#the file this was on is called no children

[dairy-farmer]

I've got this Brutim/Brudick idea I wonder if you've written before. So we all know how Bruce could be invasive and controlling to his kid's personal life. At one point he crossed Tim's boundary, boy is offended and Dick is all in to backing Tim up against Bruce. Dick has been there done that, more than happy to fight for Tim's freedom, as Dick has been secretly frustrated in Tim's stead since the younger was outrageously lenient and forgiving with Bruce, and yet Bruce still fucked it up.

The kick in this is what if Bruce actually pulled back? Like they managed to hit him where it hurts and he eventually gave in, agreeing to all their terms? Tim then gets to move out, "taking a break" from being his Robin, and Bruce must remove all his means to spy on children without their knowledge and consent. Dick doubted Bruce will follow through with it any longer than a week, but he's happy enough that Tim finally got to move out from Wayne manor.

Things went smoothly for them, they found no hidden camera, no tracker, no uninvited drone nor interception in their communication during solo mission, warning them of possible threats. Bruce didn't even get to know where Tim lives now! In the beginning, he will have to go through Dick first if he called on the phone and wanted to talk with Tim. Dick has this schadenfreude as he waits and sees when Bruce will snap, so he will have even more justification to keep Tim away. Dick kind of tries to fix his own trauma from his past with Bruce through Tim like that.

But weeks turned into months and Bruce hasn't folded. At one point, Tim randomly utters that he missed Bruce while hanging out at Dick's place. And as a good brother, what else can Dick do but suggesting them paying a visit? The boy's face brightened up more than when Dick showed him his new apartment.

So together they gave Bruce's a head-up and drove back to Wayne manor. The way Tim jumped to embrace Bruce gave Dick an itch inside. They had a family dinner, where Bruce gracefully received whatever of their life updates that they are willing to reveal to him (Tim did it more enthusiastically than Dick). Right when Dick slyly commented that Bruce seems to do better, the man also sheepishedly admitted that he has been getting therapies. He worked with this psychiatrist, picked up that hobby...hey, there's that countryside farm he came twice a month just to pet the animals! Tim wow and ah at all the new experience Bruce shared, while Dick just sat there in shock. All the years before Dick has begged Bruce to seek help and it never got through. When Bruce caught words that Dick was getting therapies himself, all the man had to say is that's a waste of time and Dick has risked leaving a trace of sensitive files behind his back. Though the delayed anger didn't hit him until Dick returned to Bludhaven again.

On Tim's side, he didn't tell Dick how he has been anxious since the communication shutdown with Bruce. Back then he can always rely on Bruce watching out for him, filling in for him what he ought to miss. He's still doing fine on his own, that's true; but whenever he walks home alone at night, or when he's about to sleep, this anxiety will creep up with the knowledge that Bruce or his tools as the extension is no longer watching after him. Whenever Dick came over as they agreed to search for possible tracker and chip, only to find nothing, Tim would bite his lips and hide his disappointment. Dick doesn't know Tim searched his apartment and his computer almost everyday by himself; on occasion where Tim passed out of drunkeness or exhaustion, he would even search his body the next day for biotracker! He always knows before Dick that Bruce really pulled back.

Tim also made the extra effort to "spy" on Bruce, naturally without Dick's knowing. He started with asking Alfred on the phone how Bruce's doing, nothing too strange. Then he started listening in Oracle's network, while carefully covering his trace. It's basic detective works really, it didnt take long for Tim to get in on every new things Bruce picked up to get better as he has promised. And however Bruce has wronged him before, Tim felt like he then has the heart to forgive Bruce.

Though it surprised Tim that during the visit, Bruce didn't take the offer of him moving back in. Bruce said he was right that both of them need space, and encouraged Tim to take the time for self-exploration like Bruce does now. Tim has no other choice but to agree, like how he has no other choices but left some of his "tools" back in the cave and the manor before he left. More than to spy on Bruce, Tim starts to leave behind clues and holes in his privacy for Bruce to find. His new address on a piece of paper he meant to give Alfred, but forgot on the coffee table. An "undeleted" pathway in the Batcomputer that linked to all the camera in Tim's new home. Records of Red Robin and Nightwing's communication lines that somehow got picked up by Oracle's intranet. Tim even submitted the wrong email address in his new period tracker app, so Bruce will accidentally receive a pop-up on Tim's ovulation as well! I just like the idea of Tim trying to make Bruce relapse into his old pattern of obsession, while Dick is fighting with his inner monster on the side.

That's all I have for now, have a great day! 🐑

!!!!! dick being so angry with bruce and funnelling his anger through using tim as a proxy stand in for all the hurt and anger he's felt towards bruce because of his invasiveness and refusal to stop, respect boundaries, or get help. dick thinking he's punishing bruce and getting back at him by using tim only for bruce to actually TRY to get better, to actually seek out therapy and TRY to improve for tim's sake. and dick being so conflicted about it because he's wanted bruce to do those things FOR yeaRS but he never did, not until he took tim away from him.

and tim, it wasn't even his idea to close bruce out. he'd always taken a sort of comfort from all that bruce did and so him deciding to try and make bruce break by giving him all these ways to invade his privacy, trying to stop him from getting better and to relapse.

tim sabotaging the thing dick has wanted for years, dick being angry that bruce is doing the thing he's wanted for years but he's doing it for tim and bruce trying to be better but struggling, now even harder because tim is trying to get him to slip up because he misses him.

[teleportationmagic]

There is a dead boy in the Batcave.

Not literally, of course, but the glass cage marks the place where blood and bone would be too gory to leave behind. Too unsanitary. Father’s not the type to abide by that – at least not from what mother’s told him, and what his surveillance has revealed. But the suit is clean enough, so they sit next to a ghost and let it take up space in the room, a physical weight demarcating it’s territory. The rest of them – Oracle and Nightwing and Drake all float around it, like fish splitting around a rock in a river.

He'd think it’s weakness to grieve this hard, this long, but allowances are made for strong men, and his father is a strong man. The gravemarker sits, silent in the heart of their operations, next to the giant penny and the t-rex.

And still, some small part of him cannot wonder who it was who left this imprint on every single person in that room, the faint outline of his cape twirling through their upright backs.

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

Months later, he finds another gravemarker.

This one isn’t in the Batcave, rather it’s tucked away in the clocktower. He hadn’t spotted it at first, hadn’t been able to put a name to it, but Oracle was the immaculate sort. It was expected, for someone of her pedigree, and the deviation was shocking in its presence.

The paper is laminated. Letters scrawl across the page, constructed incorrectly and ungracefully, weaving backwards and forwards with little rhyme or reason. And yet still, it is clear pages are missing – the transition in how the letters are written is subtle, page to page, but jumps every now and again.

Underneath is black fabric. It’s flexible – tight and form fitting, but still stretchy in the way that Grayson’s suits are. He pulls it forward and it unfurls to reveal a yellow bat.

Batgirl, then. The second. His fingers trace the stark lines, a glossy sort of shine over the black fabric, even under all the dust. Something flips, uncomfortably – he knew this girl. His mother had told him about her pedigree. And yet here she was, dust gathering on evidence of her failures – paper stacked up that showed him nothing.

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

He finds the third gravemarker on accident.

The purple fabric is so much unlike Timothy that he can’t help but pull it out. It’s poorly made, compared to the others – the most present comparison he can come to is a bedsheet, too thin to be any good in their line of work. The place he’d found it in is equally puzzling, a blue shoebox that he’d forgotten to throw away, in the back of his closet. He wonders if he’d simply lost it, as buried as it was.

It’s not all that’s in the box, of course. They’d rolled out when he’d lifted the suit – all spilling sideways. There’s a few ticket stubs, a set of keys, a slip of paper with a hasty sketch, and two photo. A blond girl, with a gap-toothed grin and bright green eyes, and an older woman with the same blonde hair, cropped short. It was the only thing that wasn’t caked with years of grime, the pictures clearly digital, then printed out. There’s a name on the back that he doesn’t recognize, not on either of them.

He picks up a sketch – Timothy, he recognizes, in his Robin suit, stylized into a cartoon. A purple figure flits next to him, a streak of blonde pencil crayon following her. Something bounces in the art, young and joyful and wild, wrapped up and kept in old, yellow paper.

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

Cold sweeps the house. They’ve done this enough times that Dick is half-certain he should be accustomed to it, but it still feels like a bulldozer through his heart.

The worst part is the forgetting. Every now and again, he looks up and expects Damian to be there – expects to see a dark, short flash of hair. But the hallways are empty, and the walls echo, and he’s done this time after time but he wants the kid back.

He wants him back.

It’s Dick in the end that goes through his things. There are pieces – notebooks and sketchpads filled with drawing. Some more stylized, a round feminine face smiling, sparks flying around her. Pink shaded flowers in the corner. Pencil shavings leaving dark marks where his eraser couldn’t pick up quite enough.

Underneath is an canvas, big and bright – the colours nearly make him gasp when he turns it over, blue and orange and purple spilling out, the sun at dawn. In the front, a bird, the details intelligible in the contrast. Deliberately so. Its wings leave visible trails of smoke behind it.

He can see the brush strokes, underneath. See the smudging, see the small places where he’d set his hand down and left a mark on the bright colours of the background. The trees had been done on top in pencil crayon, tiny and spindly needles reaching out for sun.

He catches tears before they hit the piece, his head bowed low.

Alfred says nothing when he finds him later, perched on a step stool. He hangs it up, loud and proud, lets the light hit it.

In the evening light it glows.

[benoitblanc]

making an emily-arc gifset and screaming internally. why the fuck did they do that to scully

[wasabikitcat]

community college is so funny because half of the teachers are like "For this class you need to use lockdown browser for all quizzes and tests. You need to buy this 70 dollar textbook, and all papers turned in must be in APA format with a title page even if they're only 500 words long. I will not accept late assignments. Also you have a minimum of 4 assignments a week." and the other half are like "you don't need proctoring for the final exam I trust you. here's a download link to a pirated copy of the textbook. as long as your writing is coherent and demonstrates an understanding of the material I literally could not care less what format you use. I can't figure out how canvas works so I'm not giving you due dates, just make sure it's turned in before the grading period ends. your only weekly assignment is a forum post with a minimum of 100 words."

[coenubiaseraph]

Whenever I'm in VC, I'm being fueled to make the most non-serious content possible. Anyway, more of my Skykid, Seraphine.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok and his pet, Torabru-fo. (+ matchmaker's notes)

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

I think abt Evan and I get sad. Evan and his gradually less gratuitous tragic backstory but whatever i do he does remain 15

[allgoodthingsflowintothecity]

A lot of the more Christian On Main (and consequently not particularly good) episodes of the X-Files are weirdly pro-mercy killing children. What’s up with that, is that like in the Bible or something or did one of the writers just have a weird unaddressed past issue

[p1nkshield]

Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far

Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.

Was it his best idea? No.

But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.

And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.

What’s one more?

Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.” (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”

1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.

2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.

3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.

4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.

Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.

Alfred just wants to feed the boy.

The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.

Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.

[stormy404]

something i don't see talked about enough is the fact that parents having constant surveillance over "their" children is normalized by our society

like seriously, parents will go install the Super Panopticon Kid Safe Parental Controls 2000 that sends their kid's internet history, recordings of their calls and texts, every file on their phone, and exact geolocation to the parents.

and if you ever point out that this is more likely to endanger kids than protect them, people suddenly bombard you with a thousand comments about how children are too stupid or immature to have the most basic privacy in their life.

[januaryembrs]

CROSS MY HEART | Spencer Reid x wife!Reader

Request: read here

description: Spencer's wife struggles with the aftermath of JJ's confession

length: 1.5k

warnings: JJ's 14x15 confession spoilers (big ick, pull yourself together Jennifer) infidelity, thoughts of worthlessness, reader thinks Spencer is going to leave her for JJ.

authors note: I have loved JJ for all of fourteen seasons and fourteen episodes. this was a BIG ICK for me watching this won't lie

She should have known something was wrong the minute they left that damn store. 

It took her all of two seconds to throw herself into her husband’s arms, her voice choked with tears that had threatened to spill when she’d seen the video of Casey shooting at him, and she swore Spencer had never grabbed her so tight. 

“I thought you,” She sniffled, running her fingers through the back of his scalp, the entire spanse of his huge hands ran along her spine, counting every vertebra to make sure she was still intact, despite the fact he had been the one held hostage, “I thought he’d shot you- it came so close,” 

He hushed her mewls, a hand reaching to the back of her head and tucked her into his neck further, the sob rattling through her ribcage almost, almost, taking his mind entirely off what JJ had said in that stupid game of truth or dare. 

What the fuck did she mean she had always loved him? She had a husband and children who doted on her; Will, who loved every shred of her being like it was his only purpose in the world. His godsons who had known him as uncle Spencer since he’d held them in the hospital, covered in goop and looking like the cutest little aliens he’d ever seen. 

And yet JJ, his friend, perhaps one of his longest friends, was willing to throw it away for him? He, who had a wife he adored more than there were birds in the wind, leaves on an Autumn floor, more than there were galaxies in the damn cosmos. His wife, who had been there for him since the moment they’d met, who he’d known was the one since that first day she’d ran into him in the lobby, their files mixing together because neither of them had been watching where they were going, like one of those romcoms she forced him to watch and he pretended to hate, or like the silly thing she called fate that she insisted was very much real. 

Spencer was a man of statistics and numbers and facts; things he could see. But he was sure there was nothing in any textbook that could have ever made sense of how the one person so perfectly created for him, the blob of cells that made up his wife that seemed to call to his own as if they were coming home to one another, would have just so happened to bump into him on a random Tuesday in August. 

Most people waited decades for that kind of love, or something close, and he’d managed to get it at the ripe age of thirty three. 

And yet in the space of ten seconds, of four little words in a wretched game, he felt like the carpet had been pulled from beneath him. Because why would JJ, who saw as clearly as anyone else how much he cherished his wife and the future they were planning together, try to take that away from him?

And as if his own odd spiral of thoughts wasn’t a kick to the gut enough, his sweet wife had quickly released him from her grasp and thrown herself at JJ, who seemed to just now be understanding the gravity of her words as she looked around with wide eyes, tear stains wetting her cheeks, the guilt gnawing in her gut already. 

“JJ! Are you okay? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so scared,” She sobbed, wrapping her friend in a loving hug that was shakily reciprocated, like JJ was waiting for the second she would get a fat shiner to the nose for confessing such a thing. 

But that never happened. Instead, she pulled away from the frozen blonde woman, who looked like she could burst into tears then and there and apologise for everything until her face turned blue, and ran a kind hand over the JJ's hair, stroking it behind her ear tenderly as she tried to quell her cries because she wasn't the one who had been held at gunpoint. 

She didn’t know. It hit them both at the same time. She didn’t know what JJ had said, hadn’t even got an inkling into what had happened, and god did it make the sinking feeling in Spencer’s chest swallow itself up into something the size of the Mariana Trench. 

And what was left, what had for a second been a horrid mix of confusion, shock, fear and then another big dollop of confusion for good measure, quickly was dragged away by the current and replaced with anger. 

Anger that JJ could do something like this to his wife; he frankly didn’t care how her words had affected him, that if he had been single he would have been left feeling unworthy of her affection the first time it had been offered around, like there was something so disgustingly wrong with him this was what it took for her to say anything. He didn’t care about any of that. He cared that this would absolutely destroy his wife. 

And it was for that reason Spencer hurried the paramedics into fixing the small graze on his palm as he watched with boiling blood his wife tend to JJ like she would any other time her close friend was hurt in the field. He seethed whenever Jennifer would simper and avoid her friend's eyes, how his beautiful, caring, devoted wife would stroke the woman’s back and will her to talk, to tell her what to do to make it better.

Because it was her who should be fussing over his sweet wife, certainly not the other way around. 

But he couldn’t say that, not there at least, and so he didn’t, not until he had got the greenlight from the medics to leave and he had all but cut off the circulation in her fingers with how tight he’d held her hand as he led her to the car. 

Spencer said nothing, not wanting to fight when she forced him to sit shotgun as she climbed behind the wheel, not wanting to cause a commotion when there was a much bigger bombshell he was sitting on that he knew would change her feelings entirely. 

-

“What?” Her voice was soft still, a murmur in the quiet night air of their bedroom. She sat, fresh faced, minty breathed, kevlar vest long gone and replaced with one of his old Dr Who shirts and comfy bottoms.

She said the word again, like she hadn’t heard him, but judging by the way her expression had fallen into something dejected, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Sighing, drawing gentle motions up and down her legs with his warm hands, shuffled closer where he kneeled down in front of her submittingly. “JJ said that she has always loved me; that was her ‘truth’ in the game,”

“Well, she-she was lying right?” His wife said quickly, her voice shaking, trying to make sense of it herself. She didn’t get an answer right away, just her husband’s eyes casting down as he tried to think of the best thing to say, “Right, Spencer?” 

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly, and he saw immediately the way tears sprung to her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, her face warming in wet-anger, “But it doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, to me- baby, please don’t cry,”

“Ofcourse it changes things, Spencer, it’s JJ. She’s literally the hottest woman to walk the earth, Pen said you were like in love with her when you started the BAU, and now you have your chance,” She whimpered, fat tears rolling over her freshly moisturised cheeks, and he swore he felt his chest concave at her words. 

“My chance? I don’t want a chance, I want you,” Spencer said in earnest, his hands rubbing further and further up her legs until his hands went under her night shirt, grabbing onto the soft of her hips with pleading tenderness, “I want you forever, no matter what JJ or any other woman feels about me,” 

She sniffled pitifully, her eyes still unsure and he took it as a sign she needed more, so he leaned in fully to hug her to him. 

“But it’s JJ,” She said again, like that was going to change anything, and he shook his head, stroking over the back of her hair softly.

“I don't care,” He said, and she sniffed gently into the crook of his neck, his skin wetting with the contact. She finally wrapped her arms around him, and he knew he was close to getting it through to her, “I had the smallest crush on JJ, what, fifteen years ago? Honey, I want you for the rest of my life, and nothing and no one is going to change my mind about that, not even you.” 

“Really?” His sweet wife whispered tearfully, and he chuckled sadly, hating how hard she had cried that it had ripped the life from her voice. 

“Cross my heart,” He kissed her hairline softly, tipping her head upwards with one long, warm finger under her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her wetted lips, “Hope I never die,”

She smiled sorrowfully, kissing her husband as if it was the last time she could ever do so, hoping it made up for how puffy and ugly her tears had made her face. But he didn’t care, he never had, he thought she was perfect just the way she was.

And he’d remind her of that any time she thought otherwise. 

–

[mzminola]

Every time I see news of crowds agitating against Israel outside a synagogue, or museum, or Jewish day school full of children, or restaurant, or educational event, and so on in the US, every time my thought is why the fuck aren't you holding this 'protest' at city hall? Or your state legislature? Or your federal reps' offices?

A random Jewish institution in the United States has absolutely zero power to affect the decisions made by Israel's parliament or military. You're not "raising awareness" or "drawing attention to the issue" because the general public of the US is already at least somewhat aware thanks to the news, and Jewish people are in fact one of the groups in the US to be the most fucking aware of what's going on.

If you are upset by US military aid going to Israel, you need to convince your federal representatives to change that. Those reps do not base US military foreign aid policy on random US citizens harassing other US citizens.

If you want the US to provide more civilian relief in the form of food, medicine, or helping refugees come here, you need to convince reps at every level. Can your city partner with a refugee organization to arrange housing? Can your governor arrange scholarships or exchange programs to state universities? Can the feds channel more funds to Doctors Without Borders?

Do a write and call-in campaign. Hold your protest at legislatures. File a petition. Do something to directly express your desires to the elected officials who have a direct say in policy.

We've held protests at city halls and state legislatures and federal buildings for centuries. Why aren't you doing so for this issue?

Why are you macing people attending synagogue? They have no more power over elected officials' choices than you do.

Why are you screaming at schoolchildren? They have less power over elected officials' choices than you do.

Why are you blocking entrance to a museum? Hold a fundraiser to build your own, if you want to educate people so badly!

I know the antisemites don't actually care about US military & foreign aid policy. I know the racists are simply reveling in an excuse to whip up a mob to attack Jews. It's obvious.

But if you really, truly want to help the people of Gaza, you need to stop being part of that hateful mob, and organize your own, real political actions that directly engages with your elected representatives.

[inkskinned]

we were the liminal kids. alive before the internet, just long enough we remember when things really were different.

when i work in preschools, the hand signal kids make for phone is a flat palm, their fingers like brackets. i still make the pinky-and-thumb octave stretch when i "pick up" to respond to them.

the symbol to save a file is a floppy disc. the other day while cleaning out my parents' house, i found a collection of over a hundred CDs, my mom's handwriting on each of them. first day of kindergarten. playlist for beach trip '94. i don't have a device that can play any of these anymore - none of my electronics are compatible. there are pieces of my childhood buried under these, and i cannot access them. but they do exist, which feels special.

my siblings and i recently spent hours digitizing our family's photos as a present for my mom's birthday. there's a year where the pictures just. stop. cameras on phones got to be too good. it didn't make sense to keep getting them developed. and there are a quite a few years that are lost to us. when we were younger, mementos were lost to floods. and again, while i was in middle school, google drive wasn't "a thing". somewhere out there, there are lost memories on dead laptops. which is to say - i lost it to the flood twice, kind of.

when i teach undergrad, i always feel kind of slapped-in-the-face. they're over 18, and they don't remember a classroom without laptops. i remember when my school put in the first smartboard, and how it was a huge privilege. i used the word walkman once, and had to explain myself. we are only separated by a decade. it feels like we are separated by so much more than that.

and something about ... being half-in half-out of the world after. it marks you. i don't know why. but "real adults" see us as lost children, even though many of us are old enough to have a mortgage. my little sister grew up with more access to the internet than i did - and she's only got 4 years of difference. i know how to write cursive, and i actually think it's good practice for kids to learn too - it helps their motor development. but i also know they have to be able to touch-type way faster than was ever required from me.

in between, i guess. i still like to hand-write most things, even though typing is way faster and more accessible for me. i still wear a pj shirt from when i was like 18. i don't really understand how to operate my parents' smart tv. the other day when i got seriously injured, i used hey siri to call my brother. but if you asked me - honestly, i prefer calling to texting. a life in anachronisms. in being a little out-of-phase. never quite in synchronicity.

[yovrnewromantic]

WORTH IT

ex!husband eddie munson x reader

based on the hc! by me that eddie kidnaps your kids, charging kisses for ransom wc: 1.2K

“You know you can’t keep doing this.”

Eddie can hardly hold back a pout. He knows you’ll criticize him if he lets it slip, reminding him that ‘he’s a grown man for goodness’ sake’ even though his puppy eyes never fail to succeed against you. Except once. Only once, when you filed for divorce circa 12 years ago.

Filed into the back of the van, your children are pressing their faces up against the glass windows. Their eyes are wide, noses are upturned, fogging up the glass with each breath— looking like the myth of pig-men came to life and are giddy to draw smiley faces and ‘hi mom’s into the steamed up glass. Unlike you, they enjoy when their dad kidnaps them, waving their teachers off with forged letters so they can hobble into his car and fiddle with the stereo as he stops at the florist, and biting their lips to stop their excitement when they see your old camaro pull up.

Forget-Me-Nots lay half-forgotten at Eddie’s side as he ruffles his already messy curls, mesmerized as you step out the car, mom jeans and rock shirt hanging loose. You look as beautiful as the day he met you. Some days, he feels like it is the first time he met you, his heart paralyzed by a certain type of warmth at the sight of your face. It’s like everything around you disappears and he recognizes his purpose. You. You make him feel like a teenager in love.

“Eventually I’m just gonna call the cops on your ass.”

Angry is not how you would describe yourself in the moment. The first time it happened, hell, you were pissed. Smoke practically blew out your ears when he first called, interrupting himself with giggles while he announced “The prince and princess of, phh, Munsonville have been exiled along with the King. Haha, oh um— If you wish to see them ever again, you must pay the price!” After the second, third, fourth, and tenth time, it’s only become a nuance.

“Hi, Mom!” your daughter calls out, voice muffled. Her hands are sprawled against the window, the hair that was once well-kept into two braids is now fuzzy and tangled. Her brown doe eyes peering at you, standing on her tippy toes to see. Looking like the splitting image of her father. Behind her, your son is playing with Eddie’s electric-blue guitar, strumming the string so harshly that you cringe, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s still staring at you.

Dumbly, Eddie just sticks the bouquet in your face, his fist inches from your face. “M’lady.” Through the thin stems of your favorite flower, you can see his lopsided smile.

Rather delicately, you take the flowers from his grasp, looking at them for a second too long to keep up your uneffected act. These must’ve been on sale, you assure yourself. He doesn’t remember the flowers you walked up the isle with, he couldn’t have. When you can finally drag your eyes away, your brows are furrowed. Something fluttering in your stomach as Eddie tilts his head, usual shit-eating grin strangely sweet. Small indigo petals flutter to the ground as they’re knocked off their branches from impact of hitting Eddie square in chest.

“Ow!” He lifts his arms up in defense. The purple-blue veins that flex on his bicep matching the shade of the dwindling flowers. “Y/N!”

Finally, easing your attack, your chest rises and falls as you point a finger at his chest. “Give my kids, Munson!”

“Mrs. Munson!” Again, you raise the flowers to wack him over the head, but Eddie’s hand grips your wrist, holding it in place and smiling innocently at you. “You know the drill by now.”

Groaning, you hide your face in what’s left of your flowers, a red hue rising on your cheeks. It’s embarrassing— giving in this easy to your ex husband’s demands, but there’s a special spot in your heart for Eddie that just. won’t. go. away. No matter how many dates you went on, no one could replace him.

Eddie’s hands are gentle as they pry your hands, and flowers, away from your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. Harshly sighing through your nose, and trying to convincingly eye roll, you choke out, “What do I owe this time?”

“Well, seeing as it took you ten extra minutes to get here from the estimated time…”

You shake your head. “I was busy explaining why the teachers didn’t need to issue an amber alert, dipshi—.”

“Ten kisses.” He’s too happy with himself, rocking back and forth on his heels as he watched the disbelief transform your pretty face.

“Ten?”

He raises his brows, playfully puckering. “Lay ‘em on me, honey.”

It’s never not awkward, begrudgingly (not really) approaching your ex husband with slow, torturous movements. Fingers finding his tattooed skin— which you used to color before you became adults and life went to shit, tracing up the expense of his arms until your hands connect around the back of his neck. He’s nibbling his lip as you inch forward, impatient. When your lips are close enough to touch, your breaths sync and your eyes meet. Heart racing, your eyes flutter shut. Lightly, the plush of your lips meet his— always surprising— soft lips. One.

Again. Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Eddie can’t help himself. His hands fly to your waist, squeezing the flesh he can reach and pulling your closer, shoving his tongue in your mouth when your hands tug on his hair. He tastes just as you remember, like tobacco and cheerios. As his tongue explores your mouth, you moan into his. Betrayed by your own body, dammit. His lips twitch against yours. When his teeth start to clash against yours, that’s when you pull away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. Nine.

Your eyes are hazy, a dumbstruck, lightheaded feeling coming over your body as you lean forward again. Foreheads connecting. Your noses nudging. Panting into each other’s mouth. Far too sensual for a divorced couple. Eddie finishes the last kiss for you, pecking your lips. Your breath hitches when he drags his teeth against the bottom. Ten.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he chuckles, panting. His large palm finds the bottom of your ass.

“Go to hell,” you whisper against his lips. “Kids!”

“Already in the car, Mom!” Tucked in the back of the car, seat belts buckled, your children look unimpressed. Your cheeks go bright red as you adjust yourself, trying hard not to stomp to the car as you avoid contact with Eddie, who walks slowly, cockily, behind you.

“I’ll call you later, sweetheart!”

You shove your hand out your unrolled window, middle finger up. Eddie’s laugh makes your chest tighten, but you won’t let it show, flipping on your sunglasses and pulling the fuck away from him. Eddie smiles as his kids wave through the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a knowing look on his face.

He’ll win you back eventually.

—

p.s. 💋

“Mommy, are you and daddy getting back together?”

With your grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning your white, you meet your five year old son’s clueless eyes in the review mirror— the product of the last time you got back together with his father. “Not a chance.”

not edited or read over 😔

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and the kids ask them how did they fall in love.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, kaveh, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. use of farsi, arabic and japanese terms. there's a lot of dialogues but there's a plot. approximately 7.3k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Wriothesley

You watched Cameron and Éveline playing on the other side of the room as you tirelessly documented the files that had arrived from the courthouse that afternoon. 

Wriothesley have been patrolling the prison’ Forbbiden Zone all day after receiving an information about some anomaly within the fortress, so you barely had seen your husband except for the brief greeting at breakfast.

Distracted with your work, you didn't even notice that both children had stopped building the wooden blocks and Cameron was sitting in the chair in front of you while Eve made herself comfortable on the sofa behind him.

“Mummy?” he called and you looked up from the papers at him and smiled.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“How did you and Daddy fall in love?”

Your son's sudden question took you by surprise, leaving you stunned for a few seconds. But you soon found yourself chuckling and ignoring your work to pay attention to the boy. 

“Why the sudden curiosity, Cam? That's pretty out of your character, you know.”

Cameron shrugged.

“I just want to know how you and Daddy met.”

Smiling softly, you nodded.

“Very well. Let’s see… It all began a long time ago, when mommy was sentenced to the Fortress of Meropide,” you narrated in a reflexive tone and waved for Éveline to come closer to sit next to her friend.

“Back then, mama wasn’t the person she is today, you see. I was rude, I was always angry, I picked fights with anyone who crossed my way and I didn't let anyone get close to me. You could say I wasn't a very nice person to be around, and because I was in prison, it also meant I wasn't a good person either.”

“I simply couldn't get used to life down here as most of the prisoners do, nor do I could accept the sentence that was given to me. Therefore, I rebelled in every way I could and participated in the fights in the hope that someone would see some value in me and would send me back to the capital. But, well, at that time we had a not very nice director and the inmates cared more about themselves than about others.” 

“Lo and behold, a year passed, your dad ascended as Duke and I was still hoping to be able to get out of here.”

“But then, the night of a new duel had arrived and barely I knew it'd be a night that'd change my life forever. It was the night I finally met your dad. Or better saying, where he became interested in me.”

“I remember it was a quick fight. I was already assured of victory but my opponent decided to bravely face me anyway. Although I was no longer the girl I was a year ago, I was still merciless in the face of a rival. Mostly of the Pankration Ring’s regulars knew my name because I made of it my reputation. That was one of the reasons your dad went to watch the fight that night. He wanted to see who was the person who was sending dozens and dozens of prisoners to Sigewinne,” you smirked at the kids making them giggling. 

“When the fight ended, he came to me wanting to know more about me and asking all kinds of questions. Nevertheless I wasn't interested in relationship, preferring to stay away from every one of the Fortress. Furthermore, I had an exclusive grudge against men so I couldn’t stand his person,” you paused the story to see if Cameron would react negatively to this detail but the boy only seemed more interested by it. 

“I don't remember very well what I said to him, however, it was clear that I wasn't interested and didn't want any kind of flattery from him. Needless to say it didn't work because your dad is as stubborn as a mule.”

“From that night, Wriothesley made a promise to himself to get closer to me and he fulfilled it very well as he kept following me everywhere.”

“It was extremely annoying and I couldn't understand what his curiosity about me was. After all, when I first arrived here he had never shown any sign of acknowledging my existence, so why at that moment?”

“Even though I still didn't understand him and tried at all costs to escape his sight, Wriothesley always found a way to find me and include me in his conversations. It was irritating to get so much attention from the new director of the Fortress of Meropide, and it was even scarier for me not to know what was his intentions either. But, over time, I got used to his presence and even started to yearn for it…”

“A couple of months later I dared to ask him why he insisted on getting closer to me,” you snorted at the memory as a small smile stretched your lips.

“What did he say?” Éveline asked curious.

“He said he wanted me to know that even though I kept pushing everyone away from me, he’d always come back. Because even though I thought I was doing better on my own, no one deserves to be alone and remain unseen.”

“It wasn’t the answer I expected but I felt like all my feelings—all the frustration, anger, sadness, and pain I was carrying at that time were validated, and he was seeing each of them.”

“After that, it took a while longer for me to accept that there was someone who cared about me, but I slowly opened my heart to him.”

“When I finally came to terms with my feelings, I still tested Wriothesley's loyalty a little bit more. I must say it was worth it to see him working hard for two years. Nonetheless, he was and still is the best choice I’ve ever made,” you finish the story and the children clap excitedly making you laugh in amusement.

Unexpectedly, a third person also claps and you see the said person leaning against the stair railing, smirking at you—probably he had been there since the beginning of the story.

“So you mean that all that time I was trying my best to have my feelings acknowledged you were testing me? That hurts, doll.”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to the children who were entertained by the scene. 

“Just like I’ve said. It was worth each second.”

Neuvillette

“Mummy, daddy. How did you fall in love?” Éveline asks suddenly as she makes her presence known in your husband’s office, making both of you stop your tasks to stare at her.  

“I was playing with Cam today and he asked his mama how she and Monsieur Wriothesley met and fell in love, and it was a very nice story! I want to know how you and papa met and fell in love too!” she says with a rare enthusiasm that makes you chuckle and Neuvillette smiles fondly.

“My my, if my beautiful Line isn’t curious today, huh?” you tease your daughter and leave a quick peck on her pale cheek soon after. “Well, let me see… Everything began when mama was sentenced to prison,” you chuckle when Éveline's blue eyes widen. 

“No need to get your little head stewing with that, angel. It was years ago and mama didn’t stay there too long either. You see, your mom used to do some… inappropriate stuff and I ended up going to trial for that.” 

Neuvillette snorted softly from his desk.

“Inappropriate is a very polite way for your mom to say she used to be involved with a lot of illegal matters, darling,” Neuvillette pointed out with a small smirk himself as he stopped his reading to stare at you. 

“Oh, shush you, Neuvi. You say that as if it was an unforgivable crime when it wasn’t,” you roll your eyes in fake annoyance making Éveline giggle, “As I was saying, angel. Mama went to trial and, of course, your papa was the only one to conduct it.” 

“You see, I already knew who was he—actually, who didn't? The just and benevolent but impartial Iudex of Fontaine. Although, I had never seen him in person until the day I had to show at court.”

“At that time I’d never admit it but I was very anxious to meet the head judge of Fontaine. When you get involved in reckless things, you think you're smarter than everyone and will never get caught, but little did I know that your dad had been tracking and watching me for ages.”

“And then when I finally stood in front of him, my nervousness strangely disappeared and became more like a curiosity. After all, I had only heard about the Iudex's morals and not his personality much less his appearance, so it was clear to everyone at the court that I was very intrigued by that man standing above me.”

“As the trial proceeded, he gave me a five-year sentence in the Fortress of Meropide which I managed to reduce by eight months for good behavior,” you winked at your daughter who kept listening to your storytelling, dazzled. “Not only did I refuse to be there in prison away from my own business, but I felt more motivated to return to the surface to learn more about your dad.”

“When I finally got back to the city, I used all my means to get your dad’s attention again—which actually worked several times since he likes to keep an eye on Fontaine’s order.” 

“Then, the months were passing by and my curiosity and interest just kept growing. And suddenly, I caught myself falling in love with all the things I was learning about him.”

“Even though it was fun to use of wrong ways to get the attention of the man you like, it was also tiring. And that situation was also reaching a point where I felt like your dad wasn't giving me the signals I was expecting him to do, so I was also getting stressed. Maybe he isn’t as fond of me as I am of him, that was what I thought.”

“Nevertheless, I'm a very resilient woman. I didn't let myself sink into self-pity, much less feel sad about the lack of reciprocity in love so I opened a new business here in the capital saying I wanted to live a peaceful life, and see where it’d take me. Fortunately here I could make great friends, a lot of associates, and even more trades.”

“And contrary to my guessing, Neuvi eventually started to visit my store where we had more appropriate interactions and talks, much for my joy.”

“I kept falling in love with him every day, you know? Thankfully your dad is a gentleman and he didn't take too long to ask me on a date. From then on, we became almost inseparable. That’s our story.” 

As you finish your love story, you could see your daughter’s eyes sparkling like two beautiful gems and a huge smile shining on her face. It made you happy that she enjoyed the story of how her parents met instead of getting mixed feelings by it—after all, the things you still do are better kept hidden until she’s older enough to understand them. 

You and your family kept talking about the said topic for a while, but eventually, you had to say goodbye to them to leave for a meeting with some partners from your business which you already were late for.

Unbeknownst to you though, Éveline and Neuvillette who were still in the office, shared your love story once again. But this time, it was a version you still haven’t heard.

Perhaps you'd never know either as it became a secret shared only between father and daughter. 

“I fell in love with your mom at the very moment I saw her.”

Lyney

The twins' little nimble footsteps could be heard throughout the house before it took them to the kitchen where you and Lyney were busy cleaning the lunch dishes. 

“Mommy, mommy! Uncle Freminet just read a book to Quentin and me and we want to know how you and Daddy fell in love too!” exclaimed Corinne, smiling excitedly. 

“Oh my. That was quite sudden,” you laughed as you dried the last dish of the day and put it away immediately to give your full attention to the children, “I bet it was a very romantic book for you to be so excited about.” 

“It was!”, they exclaimed together making you and Lyney laugh. 

“I don't see why not, then. It may not be as exciting as the tale Freminet read to you, but I think you'll like it too,” you say sitting at the table and placing Corinne on your lap while Lyney does the same with Quentin. 

“Well, I think our story is much more charming than the one in the book that Uncle Freminet read to you,” replies your husband, sending you a wink, “You could say that like a fairy tale, the magician prince fell in love at first sight with the most beautiful princess in the entire kingdom.”

“Back in those days, a troupe of nomadic artists traveled throughout Teyvat bringing joy and laughter to their audiences. It was your mom’s family.”

“They traveled across all nations enchanting its residents with their music, acrobatics, but especially with their dance. And, believe it or not, they had never come to Fontaine until that day.” 

“As a lover of the art of entertainment, I had to see for myself what a performance by the Pathfinder’s Troupe would be like, they who had a reputation that extended beyond the stars in the sky! Furthermore, as a colleague in the same department, I also wanted to give my final verdict. But truth to be told, daddy was just a little bit of jealous because of all the attention mama’s group was getting at that time,” he made a face at this specific memory that made you and the kids laugh. 

“So when the night of the show came, I finally understood why they were such a success. All the troupe members had a bright, warm smile, seeming to love what they were doing. The music was loud and happy and even though you didn't know the language they sang in, you wanted to join them. It was a simple show, but funny and welcoming.” 

“But then when it came time for your mom to take the stage, there wasn't a person in the audience who wasn't dazzled by her. Including me,” Lyney pauses as he smiles at the memory running through his mind. You smiled back. 

“It was, and still is, the most beautiful performance I had ever seen. Not only did your mom look like a goddess at that moment, with her traditional clothing, makeup, and gold jewelry, but she mesmerized the audience with her movements.” 

“Unfortunately, her dance didn’t last long and she soon left the stage, thanking us all for our presence.” 

“Like several people enchanted by that beautiful dancer, I tried to approach her to say my compliments but—whether you two believe it or not, daddy was scared to death.” 

“Why scared Daddy?” asked Quentin. 

“Mama was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of her, much less offend her with my words,” Lyney replies to which the two children nod as if they understood. 

“Luckily, daddy always had a secret or two up his sleeve, and when I approached her, I did a little magic trick turning a tiny spark of my vision into a Rainbow Rose, which at the time I thought was my worst trick but it seemed to make your mom happy.” 

“It was the most genuine and sweetest gesture anyone had ever made to me,” you extend your hand to your husband across the table and he takes it, placing a light kiss on your palm. 

“We didn't have much time left together since she was traveling back to her hometown the next morning, and nor did I have the courage to invite her to dinner either, something that caused me deep regret and even made Aunt Lynette annoyed.” 

“But before she left, I promised I’d see her again. And, luckily, a few months later, she and her troupe returned to Fontaine to perform a new show.” 

“And then you said you loved each other?” Corinne asked innocently.

You and Lyney laughed, “No Rin. Far from it actually. Your dad could barely get close to me without him stuttering something indecipherable, turning around, and disappearing into the city streets,” you teased your husband which made him feel embarrassed. 

“What can I say? You always seemed to get more beautiful each day and I had never been interested in anyone before. Besides, there were a lot of suitors vying for your attention so I figured you wouldn’t be interested in me.” 

You roll your eyes in amusement, “And look where we are now.” 

“So how did you start to love each other?” Quentin asks, still in doubt. 

“After many failed attempts by your papa, he finally managed to invite me to dinner—which I accepted without thinking twice. After that, he felt more confident talking to me and asking me out,” you say, “But there were also many times when we were away from each other due to our work.” 

“I knew I loved the troupe and I loved being on the road traveling and performing in different countries but I was also in love with your papa. When I was with him… I knew I had found a home. So I left the troupe, came to Fontaine, confessed my feelings to him and, fortunately, he confessed me back.” 

“And since then we have been living happily ever after. The end!” Lyney jokes and you and the twins giggles again. 

“So! Did you like the story?” you ask. 

Corinne is the first to nod eagerly. Her beautiful purple eyes shone like two amethysts in pure joy towards her parents' love story. 

Quentin in turn… 

“Meh. I thought Daddy had fight a dragon to save you.” 

You and Lyney stare at each other for a while before laughing loudly, catching the attention of Lynette and Freminet as they enter the kitchen. 

Yeah. You couldn't deny it. Fighting a dragon seemed more exciting in this case.

Kazuha

“It’s more precise to say that love has fallen on me,” Kazuha said as he sat Kazumi on his right leg and little Kiyomi on his left. His children looked at him with a confused expression making him chuckle. 

“It was a long time ago. We were sailing on the waters east of Mondstadt when I felt an unknown agitation being carried by the wind currents.”

“You should know that it’s pretty rare to face sea creatures nowadays due to fishing, but at that time, it was an occurrence we faced quite often so we should've always be prepared for it. And as part of The Crux’s crew, it was my job to stay vigilant, so I immediately informed our captain and mates to stay alert and careful for a possible attack—although I must say I wasn’t alarmed as I should be. Something in my instincts told me to not be afraid,” he smiled at the memories. 

“Then, as if to confirm my predictions, we saw a shadow crossing the skies and falling not soon after. No one seemed to react in time, however, I had instantly prepared myself with the help of my vision for whatever was coming to us.” 

“That was when your mom fell directly into my arms, surprising everyone on the ship because I had just saved her life from a free fall after one of the wings of her wind glider broke,” the kids gasped and he kept softly smiling at them.

“I feared that your mama had hurt herself during the fall but when she finally looked at me she was giving me that gorgeous, bright smile of hers. I think it was at that exact moment where she had my heart.” 

“Until that moment I had never seen someone so beautiful in my life. She looked stunning, wonderful. As radiant as the first sun ray of the morning.”

“I could see she was thanking me for saving her life as her lips kept moving, but all I could do at that moment was stare at her, completely mesmerized. It was quite impossible not to be that one who was falling in love at that very moment.” 

“After that, she started accompanying us on some journeys and even took us on some of her adventures. I was in love with her free spirit, yes, but even more so with her person. It didn't take long for us to get closer, and starting to date her was as natural as having her in my life.”

“That's our story. It is still being written, however, this time we have you, our most beloved children, to share our memories with.”

As he finished it, Kazuha noticed the dreamy and joyful expressions on both children's faces. Kiyomi seemed the most enchanted by the story since she had inherited the romantic spirit of both her parents while Kazumi pretended to be unimpressed when in fact, inwardly, he was eager for more details of it. The patriarch couldn’t hide his amusement at the view. 

Both siblings showed excitedly their enthusiasm towards their parents’ love story with some funny and cute comments here and there which, eventually, drew your attention to the living room they were in.

When you walked in with a baby Haruki sleeping in your arms, your family stopped their conversation to stare at you which made you raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“What? Am I interrupting something? I heard a loud noise coming from here and came to see what you two little things were up to.” 

Kazumi and Kiyomi looked briefly at each other before giggling cutely. 

“Otochan was telling us the story of how you met and how he fell in love with you,” your daughter responds excitedly. 

This immediately brings a smile to your face, making you walk over and sit on the couch next to them, adjusting Haru comfortably in your arms as you lean towards your two older children and husband. 

“Oh, I love this story! Did you guys know? I literally fell for your dad!”

Kaveh

It was late at night and you and Kaveh were putting Zahra to sleep. 

Normally, you and your husband would take turns with your daughter's nighttime routine so that the tasks wouldn’t be exhausting for only one person. 

However, the little girl had woken up sick that morning and had demanded her both parents' attention all day, acting more whiny than usual. So it wasn't unexpected that she also asked for both parents to be with her at bedtime.  

Lying in bed with Zahra, you stroked her blonde curls as she snuggled into the warmth of your embrace, happy for the attention she received. In turn, Kaveh was looking for a book from her mini library to read to her, although you could tell that he was having a hard time making the right choice since none of the options seemed to catch his daughter's attention. 

“Umm… We have The Boar Princess, Flowers for Princess Fischl, and The Fox in the Dandelion Sea but Daddy doesn’t know if you want me to read one of those titles again,” Kaveh showed her the books but Zahra denied them.

“No! Daddy already read The Boar Princess yesterday and I don't like Princess Fischl,” she responds grumpily, which draws a sigh of defeat from the architect. 

“Okay, I'm out of ideas. Azizam, I need help here.” 

You giggled softly but went to your husband's aid, “Well... How about we change the scene a little and tell you a different story?”

Zahra's eyes suddenly widened in curiosity and she nodded enthusiastically. 

“How about if we tell you something new? Something that doesn't even exist in books. The story of how Mommy and Daddy met!”

Kaveh, also seeming to brighten at your suggestion, takes the other spot on your daughter's tiny bed and wraps his arm around both of your waists.

“Ah, this is one of my favorite stories,” he comments, sending you a small smile. 

“It’s better than The Boar Princess, mummy?” asks Zahra excitedly. 

You laugh, “Much better than The Boar Princess, sweetheart. Honey, how about you do the honors?” you suggest in a mischievous tone that catches Kaveh off guard, but seeing that you weren't going to budge and his little princess seemed increasingly anxious, the architect cleared his throat before starting to recount about the day he finally met you. 

“Let’s see… It was at a time when life was a bit of a rollercoaster for me.”

“You know, I’ve always been very passionate about my work and have always dedicated myself to the maximum to bring my projects to life. I was ambitious, hard-working, and had dozens of clients but I was also quite ignorant. It didn't matter how great my desire to build houses and palaces was, or how strong were my inspiration when my wallet didn't match my reality. Neither did my mental state...” 

“Then one day I received a letter. It was the Liyue's Tianquan inviting me to participate in an exclusive civil construction project and my participation in this event would be of great honor.” 

“When I saw that opportunity, I grabbed it without thinking about the consequences. After all, it wasn't every day that I received a chance like that, and even though my work had a certain popularity, not all clients were able to follow my ideas. So I imagined that being in a foreign environment with people who apparently valued my projects would be like reaching the purpose I wanted. Plus the paycheck seemed to be rewarding too.” 

You snort in amusement at his last comment. 

“So I went to Liyue and soon I was in a huge meeting room with professionals coming from all Teyvat. As the project meeting continued I found myself increasingly out of place by the suggestions my colleagues were making. They were so closed-minded. When they’re thinking about time, I wanted quality. While they wanted cost savings, I wanted to do something to make the people involved in that construction feel worthy of a home. It was disappointing and I was starting to get sick of that place.”

“That’s when your mama decided to speak out,” the man’s eyes twinkled briefly. 

“Unlike those people who had simple and selfish ideals, your mom was brilliant, confident, and bold. Not only did she catch the attention of the men in that room with her beauty and elegance, but it was certainly her intelligence that captured the hearts of many that day. Including mine.” 

“Until that moment I hadn’t given my opinion, but knowing that one of the main people in charge had a similar vision to mine, I felt excited to give my ideas. It was one of the moments I felt most anxious too.” 

Zahra frowned, “Why Daddy?”

“I think at that moment I got it into my head that your mom had high expectations for me and I didn’t want to disappoint her.” 

“But luckily that wasn't the case as she seemed to approve each of my ideas. That’s how we ended up forming a partnership.” 

“As we worked together, I found myself liking her more and more. At the time, this was also a big obstacle for me as I didn’t like mixing my professional and personal relationships.”

"But— aah, your mama had a way of enchanting me every day. She appreciated my work and my dedication. She encouraged me to think bigger and challenged me to be bolder not only with my work but with myself. Somewhere along the way, our nightly sessions turned into conversations about life, ambitions, and even our struggles.”

“A few months later, when we finally finished the construction, I felt brave enough to confess my feelings to her, and guess what your mom said, Zaza?” 

“What? What did she say Daddy?” she asked expectantly. 

“Mama said she wouldn’t accept my feelings until I sorted my life out,” he huffed making you laugh and your daughter look at you in disbelief. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Zaza. At the time it was the right decision to make. I was already in love with your papa as much as he was with me, but I knew he wasn't ready to get into a relationship when he wasn't okay with himself. I wanted someone who could provide me security and was confidence in themselves, and your daddy didn’t have those qualities.”

“Ouch, azizam. You don’t need to rub it in!” 

“I’m just saying.”

Kaveh sighed resignedly, “Anyway, she said she wouldn’t accept my feelings but would wait for me as long as necessary.” 

“After that, I returned to Sumeru but this time determined to prove myself to her. I used every means possible to resolve my financial, family, and personal issues. I worked tirelessly to find my path and build my own home. And almost two years later I traveled back to Liyue. But this time I was sure I wouldn't leave without my girl, and so I did,” he finishes the story, and you clap softly while Zahra smiles tiredly. 

“It was a great story, azizam,” you comment, smiling, “But I think now it’s time to finish for today because our little princess needs to sleep well to wake up better tomorrow.” 

Kaveh looks at his daughter's sleepy eyes and agrees. 

You place Zahra back on her pillow and cover her with the blanket, placing a kiss on her forehead—Kaveh copying your gesture soon after.

Saying goodnight to the girl, you and your husband leave the room together, leaving the door ajar the way she liked it. 

On the way to your room, you couldn't help but notice how Kaveh looked so down and you frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

He clicks his tongue and turns his face to the other side, mumbling, “I was just thinking you didn't need to say that I didn't look confident back then, you know? What about now, azizam? What will my own daughter think of me? She’ll think I’m lame!”

You roll your eyes. 

“You surely look lame now.” 

“Hey!”

Alhaitham

The heavy oak door creaked softly as Alhaitham entered the house, his mind finally relaxing after a long day at work. 

Right in the living room, the scribe identified your very focused presence with what he presumed to be correcting tests and homework. So as not to make his arrival go unnoticed, Alhaitham approaches and gently touches your shoulders, making you jump in scared. 

“I’m sorry, habibti. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says and you smile at him. 

“It’s okay, dear,” you reach for his hand and squeeze it in greeting, “But you should learn to make a little more noise, Haitham. Your presence is as subtle as that of a cat. Anyway, welcome home.” 

Alhaitham kisses the top of your head, “Thank you. Where is Hakim?”

You frown and look around the room but don't identify your son's presence anywhere.

“I am not sure, to be honest. He was here with me until a few minutes ago but I don't think watching his mother work is that fun. Maybe he's painting in his room? If he had gone out to play with the twins, he’d have told me,” You conclude. 

Your husband nods, but the faint gleam of recognition in his eyes announces that he already has an idea where the child could be. 

“Very well. I’ll change my clothes first and I’ll make us some tea right after, okay?” 

You nod in thanks and turn your attention to the paperwork while Alhaitham disappears through the halls of the house. 

Instead of making his way to your shared room, the scribe heads to the door of his office where he finds it ajar. Not surprised, Alhaitham approaches and through the small opening observes the brightly lit room as Hakim makes himself comfortable on the floor leafing through a specific book but surrounded by dozens of others—which he assumes have fallen to the floor as his son tried to reach them from the highest shelf. 

A mixture of fatherly pride and affection surfaced beneath his stoic exterior. 

Clearing his throat lightly, Alhaitham approaches with measured steps, not wanting to scare the boy.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he announces making Hakim jump in fright, just like his mother did. Alhaitham snorted in amusement. 

“Sorry Baba. I know you don’t like anyone touching your things, but I was going to tidy everything up later.” 

“It’s okay, Kim,” he replies calmly and sits down in the armchair located in the middle of the office, “What are you reading?”

Hakim smiles adorably showing off the book he was so interested in and Alhaitham couldn't help but chuckle. 

“It’s a cool book!” comments the boy, “I can't read what's written because there are lots of strange letters and drawings but they're cool too.” 

“I expect so. After all, your mother wrote this book.” 

Hakim’s interest peaks, “Really?” 

“Yes. It's one of my favorite ones, by the way. It was through it that I met her”, he pats his thighs inviting Hakim to sit on his lap which the boy accomplishes happily. 

Hakim leans back against his father's warm chest, hugging the book affectionately, “How did you two meet, Baba?”

Alhaitham was silent for a few seconds before letting out a reflective sigh. 

“It was at the same time that I was holding the position of Acting Grand Sage”, Alhaitham began, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. 

“Sumeru was going through great changes due to everything that had happened and, inevitably, Akademiya had been one of the main places affected by it. I ended up temporarily taking on the role of the great sage out of respect for Buer's wise decision, although it wasn't exactly the job I was looking for.”

“There were many responsibilities, many commitments, and daily there were dozens of issues to be resolved due to years, centuries of bad motivations. So you can imagine how exhausting it was to rebuild an entire institution from zero and be that person that people followed orders.”  

“Until one day your mother suddenly appears as a new candidate for the position of professor in the Darshan of Haravatat.” 

“I hadn't met her at first since our paths never seemed to cross. Yet the words in the halls of the Akademiya were always the same: the new professor was like a breath of fresh air in that old institution—beautiful, kind, with a passion for knowledge that matched her beauty.”

He paused, remembering the scene as if it were yesterday. “One afternoon, I found myself in the library again, buried in a book—absorbing all that knowledge with a hunger that had previously been unknown to me. Little did I know that it was her book that I was reading. Such insight, elegance, and dedication to details had uniquely captivated me.”

“I was pretty engrossed in the text when I heard footsteps approaching,” Alhaitham continued, with a hint of amusement in his tone. “She stood by my side and gently asked about the book, curious to know what I thought, and so our conversation began.”

“We didn't talk much that day as I was a much more reserved person, but she was exactly as the scholars’ whispers described her. Through the brief talk we had, I was able to explore philosophical thoughts and complexities of life that I had never explored before. Your mother had a way of drawing out my thoughts, of making me see beyond the surface and into the depths of existence. That’s what attracted me to her in the first place.”  

“As days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, we met at the library quite often. Our discussions deepened, and with each talk, I found myself opening up in ways I hadn't before.”

“I think she knew back then that she had caught my attention, although it took her a little longer to realize that she had stolen my heart,” he chuckles softly. Hakim smiles in delight.

“We began spending more time together beyond the Akademiya strongholds, exploring the world around us. It made me realize how much I wanted her in my life. In that same way. Every day." 

“And then one night, in our quiet sanctuary in that very hallway in the library, I told her those exact words,” Alhaitham's voice softened with love.

“She smiled that radiant smile of hers that illuminates even the darkest corners of my soul and said she felt the same way. At that moment, Hakim, it was like the stars aligned and everything fell into place.” 

“That’s how I met your mother, Kim. In the silent corners of knowledge and amid the pages of her wisdom, our love story began—a story woven with understanding, respect, and a bond that grows stronger with each passing day.”

Alhaitham ends the story with a slight smile to which his son imitates him, admiringly. 

“I hope one day I can meet someone like you and mama did, Baba.” 

The scribe smirks in amusement, “I hope for the same, child.”

Not long after, you made your entrance into the office carrying in your hands a tray with three cups of tea and milk and Hakim's favorite cookies. 

“I knew you boys were hiding out here,” you smile at your husband and son, completely oblivious to the story they just shared. “Come on. Let’s eat while the cookies are still warm.”

Cyno 

The whole family was gathered in front of the fireplace reviewing some photos that you had captured and saved over the years. 

From your days as an eremite to the twins' first steps, every moment was recorded in several photographs that you kept with the greatest care so that, from time to time, you could remember them again with a nostalgic feeling. And currently, this was one of those moments. 

Aryan and Isaar were having fun with some older photos of Cyno, courtesy of Cyrus, while you and he organized the rest of the albums back into the box they belonged to. 

It was a serene moment, of pure bliss and harmony. Something you wish you could capture with your kamera again, but you'd rather enjoy just being with the people you loved most. 

“Hey Mama, what picture is that?” asks Isaar, breaking you out of your daydreams. 

When you recognize the black and white, slightly blurred image, a giggle couldn't help but escape your lips. 

“Aah, it's from our first date,” you reply happily, “If I'm not mistaken, Dehya and Candace had followed us that day and took this one. Nobody could believe that the emotionless and unapproachable General Mahamatra could go on a date with a beautiful girl, so I think they wanted to have proof that this day happened.” 

Cyno snorts and the twins nod in understanding, smiling at each other. 

“How did you and Baba meet?” Aryan asks shortly afterward, still mesmerized by the photo in his brother's hands. 

You and Cyno locked eyes briefly and a mischievous smirk crossed your face as the flicker of a smile curved his lips. 

“Well, you boys won't believe it, but it all started when I defeated your baba in a fight.” 

The smile on Cyno's face immediately disappeared, being replaced by an expression of slight unbelief and confusion. “You didn't defeat me, hayati. I remember very well that it was a draw.”

You made a slight grimace as if you didn't believe the blasphemy your husband was saying, which left him more incredulous than before, and your children quite amused. 

“These are irrelevant details, my love. Let’s pretend you never said that.” 

“Anyway, I was a different person back then,” you continued, your eyes shining with a mixture of mischief and pride. “Living according to my clan's philosophy but in a more devious and rebellious way, if I may say so. I wanted to chart a path in a way that’d only suit me.” 

“I used to do several illegal jobs for which the matras already persecuted me for, but it was deceiving the young and naive scholars from Akademiya that amused me and made my reputation grow among its guards. No need to give me that look, boys. Mama only took them to forbidden ruins and mausoleums in exchange for extra money,” you added the last part as you received strange looks from the twins. 

Cyno, seeing the scene, snorted in amusement, “You’re not helping yourself, hayati.”

“If they want to hear the true and complete version they better be prepared to hear what happened,” you wrinkled your nose. 

To save you from more possible judgments, Cyno resumed the thread, his deep voice cutting through the room. “I was immediately informed about the incidents that were occurring with certain frequency, and tasked with restoring order. It was supposed to be a job easily accomplished even by the lowest ranking among the matras, but not only were your mom’s activities not within the law, as no officer was a match for her strength either. Many scholars had not been discovered of their misconduct thanks to her,” he admitted, a slight affectionate smile crossing his face. 

His subtle compliment made you shy. 

“And just as your dad’s reputation preceded him, he tracked me like a bloodhound,” you said with a hint of admiration underlying your words. “Until one afternoon I caught myself off guard on the outskirts of the Sobek Oasis and he appeared announcing that he’d take me to the capital so I could have my punishment. I found him incredibly attractive at that moment, but I wasn't going to give in so easily either. In the end, we ended up fighting,” you giggled remembering the duel. Two forces of nature colliding: fire and thunder. 

“It was a draw,” Cyno resumes saying it again, “Although I must admit your mom gave me a bit of a hard time. It was my first time facing a formidable opponent who was equal to me—I dare say even superior to my abilities.” 

Isaar, the more curious of the twins, leaned forward, eyes wide with excitement, “What happened next?” 

You exchanged a knowing look with your husband, silently communicating with him. 

“Well, sometimes life surprises you,” you respond cryptically, reaching out to ruffle the child’s hair in affection. 

Cyno's gaze softened imperceptibly as he continued, “Our paths continued to cross after our first meeting. While on one hand your mom seemed not to give up what she was doing, I felt increasingly motivated, challenged to stop her—after all, not only was this affecting the performance of the Akademiya students, but it was also tarnishing the reputation of the matras who weren’t managing to deal with that situation.” 

“But as time passed and we kept facing each other, we also came to an understanding. Sometimes behind the clash of wills, there is a common thread. That’s how your mom and I realized we were stronger together than we were apart.”

Aryan, although quieter but no less attentive, absorbed his father's words with a thoughtful expression. 

“So, it was like fate, Mama?” he mused aloud.

You smiled warmly at your children, your heart filling with maternal pride. 

“Maybe it was. In an unpredictable way, but woven by the hands of fate,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of years of shared history and love.

As the night progressed, you and Cyno continued to tell the twins your stories of adventures, challenges overcome, and the unshakable bond that had been born in infertile soil and blossomed into a deep, beautiful and lasting partnership. 

[so-i-did-this-thing]

How it's going as a trans person in Florida: Planned Parenthood, 26Health, and Spektrum Health have announced they have paused all gender affirming care.

To recap, DeSantis signed several anti-trans bills into law this week. Care is banned for minors, care is all but banned for adults, Don't Say Gay has been extended, children can be kidnapped from affirming parents by non-affirming family, and there is a bathroom bill that subjects trans folks to arrest for using government owned facilities, such as those in courthouses, airports, many stadiums and parks.

The adult effective ban was felt immediately. The main elements are:

signing at every visit an in-person informed consent form created by the state

all care come from physicians instead of nurse practitioners

no telemed for gender-affirming care

Currently, it is unknown if existing HRT prescriptions written by NPs will be honored by pharmacies. I personally know one person who was able to pick up testosterone yesterday, but I have also read many reports of folks being denied. I myself don't have a refill ready for another 10 days and will report back after I try my own pickup.

What's additionally dangerous is those of us, myself included, who get non-HRT prescriptions from our gender clinics now face the uncertainty of continuing of *all* of our medical care. Our health clinics are at risk of shuttering permanently as they lose major income, and many of us will lose STD meds, depression meds, heart meds, etc, etc.

When we say "this will kill us," it goes beyond suicide risk from forced detransition.

"But you can still get HRT from a physician."

So many suck or are outright hostile and the demand outstrips the supply. Before I found my NP-run clinic, one physician just decided to not call in my Rx, another was so shit at reading lab results, he thought I had hepatitis, and the third I had to threaten to kick in the teeth for trying to force too large a speculum in me.

Also, the state-required consent form has not been finalized and distributed yet, so at this point, everything has pretty much ground to a halt.

It was estimated that 80% of trans adults would lose their healthcare because of how many use providers like Planned Parenthood, but the impact seems even greater now.

"You can get your non-gender care elsewhere still."

DeSantis recently signed a bill that allows healthcare professionals to discriminate against trans people.

Sure, we can try to find care elsewhere, but it will be a slow and expensive process, with no guarantees. It took me over 20 years to get my heart condition treated because of transphobic doctors.

What can I do as a trans Floridian?

Stay in communication with your clinic - many are working on getting physicians added to the roster to prescribe HRT. Lawsuits are being filed and it's possible the changes to adult care can be rolled back.

Continue to try to pick up your meds, but begin looking for care elsewhere, though. Inside and outside the state.

Remember that while telemed for gender affirming care has been banned, you can still cross state lines for care. See Erin's map of informed consent clinics.

Many people will turn to DIY, but be sure you are aware of the risks here, especially if on testosterone, which is a controlled substance.

What should I be worried about next as a trans Floridian?

I worry about the following next steps towards genocide:

Banning getting care out of state. This is from the anti-abortion playbook. They will likely start with kids again, but we've seen how quickly adult care gets axed.

Being declared mentally incompetent or a risk in some way. This could be anything from being barred from gun ownership to not being allowed to work for the government.

Being declared a de facto predator. This has already happened with the latest bathroom law (cis people can eject trans people from government owned single-gender facilities, with arrest as a penalty), so watch out for it being applied to privately-owned facilities. Watch for discussions of official lists of trans people.

Gender presentation enforcement laws, essentially banning "cross dressing". Laws that block or rollback documentation changes.

These all have historic precedence and are huge "I'm in danger" red flags.

What can I do as a cis person?

Amplify all this news. Talk frankly about how this is genocide. And donate what you can to trans mutual aid campaigns so people can travel to get healthcare or even leave the state.

Here's some articles to get started on building awareness:

Take care, everyone, of yourself and each other.