#thank you belle for the tag!

[yudol-skorbi]

how's it going

[distant--shadow]

The Witch and the Widow – Chapter One – The Lake

Laudna Bradbury had murdered her husband.

Maybe murdered. Apparently. That is what brought Imogen here - indirectly, at least.

Not that she's with the law enforcement or anything. Not that, definitely, though ironically being an officer - an interrogator - would suit her well, at least on paper. Passion and enthusiasm would be a different question - and that's why she's here. Sorta. Indirectly, again, for a different question. Words travel, by means of mouth or ink or thoughts (apparently, she had found out), even though thoughts should not travel past the head that they were made in. But they did, and continue to do so, and Imogen had heard enough accounts about the man himself (the Lady’s husband, when he was alive and after the fact), had seen enough women squashed under the boots of the men they were tied to to intimately know and understand a flash decision made in a moment for self-preservation-

all too often women tempered their instincts to allow themselves to become the soil underfoot rather than the sole of the shoe

so much as to say that Imogen does not care much if Laudna Bradbury had murdered her husband.

She cares more about what the words whispered and weaved and waded in the time after wrote:

Laudna Bradbury had used witchcraft to murder her husband.

The only utterances of magic Imogen had heard of, had seen, had unexplainably received taken telegraphed by inner voice and grey matter before that rumour, were her own.

Imogen needs answers, desperately, as though a necessity purely imperative like breathing and eating, and so she brought herself to the source of the lake before it divided and weakened and meandered from river to muddy stream to drink directly from her-

(it.)

Laudna Bradbury is a widow, a widow who continues to live on the estate her husband’s heraldry and wealth had afforded them, company kept by a small team of housemaids and gardeners and the like.

and it is a large estate, a lot to look after, for sure, certainly, with its couple hundred maybe more years in age and just as many acres. There's hairline cracks in the stucco, a missing roof tile here and there

but there is no denying that it is a fine example of architecture, certainly was the highest of fashion at the time. A grand country house with an East Wing and a West, bay windows and towers and pleasing ratios between alcove and doorways and arches and walled topiaried gardens that extend from north to south, illustrations in stained glass ornately framed with flowering climbing ivy

statues that step out from domesticated bordering jungles, now appearing more as gargoyles thanks to the decay of time, noses eroded like they have rotted off, birds’ nests of briars thorned crowns or horns

rosemary bushes skirt the main building’s façade, perfuming the sometimes hot-and-humid, more often brisk-and-grey air carried through the opened lead-lined boiled sweet coloured window panes into the dark mahogany-panelled and silk-embroidered tapestried interiors.

Off of the West Wing there is an extension nearing the height of the gargoyled walls that surround the estate. This is the wall that fortifies the Lady Bradbury’s private garden; with doors adjoining directly to her study - both of which are off limits. Imogen doesn't know much of pretty and imported flowers, but she knows local common sense, knows what berries to pick and which weed’s sap causes a blister that will never heal again should it brush her skin.

Through small cracks in the masonry delicate tendrils curl out; leaves crawling, surfacing, small purple flowers with yellow tear-drop centres blooming.

Deadly nightshade.

She wonders what else grows behind the wall, patiently biding its time until the decay of such allows it through. 

It is in the stables that Imogen spends most of her own time; her years of experience working under Master Faramore awarded her an earnest recommendation, and it sure helped that a couple of the Lady’s mares and a stallion were from his own livery, that they had been raised and trained by Imogen's own hands before they left them.

She needs answers, so she has taken herself to them, to the lake to drink from. She observes from a distance, listens to any whisperings and wonderings that bed with her in the servants’ quarters.

The days are long, mostly spent between mucking and feeding and exercising and grooming the horses and watching the Lady Bradbury taking a walk around the herb garden with knees as muddied as the kitchen staff’s, or cutting bark segments from off of the trees that dot the grounds as if she were operating in front of an amphitheatre of flora and fauna students whilst Imogen brushes down one of the horses or shovels hay

and despite the distance and Imogen's best efforts to remain subtle, the Lady Bradbury’s eyes would sometimes catch hers observing (staring, admittedly), and she would smile, and perform a barely perceivable curtsey (one of many behaviours outside of expectations), and Imogen would tip her brimmed suede hat in return, and would think of how despite the fact that the Lady’s practices of class and boundaries and what is proper were different, a bit odd, nothing of the woman's behaviour suggested that of a killer - only the situation that she stood in - the peculiarly beautiful widow with a walled off poison garden. And so maybe the same is to be said of her magic, should she even be harbouring or practicing any (although admittedly her appearance certainly is bewitching…)

and it's like the instances before but unlike them - Imogen stealing glances of the Lady Bradbury as she potters about her estate (she probably really does potter, she fills so much of her time with crafting and making. Imogen wouldn't be surprised to see her pale skin elbow-deep in caked-on terracotta pigment digging out clay rich soil into old whisky barrels to have carried by willing hands to a throwing room with a secret kiln.) but on this day, when their eyes in new routine now inevitably meet across the wildflower-speckled field (that in itself is unusual, highly out of vogue, it isn't the acres of well-kept uniform lawn and paths laid with talking-point pebbles imported from the coast that the other estates boasted and Imogen had glanced when ferrying Master Faramore’s horses elsewhere) the Lady Bradbury takes pause, before she starts to make her advance towards Imogen.

shit.

She's been brushing the same patch of short thick hair on Foie Gras’ shoulder for so long that she's surprised there isn't a bald patch. Maybe the Lady Bradbury is worried as such. Maybe Imogen has been too obvious in her observing (admitted staring). Maybe she has been found out.

She feels her brow start to perspire, the muscles in her limbs wishing to move erratically and awkwardly and restlessly and to carry her to stand out of sight hidden behind the thick neck of the horse like an obvious child playing hide and seek behind a tree trunk, or to flatten the creases in her breaches and her linen tunic and pick out the strands of hair and hay that have lodged themselves into their weave, untwist the grasp of her suspenders over her shoulders - but she practices restraint - is trained and cautious and intentional and thorough she was only being thorough with the mare, casts her gaze in iron like the blacksmith hammering the horseshoes and steels herself for the Lady Bradbury’s approach.

Her skirts are full and structured and plumed by many layers of petticoats that hide the movement of her feet across the wildflower lawn, causing her to appear to be drifting like the bees do from petal to petal, pollen dusting her pleats though ghostly her skin in contrast to the fine fabrics that she dresses for the part, black in mourning, still, bodice tight and sleeve leg of mutton, an ornate decorative layer of black lace laying over each yard of textured textile like spider webs on porcelain patterns, her husband's tableware collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard.

real impractical for how tending towards practical the Lady dares to be, hands on, too busy for errant hairs in piano key ivory and ebony windswept and loose from the high bun she pins in place with a cameo broach, a memento mori engraved in silver and inlayed with ruby eyes and tied with red ribbons. Her skin also proudly displays the age and perhaps trauma that her hair does, lines from laughter and furrowed brows and the feet of the crows that cry from the top of the chimney pots

Imogen has heard her call them her children (the birds that is, not the wrinkles) - has heard her talk to them as if they are responding, oftentimes giving her own tampered voice to do so (and to Imogen’s amusement)

The Lady never had children of her own; those are their own rivers of rumours within themselves. Imogen did not care for that stream of gossip at all.

The Lady steps closer, and the yet-to-be familiar fog of her mind cocoons Imogen, water transmuted into mist against jutting rock at the plummet of rapids, relief from the laborious work and humidity, her previous restraint to keep her body in check breaking as she visibly swallows and licks her lips, suddenly aware of how dry they had been.

The Lady Bradbury rests her hand on the back of Foie Gras’ neck, fingers long and pale and decorated in black lace like mother of pearl inlay and marquetry on a lacquered curious curio cabinet that perhaps Imogen had eyed through a stained glass window standing in the corner of the out-of-bounds office.

“Good day. It's Imogen, correct?” her delicately veiled fingers comb through the mare’s mane, her dark mahogany eyes seeming to look over the gloss of Foie Gras’ coat to inspect the way the late morning sunlight rests upon its sandy hues before turning her attention back to Imogen with a smile.

She hadn't spoken much to the Lady since she was hired a few weeks back - not much being that this is the third time, after her interview and a brief acknowledgment when being shown around by one of the housemaids the day she started.

The Lady Bradbury’s lips are painted a deep purple, an unusual colour for sure; Imogen had only seen illustrations and paintings of the dignitary from era’s passed in shades of peach and pinks and reds, stencilled in exaggerated shapes, and as with the landscaping of grounds, to wear such obvious make up itself is frowned upon, old fashioned, conveniently equated with providing false fronts.

The Lady’s teeth are bright, especially in comparison to the purpled dark lips.

and sharp

especially in comparison to how soft-

“You must pardon me, have I got it wrong?”

shit, fuck-

“Oh! n-no-” Imogen was staring, definitely “I apologise m’lady. You are right, it is Imogen.”

God dammit - she’s gonna get herself fired, fired for daydreamin’ and giving the horses receding hairlines and ignoring the Lady of the Manor when she addresses her-

The Lady chuckles to herself delicately, an act displaying a markable absence of frustration and bewilderment.

“From Master Faramore’s, yes? How are you finding the new environment? I am sure the stables here pale in comparison to his, but I do not believe that they afforded such space and the opportunity for frequent walks around such a beautiful lake…”

“Certainly, m’lady. There are less of them so they get more attention, they can be well looked after-”

“Indeed, plenty of grooming at the very least-”

Imogen can feel the hot blood rush to the surface of her cheeks, unable this time to wrangle her body’s motor reflexes.

“I have yet to visit the lake m’self, I am sure they enjoy bein’ taken by you though, they always seem happier when they come back.”

“Is that so? Well, I must insist you see the lake for yourself, if not only to relish the fact that you took great part in an amount of their contentedness.”

The Lady Bradbury looks to her expectantly, Imogen expected to have a reply for the unexpected.

“Would you accompany me this afternoon?”

Imogen can read thoughts. She can read thoughts but what if the Lady Bradbury can too? Or what if she can tell that she is imposing? Would she find herself in the bottom of that lake on her very first visit? A drink more filling than what she had wanted, her lungs full and void of buoyancy. Imogen can read thoughts but she dares not to read the Lady’s.

She can feel them, though, that first and second and now third time in her vicinity, feel how they are different, an audible silence amongst the swarm of bees wings and small talk and anxieties

At some point the Lady had stepped around Foie Gras’ head to stand beside Imogen

She smells like sage and gunpowder

On the day of her interview she had smelled of eucalyptus and raw animal fat-

“You’re quite the thinker, aren’t you?”

Of that she is guilty, though usually she can argue that the majority of the thoughts that weigh her down are not her own.

“Apologies m’lady, I wasn’t sure I had heard you right. Did you want a horse saddled for you for this afternoon?”

Imogen had never thought that her accent sounded particularly thick or clunky, but it felt as heavy as her mind tends to be around other company when speaking with the Lady, her tongue all thick tangled muscle swelling against the roof of her mouth and her teeth.

Perhaps this is some sort of witchery. She waits for the molasses to take a hold on her muscles and limbs, for the her skull to be crushed concave from the inside

But it doesn’t happen.

The Lady smiles (again)

“Almost. One for you and one for me, if you would accompany me around the lake - there isn’t a cloud in the sky today and it would be a shame to keep the clear reflections of the mountains to myself and Foie Gras here.”

Imogen is thrown. Yes, y’all could argue that this is exactly what she came here for; time alone with the Lady Bradbury, the opportunity to form a rapport or to subtly pluck at her brain but there is something in the way that she carries herself, how she talks to Imogen with ease and lack of formality that is alarmingly disarming, and leaves Imogen cloudy on why she came here in the first place-

“C-certainly, if it’s what the Lady wants-” she chuckles (again, again) waving her hand dismissively before catching herself and laying it over the patch of hair on the mare’s shoulder that surprisingly hasn’t thinned from all of Imogen’s enthusiastic (distracted) brushing.

“I will take Ceviche; you seem to have formed quite the bond with Foie Gras.”

Imogen can only nod with lips parted in silenced protest as she feels her cheeks flush again.

~

The walls of the stable are thick and stone, absent of windows save for the upper halves of the handful of wooden doors that allow for the horses to pop their heads out in eager greeting to Imogen as she walks towards them with their buckets of feed.

It is a clear day, as the Lady Bradbury has said, hot and humid and Imogen is grateful for both the surroundings and the company of the stable.

As she rakes the trodden-in and dirtied hay across the flagstone floor she allows the earthy scents of the dried grass to remind her of the smell of the sage, the crumbling mortar imitating gunpowder.

She wipes the back of her shirt sleeve across her brow, skin also sweating at the wrist where the gloves wrap work-beaten leather over shielded skin

Soft skin, mostly - save for where her fingertips appear to be frost-bitten.

A fairly visible reminder of why Imogen is here, should she forget again in the Lady’s presence-

Not that she would dare to take off the gloves.

That would only lead to questions.

‘Jammed in between horse-drawn carriage and stable door’ - she used to say, before the purple bruised tips started to migrate further, splitting out like surfaced capillaries that encompassed her fingers one knuckle at a time

They mark half-way over her palms now – like someone had dipped fine dense vegetable roots in an inkwell and struck them in lashings across her hand, punishment obfuscating her palmistry.

She hears one of the horses whinny – Ceviche most likely, a little restless, the black stallion not having been let out onto the fields yet today, as Imogen was now preparing him for his ride to be taken shortly.

The Lady’s saddle is very ornate, the leather finely tooled and decorated with organic flowing arrangements that resemble leaves and petals and insects with patterned wings or many many limbs

Its material and stitching is kin to the other saddles, the ones for notable guests and stablehands alike, brands the same maker’s mark

After a short amount of time observing (staring), Imogen suspects that the Lady tooled it herself.

~

The Lady does not ride sidesaddle – she straddles the stallion proper.

Imogen can only assume that she changes from her garden-strolling undergarments to allow for this, having never worn a crinoline herself - that would both be out-of-class, and, more importantly (to Imogen at least) - real impractical.

She had noted as such about the Lady on the first day she had seen her taking one of the horses (it was Carpaccio, a black and white paint) out of field.

It was the first instance of out-of-expected behaviour that she had witnessed.

Imogen can admit to herself that such a small thing had ignited her warming to the widow.

~

Imogen allows the Lady Bradbury and her steed to take the lead, pace set by the older woman’s enthusiasms making themselves known in short enough time from pointing out ‘notable’ forms in the sloping rock faces lining the well-worn path, covered in blankets of moss and ferns and tall stems of bell-shaped pink and white foxgloves and pomanders of wild thistles.

“I just can’t help but imagine what tiny creatures would love to make home between the cracks in the rock and the tree-stumps.”

“’lotta mice and rats I imagine, probably squirrels-”

“Well, yes, certainly…”

Ceviche’s slow walk carries on ahead of Foie Gras’, and the Lady sways with his gate in the saddle, though despite this Imogen could just about read the slight deflation in her shoulders when she had replied to the Lady’s statement.

Her head turns over her shoulder, gaze searching and challenging Imogen’s, caught staring (again), dark eyes hollows of homes burrowed in rocks, the high sun exaggerating high cheekbone architecture, pleasing ratios of brow to bridge of nose.

“…I refuse to believe that there are no imps or fairies when the land is so perfectly carved for them.”

“I can only say I’ve heard stories…” Rumours, rivers.

“Certainly, else you would not be here, would you?”

The Lady holds her gaze a moment longer, as if expecting Imogen to have an answer worth vocalising for that. Imogen feels her pulse begin to thud at her temples, the sweat returning to her hairline and underneath the cuff of her gloves.

The Lady giggles melodically and dismissively, returning her attention to whatever catches its fancy on the path ahead.

“How ugly it is that we must quarry and build. I have thought more than once about leaving the manor to the animals and the girls and making my home in the cave by the lake- oh, I am so very thrilled to show it to you.”

Her excitement cuts the atmosphere, spring back in her step transposed through the steed’s, one hand off of his reins and gesturing in the air.

“You can see it from the upper floors of the house – though that is rather rude of me to say, isn’t it? If you will allow that injustice to fall upon the architect and how societal structure seems to love its walls and assigning basement dwelling.”

Imogen finds herself inadvertently allowing Foie Gras to fall at a pace beside the Lady and Ceviche.

“That’s alright, most nights I tend t’lodge in the stables; eases my mind that I’ll be near the horses should anythin’ happen.”

“Plenty of wild animals around, yes? They do get spooked so easily.”

“I like how you’ve named ‘em – it’s fun.”

“Oh!, You do? I am so glad! You are the one who has to be calling their names most often after all.” Imogen may be in early days (hours) of learning the Lady’s tells, but the smile that creases the skin around her nose and mouth and deepens the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes feels genuine.

“It does often make me chuckle, I assume you’re fond of raw meats?”

“I suppose you would think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Are y’not?”

The Lady takes pause, her look introspective.

“Have you ever eaten horse?”

“w-what? Of course not – do people actually do that?”

“Mmhmm, across the waters – in all directions. It is certainly a common custom. What makes horse any different from beef?”

“I could never – we share a bond, they let us- they give us-” Imogen's tongue is too thick and heavy again, blubbering with words that do not come easily to it as they do her head. She allows herself a deep breath, collects what little face she has, remembers the presence she is in (a Lady regardless of murder or witchcraft) “-in all honesty I rarely eat any meat, the more time ya spend with animals the more guilty ya feel about doing so.”

“How peculiar…maybe you need to spend more time around carnivores.” The Lady laughs at her own joke this time, hand patting at the side of Ceviche’s neck, the horse unaware of what words have been said. Imogen is thankful, in this instance, though she will admit she has tried more than once to see if her mind reading extended to her four-legged friends.

“But they’ve got no choice, that’s how they were made.”

She mimics the Lady’s movements, lovingly patting Foie Gras at the same spot on her neck.

“Made…yes…You have incisors don’t you? Canines?”

“I do, but I don’t have a mouth full of ‘em. Most of our teeth are as flat as these fellas over here…” she ruffles the mare’s mane “-though I won’t deny that gettin’ bitten still hurts something fierce.”

“Makes you wonder what sort of damage you could do if you so chose to, after all, your eyes are not on the sides of your head.”

~

The lake is beautiful.

Of course it is. It displays itself naturally basined, wrapped in the embrace of the mountains surrounding draped in forest cloak, walls both man-made and much older obfuscating its view from the ground floor of the estate.

The lilac and blue hues of the pebbles are familiar, lining the vegetable patch borders in the garden, larger stones used for holding stable doors open.

It is quiet over the lake. The terrain raised around it shutting out the winds, only the quiet breeze that drifts through the canopies on the mountain crests giving a gentle whistle to the waters below, an enjoyable confusement between what is wind and what is the crashing of the tender tides.

The waters are clear blue with a hint of turquoise, green given by either the surrounding plant life’s reflection or by the ones that live underwater.

It reminds Imogen of the lakes in the mountains from her childhood. It is something else new.

Their horses slow to a stop, on the Lady’s cue.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?”

“It really is - no wonder why the horses come back so happy.”

“And will you be as such on your return?”

“Certainly m’lady, thank you for allowing me such a privilege”

“It is not mine to give, though I will make it explicit that you may come down here whenever you wish – providing the horses are happy, of course. That is what I ask of you.”

Imogen thinks she is blushing again, but the feeling is further inside her than her veins, a warmth radiating.

“You take good care of the servants at the estate, don’t you?”

For the first time, the Lady seems thrown by what Imogen offers, a step behind instead of two larger-horsed paces ahead.

“They take better care of me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone wish to leave their home to the help.”

“It would be the very least I could do.”

“You give ‘em food and a roof over their heads-”

“They sow the seeds, they tend to the animals, they butcher their meat and harvest the wheat to bake the bread. I have been so lucky that they have yet to poison me.”

“I can only say from ma short experience that I’d find that hard t’understand.”

Her face softens again. It feels both comforting like a blanket but then uneasing like having the lights blown out.

“Funny thing, perspective…”

Lady Bradbury slides off of her horse, heels of her fine boots falling into the gaps between the pebbles, though her footing remains certain, experienced.

On the surface of the lake the trees grow downwards, the birds fly with their bellies exposed to what lies in the waters.

The Lady halts, dropping to one knee as she makes short work of the laces on her shoes.

Imogen isn’t sure if she should be offering to remove them for her, jumps down from Foie Gras and jogs clumsily on uneven surface towards the Lady regardless. 

“There are old stories of this lake, you know-”

Lady Bradbury confesses a little breathlessly, lung capacity limited by the press of her thigh into her stomach. She swaps her knee for the other on the ground, starting on the other lace.

“I won’t tell of them just yet, I would hate for them to be off-putting.”

She stands straight again, the sieved remnants of harsher winds that have made it over the mountains’ embrace wishing to make field mouse nests of her hair, spiderwebs of the lace collar around her neck, footprints of birds’ feet fossilised in the marble cornering her eyes.

She looks at home at the lake, certainly a natural thing - flesh and blood and bones cocoons to silk cotton to yarn to lace – Imogen wonders what a marvel the Lady could paint and chisel into the mouth of an open cave.

Balancing, she pulls each shoe free, grin knowing, slightly manic, intensely catching Imogen before she gathers the length of layers of skirts into one hand and steps into the clear waters.

Imogen swears she sees something conjure beneath its surface to greet her.

Laudna Bradbury had (maybe) murdered her husband – (maybe) with witchcraft, most importantly - but Imogen has bigger questions that require her answers, and so she follows the Lady into the lake.

[secondbeatsongs]

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[girlboyburger]

Hello everyone, I really don't like asking for it, but it's undeniable that me and my housemates could use some help. We live in a very conservative area, and all of us are visibly queer. We're trying to raise funds to move somewhere safer, but the only way I can earn income safely is through art, as I've been threatened or put in harm's way due to my apparent trans-ness at every place I've worked at. My roommates face similar tribulations, living in the public eye here is simply unsustainable. There's more info on the going-ons of our situation in the gofundme, but if you can't afford to donate, sharing this post, my commission post, or the gofundme on my other social medias does so much in the way of getting us out of here.

if you'd rather donate directly, my paypal and kofi.

We are extremely appreciative of any help we can get, shares makes a huge difference.

AND, for your time, an image of our cat, Mr Mayor, who you would also be benefiting.

Thank you.

[socksandbuttons]

How do you think TSAMS would be as parents? ✨️

I love you belle thank you for this totally umprompted yet again bats my eyes

WE'RE GOING DOWN SOME LISTS- edit: this got longer than expected. I have to put the rest under readmore cause I got so EXCITED to answer. I'm sure my brain had more but fdhjks just take IT BEFORE TUMBLR EATS IT AGAIN. puts the rest under read more good GOD

KC: yeah you know my stance on this, he's dadcode. He's got that paternal instinct. I will die on this hill. Do I think they couldve handled his character differently? Absolutely. And i dont mean making him more Dad-like. Just in general more exploration on this poor man suffering from lack of anything past his redemption. KC using the guise of being Father to Bloodmoon, not only that APPEALING to OG Bloodmoon so much, someone to have more familial bonds with in killing vs Eclipse who tried to keep him and use him.

I don't mind KC having had not only favouritism and manipulation there. It's not until he's given wildly conflicting stances that he thinks about it. And then loses this Bloodmoon. And then we dont hear from him. Which i think he was mourning. However thats a topic for another time.

To answer the question better- I think he'd put a lot of effort in trying to rekindle that. He's the 'oldest'. hes aware how used people can be, and works (and canon to a degree) to fix that. He likes the idea of being a dad, a lot of everyone needs a good father figure in this show (stares at creator). And dadcode gives us this, a tall figure willing to scoop you up and comfort quietly as your held and listen to your woes and offer some wisdom.

Sun: BRO IS SUCH A DAD NOW. LOOK AT HIM AND DAZZLE. SPOILS HER BUT QUICK TO MAKE SURE SHES NOT TOO SPOILED. Patient and creative in trying to give them fun and live delgihtfully as a kid given her fate. He's canonly willing to patiently sit kids down, even SunPea from EAPS literally using a tactic to communicate and calm them. While he's shown to be unsure hwo to feel about Jack, he's recently shown to treat him similarily too (in a similar vein, he had a similar way with Lunar, an older brother yes but theres bits in there). Bro IS GOOD with kids despite having complaints (who doesnt). Anythats just canon. I think its cute, genuinely a good dad. KC would be so proud.

Old Moon: Okay so this depends. I personally think he'd be fine to a degree. This is also due to my perception given how he treated Lunar. He adored Lunar, letting him not only stay, but adopted him. (Albiet because they were together but Lunar did open up to Moon and Monty about how he felt. Which Moon canonly is VERY protective of his family, literally an immediate 'alright this is my baby brother now'. Which is sweet. But he's known to be standoffish, Lunar had the fact he was in Moon's head thus more understanding of Moon.) Now this leads what it was then. Moon now is… better to a degree in treating his family. Though because of that he's feeling more silly uncle. (WEIRD RIGHT??) Which is still nice i like he's doing well.

NewMoon/Nexus: NOW THIS. Ive seen people respond the same way actually. NewMoon GOOD DAD. YES GOOD AMAZING. ive read one fic where he takes care of baby sun its cute. He would be- Esp given he would be actually taking the time to be in the daycare more thus more exposure to kids. Sun and Earth being good examples of people who'd help him if he struggled.

Nexus… yeah Nexus is feeling less likely to be good father, much less at all in canon at the moment. But im capable of spinning things. Just depends on circumstance. And how his arc ends (me pleading he gets redeemed or something. just turn him into a baby guys. its fine. itll solved EVERYTHING.) But if he ends on a redemption arc, I can see him being very hard on himself about trying to raise a kid right. he knows what not to do but due to idk being manipulated so badly and blinded by grief and self image problems…. he'd be seeking guidance a lot. He's already wronged many. It may be difficult for him to actively parent a kid. But in turn the kid being the part of his life that knows him for him as he is and still loves him?? Damn.

Earth: Wife- i mean she was programmed with a bunch of child care stuff. She originally was given 'motherly' programming. Of course its deviated but she's a learning AI of course it did, she's embraced being baby sister and frankly shes ALLOWED (people hating on that. She's embracing being girly pop and traditionally femme, doesn't make her wanna be Motherly at all times bruh shes come into her own and im proud of her). Doesn't discount she'd be a good mom. She WOULD actively make sure creator NEVER comes near her child/children. And given how you can OVERSTEP and she activivates her security code? Protective mom, willing to listen but like moms will absolutely not understand somethings.

Lunar: Okay i think its very funny everyones like 'dont… actually let him be a parent' and IM LIKE OKAY. Canonly YES not a parent type person. But Lunar's literally going thru his own life with constant stress and dissociation tactics. It's gotten better for him yes, but definitely in no state of mind to be a parent. Do i think in the future he could be? ABSOLUTELY. Right now? Not really, He's actually a.. interesting babysitter. He doesnt take nothing from kids and he will just not wanna interact if its too much. Encites chaos though, he would be the one who'd help the kids stage an uprising. Though im like eyeing the divorce arc Galaxy had up and im like 'oh my god disaster man… beautiful he's terrible at this'. Which is FUNNY given Lunar before his death was VERY good with kids, a quote with Sun. Anyway, the verdict is current canon Lunar? Not a parent type. Lunar in the future? Possibly yes. Lunar from before his death? Up for debate from ME, but also a no.

Ive seen people seperate each eclipse and like MAYBE. but we're just seperating by like… the eclipse who got the star vs Eclipse who's a clone but not now?? (I got some summary of Solar getting Star Eclipses soul or something-)

Eclipse who got the Star: Yes. I think he'd be a dad. What did you think I'd say? HE WOULDNT? Also true. Look what he's done to all his brothers/creations. But also bro has severe abandonment issues that led to him Killing lunar and then REGRETTING THAT (DONT SAY HE DIDNT. HE DID. AND KNEW MONTY WAS REMAKING LUNAR.) He wouldnt make the BEST parent, but legit as much as he hated how Solar Flare talked to him, got attached. Chances are if he gained a kid somehow it'd be similar. Wouldn't let his kid away from him too long. Before he got the star? Not much of a chance of him being a father canonly. Far too focused on revenge and how unforgiving he felt. In my baby back up au, he's reluctant to even get attached cause of his own self acclaimed goal (altho in my au, he's not immune to babies and the fact that in a sense its what he wanted out of himself and Lunar (think to the episode with Lunar reacting to baby versions of him and eclipse. similar thought)). Honestly him being in the computer was enough for him to close himself off. Solar Flare had to be in his head to even get thru to him. (STARES AT KILLCODE U ARE THE FATHER FIC I ADORE. FLARE BECOMING SENTIENT AND ECLIPSE JSUT GETTING PROTECTIVE OF HIS NEW CREATION… love it)

Eclipse Who Was Cloned But Isnt A Clone Now I Guess: he's gained not only Lunar's reconciliation but also befirended earth, got a somewhat apology from both moons?? IS parenting maybe the sun and moon in his new dimension. He got VERY possessive about looking for HIS sun which is fascinating. Also apparently now a dad? to a ghost? I think?? Anyway, he's already rather proven to be protective but also just willfully watching nearby to let them be. He's retreated into himself a bit but actively does care, even if its hard to show. If he had a kid theyd either understand or wont. But I think small actions could help.

Solar: LISTEN I ALREADY HAD THIS THOUGHT WITH MY SUN!LUNAR AU, HE IS DAD. AND NOW HE'S DAD TO JACK. ITS CUTE. BRO IS SO ANNOYED ABOUT WHAT JACK IS DOING- and then remembering he programmed that- and then hearing monty had to FIX HIM. But also genuinely just accepted he's jack's father. And working to be looking out for Jack despite how exasperated he sounds sometimes. It probably does endear him to know after his 'death' Jack took it to call him father more. Anyway on HOW theyd be a parent. Solar is seen to be rather standoff-ish, given in part to their changed story of his Moon abusing him and his Sun taking the time to actually talk to him before being removed. Bro's got trauma and struggles to let people help him. For being a dad he'd make sure theyre provided for, with jack he's at least making sure to start where he left off but not keeping jack away from him or at arms length either. Unlike Eclipse he'd let his kid do what they want, but also be sure to teach them when needed. He'd seem exasperated with somethings but genuinely try and be patient. Cute moments can include his kid wearing his gloves/goggles and boots… (or in my case his jacket and tool belt lol). Wouldn't take to people dissing his kids well like any eclipse.

Bloodmoon: Alright so- this is gonna be a mix of canon and not but thats why ur on this blog. Version 1 of the Bloodmoons? Honestly yeah I can see them doing so. They took to Lunar once he made the connection they were brothers. However, adopting and having their own would differ. Severely. Having their own, thats their own, immediate take to their new kid. Would be teaching them terrible ways to murder and hunt etc. This would also be something theyd be prideful about, literally showing off their kid and how murdery they are and how theyre doing SO good at being a parent. (UNLIKE ECLIPSE- i mean what).

Theyre more involved I'd say but also quite distracted with their own murdering. Lunar would be an UNCLE and Bloodmoon would absolutely drop off his kid for Lunar to babysit. NO I wont hear it for anyone to say he wouldn't. But this stems on Bloodmoon valuing family. Adopting… would be much harder. If the kid was Human? GOOD LUCK. Lunars pact might keep them possibly safe, but we've seen them be impulsive. Altho not impossible just… similar in case to trashman to a degree. Possibly being amused how spooked a kid might be, not fully outwardly killing but higher chance on death. If the kid got used to it and saw bloodmoon more as idk SAFER than a person??? Confusion for this child seeking out a murderer for safety. Anyway slowburn endearment and adoption.

Bloodmoon V2: Believe it or not They'd be more prone to adoption. (But Socks i hear u say the Og bloodmoon took forever- YEAH WE'RE GETTIN THERE). Canonly any bloodmoon and adopting is not totally feasible but stares at FC and how that was a thing where Bloodmoon COULD NOT kill them. Also will never live down the fact we almost got Foxy and Fc being Bloodmoons new keepers/family and Rude RUDE so rude to steal that away. This version of Bloodmoon was slaughtering left and right. Only reigns were Ruin and Stitchwraith (and for a time, Foxy. I believed in him. Thank you Thorns for the AU).

HOWEVER, this bloodmoon still had very strong connection to 'Family' and having one. Bro was jumping from monty being his 'father/creator' (LIES AND SLANDER) to Eclipse (he mentioned this) and then to KC. They WOULD be more prone to choosing their OWN family. They have trust issues and hate being a tool and genuinely (whether they were aware or not) were looking for a connection. Anyway, Similar to how V1 would be, prideful of their kid and yeah teaching to murder. But also kid teaching them silly things like games theyve seen others do, maybe watched some tv- interacted with other kids-. Bloodmoon V2 would kill everyone in this room and then themselves for their kid.

If it was just the remaining twin its gonna be increased ten fold for keeping the kid close.

Ruin: Given we have ruins backstory and also I am heavily influenced by Thorn's version of Ruin as well- Ruin would be an interesting parent. He's got Sun and Moon's code. Protective and willing to teach, but also would be the kinda parent to put them in a room so he can work safely without them interrupting his own plans. Its a weird divide or trying to make sure they dont know too much but are aware their parent is doing something Important. Ruin's own masks getting mixed up in raising the kid where the kid can be used to the flipflop nature their father is providing and also be unsure how to feel on it given Ruin can be quite aloof at times. one thing is certain tho is that Ruin would never let them think theyre anyless of a person.

There is also sweet Ruin who'd be silly and parental. He's affectionate for sure and holding their lil hands.

Dark Sun/Sunburn: @thorns-and-rosewings Is at fault for this entirely, I love how they portray him. This would be more based on their version of Dark Sun vs Canon. Canon seems less likely to really… want to care for anything really. (But again im behind as well and also everyone else i see makes him be dragon dad lol). But Neptor was his creation and had no connection to them, so unless their USEFUL, I guess he doesn't really care. Which would give you a very interesting scenario of slow burn caring. Genuinely just 'Oh well you did that better than I thought. Good job' with like the hint of manipulation but the kid might be fine, this is still a Sun. But guys got goals. So, he could be a good dad but so far from what we've seen (that I'm seeing anyway) Might not have the room in his heart anymore. But again not impossible the man is just gonna need a few years before going 'Oh. Hmn. Well my kid now'. And then after that the kid will be fine, their emotionally dead dad just needs a hug sometimes don't worry about the underlying plans this man might have for the universe. The kid will be fine.

NOW. NOW THORNS' SUNBURN. I love, does have his trauma and utter hatred of all moons. But also fiercely protective of his babies, because they're HIS. Like dude's scary to everyone but utterly endeared to his babies. The one thing that brings him joy, the thing he'd literally kill people over. Baby… Other than being protective, just caring and making sure they're taught well (coughs fearing moons in some cases coughs), having good eating habits. Similar to how Dazzle and Sun are but more subdued, quieter but patient. Moment a moons nearby tho? He's got at least 3 ways to incapacitate them, just in case. Bro's sad tho so he'll have his moments where he just NEEDS to hold the baby close, to be sure theyre safe. Maybe too over protective but depends on who's with him that he would trust. I'm sure thorns could word this better but LOVE LOVE their sunburn in their au's okay.

SolarFlare: Bro dead… Also was JUST getting sentience and all. But given how he was subjected to Eclipses mind and antics? Genuinely could be a good dad cause at least he'd have some idea how to handle things. That is if he even wants a child. Given how new to life he was and all, he'd probably enjoy learning new things and experiences. He is a learning AI and prone to picking up peoples patterns in their mannerisms as we've seen (just barely). Would be learning along with his kid tbh, allowing flowercrowns and uppies. But also with how his body is built? Might have difficulty in movement, and will learn fast his hands aren't the most delicate either. He's rather blunt about things but would be asking for advice in handling children. Might even walk up to Sun for child caring lessons like watching the daycare. Once again his movements and very Sharpness to his body could cause problems (scraping the tunnels- kids trying to jump on him- etc). Iron Giant vibes i'd think actually. All in all he's doing his best and sometimes just misses the mark on what the kid wants but he's figuring it out with them. Very awkward holding kid but the kid would probably love it.

Jack (i guess more in the future): He's silly and delightful but also he's capable of understanding psychology. He handles Dazzle very well (despite… doing some dangerous things but he's learning still in the show so I can forgive this). Would be proud dad, definitely taking his own Jack approach to parenting. Hands on, and probably getting Solar heart attacks from what he's doing lol. Would likely teach kid about knives, with care tbh. Esp now that he knows whats too dangerous for kids and what's more 'nah they can handle that, knife safety'. Would be prone to picking up their kid by the scruff maybe. Crawling around the ceiling with their kid clinging to them like a sloth. Everyone in this family would be protective. Jack would be rather lax in letting his kid roam freely without supervision. Not that he isn't protective, but he's drawing from the fact he likes freedom to do whatever but knows sometimes things do need attention.

Also had the idea if Dazzle couldn't grow up and Jack becoming primary caregiver after Sun. Sad but cute.

I'd add Monty but we see how they are with Lunar (Listen Monty definitely got attached and I'm sure at some point there was a connection due to Monty's own relationship with his dad being strained. Theyre friends but definitely was obvious Monty was pulling more paternal for a bit with Lunar. Not to mention Vegeta- wait I haven't seen him in a while where IS vegeta??? I appreciated Monty's arc with avoiding them to becoming their parent for real. I thought it was sweet.) However, Montys character gets wild sometimes, would be teaching the kid silly things but also if Earth's the mom? Lax parent being supportive and rowdy. Hands on in lessons, but if Earth steps in to correct 'Please don't teach our baby how to hold firearms-' 'I taught vegeta and Lunar' 'Monty they were old enough, our baby isnt even a year old' 'yeah thats why this is very safe, its not even loaded' ' wait Is that a watergun???' 'im seeing no downside here' 'here gimme that' "AH NO-' monty will be kept in line via watergun dont worry about that. Anyway this gator is silly.

B-B-BONUS ROUND because i spent so long thinking about AU's as well don't. worry about how long this post is. Just accept I got to ramble cause I got so happy seeing this ask arounD AND GETTING ONE.

Lord Eclipse: Everyone sit down. He would spoil the heck out of his kid okay. Theyre ROYALTY. They do what they want. Protective to a fault tho with his kid, genuinely keeping their world view limited, fearing he could get abandoned yet again by another creation. Will not let anyone near this baby. Get OUTAA HEREEE

Lord Lunar: Not Evil Lunar, Lord Lunar. We have two Star holding Lunars in canon (Current Lunar is just Star Lunar okay). For this guy to have made a kid in a dying world? He's rather nihilistic about it. Would be giving exactly what his kid wants, sometimes Eclipse needs to step in and go 'Headmaster thats… thats not helping, get this kid some SOUP' 'a pool of soup got it-' 'No like a small bowl.' Servant Eclipse would be such a weird uncle because like he'd be torn between using the kid to mess with Lunar but also… Kid genuinely likes him too. Might even think Eclipse's 'gotta plan to overthrow Lunar' is a game that they play. (It is technically at this point esp for Lunar. Servant Eclipse deseprately just 'I TOTALLY DONT CARE FOR MY BRO- HEADMASTER' the whole time. That's their vibe. Both Eclipse and Lunar would have discussed on ways for this kid to live away from a dying world. It'd be their straw to go 'we should probably leave'.

Evil Lunar: Baby is a monster now, not that Lunar really minds. Look at how much chaos they can cause!! Destruction! Who's a good baby?? They are!! In danger of getting bored of the baby tho. Altho getting outside influence may help uh Keep child ALIVE.

But also me:

Dad Lunar Au i have around where he gets what he wants (eclipse is DEAD), but gains a baby in the process. Unsure how to handle this and opts to find a way to put the baby somewhere else… Finds another and just 'WHO KEEPS LEAVING BABIES AROUND' While cradling them. One's a cry baby and the other is very quiet and has difficulty moving on their own. You can imagine the man trying his best.

[creativesplat]

I would also like to see some miphlink, if that's okay!

I was really struggling with what to draw, and then I remembered your ask from ages ago (dang ADHD brain...) anyway, sorry its such a late answer, but Miphlink inspired by Dicksee's La Belle Dame

[danwhobrowses]

Good Morning world because I turn on my PC to learn that Callowmoore is Fucking Real!

Fuck Yeah.

[blanche-elizabeth-devereaux]

An embroidery piece I made inspired by Micah (my beloathed :'))

He says this to Arthur during their final fight 💔 not only is it such a painful scene (for obvious reasons) but it gives us some of the best insight into Micah's character. He thinks he's won, so he's given up all of the false niceties and shows who he truly is. We see what we've only assumed up until that point: a man who views the world as cruel and puts his own needs and wants above everyone else, no matter how ruthless he has to be.

(I tried to go a little edgy with this piece because the black felt very Micah™ to me lol)

[vellichorom]

women named peanut butter in some life & twice as sweet...

A FUN LITTLE HANDFUL OF SOFT FUZZY WOMEN FOR MY BELOVED @tomiechu ~

look familiar? FUN FACT! these are all based off of sailor moon shots!

[wall-eye]

CHIBI! FEARNE!

[Image Description: a cute cartoon drawing of fearne. she is a satyr with creamsicle orange furry skin and long mint green hair. one of her arms is brown and has clawed fingertips. she is smiling and holding her tall gnarled wooden staff. End Description]

[alexxmason]

I've found my home in you

Commission the wonderful @felrija for this happy family moment for my Hysteria ship! Still so emotional over this and how sweet they all look! The baby boys and their totally normal parents all look so amazing 🩷🩷🩷

[ittybittyremy]

I really hate the use of the word "hypocrite" in the CR fandom because it doesn't let people appreciate the nuances of the characters/situations. This is not to say that the characters don't have their hypocritical moments. I just think there are people who slap the word on a character and call it a day, not even bothering to try to understand it.

I have more to say but TLDR: Hypocrisy is a fact but it feels like an insult because it implies that there is no reason that the contrast of ideas exists.

You won't like to hear this but everybody (including you) is/will be a hypocrite at some point. There are many cases of this, some more severe than others.

As a small example, I hate the sound of other people clicking their pens repeatedly but I click my pen repeatedly all the time. Is that hypocritical? Yes! You could slap that label call it that and call it a day and it wouldn't be technically wrong. However, you could also figure out why these contrasts exist. In my case, my thing with noises has to do with control. I don't mind my pen clicking because I can choose the tempo and decide when to stop it. But others make that exact same noise, I can't control it and I don't know when it'll stop.

Hypocrisy is a fact but it feels like an insult because it implies that there is no reason that the contrast of ideas exists.

This is not meant to say that all hypocrisy makes sense or has reason. Reasonless hypocrisy is one of the foundations of prejudice/discrimination but that's a whole other conversation.

There will also be reasons of hypocrisies existing that you disagree with. However, just because you disagree with the reason doesn't mean that the reason does not exist.

Back to Critical Role

I made this post because of people's reactions to Ashton regarding their views on the gods versus the primordials. During the CR Cooldown, the cast calls Asthon out for their hypocrisy of their views on the gods versus the titans. This is what Taliesin says about it:

"It's the difference between the feeling of being small in front of someone rather than being small in front of everything. Is really what happened, which is instead of having the smallness and raging at the big person, it was 'I'm in the middle of this.' [Asthon] didn't feel separated from it... It was more feeling the place in the cosmos, rather than actual people going 'oh it's you' and you're like 'fuck'."

Of course, you can understand Ashton’s hypocrisy and disagree with the reasoning. That's fine, as long as you see their reasons and acknowledge that they exist. It may not make sense to you but it makes sense to the character.

[autisticlalna]

people are enabling me again

[mixelation]

say less

🥺🥺🥺🥺 perfection

[tahsta]

critical role in colour 7/8

[kyannnite]

t4t cumplane commission for @peerlessbellbird :)