over to the nearest vase and chuck it across the room!

A screech left my body as I cleared everything off the vanity onto the floor. I could feel the blood rushing through me for this anger to spiral out of control! This stupid country! Grabbing a book to throw it against the wall!

THIS STUPID COUNTRY!

HOW CAN ONE FUCKING BELONG TO THIS COURT!

HOW CAN ONE SINGLE HUMAN BE SUCH AN ABSOLUTE MORON! AND YES THAT HUMAN IS ME!

WHY DOESN’T HE TRUST ME!

I’M NOT HIS WIFE!

THIS STUPID GOD DAMN COUNTRY!

IT’S MAKING ME QUESTION EVERY SINGLE THREAD OF INSANITY I HAVE BECAUSE THE MAN I’M BEGINNING TO FALL FOR HAS MAJOR TRUST ISSUES! CAN’T HE SEE THAT I AM A ONE MAN ONE WOMEN SORT OF WOMAN!

YES I’M A WHORE TO A MAR….

Huh...would you look at that Chiara? All because he lit a fire under your own ass because everyone else around you stays clear of it.

I…..

I feel nothing….

Maybe the cold will make me feel something in this empty body. Grabbing the handles of the window to pull them out. They smacked against the walls for the wind to soar through my room. It flew through my hair for the first few seconds for it to stop. The cold swaddled me up but I didn’t move from the window.

I do not deserve the things I have been given in life. For I am a cold hearted bitch with almost no remorse in my actions. I could possibly kill a hundred people and proclaim it to be for the greater good. No sense of remorse or sadness.

How could Grigor want to love someone as vile as me..I am cold..evil. Someone like me doesn’t deserve the warm embrace of what love is. This lust is beginning to form into the most dangerous tool one can have in their life. For it can bring life and destroy it in a matter of seconds.

I miss his touch..the way his fingers would glide across my arm as we snuggled together on the bed. The way he kissed my forehead after a long time of making love. Him showing me his drawings and I know he’s drawing me in my sleep! It hurts to feel this sort of way! I don’t want to feel anything! This feeling is almost heart wrenching and...beautiful.

My breathing began to choke till the only warmth that was on my body was the singular tear that had escaped my eye. I’m not a crier. Though we Italians embrace our emotions and turn it into something beautiful, I think this tear is a sense of relief. If I didn’t feel anything. I wouldn’t be whimpering in front of an open window.

A gentle beat from the door echoed through my room as I didn’t even move. If Peter was sending his soldiers to kill me I get the feeling there would be no knock. Please let it be Grigor. I need to feel his touch and tell him the truth. Not all of it but at least enough that I don’t spoil my plans for Catherine.

I closed the window to hurry over to the fire and toss a log in. If it’s Grigor then he probably would prefer something a little warmer. Please him please. Grabbing my robe to put it on as I opened the door. My eyes expanded from the confusion of who was standing before me in my bed robes.

“Elizabeth?” Well if she was coming to kill me I imagine my room has some sort of secret entrance and would’ve done it in my sleep.

“I hope I didn't disturb you. I think we need to have a little chat.”

“We do?” Dear God if Peter opened his mouth about what he started and what I finished I’m going to go kill him myself!

“Yes. May I come in?” Taking a step back for the door to open. She was in her bed clothes as she noticed the mess I had made in my room.

“The work of Peter no less?” I kept my mouth shut for once waiting for her to say something more. She’s going to defend Peter as much as she can. Probably for his own father who I imagine she secretly loved. From my understanding Peter the Great was also quite promiscuous just like his mother. A family of harlots.

“I heard from Peter what happened here early today. I highly doubt that you called him a bastard since he can be quite over dramatic.” So she’s aware that he’s a sniffling bastard whose inability to rule is quite prominent.

“Not talking much tonight are you? Usually you have a comment to say if I were in here talking about Peter.”

“For once Elizabeth. I could truly give a shit about Peter and his antics. I’m not here to please him and make him happy. I’m here for Catherine and making her more comfortable with her new station.” Try not to think that we might kill her own Nephew in a good amount of time. If not by Catherine then by the military.

“You’re not angry that he was in here and wanted to kill you?” She sat down in front of the fire in the love seat for me to stand before here.

“Your nephew. My cousin by marriage is a harmless little bug in my life Elizabeth. His actions were not even worth a single drop of sweat from my brow.”

“Did the stabbing of a major General not scare you? As an outsider I thought it would have scared you horribly.”

“Not scared. More gasping which then leads to utter annoyance. I am more than capable of handling Peter when he’s in a state of anger trying to kill me. What do you even want because I would like some sort of rest.”

“Be more gentle when it comes..

“Just because his mother was a horrid woman does not excuse his actions Elizabeth! That’s saying Zeus should be considered a kind man even though he raped Leda because of his own mental state. Peter thinks of him as Zeus when in reality he is worse than Hades himself! Life is horrid Elizabeth and constantly blaming his issues on his mother is disgusting and you standing here trying to defend him holds you accountable for his actions.”

“What an interesting comparison. You are a very bright woman and that wicked tongue is able to strike anyone down.”

“I can strike down anyone with tongue and steel.” Taking in a sharp breath to walk over to a full bottle of sweet red wine.

“Would you like a glass?” Asking for her to nod. Popping off the court to grab two glasses then bringing two glasses over for us. Sitting down across from here to begin pouring her a glass. She motioned for me to stop for me to pour myself some as well.

“I apologise dear Aunt Elizabeth. I sometimes forget to catch my tongue before it falls out of my head.” We both took a long drink to the point when we were done I had to pour a little more between us.

“It’s quite alright. I’m just grateful you didn’t kill my beloved Nephew before it was too late.” Before I could answer the doors bursted open.

“Excuse me mam?” Turning to see a serf was standing by the door of my world. Did something happen to Fernanda?

“Zasha? What is it?” Elizabeth stood up from my chair to approach her.

“It’s the Emperor. He’s fallen gravely ill.” Well. That is going to solve our problems much faster than I thought it was going to happen. She wrapped herself around her robe as we began walking out of my bedroom.

“Why are you coming? I thought you despised him” She asked for me to nod but was still walking.

“We’re family by marriage. He is now my cousin whether I like it or not.” Turning the corner to see that Orlo, George...and Grigor were waiting outside the room. Splendid. I imagine his wife was ready to lay in bed yet stumbled into that mess.

“From what I’ve seen and heard it sounds bad. A lot of vomit and blood.” Orlo told us to stand next to Orlo. One of the priests that was in the room came out with the black mask on his face to then take it off before us.

“You may not enter the room. For it might be contagious till the doctor tells you differently. For he’s running a high fever, a lot of vomiting, and has been seeing strange visions. The Archbishop is there with him now. He’ll tell you more once he comes out.” Is...Is that vomit on his mask? Or...dear god. He walked past us heading down the hall towards the apartments.

“How is he?” Catherine came in with a very well detailed look of uneasiness.

“Very ill.” Elizabeth told Catherine for my eyes to drift over to Grigor. He was holding onto George but staring directly at me. Stupid man. Stupid man!

“Can we go in?” Catherine asked Orlo but I’m assuming not.

“Well everyones being kept out here.”

“In fear of contagion.” Finally looking at Grigor again for us to lock eyes for a brief instant till I turned to Catherine.

“He’s been vomiting continuously throughout the night, and he runs a high fever, and he has fits of wild delirium.”

“The Doctor and Archbishop are with him.” I told her to place my hands on her shoulder to give some comfort to this poor wife and my cousin. The door opened for a child to come out with a bowl filled with blood and vomit. Not to mention his entire body was covered head to toe in Peters upchuck...and from the smell..the back door was also used as well.

“Excuse me.” Oh the smell! Covering my nose for Grigor and I to look at one another again. He doesn’t look concerned. Is that a smile?

We all leaned into the doorway to see what was happening in there since we could only hear the sound of Peter vomiting and coughing more and more. I did the sign of the cross to hold onto my cross necklace. I don’t pray for Peter. But I pray for the Doctor inside the room that he stays safe from whatever disease has fallen upon Peter. Peter could go to hell for all I care, but I have to keep up appearances.

The Archbishop popped in the doorway for us to straighten our backs. He came out of his bedroom to close the door behind him. Grigor inched a little closer to me to the point I could sense the warmth radiating off him.

“How is he?” Grigor asked for the Archbishop to stare directly at us.

“Extremely ill. The fear is that it may be Cholera.”

“Cholera?” That’s a rough sickness. Even I wouldn’t wish that sort of death on my enemy.

“Which I suspect he will have caught from a possessed, nocturnal animal. Probably a badger.” If I ever get sick in this country I would rather just endure the ride home and die in a carriage. These doctors are not touching me with a ten foot pole!

“Where would he have come across a possessed badger?” Catherine asked thankfully. That sounds absolutely unrealistic and not how you even got Cholera. Not that I don’t know how you get Cholera but I imagine it’s not from a possessed badger.

“If it is Cholera, he will die, will he not?” Holding her a little tighter as a cue to sound a lot more concerned. You have to make it believable that you’re distraught that he might die!

“It’s a strong possibility that we must face.” Looking at Orlo who kept the same straight face he usually has.

“Oh my little man.” THE POOR BABY! I WILL WEEP WITH A BOTTLE OF WINE AND GLORIOUS MUSIC!

“The Doctor is working hard on cures. It may be something else.”

“Has he said anything? Is he talking?” Why would he be concerned if he’s talking? Grigor might as well give a shit if he truly dies or not.

“He speaks intermittently. Much of it is deranged. Said he was a wolf, and wanted to eat Swedish children for breakfast. And there was some talk of what he’d like to do to Chiara and with various ladies of the court. I’ll spare you the details.” My body ran cold for Catherine to turn and face me. The blood in my body felt as if it dried up as I wanted to vomit. Looking at Grigor as I felt so disgusted with myself.

“Before more bouts of diarrhea and vomiting.” The Archbishop went back in for Grigor to take in a deep breath.

“I will go in to see him.” Say what?

“Do not risk your life.” Elizabeth told him as he stopped in the doorway.

“I want to be there for my friend.” Bullshit! He could give an absolute shit about Peter at this point!

“I had no idea your husband was so brave, Georgina.”

“Oh yes famously so.”

“In more ways than one.” Adding into the conversation for George to turn and face me.

“Just being honest.” An angry snake she is when I add my own little comments. Settle down hypocrites.

Orlo, Catherine, and I huddled into our own group to see the expression of Catherines face change from the fake grieving widow to an excited future ruler. Must admit this is a little exciting for me as well.

“If this is Cholera, he could be dead within the day.” Orlo told us as Catherine was beginning to smile slightly but trying to control herself.

“Right. That means..”

“Yes. Yes it will be yours. You will rule Russia.” By God it’s going to actually happen.

“After all our planning..it just..”

“Falls right into your lap.” Orlo finished as the doors opened back up. The ArchBishop came out of the room to take off his mask. Remember when I said that this planning became stale? I stand corrected and I was completely wrong. This just made everything better.

“In light of this terrible situation, a meeting is being called to deal with the possible transition of power.”

“To me.” Easy Catherine. That’s a little too exciting for someone who's losing their husband.

“Indeed. It seems so. You are the next...should the worst happen.” Seems like the worst is about to happen right before them. If it’s going this quickly then I might be going home soon! Finally an end to this horrid nightmare and cesspool!

“Prepare with prayer, and the senate will be called.”

“I look forward to it.” Damn it Catherine!

“Not him dying. That is bad. And sad. And we hope for the best and a speedy recovery.” If I could slap my own face I would without making this seem like we’re excited that Peter is dying.

“God will be with us. He always is.” The Archbishop left the hall for Catherine and Orlo to talk amongst themselves. I need to talk to Grigor. I can’t stand being apart from him at nights for it is his warmth I believe that is keeping me sane. I don’t think I can tell him that I think I’m starting to love him but atleast telling him I need him is a good start.

*Grigors P.O.V.*

DIE! DIE YOU HORRIBLE HUMAN! YOU THINK YOU CAN SLEEP WITH MY OWN LOVE BECAUSE YOU’RE THE EMPEROR! DIE DIE DIE! I WILL KILL YOU AND WILL LIVE PEACEFULLY IN MY OWN LIFE!

Removing the pillow to see that he was still breathing! Bastard! Slamming the pillow back onto him to push down even further in hopes that I might finish the job! Just die! How hard is it to kill someone who's already dying! Talking about Chiara as if she’s just a common peasant!

“What are you doing!?” George yelled as I continued to push down harder and harder.

“What is right and you know it George! I have to do something!”

“Fuck!” George pulled me back as we stopped to see Peter was still breathing. Dragging me from his bed towards the middle of his room.

“I was given the choice to be a man or a child! I’ve decided to become a man for the sake of my sanity!”

“You poisoned him?”

“Arsenic. From the wall in his borscht!” Feeling the cold slap from George as she was in full rage of my actions.

“What happens to us when he’s dead? Think what Peter provides for us!”

“You...you..”

“You’re a stupid fool Grigor!” She took a deep breath to calm herself down.

“Our situation is complex. Yet also simple! We have a safe life with Peter! Luxury, security, a place in court. Who’s he gonna be replaced by? Catherine!? We’re nothing to her! What happens to us then? Not to mention Chiara is making it much more difficult to handle this situation. No thanks to you!”

“So you may have a lover but I may not!” I love Chiara and this marriage is non-existent!

“Grigor?” Peter called for me as I turned to see him barely awake and moving. Say something George! You hypocritical bitch say something!

“We’re here.” George, like a mother goose, flew to Peter's aid. Well. It’s very clear now on where my life stands now. George has made her bed and it is time for me to make my own with a Duchess who isn’t afraid to get the job done when it needs to be done.

Letting go of the pillow to march out of the room and slamming the doors shut. Taking in a few deep breaths to calm myself before scampering off to Chiara. Chiara? Where is she? Perhaps in her chambers!

It was like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel heading to her apartment! The outline of the room was glowing before my eyes. Chiara..my love. The only woman in this world that can make my knees buckle to bow at her feet. That fire is intoxicating to the point that I might die of happiness.

Slamming the door open to see Chiara was in front of the flames looking directly into them. Her head slowly turned to face me with a somber look. A bottle of wine sitting next to her looked thoroughly used. Oh my precious flame. Closing the door to sit down next to her as she went back into looking into the fire.

“I placed my blade against his neck threatening to take his life away. Why didn’t I slice it open? Tell me why I didn’t Grigor?” She asked for me to place my hand on her cheek.

“What happened before I came in?”

“He was mad that I helped Velementov at the front for strategy. He drew a sword on me and I fought back. I won and threatened him that if he were to ever draw his sword on me that I would win. I...I should’ve sliced his throat open and strung him up as if he was game to place on my wall.” I feel like I should tell her that I’m the one that poisoned him. That he is dying in his own bed because the world would be better without him! She was literally going to kill him before I even came into the room!

“Chiara. I’m the one who caused him to become ill. I poisoned him in the borscht while he was eating dinner.” Her expression was the same as before till it clicked in her mind. Her entire face went from a beautiful red to a ghostly white in a matter of seconds.

“Holy shit..” She whispered to turn her attention to the fire. Is she going to tell Catherine? Not that Catherine might care much but what if she does? Would she tell the court? No...no what have I done!

“I would ask why but that..oh my god.” Turning her head to face me as I gulped.

“If it helps, I did it for you. For us..for everyone in the court that his idiocy will go away.” Her lips were slightly open with her breathing beginning to rise.

That lovely color began returning to her cheek as she climbed on top of me and wrapped herself around me. Those entrancing lips striked against mine as my hands traveled up her back to pull her shirt. She stopped to place her index finger on my lips.

“For you committing such a horrendous act. Allow me.” Removing her finger to place a kiss on my lips, to my cheek, then right underneath my jaw line. I could see the stars from how well she was working those luscious lips. Her hand gripped my cock to start playing it through my pants. God her touch. It’s almost too delicious to even allow. My eyes rolled back for me to lay down on the rug for her kisses to start moving down my body.

I love her...I hope that she knows that I would kill an army for her without regret...

~~~

@mirkwoodshewolf @bonafiderocketqueen @johndeaconshands

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @amethyst-serenade @radio-ha-ha@i-have-a-wonky-eye-too @deck-heart @actuallyanita @the-baby-bookworm @ewanmcgregors​ @panagiasikelia​