#the griffith legacy

[duusheen]

PS. I love you

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! 🤗💕

[karatekels]

TIGmas Day #4 – Eye of the Storm

Today’s story is for @theinheriteddutchess, and it’s just the right amount of unhinged and delicious… and Christmassy!

TW: Deception, manipulation, coercion, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, dubious consent, lying about birth control, semi-public sex, Terry Silver brooding and tired of waiting around

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Eye of the Storm

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Terry’s POV:

Attention all passengers. Attention all passengers. At this time, all flights are currently canceled until further notice due to inclement weather. All commercial and private aircraft are currently grounded until conditions improve.

Weather. One of the few things in life that remained out of his control. This blizzard in particular seems to be taunting him with that fact.

LaGuardia is bustling on Christmas Eve, the airport overflowing with clusters of families and travelers trying to make their way to their loved ones. Terry’s just grateful he’s surveying them all from the relative quiet of the elite lounge reserved for those flying in private jets, looking through the tinted windows at the unsuspecting commoners.

Christmas Eve.

He’d intentionally scheduled his year-end meetings in New York for this time of year, wanting to keep himself occupied. With the All Valley tournament won earlier in the month, Terry had taken a step away from the dojo for the remainder of the year; hearing chatter about the holidays always left him feeling agitated. Frustrated.

Alone.

And now, instead of enjoying the luxuries of private air travel and anticipating a return to the reasonable, warm climate of Los Angeles – he hated the cold – he was stuck surrounded by reminders of his solitude, nursing a passable whiskey.

A family pulls off to the side, right in front of him, mother and father trying to calm their wailing brats, and he feels an uncomfortable pang in his chest.

How could so many undeserving, unworthy, average joes reproduce their mediocrity with ease while he, with an empire that could sustain generations of his legacy, went without?

He had spent the first decade or so of his career living up to the stereotype of the billionaire playboy, having more than his share of fun with anyone and everyone that had struck his fancy. He figured that when it was time for him to settle down, he’d have his pick of worthy candidates, beautiful women of good stock that would kill for the opportunity to bear his name and his children.

But no one had met his standards, and he was now well into the winter of his lifetime. It was too late.

… Or was it?

He may be pushing seventy, but his doctor had assured him he was still able to conceive during his most recent physical. He had plenty of resources to attract and… retain a suitable partner. And it wasn’t like he was settling down in his thirties; he could find someone worthy enough to have and raise his children without tiring of them after decades of time together.

Someone younger, naïve, impressionable… Someone that he could shape into the perfect wife and mother, if they didn’t come that way naturally.

A flustered young woman walks by, her open trenchcoat revealing flaring, child-bearing hips, her eyes sparkling with an anger that indicated great depth of passion.

Someone like you.

He finishes his drink, throwing his coat back on and wrapping his red scarf around his neck, straightening to his full height as he tracks your movement through the airport with his eyes, seeing you find a seat towards the end of the terminal.

It was time to expand his dynasty.

Reader’s POV:

Even at the far end of the terminal the noise is deafening, and you can’t help but scowl at the throng of people standing around as their travel plans are put on hold, the airport full to bursting.

You think you would give anything to be away from this crowd right now.

All you are trying to do is call your mom – God forbid the family cabin have cell reception, let alone Wi-Fi – to let her know you wouldn’t be there for Christmas. At least this afforded you an excuse that she couldn’t hold against you, but you wish that you could be back in your apartment instead of trapped here.

“Excuse me, Miss –” comes a soft voice behind you, a large hand squeezing your shoulder.

“What?!” you snap, spinning around in your seat to glare at the offender. The man removes his hand from you immediately, leaning back to give you space with a slightly wounded look in his blue eyes. Your frustration dissipates and is replaced with guilt.

“I’m sorry for startling you. I just wanted to ask if this was yours?” he explains in his smooth, deep voice, your passport in his hand.

Well, now don’t you feel foolish.

“Oh my God, yes it is!” you exclaim, cheeks flaming with embarrassment at your temper tantrum. “Thank you, Sir,” you continue, reclaiming your passport and tucking it securely into your pocket. “I’m so sorry for being so rude just now, I –”

“There’s no need to apologize,” the man cuts you off, giving you a warm smile. “Airports are stressful even under the best of circumstances.”

“Still, that’s no excuse to take it out on you,” you chide yourself. “I’m just trying to make a call, but it’s too loud in here,” you explain, and the man tilts his head to the side as he stares at your lips, trying to figure out what you’re saying over the din of the bustling airport.

“I just want to make a fucking phone call and I can’t hear anything with all these people!” you snarl, glaring all around you as your temper flares into life once again. The man’s face twitches in response; you suspect he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing at you.

“I believe I can help you with that,” he offers kindly, somehow managing to speak audibly without raising his voice. “If you’d like, that is.”

“You can get me out of this mob?! I’m all yours!” you take him up on his offer enthusiastically. For a second, you think you see a wicked, pleased smirk on his face, but then you blink and he’s turned to walk away. You hasten after him, having a much more difficult time getting through the crowd; this man seems to have an aura about him that makes people give him a wide berth. At least it made him easy to spot – well, that and the fact that he towers over everyone else.

Now that your temper has been quelled, you take a moment to really look at this man. He was older, probably in his sixties, but looked strong – you doubt your head would even come up to his shoulders. He’s dressed in luxurious, well-tailored clothing that indicated wealth, with a full head of wavy hair that nearly brushed his shoulders. As he stops and turns back to see if you’ve followed, you notice how his hair, a lovely shade of silver, compliments his bright blue eyes.

All in all, he’s a real Silver Fox.

You catch up to him, glancing at the plain black door with a key card reader next to it before looking up at him curiously.

“Where does this lead to?”

“A private lounge,” he replies, not giving anything else away. So, he was proper rich, then. You reflexively back away from the door as if it could tell that you couldn’t afford to enter.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m allowed to –”

“You’ll be with me, you’ll be fine,” he cuts off your concerns, waving them away with a hand. You bite your lip, unconvinced.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, you brow furrowing in concern. “You don’t know me at all!”

He offers you his hand, his expensive watch dangling from his wrist and catching your eye. “I’m Terry Silver. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he purrs, charisma oozing from every syllable. You find yourself shaking his hand before you’ve even thought about it, enjoying the way it fully envelops your own.

“Y/N L/N,” you reply, suddenly feeling shy; he hasn’t released your hand.

“A lovely name. So, now that we know one another, will you be joining me?” he asks, giving you a lopsided grin that makes him appear younger; it was truly difficult to gauge his age.

You find yourself still hesitating, though you’re not entirely sure why. This man hadn’t given you any reason to question his intentions, and it wasn’t like any harm could befall you in an airport, of all places. He opens the door with a swipe of his card, holding it ajar with a raised eyebrow in your direction.

“Well, I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet of this wonderful, mostly empty lounge. It was nice talking to you, Y/N,” he says teasingly striding through the doorway without another look back.

“I… Wait!” you hurry after him, barely catching the door before it closes after him. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

He turns back to you with a beaming smile, clearly pleased by your decision.

“Glad to hear it!” he says, sincerity ringing in his voice as his eyes twinkle at you, walking at a slower pace to match your shorter stride. Suddenly, he bends towards you to whisper in your ear, the gesture sending a surprising thrill through you.

“This will be the only awkward part, my dear. I promise,” murmurs, and you’re momentarily dazed by the scent of his cologne before you realize he has wrapped an arm around your shoulders, hugging you close to his side as he walks past the hostess, flashing her a card before carrying on right past her.

The moment you’re out of her sight, he respectfully releases you, giving you some space. You find yourself more than a little disappointed by the loss of his presence.

“I hope I didn’t overstep, Y/N. It was just the easiest way to get you inside.”

“I…No, I don’t mind,” you stammer, feeling like an idiot. “Thank you.”

Terry leads you to a quiet, secluded booth next to a bar; you can count the other patrons on the fingers of one hand. The headache you felt coming on since your flight was canceled evaporates the moment you take a seat across from him.

“Go ahead and make your call,” he insists, staring pointedly at your phone in your hand.

A server comes over at Terry’s signal, and he orders a whiskey neat, the brand sounding foreign and expensive, then gestures to you with an open palm.

You order a double of your favourite highball, getting the sense that you’ll need the liquid courage to get you through both the phone call and the rest of the evening.

Terry’s POV:

As he nurses his drink and pretends to watch the snow continue to fall through the large window, he reviews the information he has gleaned from eavesdropping on your phonecall:

The rest of your family is off in the middle of nowhere, a landline being the only means of communication with the outside world (and, more importantly, you).

They believe that you’re lying about the canceled flight to try to get out of the holiday. This appears to upset you, though he senses it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re something of a workaholic, a point of pride for you and a sore spot for your loved ones. He thinks he appreciates the dedication.

You’re currently single, if the icy tone you used to spit out the name ‘Derek’ into your phone was any indication.

And you can handle your liquor, he notes as you polish off your drink, scowling as you listen to whoever is on the other line.

You’ll do.

“I’ve apologized a hundred times; I don’t know what more you want from me! I’ll do my best to get there when the weather clears, mom. Thank you, goodbye,” you growl into the phone, hanging up more aggressively than necessary.

“Seasons Greetings from the family?” Terry jokes wryly, and you give him a withering look. You have a pretty, expressive face; he’s looking forward to watching it transform into a mask of ecstasy for him.

“Bah, Humbug,” you grumble with a pout that draws his attention to your full lower lip. Had he lucked out, running into you at the perfect moment, or was he simply finding you more and more desirable because he was planning to knock you up some time within the next few hours?

“Thank you for bringing me here and letting me do this, Mr. Silver,” you say graciously, letting out a heavy sigh and sliding down the booth like you thought you were going somewhere.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asks with incredulity, and you freeze in place.

“I was going to go pay for my drink and then get out of your hair,” you offer weakly. He’s pleased you’re already looking guilty at the thought of going against his plans for you. Wanting to test you, he points a finger at you before pointing a few feet to your right. Sure enough, you follow his direction, sliding back into the booth obediently. Good girl.

“Firstly, your money is no good here; everything is automatically put on my card,” he counters you smoothly, wanting to set out the expectations for your future relationship right from the outset.

“Then please, allow me to reimburse you at least, Mr. Silver –” you plead, and he decides he likes that tone from you very much.

“Terry,” he corrects you sternly, noting your blush. You like being told what to do. “And no,” he adds petulantly, for good measure.

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing all this?” you ask with frustration, your voice tinged with desperation. The way your big, beautiful eyes are fixed on his, looking to him for answers… he feels his cock twitch against his thigh.

“I saw an opportunity to be a Good Samaritan and I took it,” he replies simply, nodding in recognition as the server replaces your drinks with fresh ones, though his eyes never move away from your face. Sensing that you’re not fully buying into his logic, he decides to take a more sentimental route, with the added bonus at hinting at his plans for you.

“And I don’t have a family I’m trying to get to; the least I could do is help you contact your own.”

Terry watches a wave of sympathy wash over your features, and he feels his hooks sink a bit deeper into you with satisfaction. After a moment, your expression returns to normal, though your eyes appear calculating.

“Nothing’s for free,” you state matter-of-factly, though you don’t hesitate to take a sip of your second drink. He bites back a smile as you make use of one of his favourite expressions. “What’s in it for you?”

“Your company as we wait out the weather, if anything,” he replies innocently, blinking at you as if he was utterly perplexed by what you could be insinuating. He cackles in his head.

“Although, you certainly seem eager to be back in the chaos of the terminal,” he carries on, his voice teasing. “And here I thought I had found a kindred spirit.” He sighs deeply, turning his gaze back to the window. Though he hates the snow, it is currently his greatest ally in his ploy to keep you with him.

“You… you just want someone to talk to?” your words are heavy with unease, and his eyes flit back to you. Someone so young and appealing shouldn’t be so wary, so surprised at receiving attention. You would have all of it.

Provided it was first approved by him, of course.

“Do you know of a better way to pass the time?” he asks politely, noting the way that your throat constricts as you swallow heavily, not meeting his eye as you shake your head. Your desire is evident; now to get you to let your guard down and act on it. The more you thought this was your idea, the easier it would be for him later on if you needed… convincing.

“Where are you meant to be heading to?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“My family is in Washington. We have a cabin on Mt. Baker that we try to get to every Christmas. They’re all there, waiting for me,” you explain, a trace of bitterness to your voice.

“You make it sound like they’re going to pounce on you,” he notes with amusement, looking at you with sympathy even as he imagines being the one to give you that treatment. You sigh, fortunately not having any insight into his thoughts.

“They mean well, and I love them all very much, but they can be a lot. I’m glad I only see them two or three times a year.”

“Loved ones always seem to aggravate us like no one else,” he agrees, his jaw clenching imperceptibly.

“And you?” you attempt to reverse the roles you’re playing, and Terry allows the move. “Where are you heading?”

“Home, to Los Angeles. I was in New York for business,” he answers, purposely keeping his answers vague. Further questions on your part would suggest growing interest, and he wants to hurry the process along.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to be somewhere warm for Christmas!” you respond with jealousy, sighing dreamily. Ask, and you shall receive.

“It won’t be much of a Christmas, I’m afraid,” he adds, wanting to see your pity. And, no surprise, there it is, your eyes softening as you take him in. He sees your fingers twitch, and suspects you’re fighting the instinct to take his hand comfortingly. He’ll have to break you of that habit, and soon; your instincts are far more aligned to his intentions.

“I’m sorry, you mentioned you weren’t going to visit family.”

“It sounds like you are quite similar to how I was at your age; prioritizing work, only visiting family occasionally… having a bit of a short fuse,” he teases, winking at you, and you blush, scowling at him.

“Well, clearly I’m on the right track, then, if you’re able to get into a place like this,” you respond cheekily. He gives you a piercing look over the rim of his glass, as though taking a contemplative sip. Your eyes seem focused on the way his hand grips his glass; he runs a fingertip along the rim for good measure.

“I don’t know about that,” he replies, going for a somber mood. “I think my one and only regret is not having a family of my own.”

You give him that same look of sympathy again, this time looking as though you might leap at across the table and into his lap to console him. Almost there… he can taste the growing tension between you two on his tongue, like a snake tracking the scent of its prey.

“And yours?” he asks, once again keeping you on your toes by switching your dynamic. “Do you have any regrets yet, Y/N?” he asks, cocking his head in interest. You fidget under his intense gaze, seemingly unable to look away.

“Hmm, maybe. I’ll have to think about it!” you avoid the question, clearly uncomfortable with looking inward. No matter; he’d soon pry you apart and get everything out in the open. “If I go use the bathroom in this place, are they going to fingerprint me or ask for a fancy card?” you ask jokingly, giving him a wink. He lets you change the subject; having a few minutes to himself would be beneficial.

“No, once you make it past the hostess, you can pretty much run amok around here,” he replies, pointing you in the right direction. He follows your retreating form with his eyes, sliding down the booth the moment you round the corner, his hands quickly pulling your coat towards him and retrieving your passport once again from your pocket. You really should pay more attention to keeping track of such important documents.

Tucking the small booklet in the front pouch of his suitcase, he slides out of the booth and over to the bartender.

“Another drink, Mr. Silver?” the man asks, already turning to reach for his preferred bottle.

“No, I want a room. The biggest you’ve got, and for God’s sake, it had better be clean.”

He doesn’t want to have to waste time with all of these formalities once he’s whisking you away to defile you.

“Your card, please,” the man requests, unfazed by Terry’s tone and request. Handing it over, the card is swiped, updating access to one of the private rooms.

“That’ll be Room #8, Mr. Silver; last door on the left down the hall.”

“Thank you, Roger,” he replies smugly. “If my guest and I are nowhere to be found, and our luggage is still at our booth, keep an eye on it for me, would you?”

He finds he doesn’t want to be subtle about this; he wants it to be perfectly clear that he’s going to be taking you – hot, young little thing that you are – to a private “Nap Room,” as they called them, and decidedly not nap. The world should know it. The world would know it, once you were his, your body growing and swelling with his child…

“Yes, Mr. Silver.”

He turns away without another word, feeling confident, and sees you emerging from the bathroom. The instant that you spot him, he can see your cheeks turn pink, your gaze darkening, and he suspects his choice to gain access to the room in advance was a wise one. He slowly stalks over to you, building the anticipation until he can see you nearly vibrating from the tension.

“I figured out my regret,” you inform him rather breathlessly once he comes to a stop in front of you. You don’t even come up to his shoulders…

“Oh? Please, enlighten me,” he purrs, looking down at you biting your lip nervously; he resolves to suck on it until it bruises.

You take a deep breath to gather your nerve before looking up at him, your pupils dilating in your desire. Your small hands reach up, gripping an end of his scarf in each hand and pulling so that he bends down to your level.

“Not being spontaneous and taking what I want,” you hiss in his ear, pulling him by the scarf into the bathroom.

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It’s been awhile since he’s been with a younger woman, let alone one with your… tenacity. As you prop yourself up on the bathroom sink to better wrap yourself around him, he is all too happy to let you be in control if it gets him closer to you spreading your legs for him. You pull him down to kiss him again, fingers toying with his hair as you tease his lips with your tongue, letting out a dreamy little sigh that he swallows into his mouth. He slides his hands further up your thighs, coming to squeeze your hips possessively, making you moan.

“Oh Y/N,” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against your own, staring unblinkingly into your eyes. “The things I want to do to you…”

“Tell me!” you beg, pulling back to look at him with need. “Please, tell me what you want to do! Tell me everything, Terry.”

A few lush kisses and the prospect of dirty talk and you were willing to hand over the reins to him, just like that? He’ll take what he can get.

He grips the backs of your thighs in his large hands, lifting you up off the sink with ease and carrying you over to the wall, pinning you against it. You roll your hips needily at the rough treatment, and he smirks against the skin of your collarbone as he lavishes every inch of your exposed flesh with kisses.

“I want to own you,” he whispers passionately, knowing you’ll dismiss the truth as just something said in the heat of the moment. “I want to learn every inch of your body and how to make it sing for me.” You’re gasping for breath now, head thrown back like a lioness submitting to the pride male, and he relishes in it, inhaling deeply as he runs his nose up from your throat to your ear.

“More, please!” you cry needily, fisting his curls as you hold his head against you. Greedy little thing, weren’t you? He’ll teach you to be careful what you wish for…

“I want to bring you more pleasure than you can possibly imagine,” he hums in contentment, giving the muscle at the side of your neck a playful nip that has you wantonly grinding against him. “I’ll have you coming so many times you won’t remember your own name, baby girl; I want you begging for mercy.”

“Yes Daddy, please!” you moan, and something primal in him growls in approval. He grips your waist, stepping back to lower you to the ground, pleased when you cling to him needily.

“Say. That. Again.” His voice is rough as he demands to hear it again, the irony making him internally howl with glee. Your eyes open as you’re set on your feet, and you seem to realize what you’ve just called him with a great deal of embarrassment. He loves it.

“I – I…” you stammer, unable to look him in the eye. His hand comes down without a second thought, spanking you hard, and you squeak, looking up at him reflexively.

“I said say that again,” he repeats, holding your chin up with a finger so that you can’t look away. Your lower lip trembles, and he traces it with his thumb lightly, making you shiver.

“I… I want you, Daddy,” you whimper, trying to shy away from him, but he grips your chin firmly, making you sit in your humiliation.

“Good girl,” he praises, pulling you against him with an arm around your waist, enjoying the way you respond to him.

“We don’t need to do this here,” he tells you, as though he’s just coming up with the idea. “I’ve got a private room.”

“You have a room in an airport just for you?” you ask, incredulous. “Rich people have everything!”

“Not quite,” he corrects you, pointedly looking you up and down before quickly bundling you out of the room and down the hall.

Reader’s POV:

Your head is spinning as Terry guides you into a simple room and leads you to the bed, looking down at you like you were something to eat. You’re nervous, you’re excited, you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life.

You’re not on the pill, having stopped after getting out of your last relationship, but you’re fairly certain that it won’t be an issue for Terry anymore. You find you don’t care, you’re finally giving yourself over to your base instincts. No regrets.

“Come here,” you demand, sitting up on your knees at the end of the mattress. He smirks down at you, slowly closing the distance between you, and you hook your fingers into his belt loops the moment he’s in reach, tugging him to you by his hips.

“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?” he asks teasingly, his large hand stroking your hair.

“Is that a problem?” you ask, batting your eyes up at him as you brazenly run a hand over his erection.

“Not at all,” he replies smoothly, getting on his knees on the carpet in front of you. In one fluid motion, he’s gripped your calves out from under you and yanked them towards him, knocking you on your back with the force of the movement. “Provided those roles can also be reversed.”

You’re rarely this dominant sexually, but this man just has you wanting. You find yourself wanting to try anything and everything with him. There’s just something about the way that he looks at you, like he’s planning on having you forever, that you find incredibly appealing.

“I want you any way I can have you, as long as it’s now,” you confess, your fingers moving to his belt. He slowly stands up and leans over you, his hands to either side of your head.

“Then stand up and strip for me,” he requests, his face so close to yours. “Now.”

He moves off of you, sitting on the edge of the bed expectantly. You get to your feet, coming to stand a few feet in front of him. You slowly bend forward at the hips, placing a hand on his knee as you move to unlace your boots, your face nearly in his lap. That task accomplished, you straighten up, giving him a coy smile before turning in place, presenting your butt to him. You hear him shift on the mattress behind you.

“Help me with my zipper?” you ask innocently, looking back at him over your shoulder. He stands, towering over you, his eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulls your zipper down to the small of your back. You shimmy out of it, grinding your ass back against him teasingly, and he growls, gripping your hips firmly.

“Filthy little tease,” he murmurs against your neck. “Let me show you what that gets you.”

Moving far more quickly than you would have thought him capable of, he’s somehow got you naked and on your back in the middle of the bed, kneeling between your spread legs with a ravenous expression. Divesting himself of his own clothing, giving you the opportunity to ogle him – who had a body like this at his age? – he finally starts touching you, his hands and mouth working you into a frenzy. The way his hands map out your body with featherlight touches stands in stark contrast to the strength you know he’s capable of, and the anticipation of more is driving you wild.

“Please!” you find yourself chanting, your hands exploring as much of him as you can reach. Terry ignores your pleas, tormenting you until you think he’s going to have you coming for him without so much as touching your needy pussy.

“Terry, please!” you beg, trying to hook your legs around his waist, but he pins your knees to the bed in his large hands. “I can’t take it anymore, I need –”

He silences you with a kiss, reaching down to slip one finger into your dripping cunt, then two, curling them in a come hither motion to stroke your g-spot.

“Oh, I know what you need,” he hisses in your ear, his thumb toying with your clit in circles that have you bucking your hips against him. “You need me to fuck you hard, and raw, and deep,” he groans, and your begging becomes fully incoherent at this point as you wordlessly wail for him to just use you already.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he promises with a wicked smile, nibbling your earlobe as you shudder, feeling filthy. Finally, he enters you, your slick cunt taking him with ease despite his size, and you let out a moan of completion as he bottoms out. Terry hisses as you clench around him, grinding his hips against yours as he sets a punishing pace.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine, your hips trying to meet his. “Yes, please, pump me full!”

Terry growls in approval at your dirty talk, his fingers gripping your waist hard enough to bruise, and your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yeah? You want to milk my cock of every drop with that needy cunt, don’t you?” he goads you, rutting into you like an animal and making you keen, your back arching off the mattress.

“YES!” you cry out, completely losing yourself to the moment.

“I’m gonna give it to you, baby,” he promises, looking down at you with an outright predatory expression, his hair falling in his eyes. “I’m gonna fill you up.”

And you want him to, you realize as you abandon all reason, giving yourself over to lust.

“Come for me, Terry!” you demand, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can watch him come apart for you. And he does, hips stuttering as he shoots his load deep inside you, coming hard with a roar. You both catch your breath, Terry insistent on remaining inside you, holding you down with your legs around his waist; you’re more than happy to oblige.

Attention all passengers. Attention all passengers. Conditions have improved, and crews are currently working to prepare aircraft for flights. Please turn your attention to flight boards for information about your flight. The first flights will begin boarding in thirty minutes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Terry’s POV:

“Better now than a few minutes ago,” Terry jokes with a wry grin, making you giggle. He gives you an affectionate kiss on the lips before slipping out of you, surreptitiously ensuring that he doesn’t start leaking out of your slick entrance. He’d held you both in an ideal position for conception for as long as he could.

He knows he needs to snap the trap shut on you before you come to your senses, the two of you gathering your clothes and getting dressed. As he helps you into your coat, he’s pleased to see you don’t check the inner pocket for your passport.

“I’ve never been more upset to hear that it’s stopped snowing,” you admit cheekily as you try to fix your hair, your cheeks still flushed. He seizes the opportunity.

“I know exactly how you feel,” he replies, blue eyes blazing as he takes your cheek in hand. You lean into his touch, just as he wants you to. “You should come with me.”

Your eyes fly open in shock, wide as saucers, though he’s encouraged by your lack of an immediate ‘No’.

“What?!” you croak.

“You should come to L.A. with me,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly as if he wasn’t asking for the world. For your world.

“But… but…” you sputter, leaning back as though being able to see more of him would help you determine if he was joking. “My family… we barely know each other!” you babble, and he doesn’t intervene, content to watch you process this on your own.

“I’m not sure I’m done with you, yet,” he purrs when you finally settle down, giving you a searing kiss that makes your eyes lose focus. "It would be no trouble, I assure you."

“What about all of your regret at not spending time with your family?” you ask, and oh, if you only knew…

“An excellent anecdote for why I should make sure I don’t lose you now, and regret it later,” he replies smoothly, internally applauding his own brilliance. “Fate has clearly brought us together, and who am I to deny it?” He tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, doing his best to look both confident and well-intentioned.

“But… my family…”

“They didn’t seem to believe you were stranded in the airport anyway; how will they ever know you could’ve made it to them and chose not to?” he offers, finding it easy to script excuses for you. “Plus, we both know you’d rather spend time in the sun, letting me spoil you.”

He can practically see the gears in your head turning, and knows he’s almost got you.

“No regrets…” he murmurs in your ear, running his lips along your jawline until you’re vibrating in his hands.

“Terryyy…” you whine breathlessly, and he smiles against your skin. He wonders how many more times he can pump you full before he gets you to his home…

“Say yes, baby girl,” he asks oh-so-nicely. He just has to get you on the plane before you come to your senses. “Say yes and let me take care of you.”

“Okay.”

He blinks, face buried in the crook of your neck, honestly a bit surprised at your easy acceptance.

“Okay?” he repeats, pulling back to look into your eyes.

“I could use a vacation, and could do a lot worse,” you return with a smirk, looking him up and down. He’s becoming more and more impressed by his choice of the mother of his children.

“Then come with me, my dear, and let me give you everything.”

You both quickly gather your luggage from the lounge and make your way to the departure gate for private jets, his naturally being among the first to be ready for take-off. You never once check for your passport.

---

Once the plane reaches cruising altitude, he removes his seatbelt, standing to retrieve a bottle of champagne. You stay put, looking up at him nervously, but your gaze is still heated.

“Are you going to look for my membership card to the mile-high club?” you call after him with a giggle. He returns to his seat with a bottle in an ice bucket, having forgone any glasses.

“You have to be initiated first,” he replies seriously, pulling the bottle out of the bucket and longing to press the chilled glass against your flesh. “And I can’t help but think about how good your body would look dripping with champagne foam.”

Your intake of breath is immediate, and your eyes darken.

“You’re insatiable, Mr. Silver,” you tease, removing your seatbelt and shakily getting to your feet.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he warns you, though you likely assume it’s just a show of bravado. “Now, let’s get you out of that dress again.”

He’d have you pregnant before you landed.

Perhaps the snow wasn’t so bad after all.

---

This was originally inspired by another request given to me while I was stuck in the airport during the summer; I can’t believe I’ve been writing for you all for half a year now! Thanks to everyone for reading!

[vampire-plays-sims]

Many people have that one person in their family they simply cannot stand. This type of person doesn’t even have to be cruel or extremely stupid, but there is just something about them that makes you roll your eyes uncontrollably every time you see them. For Charlotte, such a person was her brother-in-law: Joseph Harris.

Again, Joseph may not have been the nicest person, but he also wasn't someone who could be compared to evil stepmothers mistreating some orphans. (Which was a bit annoying, because since Charlotte had to be an orphan, she could at least be a tragic fictional character.)

But no, honestly speaking Joseph Harris was only slightly stupid and very annoying. And now he was talking to the headmaster, while Charlotte was anxiously waiting for him to leave the office and take her home, where she would probably be lectured about her behavior.

“Thank you, Mr. Phillips. And I am once again sorry for her behavior. No, no. Do not worry. My wife and I understand your decision perfectly. Maybe she will learn some good manners at home and the stupidity will disappear from her mind. Have a good day.” Charlotte tensed a bit when she heard Joseph's voice, and then she saw her brother-in-law leaving the office. At the same moment, Emma grabbed her arm, pulling her towards her, and Charlotte exactly knew what she wanted her to do. Both girls smiled, forming a unity against the men.

“Mr. Harris” Emma started. “Good to see you. Is that a new hat? Very lovely!”

The man frowned.

For some unknown reason, Joseph had a really strong opinion on modern hats – he always complained they did not suit his face and felt annoyed at every compliment about hats. Or maybe he just hated hats. Emma knew this very well, of course, but he had no idea about it.

“Yes, thank you” he sighed, clearly tired with this whole situation. “Charlotte, let's go. We have a train and I've already wasted enough time because of your ideas.”

Charlotte looked at Emma and hugged her tightly.

“Emma…” she started, but her friend stopped her.

“Don't say goodbye. We will see each other again. We will always be friends, right?”

“Always” agreed Charlotte, holding back tears. “I will write letters to you. I promise.”

Emma smiled, and hugged her one more time.

“Great. I have to go to class now. But I'll see you soon. And remember. I will always be there for you.”

“Youthful friendships are so silly,” said Joseph when Emma finally left. “In two years, you probably won't remember who she was, but now you're acting like the world is ending."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Why on earth was he so annoying? Unfortunately he did not stop talking.

"Come on now. You already caused us too many problems. I don't want to miss the train because of you”

But Charlotte didn't feel like leaving. Was this really the end of her story here? It was too soon. She wanted to go to another class. Spend time with Emma and Bessie. Talk to a few other people. Ask Mrs. Thomson why she didn't say anything when she was accused of lying. Unfortunately, it was too late for that.

With tears in her eyes, Charlotte left the school.

Previous / Next

[honeydewsour]

Penelope Griffith @amberlide ‘s OC ft. long haired version with a braid!

If you like Garreth Weasley definitely check out their works on archiveofourown !!

[ofdemonsandangels]

I don’t know what’s worst: the constant cycle of taking Casca out of the fridge, letting her thaw out for a little, and then shoving her back in again or taking Griffith’s antagonist ambiguity away and portraying him as the smug, twirling mustache villain that 95% of the community thinks he is

[lesbiansaltzman]

tvd character bracket

round 2, battle 39

[riderofblackdragons]

Masterpost: Fickle Memories

Summary: The Hollow threatens to drive Elijah's family apart, which would destroy them all, and especially his half-brother's relationship with his daughter. So, armed with knowledge that he maybe shouldn't possess, Elijah decides to take Vincent and a cat he turned into a vampire to a small, remote village in the Norwegian mountains, in hopes of finding a solution.

But all things must come at a price, and despite his plan working, Elijah is soon left alone in the world, with nothing but his Hollow-possessing vampire cat, and Vincent on the other end of the phone sometimes.

As always, fics will be organised in accordance with the timeline:

Memory Loss

Phantom Pains

[antiquepixels]

Minnie decided to invite Mabel over for tea to share the good news. She had given birth to a baby boy only a month prior, and already had a lot of advice to share when it came to motherhood. Minnie felt happy as to not be so alone.

[misssunflowerstwinz]

Finnik walking into the compound to find Andrea Nikkol stuffing her face with food and Hope looking concerned.

Finnik: You ok sis?

Andrea Nikkol: Food be high af when you're good.

Finnik: ohhh....kayy?

Andrea Nikkol: Mhm

Finnik: Ohhhh,I get it.....

Hope: Seriously??

[l0nelykai]

THIS!!!!

You’d think after over a decade of backlash, Julie would learn to stop making the black characters suffer far more than everyone else. She just can’t hide her racism even if you paid her. And they’re LITERALLY paying her.

[miquellaluciscaelum]

Apparently publishing posts is like a form of therapy for me and a way to deal with the emotions from the dlc.

The topic of Miquella in no way leaves me, it literally rents free in my mind 24/7 and I keep going through all the options, trying to find some meanings hidden and not, and come to terms with what we got.

It would certainly be a lot easier if people weren't screaming from every corner about how Miquella is evil, Griffith, "it was clear from the beginning", "justice, apologies for Mogh and Radanh" and all of that.

I think it would make me feel better in a way if I spell out how I feel about Miquella, his plot, and the denouement. The first thought is, of course, disappointment. And it is still significantly present. It is difficult to describe in a short and concise way what exactly I am not satisfied with, so I will write what I missed and what I would have preferred to see instead of what we got.

✨Miquella is essentially a central figure in the story and narrative, but there is very little content directly related to him. In the main game we had that one direct phrase (presumably) from him in the description of the Golden Epitaph, a sword that again (presumably) was created by him and got his Unalloyed gold needle but that was the main game. In the DLC, he's literally the plot, the driver of all events, the main mystery we've come to solve. And he wasn't enough. We have his crosses plastered all over the map that give us phrases about renouncing the flesh, but it's literally the same sentence repeated in different ways. It doesn't give any lore other than that Miquella is renouncing himself for the sake of divinity. There's not much to investigate. It would have been enough to add at least one more sentence each slightly more revealing of Miquella's inner world and his feelings as he cuts off parts of himself somewhere on the edge of the world with an unknown future looming ahead. Something along the lines of "Here I renounce my flesh and blood. My heritage that has always weighed on my shoulders and the sins that have stained my soul." or "Here I renounce my heart. The love for those who have been forgotten and abandoned is still hidden deep within." Or add some dungees, maybe at least one legacy dungeon, like a castle or a fort, centered on Miquella, with a boss at the end that would add lore to it. The only bosses we get lore about him from are Radann and Saint Trina with her boss and I'm not happy with that.

✨I also generally missed the interaction between the Shadow world and Miquella. In terms of the fact, outside of interacting with NPCs, that are related to Miquella, his presence in the world is absolutely not felt. This applies to literally everything. Some of his crosses are located in plot significant locations with other bosses or npcs, that are not related to the main plot, but are related to the Shadow world, and Miquella softly speaking very much affects the Shadow world with his presence, but there is no mention of him. The only one I immediately can remember who mentions him is Count Ymir. This doesn't mean I demand that the whole story and world focus on him, but in terms of depth of immersion and elaboration of the world it breaks the unity of the setting, as if everything that happens is two parallel universes.

✨The denouement itself is not satisfying. The game does not treat Miquella as a full-fledged antagonist (as it is with Radagon, Radanh, Rykard or any other boss in the main game), giving us a bossfight with him, where a unique atmosphere of the character would be created, his lore would be given due credit and most importantly - THERE WOULD BE A CLEAR REASON WHY WE ARE FIGHTING HIM. We literally do not even get rune for Elden ring from Miquella, what is there to talk about.

And game also doesn't make him a "friendly" ally - companion - nps like Melina or Ranni, giving the player no choice or variation at all in the terms of ending. Apparently there was supposed to be another ending along the lines of Ranni's ending, given Miquella's vow in the cut content, but for some reason that was cut. What's the point of it? Miquella's story would have been much better told in quest form, where we could talk to him as a companion, have direct dialog. What we have in the game is not a quest, but an exploration of the world with an extra lore mystery to boot.

✨I don't like the way the game deals with facts. And there are two main reasons for that. First, the game has almost no appeal to facts from the main game. If it was announced that dlc game was about some original characters in the world of elden ring, that's one thing. There would have been new lore introduced about the new characters that would not conflict with the lore of the main game, but complement it. But a character with an already written and fairly elaborate lore from the main game was taken as the basis, whose story is framed within it. And when for the entire game there are no references at all to that lore, fundamental to the character, and the new lore, conflicts with much of what was in the main game, that well, doesn't speak well of the game. It's not even about Malenia or Godwynn. I could also mention the mystery of Miquella's blood, the events of the Shattering, his beef with Outer gods, the connection to Ranni and Melina through the ring and summoning bell.

And second, the game is very noticeably vaguely ambiguous. Especially in key events that define our point of view of the character. I can directly see Miyazaki asking the writers to make all the events so murky and full of white holes that the community just fights each other over lore. Like they say if you want to piss someone off in Souls fandom, tell them they got the plot wrong and you'll never hear the end of it. There's a very simple example with Mogh. We get it, yes, he's the main poor battered boy who no one loved, everyone used him. He just built something of his own, his cute little bloody cult, kidnapping people and glorifying pain, wounds and offering bloody sacrifices to a very peaceful harmless outer god, you get the picture. Miquella came in, bewitched everyone, ruined everything, and seems apparently made Tarnished to kill Mogh too. He took full advantage of the situation. But then what about the kidnapping? Didn't we literally see the place where Miquella's body was ripped from in the Haligtree? Or are you saying that Miquella, who had long planned to merge with the tree, grow it with his blood, did so, spent some time in the tree (his own wooden body literally had time to form there) and suddenly changed his mind. By telepathic communication made Mogh come and steal him? How does that even work? Or the Shapeless Mother? Was she on her lunch break while Miquella was bewitching her darling son and his entire flock? How on earth could Miquella have such a strong influence on someone who was already under the influence of an outer god? What about Radan? Was the oath mutual? Was it an oath at all, rather than a naive child promise that later turned into a commitment? The original Japanese text of Miquella's memory gives a very strange and potentially unhealthy context to this whole pact between them? I'm not asking Miyazaki to write me a hundred-page essay explaining the plot and character motivations, but this ambiguity that generates a huge amount of speculation and debate is not personally appealing to me.

✨Saint Trina is conceptually very controversial to me. I never liked the Marika/Radagon allegory in the context of Miquella, and when it started to be theorized that Trina like Radagon could be a more antagonistic part of Miquella, opposing him in his plans, well.... I've always been more sympathetic to the idea that she was just another guise of Miquella, more of a disguise than a separate entity. In the context of the dlc, I don't see her as anything other than a remnant of kindness, love, and spirit of Miquella gaining a body and asking us to "fix" his mistakes. This for me falls in line with our motivation. We fight Miquella because he himself asked us to kill him because at some point he realized he was on the wrong path but already couldn't stop. Let me believe in something good please(

✨The whole "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" plot. Honestly I expected more. It was the most obvious  way to develop the story far ago, when Miquella was compared to Griffith before the game came out, and now that we have the final product in front of us, it looks even more cheap and second-rate. I realize that Miyazaki is apparently allergic to happiness, hope, and good endings, but he could have come up with something better. What to say, Honkai Star Rail update came out a couple months ago where a neutral-positive character with a desire for a better world at the end turned out to be an antagonist who wanted to plunge everyone into eternal dreams to save them from the pain and hopelessness of the real world🤣 Not a popular plot at all. Endless Tsukiyomi was invented a couple decades ago, it's time to move on.

I won't say it's bad writing, but honestly, I don't compare the end of the dlc and Miquella's plot to anything other than the ending of Attack of Titans and Eren Yeager or S8 Game of Thrones and Daenerys. And such comparisons don't mean anything good.

I agree that the plot adds depth to Miquella's character, through self-denial, through comparisons to Marika, etc. But this should not be done at the expense of alienating its core lore. I can recognize some merit in such a plot, but it's a situation where you as a fan just simply has no choice, where you choose the lesser of two evils between just completely deny the whole plot or adapt it and flip for myself, but actually whatever you choose you still choose evil in the end. Miquella's plot is like making all the wrong choices. And you realize how you got here and accept it, but you can't help but regret the lost potential of other paths.

Please, if you've already played the game and have thoughts different from mine, especially backed up by specific facts from dlc, I'd love to hear them. I haven't gotten through dlc yet, I'm having a very hard time morally overcoming my disappointment in it, and I'm clearly still somewhere in the denial-bargaining stage.

[bthump]

this has probably been asked here before but how likely do you think it is that the author actually truly intended for Griffith and guts relationship to be romantic? How likely do you think it is we’ll get a blatant confirmation (eg a confession of love beyond being friends or even a tragic kiss) and if it does happen do you think it’s likely we’ll get an explicit confirmation on both of their ends so we know the feeling is reciprocated (because I know guts feelings can be underestimated sometimes compared to griffiths). Likelihood as a percentage or on a scale from one to ten lol. I think it’s already pretty obvious enough for me to be satisfied whatever happens but it would be nice if there was an undeniable proof of mutual romantic love. because I think no matter what happens if it’s anything less than spelling it out word for word people would still make attempts to deny their feelings which is kind of sad to me. But I could be wrong of course and romance wasn’t intended by the author. Either way I want them to reveal their feelings for each other whether platonic or romantic.

I'm cynical, so I feel like the odds of something textually romantic happening are like, 2/10 at best. Might've gone up to 3/10 if Miura was stlil alive since it's getting more and more common to confirm gay subtext and that might've influenced him, but since it's being written now by someone determined to adhere to the plans Miura told him, whatever happens is frozen in amber circa Miura and Mori's last conversation, with no room to evolve.

That's all pretty much a moot point anyway because again, I think the odds were always gonna be pretty miniscule anyway.

That said, I think the odds that Miura intended the gay subtext are like 9.5/10 lol. I think the romantic undertones are almost certainly deliberate.

I guess I just don't think it necessarily follows that the point of the subtext was ever to eventually become text. I think it was probably there for a lot of potential other reasons: to add a sense of depth and complexity to their relationship; to add more chemistry; potentially to appeal to women; to suggest that their relationship had the potential for romance that will never be realized therefore making their relationship even more all-encompassing and adding to the tragedy; serving the theme of childhood trauma fucking up your relationships; etc.

Of course I'd be overjoyed if it was acknowledged eventually, and I think the story would ultimately be better for it, like I'm not gonna say it's ~deeper~ if it stays subtext lol. But I think that considering the main target audience for Berserk is horny straight dudes, and while it's getting more common it's still very rare to have textual gay romances between two leads, and almost unheard of in legacy media properties, I just don't think the odds are in griffguts' favour.

Oh, though I do want to add that I'd say the odds of getting an acknowledgement of intense feelings between them post-eclipse is very high. I don't think it'd likely be a romantic confession, but yeah I think it seems very likely that Griffith and Guts are going to acknowledge the intense emotional hold they still have over each other. And if that happens I'll be happy even if it's not textually romantic. I'm sure it'll at least be homoerotic enough for me lol.

Thanks for the ask!

[tessari-the-dreamer]

Yeeey! My beloved story now with perfect cover! 😌❤️

Good job, Hun! 👏🏻

Another piece I was commissioned to do by @amberlide for her Garreth fiction. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I barely wait for the next chapter.

You should also give it a go.❤️

[terrence-silver]

Oh, I so agree with you about the lack of Terry in promos being... unsatisfying. So many things they're playing with this season were set in motion by Terry. Terry mentioned Kim Sung Young first, who they now have cast. Terry wanted to go to the Sekai Taikai. Terry introduced Kim Da Eun. If they can get Kreese out of prison with a box of Jell-o, no way can they keep Terry in jail for more than three hours. If he can spin heading Dynatox into being a green philantropist, he can doctor this. If Kenny still has a major part to play, well who mentored him?

I could have understood it if they wanted to shift away from the Terry storyline and focus on what the show started as, reclaiming your life through karate. But then, it would have made much more sense to keep Kreese in prison, send Chozen and Da Eun home, and not focus so much on Tang Soo Do. But if they're setting that legacy up as the überthreat, it makes no sense for Terry not to be involved. The Sekai Taikai was his baby, moreso than Cobra Kai, even. Maybe the CK brand has been compromised, but so what? Hearsay. Simply rebrand.

Terry completely revitalised a show that had milked everything out of Johnny-Kreese there was to milk, keeps shying away from consequences with Robby and Miguel and would never give Sam and Tory the gay awakening that drives them. To dump him and keep Chozen and Da Eun around makes no damn sense!

Exactly. Precisely.

Terry Silver is the lifeblood that keeps this show running.

Because what else is there to do with this plot?

A lot of storylines got tragically milked to completion seasons ago.

And I don't think for the life of me Da Eun, who quite literally got flown into the plot during the penultimate mid-season is a strong enough character to be the end all-be all final boss villain. She doesn't have the charisma to pull what Thomas Ian Griffith pulled in TKK3. She was just introduced pretty much last minute and our attachment to her is at best nonexistent to miniscule with her only connection to anything going on in the plot at all is through Kreese, Silver and their mutual history with the sport. In the plot itself, girl even seemed like she was begrudgingly in the States in the first place and had to be talked into staying by Terry. To carry the whole endgame conclusion of this show and well over forty years of lore between the characters as the ultimate bad guy? Yeah, nope. Don't see it. There's just no development there. No meat.

As you said. It makes no damn sense.

And I will be in the minority here, which is entirely alright for me, but I really have an abject allergy for fan concoctions like brining back Julie Pierce in Season 6 or having Chozen and Da Eun have a showdown to fill in plot gaps. Shoehorning in Julie Pierce for a random, out of nowhere cameo when the one attachment she had to the plot was vaguely through a character dead for well over forty years just so she could tutor female character x and y for a short period of time is unnecessary at this late stage and I don't think Chozen and Da Eun warrant enough stakes to suddenly become mortal foes that take up space like that in the last season, but hey, that's just me; like, where are these rivalries even coming from? They met like yesterday. Do you two even know each other's full names!? Like!?

Terry Silver, John Kreese and the Sekai Tekai are sole the points of interest left.

After all, show's called Cobra Kai and they are Cobra Kai.

[fancytacopaper]

Hi. After hesitating/planning for gods know how long I started to write my first ever ABO AU about a month ago, called Bound by Fates . Here's the plot of the story:

'Spencer Griffiths is a rather shy and reserved daughter of Athena.

What happens when she realizes her alignment as an Omega ,not wanting to be 'tied down by a bond with gods know which Alpha ' , only to realize that hers is one of the more popular, outgoing boys , Louis Dupont,a son of Apollo?

How will they navigate the bond and the challenges between the two worlds they live in? Will their families find out the truth about their relationship?'

Like the title says, I need some OCs for the story besides the ones I already have.

There will be more info about the alignments after the forms.

If you are interested in getting your OC(s) to the story , comment below the following:

For demigods/legacies:

Name:

Gender:

Appearance:

Age ( at the start of the story):

Pantheon: (Greek? Roman?)

Godly parent/what god they are legacy of?:

Alignment: ( For demigods only):

Powers/abilities:

Weapon(s):

Personality:

What kind of role do you want them to have in the story?: ( Rival/friend, just a background character?)

Backstory: (2-5+ sentences)

For mortals:

Name:

Gender:

Appearance:

Age (At the start of the story):

Do they have a Clear Sight/ Do they know about the monsters and myths being real?:

Are they related to a demigod/legacy?:

Personality:

What kind of role do you want them to have in the story?:

Backstory: (2-5+ sentences)

You may be wondering 'what the Hades this story is about. ' The simple answer is that I have been toying with an idea for an ABO story based around PJO for a while now and finally plucked up the courage to start it.

For those unaware of what ABO means , it's an abbreviation for Alpha Beta Omega AKA 3 most common 'aligments' you see in stories like this, though there can be more than 3 like this story will have,there will be 6 different ones in total.

Here are the most common personalities for each but you have to remember that not every Omega for example will act like mentioned below:

The 3 'main ones : These 3 will be more powerful than the others. Alpha can form a bond only with an Omega while Beta can form one with either another Beta or one of the minor alignments.

1. Alpha:

Traits: Dominant, natural leaders, possessive, and often physically stronger.

Role: Alphas typically protect and guide those around them, especially Omegas. They can sometimes come off as aggressive, but they are also fiercely loyal and protective of those close to them, especially their Omega's.

2. Beta:

Traits: Balanced, more neutral between Alphas and Omegas, with the ability to fit into most situations.

Role: Betas are the peacekeepers, often mediating between the other alignments. They don't have strong biological drives like Alphas and Omegas but are still essential for maintaining balance.

3. Omega:

Traits: Sensitive, nurturing, and often more submissive but highly valued for their empathy and insight.

Role: Omegas, while physically weaker than Alphas, often possess heightened emotional intelligence. They are deeply intuitive, often understanding the unspoken needs of others, and can be very strategic.

The 3 'minor' ones: These 3 won't be as powerful as the main ones but will be necessary for everything to work between the alignments.

1. Gamma:

Traits: Intelligent, strategic, and highly analytical. Gammas are problem-solvers who think quickly on their feet.

Role: Known for their intelligence and sharp minds, Gammas are often advisors or tacticians in battle or conflict.

2. Theta:

Traits: Empathetic, intuitive, and deeply in touch with their emotions and those of others.

Role: They can sense or manipulate emotions, acting as empaths or spiritual guides.

3. Delta:

Traits: Resilient, patient, and adaptable. They are resourceful and often overlooked due to their quieter presence but are essential in stressful situations.

Role: They thrive under pressure and can persevere through tough conditions, making them excellent supporters in crises.

The alignments above are meant only for demigods meaning that a legacy ,mortal,satyr,nymph ,etc can not be one of them, even though nymphs and satyrs will know the truth while only those mortals with Clear Sight can know the true nature of the alignments and bonds between them. .

Also ,those demigods that are at least 17 years old and have found their mate (but not necessarily have mated with them yet) can shapeshift into a wolf form .

[witchyfashion]

The Speaking Stone: Stories Cemeteries Tell is a literary love letter to the joys of wandering graveyards. While working on a novel, author and longtime Cincinnati resident Michael Griffith starts visiting Spring Grove Cemetery and Arboretum, the nation’s third-largest cemetery. Soon he’s taking almost daily jaunts, following curiosity and accident wherever they lead. The result is this fascinating collection of essays that emerge from chance encounters with an interesting headstone, odd epitaph, unusual name, or quirk of memory. Researching obituaries, newspaper clippings, and family legacies, Griffith uncovers stories of race, feminism, art, and death. Rather than sticking to the cemetery’s most famous, or infamous, graves, Griffith stays true to the principle of ramble and incidental discovery. The result is an eclectic group of subjects, ranging from well-known figures like the feminist icon and freethinker Fanny Wright to those much less celebrated— a spiritual medium, a temperance advocate, a young heiress who died under mysterious circumstances. Nearly ninety photos add dimension and often an element of playfulness. The Speaking Stone examines what endures and what does not, reflecting on the vanity and poignancy of our attempt to leave monuments that last. In doing so, it beautifully weaves connections born out of the storyteller’s inquisitive mind.

https://amzn.to/3Y401XW