#there are also other firstborns i have in mind; i am thinking they should all have a ribbon in a specific shade of red

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

My lord i would give you my firstborn for more Erik content, hes literally my babygirl.

Hello my darling!! I decided to do some cuddling headcannons for you as well as some random tidbit headcannons!!! {it’s extremely unorganized} this can be read as any Erik of your choosing, but some specific phantoms are mentioned once or twice!

I’m not super proud of this, but I felt like I had to feed you guys something.

I am not officially back to my full tumblr writing, but I am hoping to make a steady return! Also, I made a Lerik bot on Character.ai if you guys want me to un-private it and post the link. :)

When you cuddle with Erik, no matter which version, you basically have to plan on taking the first or second half of the day off.

He’s very touch starved, so he doesn’t like letting you go unless he absolutely has to, and even then Erik will probably throw a fit of some kind, too desperate for your touch to even think about how it may affect the rest of his opera house.

He’s not ashamed about voicing his need for you either; if you try to leave, he will drop down to his knees and blubber like a child, begging for you to stay and love on him. If it’s a specific person that is causing you to leave, Erik will threaten to kill them! It doesn’t matter if it is the managers, Meg and Madam Giry, or even Christine (should she stay there after the whole final lair scene and the phantoms activities die down)! It doesn’t matter! They don’t matter! The only thing that matters is you and your love! Erik needs you, (Y/N)! He needs you to love him until he can’t think! For you to cuddle him and kiss him like he’s your beloved pet!

Concerning you being friends with Christine, Erik absolutely despises it! She had already abandoned him for the Vicomte, she can’t take you away from him too! She mustn’t! No, if Christine even tried to advise you away from him, he would make sure she wishes she never approached you!

Please, if he starts on one of his tangents about you leaving him for someone else, make love to him and tell him what a good boy he is. It’s a sure fire way to calm him down, and Erik, even though he is likely significantly older than you, loves being coddled and reassured that you won’t leave him.

you will find that almost all versions of Erik prefer to be held rather than just hold you, with the exception of Cherik. It’s not because they’re selfish! It’s because Erik needs you to hold him in order for things to feel okay, and it feels good that you would hold him of your own free will and kindness. If he was the one completely holding you, he would be worried you didn’t actually want to be close to him!

To expand on that a little more, Cherik is the only phantom that prefers to be the big spoon. All the others want you to press against them from behind and wrap your arms around their waist, pressing kisses into the sensitive skin of their neck. {as mentioned in one of my previous posts, Kerik is a horny bastard and will probably start getting hard if you’re not careful.}

Get them to lay on top of you.

Do it. Well… do it if you can handle them crying from emotional release, anyway.

Laying on top of you will give Erik the feeling of maternal care and nurturing he never received as a child, and it’s bound to make him cry from the sheer love he feels for you and the feeling of love you’re giving him, and even then the abandonment issues and childhood trauma just overflows from him like a fountain of sadness.

For versions of Erik where his deformities are a little more open and wet, like Meriks, you’ll have to reassure him that you don’t mind touching it. That the feeling of his open flesh against your skin doesn’t bother you, and that you’d love to cuddle him regardless.

Phantoms with deformities like Meriks are almost always between a rock and a hard place when it comes to cuddling you because on one hand, they’re worried about you seeing their deformities up close and so they’ll want to lay their bad side on your chest so you can’t see it as well. On the other hand, they’re paranoid about you finding the feeling of their deformities gross against your skin and making you uncomfortable.

It’s a lot to unpack when you cuddle Erik, or even give him attention in general, but you will find that it is well worth the effort. Erik loves you and would burn down the entire world to make you smile, and yet he finds himself feeling he is unworthy of even mere scraps of your attention and love, but you always reassure him otherwise. :)

[shizunitis]

No, ur absolutely so right about Bingcest. Preach louder because like. It’s just so fun. Any reason why they would be doing it is so fun. Is Bingge fucking Bingmei to show him how he needs to fuck Shizun? Is it a domination thing? What crazy kinks would Bingmei learn from Bingge? How would he try and incorporate them with Shizun? So many questions. I want Bingge to bite Bingmei’s lips when they kiss.

anon i love you and am willing to go through the abyss for you empty-handed and with my hands tied. will give you my firstborn. thank you for letting me talk about this please never leave me

now that the bingmei rp is over, and keeping in mind that i am forever sleep deprived, in a vaguely bingge mood, and also very sorry for what that means for any passersby, here’s my answer. horniness and thoughts (hopefully coherent enough) under the cut

though i find the shizun sandwich version of bingcest to be extremely tasty and a great apperitif, i feel like the pure bingge-bingmei storylines my brain throws at me every now and then are so fucking good (read: hhNnNg) on their own.

a non-exhaustive list of some ideas i didn’t ever think too deeply about but like for reasons:

what if bingge is bingmei’s shizun.

what if bingmei gets stranded in pidw.

what if bingge accompanies bingmei in the abyss.

what if instead of only having bingge and bingmei, we also throw in oo!lbh into the mix and make this the worst throuple to have ever existed.

what if the system fucks up and there’s two binghe’s from the very beginning, twins or clones or whatever, and they brave the world on their own so as not to strain the washerwoman’s already precarious situation further than they did the first time around.

what if bingmei wishes very, very hard for a father during his disciplehood, and the system plops bingge into his world when shen yuan is mia.

what if bingge goes out and tries to find the svsss world again but ends up in oo!pidw.

what if bingge and bingmei live to the ends of their lives and meet after the universe is wiped as cosmic beings and they have incomprehensible sex to soothe the pain.

what if bingmei suspects bingge came back to steal shizun during the monthly wifeplots, and just jumps the gun and goes after the fucker directly.

what if modern au.

what if modern au where they’re separated at birth.

what if actual lab clones of each other!

et cetera (many more examples. none of which i can think of right now and if i’m being honest? half of these i thought up on the fly, so i was lying. fibbing. other words. never ever assume i know what i’m talking about)

in any and all these situations shen qingqiu and/or shen yuan could and perhaps should be integrated, but for my purposes he can take a moment to breathe. i’ll return him his husbands shortly.

back to the point: i love every iteration of bingcest.

bingge and bingmei being very alpha vs. alpha about fucking and literally fighting for dominance. bingmei being horrible at kissing and bingge getting annoyed with the teeth thing and showing him how to actually bite someone (stealing your desires as they perfectly align with mine, anon) and then finding out that what bingge would consider lowly and ignoble (is that how you use the word? probably not), bingmei blushes and whines for so prettily.

exchanging blood and it fails to do anything but induce arousal in the other and then using that as a way to torment each other.

i want the snapping teeth and the clawing and the violence. the almost-tangible, suffocating hatred and frustration. them choking on their leashes tied together without their knowledge. choking on them where the’re tied to opposite ends of the bed as they try to get to the other. and so forth

but soft bingcest works beautifully too. don’t know how they’d end up in that situation but i’m picturing it and it’s very nice.

bingge’s vanity and desire to be perfect projected onto his own self staring back at him, bingmei’s bratty disobedience challenging bingge’s desire to subjugate and conquer and take, all of this culminating in the two of them understanding their differences but also loathing them in a way. why is he different, he’s me, why can’t he understand, why isn’t he doing what i would, why does he hate me, the likes

oh!! bingmei should yell that at bingge actually. or growl it while he pins bingge down to get him to listen to him. and bingge should want to say, “are you stupid?” but holds back because now isn’t the time. where did the brat even get that idea from? he’s done everything he could to make him stronger, to make him realise that the world is a shit, cruel place and they only have each other in the end, and yeah it’s a shit hand to be dealt, but is it? is it really?

hm. don’t really know where that thought ends up but i’m pretty sure it ends up with both of them fucking unbearably tenderly (by their standards) in a forest somewhere.

anyway.

i don’t mean to exclude shizun because. i wouldn’t fucking dare? but bingcest is. it’s dear to me. i’m a bingcest purist if you’d like, but bingcestqiu/yuan is second on the list. third is mobingcumplane/moshangbingqiu but that’s another thing altogether

(i have no actual clue if there’s ship names for these already. surely there are?)

BUT. adding shizun into the mix is wonderful. i’ve rec’ed it before but through the eye of a needle is SUCH a good fic PLEASE give it a read it’s my favourite fic ever ever in the history of ever

i love the idea of shizun trying to tame these two idiots and failing miserably. i also love the idea of him succeeding. i want bingmei making bingge drink some ‘respect shizun’ juice and i want bingge to give bingmei some much needed ‘fuck shizun’ lessons. i want shizun to direct their every movement while he casually drinks his tea and pretends like he’s not foaming at the mouth seeing the two protagonists being “forced” to go at each other like they’re passionate, devoted lovers.

just.

bingcest…

there’s so much i want from bingcest. i want the guilt, and the confusion, and the rage! i want the angst! the territorial spats, the dick measuring contests (literal and metaphorical). the comfort! the. idk man they should be allowed to be horrible to each other, it’s not like they can die.

(holy shit what if one of them dies. fuck i’m exhausted but please. kill one of them and make the other revive him. somehow. maybe we can make regret of chunshan reality but it’s bingcest, if you understand)

but mainly i want the two pretty idiots humping each other’s thighs like teenagers. making bingge crawl for bingmei is also a very fun thought that would make him (plural) react in a very entertaining way. getting bingmei to power bottom is chef’s kiss when bingge’s on the other end. teaching bingge about the beauty of surrendering to his own self, which he does not trust with anything but also understands more than he’d like or wants to acknowledge is also neat. they would get up to degeneracies that i can’t speak of. i’m shy and also inarticulate about them

oooh also lebingcest. exactly the same as before but it’s better. because lesbian yaoi

[myguidingmoon-light]

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

No room. That’s something I’ve heard too much lately. Palestinians have been hearing that for 75 years. Since they were driven out of their homes—more than 700 000 of them—in 1948 to make room for the colony of Israel, there has been less and less room every day. Less land, literally, as even though lines and walls have been drawn over the years, Israel continues to illegally settle in Palestinian land. Less room to breathe, as the population of Gaza grew within the illegal blockade walling them into a tiny strip of land. Less room to live now, as Gaza has been under constant attack by Israeli bombs and guns and while the civilians of Gaza are pushed by this violence into even smaller and smaller “safe zones” (though there is nowhere safe in Gaza right now).

But also no room our conversations. No room in our imagination. No room in our understanding of our world of “human rights” and “developed nations.” You’d think “Palestinian” is a slur for how quickly it shuts up (or heats up) dialogue. These are our neighbours, and it feels like pulling teeth to get people to engage with their humanity—let alone ask their MP to ask our government to ask Israel’s government to please stop bombing civilians for the third month straight.

Today we recognize when a Jewish Palestinian family was forced by the state to leave their home, shelter in unfit terrain, give birth without proper medical care, survive a massacre, and become refugees. We Christians call the baby born in that family Emmanuel, which means God with us. God was born in Bethlehem, behind the border wall, in an occupation. What does that tell us about who God is?

Our Christian siblings in Palestine have asked us not to let this Christmas pass as usual. To that, I ask, what is Christmas as usual? If we don’t see our neighbours in the story of Jesus, what is the point? If we need to put the real, genuine injustices of the world out of our mind so that we can be comforted by Christmas, we are frankly doing it wrong. The point—the whole point—is that love and justice are possible for the unloved and the oppressed, even when it doesn’t feel that way. It is our responsibility to make that happen, and we can’t do that with our eyes closed.

You should feel uncomfortable about celebrating Christmas while a genocide is going on. We need to have room for that. We also need to have room for the hope that Christmas represents. We need to have room in our hearts for justice, lasting peace, and a free Palestine, because we are all needed to make it a reality.

And for God’s sake, CEASEFIRE NOW!

“He has brought down the mighty from their thrones/ and exalted those of humble estate;/ he has filled the hungry with good things,/ and the rich he has sent away empty.” (Luke 1:52-53)

.

.

.

I am indebted to Rev. Munther Isaac for his wisdom in helping so many of us walk through this time. Personally, I just finished his book “The Other Side of the Wall”—if you are a Christian, you have to read this book. I’ll buy you a copy if you want.

I also want to note that this post isn’t really supposed to be an explainer or an argument. I didn’t cite anything here, but if you’re curious about anything I referenced (e.g. why did I bring up medical care?), send me a message and I’d be happy to give you more details about what’s happening in Palestine. I’m no expert, but I know some people just genuinely don’t know the extent of the injustice and don’t know where to learn more; if you have questions I’m happy to help, but I’m not here to fight with you.

Same deal if you want to help but don’t know how. I’m happy to give you some ideas and even help you out with them (distance permitting). One important action you can always take is contacting your Member of Parliament. You don’t have to write anything fancy—just tell them honestly how you’re feeling and ask them to support an urgent ceasefire. This is literally your right as a Canadian, so you don’t have to worry about doing something wrong.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Why do you think the epilogue of "Jane Eyre" gives so little attention to Jane's becoming a mother? Just once sentence that doesn't even touch on Jane's feelings about it, only that Rochester regained enough of his sight to be able to see his firstborn son. Why should such an enormous, life-changing aspect of her married years be so deemphasized?

Hi!

If you ask me, I think the very simple answer is that Charlotte Brontë didn't like children. Even Adele herself in the novel is very little more than a plot device to have Jane at Thornfield (this is one of the reasons why the 1996 heavy focus on childhood and the consequences of unhappy childhoods, ending with Jane and Rochester adopting Adele and raising her as their own is both a strong departure from the text but also an interesting commentary on it).

I feel like Elizabeth Gaskell explains it in a way that makes sense in her The Life of Charlotte Brontë:

"...teaching seemed to her at this time, as it does to most women at all times, the only way of earning an independent livelihood. But neither she nor her sisters were naturally fond of children. The hieroglyphics of childhood were an unknown language to them, for they had never been much with those younger than themselves. I am inclined to think, too, that they had not the happy knack of imparting information, which seems to be a separate gift from the faculty of acquiring it; a kind of sympathetic tact, which instinctively perceives the difficulties that impede comprehension in a child’s mind, and that yet are too vague and unformed for it, with its half-developed powers of expression, to explain by words. Consequently, teaching very young children was anything but a “delightful task” to the three Brontë sisters. With older girls, verging on womanhood, they might have done better, especially if these had any desire for improvement. But the education which the village clergyman’s daughters had received, did not as yet qualify them to undertake the charge of advanced pupils."

"No doubt, all who enter upon the career of a governess have to relinquish much; no doubt, it must ever be a life of sacrifice; but to Charlotte Brontë it was a perpetual attempt to force all her faculties into a direction for which the whole of her previous life had unfitted them. Moreover, the little Brontës had been brought up motherless; and from knowing nothing of the gaiety and the sportiveness of childhood—from never having experienced caresses or fond attentions themselves—they were ignorant of the very nature of infancy, or how to call out its engaging qualities. Children were to them the troublesome necessities of humanity; they had never been drawn into contact with them in any other way. Years afterwards, when Miss Brontë came to stay with us, she watched our little girls perpetually; and I could not persuade her that they were only average specimens of well brought up children. She was surprised and touched by any sign of thoughtfulness for others, of kindness to animals, or of unselfishness on their part: and constantly maintained that she was in the right, and I in the wrong, when we differed on the point of their unusual excellence."

From a letter from Charlotte to Gaskell:

"Whenever I see Florence and Julia [two of Gaskell's daughters] again, I shall feel like a fond but bashful suitor, who views at a distance the fair personage to whom, in his clownish awe, he dare not risk a near approach. Such is the clearest idea I can give you of my feeling towards children I like, but to whom I am a stranger;—and to what children am I not a stranger? They seem to me little wonders; their talk, their ways are all matter of half-admiring, half-puzzled speculation."

I wonder how her feelings would or wouldn't have changed, had she survived her pregnancy and gotten a child of her own with the husband she loved.

[ripeteeth]

for the book asks--15 please! and also 20 if you don't mind a double ask <3

15: recommend and review a book.

Okay, so you KNOW what book you're gonna get for this lmao.

TO EVERYONE OUT THERE, PLEASE READ FRANKENSTEIN BY MARY SHELLEY.

I swear, that book UNHINGED me. I will never be the same. God, fuck, I can't believe I lost my 48-tweet love song to Frankenstein and why everyone should read it, but I cannot believe that at all of 19 years old, she could pack so much pathos and humanity in only 250 pages. It's everything. It's a spoiled terrified young twink brat only just realizing what he has brought into this world, that this squirming, naked, needy thing is his alone. His responsibility. And he flees into the night, a terrified new mother, desperate to pretend it never happened. I cannot ever stop thinking about the fact that she wrote this at 19 years old, all of about 18 months after losing her firstborn infant, who died during the night while Mary slept. How much of herself did Mary see in Victor? In the Creature? I lose my mind at the way Victor and the Creature are seen in popular culture, as this mad old scientist and his lumbering dumb awkward creation, when in reality Victor is all of about 22 at MOST when reanimates the Creature, all up there in his weird creepy attic apartment lab. He's a college dropout. An obsessive mess. And he abandons his child in his son's moment of need.

And the Creature! He's so passionate and eloquent, haunting and wounded. This should be the man who dogs our steps and keeps us up at night. This preternaturally strong man, who is largely impervious to cold and is wicked fast, who had each of his body parts chosen for their special beauty by Victor, but there is something about him, a living corpse with crepey skin and watery eyes, lips as dark as a dead man's, that terrifies everyone he comes in contact with.

And this is the thing!!!! He is not a monster. Look at him, turned out, born into that accursed attic with nothing. He could not yet see. He did not know language or how to defend himself, feed himself, warm himself, care for himself. He was left to die. But he stumbled along, covering himself with a coat he stole from the attic as he fled, naked and cold, and learned to start a fire, to feed himself on berries and plants, he taught himself to speak, read, and write simply by observing - and he observed humans from afar and yearned only to be loved and accepted. To be one of them.

It's such a fundamental, heartbreaking story. It shatters me. It compels me. I can't ever get them out of my head. Two men who damned each other, Victor by denying his creation the very real care and comfort and humanity that he owed to someone he brought into the world, and the Creature who sought to reduce Victor to that same state by killing everyone he loved, so that Victor would be like him, isolated and miserable. Alone.

And yet, even in the end, they're entwined. Victor's death ends the purpose of the Creature's life and he mourns his father-creator, even after all of it. It's such a complicated story of parent-child relationships, of the exploration of new boundary-pushing science, of pseudo-incestuous themes and tones between two men who have knotted themselves up so well into such a perfect tangle, that they can never be picked apart.

20. what are things you look for in a book?

Hmm. Good question.

I like to be fascinated. I love beautiful prose, but I'm particular about it and am not generally fond of it being too precious or purple. I love things with a bit of monstrosity that get into the gross and horrible details of life, like J.G. Ballard's Crash and John Gardner's Grendel, two absolute favorites. I love books that fuck with narrative structure and keep me guessing, like Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler and Julio Cortázar's Hopscotch. I love a certain sense of interiority and confessional voice, like Jeanette Winterson's Written on the Body, Olga Tokarczuk's Drive Your Plow Over The Bones Of The Dead, and Ocean Vuong's On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous. I love things that make my skin crawl but have a certain compelling beauty, like Patrick Süskind's Perfume: Story of a Murderer. I love a sense of awe and hope and hushed connection, the way Susanna Clarke's Piranesi left me.

[dynamic-k]

Yeah uh- I actually don't have any more questions. At least none that doesn't involve just straight up asking, 'What is the plot?' etc.

My ao3 comment lied.

Well... I'm just going to try making up some new questions.

Okay, I have one! :D Actually, a few. They're all about names XD

I wrote down on my doc that Dark was named after his hair. I'm not sure if this is true, so is it?? Also, what were the others, Second and Chosen, because Vic is a normal name, named after or why were they named that?

Are they formally still called 'The Dark Lord', 'The Chosen One', and 'The Second Coming'?

Chosen is called Black, Dark is called Velvet, Second is called Ginger.. What are RGBY and Vic gonna be called? Grey??? XD

Ohhh, are the media gonna call RGBY, 'Colour/Color Gang'???? And will Vic be included with the Ladybug Brothers?? I have done some research and there are gray ladybugs!!!

hm.. what about Rocket Corp.'s heroes???

Thank you! and i do may just have several one more question, so should i ask??

P.S. it's nice to know you aren't actually annoyed at my constant questioning :D

-R

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I am being fed with questions and I love it

-

Yeah, Dark was named after his hair, hehe

Second was named [not by Alan, but by Kaori actually], because he looked like a second version of Chosen. If Chosen were younger, the two could've easily passed for identical twins. Needless to say, Sec's middle name was added in a similar joking tone as Dark's middle name was added.

Vic was named Vic because he was the firstborn, was a little unexpected in arrival; a pleasant surprise that caught the two parents off guard a little, and neither Alan or Kaori had names thought up so they brainstormed and came up with a simple one they both liked.

As a young child, little Vic had always expressed the desire to have at least one sibling. He wanted a best friend, someone to play with, and was perfectly content if he ended up having to share toys because that was the point.

When it was found out that Chosen was on his way, little Vic got to help with naming. Perhaps it was silly that all Vic could think of for naming input was "The Chosen One!!" because he'd just watched some action movie yesternight and gotten hung up over it.

But Kaori and Alan took Vic seriously, so- XD "Chosen One Becker" it is.

Which then led to Dark's middle name as a sort of parallel. And then later to Second's. Vic is without a middle name, but he doesn't mind.

None of them ever go by The Chosen One, or The Dark Lord, or The Second Coming. It's only first-name basis for them, and the middle names are humor and comedic only. Besides, Dark wishes to be a hero. Why would he go by a villainy title, even if he was originally named that way just for sillies and it's still a good joke to present day?

The color quadruplets' names will be revealed in due time, as I want the specific upgrades each will pertain upon themselves to remain a surprise, just for a little while longer. It will grow more obvious what they will be able to do as they construct their costumes.

And who said Vic would end up being a Ladybug Bro? :D HEHEHHEHEHHEHEHHEHEHE

I might be messing with you, who knows-

[ not my way of saying "STICK IF I KNOW, I'M STILL ACTIVELY BUILDING THE LORE-" ]

The media calling Green, Blue, Yellow, and Red The Color Gang is an epic idea. U v U If I decide to use that, I'll credit you. Honestly, I don't know yet. I'm still working on it- O O

As far as Rocket Heroes are concerned, Ballista is already known far and wide as BB-Gun. I don't have a Hazard name yet. Agent is running Rocket, not active in the field. And Primal isn't technically onboard the program yet.

YES ASK ASK ASK ASK ASK ASK ASK ASK ASK ASK! :D

I could never be annoyed at these lovely excuses for Scarlett to ramble questions. Keep em up as long as ye please, please~

[twoidiotwriters1]

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: None of you bitches told me today was the 26th how am I supposed to know I have to post a new chapter Anyway, HAPPY 1000TH POST!! -Danny

Words: 2,301

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter Listen to: 'Photograph' -by Cody Fry

2006

When Rose Granger-Weasley was born, they discovered Ron was the overprotective father of the whole lot. Not even Erick had acted that way with his babies. Hermione found it exasperating, but to Ron, that little girl was his firstborn, and nothing was going to stop him from keeping her safe.

If they were packed with children before, now it was definitely overwhelming. Fred had a good reason to be losing his mind over it, there was always a baby or a toddler he had to be mindful not to step on or sit on accident.

Regulus, who was the eldest child, hadn't changed much after his talk with Mel. He was a kid still, so she wasn't expecting him to change his behaviour, he was too young to grasp it all. However, he seemed a little bit uneasy about attending Hogwarts now.

Emily Flint, on the other hand, couldn't wait to go. She was determined to be as good as her father to the point of claiming she'd be a Headgirl too. She wanted to be in Slytherin like him, but Erick had advised her not to force herself into a house where she might not belong.

"You should let the hat do its work, love," He'd told her. "If you talk too soon, you'll be trapped in a house where you're not comfortable."

"Listen to your father, he should know," Mel teased him. "He became my friend out of boredom and before he knew it he was dragged into our mess."

"Yeah, worst decision of my life," he mused, kissing the top of his son's head, who was sound asleep in his arms.

Matthew John Potter was born on January twelve, also known as Erick's birthday. Naturally, Mel and Harry asked him to be the godfather.

Erick was more than pleased, he was ready to take the boy under his wing and guide him through life. What that meant, no one knew, but Mel trusted he'd do a good job anyway.

Amy Flint was born in February of the same year, the fifth—and last of their babies, according to Anne and Erick.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Fred and Joseph decided to get married. It wasn't that they weren't expecting them to last, they'd been dating for almost a decade, but since they lived together and didn't seem to have any interest in getting married, it wasn't exactly anticipated.

Fred's wedding, in spite of what he'd promised when they were younger, was as elegant as any other, if not more. Joseph was firm on having the best of the best in every aspect, and Fred let him do his thing since he wasn't an expert at weddings.

"If it were for me, we'd just hire some bloke to marry us in our apartment and that'd be it, but Jo finds that, er, what did you call it, love? I just know it was a bad French insult to my person," he teased.

"You won't ruin my day, Weasley," Joseph replied unbothered. "I've been dreaming of this since our first year together."

"Wow, that's faith," Mel grinned.

"Oh, don't say that like you didn't dream about getting married to Glasses since you were a kid!" George exclaimed. "You probably talk to Harry once and you started to design the cake."

"She wanted me to be her best man, actually," Harry spoke from his place in the rug, he'd been playing with his twins quietly until that moment. They were starting to show signs of wanting to walk, so now they had to always be watching over them when they were awake. "She wanted to marry Prince William."

"What—"

"Thank you for that, Glasses," she groaned, falling back on the couch and hiding her face behind a cushion. "I'll never hear the end of it..."

"Blimey! Princess Mel of England—has a ring to it, lady."

"To think you almost got to be Lady Dumbledore for real!" Fred chortled.

"Shut up, you two," she scowled at the twins. "It was a nice thing to imagine as a child. Either way, when I first dated Harry, I don't remember thinking about a wedding. The most I would picture was Hogsmeade dates and holding hands in front of everyone once Skeeter left us alone..."

"Skeeter's no longer a problem now, is she?" George taunted her. "You guys are disgustingly sweet in public nowadays."

"Well, Georgie, being close to dying really changes your priorities," She joked.

"Look at this one!" Mel laughed, handing the picture to Ginny. "Look how tiny we look next to Charlie!"

The redhead laughs as she looks at the photo Mel's showing her, it's from the 1994 summer, the year of the Quidditch final, before hell broke loose. "Sweet Merlin, look at Charlie's hair!"

They're looking for old pictures of Joe and Fred for the ceremony, and Mel's the only one who has pictures of the both of them at Hogwarts. Mel looks at the images and it's been so long since she sat and look through them, that now she's able to see how much they've changed. 

Her fourteen-year-old self smiles at them, waving enthusiastically at the camera from where she's standing behind the burrow's sofa. Sitting there are Fred and George, and they're scribbling something on parchment, probably the pricelist for his inventions. Her face is much rounder than it is nowadays, though, in a year's time, Mel knows that will change. 

The trauma and growth spurt are bound to sharpen her features, but she remains innocent and sweet in that photo, forever enjoying her summer with the Weasleys and Harry, the boy she has a crush on.

As she looks through the album she starts to think about Hogwarts again, and it amazes her just how much she'd almost forgotten. The spring days sitting under that huge tree by the lake, the late night studying with her friends in the common room, and how could she forget the meal times with Fred and George making her laugh until she choked on her pumpkin juice!

It was all so long ago... a whole decade of experiences and changes, and yet all those memories came back to her as easily as a spell. Her fingers grazed around the soft features of that young Mel, so full of life, with a soul so whole and bright she could take down dementors by just standing there—not quite true, but now it felt like that had been the case—and her eyes teared up a bit.

"Mel, what's the matter?" Ginny asked worryingly.

"Sorry," she sniffed, hastily cleaning her face. "I just... I remembered how young we were when we met—it's so strange... knowing we were once that little, and at some point, I just... forgot."

Ginny looked at her with a soft and understanding smile. "It is strange, isn't it? It's hard not to forget how it felt to be that small... especially someone like you, I guess, holding all that power... hard to believe you were once a little girl, right?"

Mel stared at the picture for a while. She didn't know how badly she loved that little girl until now, and she felt guilty when she thought of the times she'd been embarrassed to have been her. Why, when little Mel had been all that was good in the world? 

She looked at herself with the same eyes her Uncle Lu had at the end of her third year at school, what a remarkable little thing she was, with eyes so smart and clever she looked like she knew more than she let on. No wonder adults were always a little on edge when she was around.

A little girl's squeal brought her back and she looked up. Harry walked into the drawing room holding Emmie's hands as she marched into the room with clumsy feet. Luna walked right after them with James still safely tucked in her arms. 

"Look at her go!" Ginny said proudly. "Hang on, Harry, don't pick her up yet!" She reached for Mel's old camera on the coffee table and turned the baby and her father. "She looks so cute!"

Mel watched as her daughter moved across the room holding tightly to Harry's fingers. He had a huge smile on his face as he encouraged his daughter to keep walking, glancing at Mel from time to time to point Emmie in her direction.

The young mother slipped off the couch and knelt to receive the toddler in her arms, which only encouraged Emmeline to walk faster. Harry almost tripped trying to keep up. Mel laughed and held one hand out for her daughter. "Come along, love, you can do it!"

Ginny took the picture then, the moment Emmeline crashed against her mother's chest and Mel fell on her butt, laughing as much as the baby. Harry helped her to sit up, smiling proudly at his daughter's accomplishment. "She's got good legs," he grinned. "Might be a good climber just like you."

Mel laughed again, cupping her daughter's cheek and beaming. "As long as she learns to not fall on her head, then it's fine."

"Dad!" Emmeline squealed, reaching her chubby little arms to try and pull Harry closer, he sat next to Mel on the rug and kissed Emmie's head, brushing her hair back. 

"What's this?" He grabbed one of the pictures and smiled at it. "Look, Mel, Emmie looks so much like you here!"

He showed her the photo, it was them on her ninth birthday, with icing on her cheek and the roundest cheeks she'd ever seen on a little girl. Harry had one arm around her shoulders and his fingers had icing the same colour as the one on her face. Little Matthew had the same bright emerald eyes as him.

"Yeah she does," Mel beamed, holding onto the toddler and kissing the top of her head. "I hope she gets to be just as happy as I was, too."

Once a month her mother, Remus and Tonks offered to look after the twins and Matthew so she and Harry could go out with Hermione and Ron. They left Rose with Ron's parents and left to spend a whole day in London.

First, they considered going to Diagon Alley, but they didn't want to risk finding Skeeter there, she'd been trying to get a glimpse of Rose and Matthew as well as the twins, and even though they didn't have the kids with them, they didn't want to be disturbed.

So instead, they walked around the muggle city and took Ron to the movies.

"Heard Professor Sprout is planning to retire," Hermione mentioned as she grabbed a fistful of popcorn. "Might be a good idea to mention it to Neville, don't you think?"

"Doesn't he have his own apothecary near his grandma's house?"

"Yeah, but his grandma's really old now, and I mean really old," Mel pointed out. "So it'd be a good idea for him and Hannah to start thinking about their future."

"Thinking about their future?" Ron made a face. "Not like their lives revolve around Neville's grandma..."

"Oh, you know Neville only lives so out of the way to be close to her," Hermione admitted with a sigh. "I agree with Mel, that's why I mentioned Professor's Sprout possible retirement. I think, Mel," she leaned forward and gave her a careful look. "That if you talk to her, she might consider writing to Neville to ask if he's interested."

"I don't know if I even need to do that," Mel shrugged. "He was one of her best students, maybe she's already considering him to fill the spot."

"Wouldn't hurt to make sure of it," Hermione insisted.

"Been years since we went to school and you still look after him," Ron teased her, though his voice was affectionate. "He's a grown man like all of us, Mione, he can do things himself if he wants to."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "You're right. You're right. Sorry, it's just... sometimes I think I still see him as that little boy that used to hide behind us during potions."

Mel giggled, understanding her feelings. "Lately I've been thinking about our time in school as well... the other day I had this dream that I had fallen asleep and everyone had gone to class, but I couldn't find the classrooms, it was as if the entire castle had changed it's hallways and staircases, but I was sure they looked exactly the same, it was me who'd forgotten the directions... and then I looked at myself as I passed next to a window and saw myself in that old Gryffindor uniform?" She smiled. "It felt strange to be wearing it again, even if it was a dream."

"I don't miss wearing those stupid hats," Ron scoffed. "Or the ties..."

"The ties were lovely," Hermione argued. "I liked our winter cloaks and the scarfs were really thick and warm."

"I liked how you looked in your uniform," Harry told Mel with a grin. "Especially the Quidditch one."

Mel lightly hit his shoulder and he laughed, she shook her head. "Isn't it weird that next year Regulus will attend Hogwarts? He'll be part of a house, and use the same uniform, and he'll go to the same classes we did, but it won't be like our time there at all."

"He's definitely a Gryffindor, though," Ron added.

"Yeah," responded the other three.

"I think that makes it just as exciting for us as it will be for him," Hermione said, smiling giddily. "Everything will be new to us in a way."

"Yeah, a first year with no three-headed dogs and giant games of chess," Ron smirked. "We never got to know what that was like."

"We should get him an owl for his eleventh birthday," Mel nudged Harry's arm. "He's got Padfoot, so I don't think a cat's a good idea."

"Padfoot gets along with Grey just fine," he frowned.

"Grey's an old cat, he's too tired to fight him," Mel replied humorously. "A young cat would most likely try to murder Padfoot and Padfoot would probably sit on them until they suffocated."

Harry laughed. "Fine, an owl it is."

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

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[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

divorce

Riven exhaled. Of all the things that weren't absolutely, positively, fucking needed at this point in time--Ishgardian political bullshit was at the top of the list. Mathye was still in the throes of recovery from two major surgeries--upgrades for his leg's socket having been the first surgery, and the second--the reattachment following one of his bi-yearly maintenance. The second was the worst--as he couldn't be given painkillers--which meant his curse would trigger. Augustine had just about had it with his brother being out of his mind in pain every time the maintenance happened--and Nero was also of the same mindset. With the Empire hesitantly opening up trade once again, there was a chance that there was a safer-and healthier option...

"Is it certain that the baby is his?" She asked acidly. "Look him up in the Ishgardian social directory and he's the definition of cuckold!" The 'him' being Arsène Seymour, Augustine's stepfather. The look that crossed Emmanellain's face made Riven narrow her eyes.

"Well..."

"I am not going to like this, am I?"

"The story is, when the father sought to confront him over his daughter's pregnancy, Arsène instead paid him to have her be sent to the family holdings outside of the city. She was kept in high luxury--and when the baby was born, he had the blood tested."

"Did she agree to being treated like chattel?" Riven snapped, and then stopped. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't--"

"You need to sleep." Emmanellain chided. "Things have improved with Zoissette, and Mathye's over the worst of it now, yes?"

"Hopefully. He hasn't fully reverted, though. With all the stress...the other Knight-Dragoon healers think that it might be another week." But for a mercy Mathye had at least shed some of his scales, which was a good sign.

"To answer your question, it seems the daughter was all for the plan. Apparently she'd set her cap for a lord, and as House Dzemael is known for overlooking indiscretions in certain cases..."

"Overlooking indiscretions." Riven repeated softly. "So...what? This had been in the planning for a while?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The family is new money, but many of the old lords and ladies aren't willing to open any doors into high society. So one must carve their own path. And it helps matters that Lord Seymour is still a staunch traditionalist, which makes many in Dzemael very happy. By all accounts, he is completely over the moon with both his new wife and infant son."

"In the meanwhile, his now ex-wife and firstborn are out in the cold." Riven finished. She closed her eyes, rubbing at them.

"Not completely. The Lady Catherine's family has taken them both in, but it's said Yannick is...beside himself with fury." Emmanellain continued, naming the brother Augustine had grown up with. He watched as Riven opened her eyes.

"I'm assuming if you're telling me about this, there's a concern someplace." Emmanellain offered a wry smile.

"Not from Lord Seymour." He said. "Yannick and his lady mother? Yes. Hopefully they'll keep their ire directed at Seymour--but there's still that slim chance..." He trailed off. Riven exhaled, understanding.

"Right." From what Augustine had told them, Yannick and Catherine had contributed to the nightmare that had been his childhood. Both had been abusive, but as Augustine's martial and magical skill had grown--Yannick had gotten worse and worse, fearing that Augustine would supplant him as the Seymour heir.

"Father thinks everything should be alright, but it wouldn't hurt for you to keep a weather eye out."

"I'll do one better than that." Riven said. "I'm going to speak to Nero. If he feels Mathye's strong enough, we're going to Dravania tomorrow and waiting out his reversion."

[zawazawanightmares]

Shinji Ikari & Lucifer

You, Shinji Ikari, are connected to Lucifer Your partner doesn't mind all ages or 18+ roleplay Your partner has a starter. Type /starter or tap here to see it.

Shinji Ikari: /starter

Lucifer: Androgynous looking with a slender figure and medium length wavy golden hair. Very dark iris, making his eyes look like black pearls. Pretty like you have never seen before, breathtaking even. Also quite childish. Might come off as a sad pathetic man to gain pity points but will drop the act the moment he gets bored. Or won't. https://ibb.co/Msh75MR (By _Yuming_Li on twitter) ((Inspired by John Milton's works))

Lucifer: Get in the existential crisis Shinji.

Shinji Ikari: ...Excuse me?

Lucifer: Just kidding kid

Shinji Ikari: Oh...okay.

Lucifer: Anyways have you seen my gay son?

Shinji Ikari: Your...gay son. Do you know what he looks like?

Lucifer: White hair, red eyes.

Shinji Ikari: ...Kaworu?!

Lucifer: Ah yes. That one.

Shinji Ikari: He's my boyfriend!

Lucifer: So I was right about him being gay.

Lucifer: And having horrible taste. No offense kid

Shinji Ikari: I won't argue with you on that but it's weird that you used that as a descriptor. How was I supposed to know who he was going off on that? And you only can identify him by him being gay? Kaworu has a bunch of other qualities, you know!

Lucifer: Pfft, you humans are interesting.

Lucifer: Of course he has other qualities. I am aware of that. He is my son.

Lucifer: He is too good for his own good for example, is enamoured by humans to the point of self harm.

Shinji Ikari: Well...then why don't you help him? You're his dad.

Lucifer: I don't want to hinder his process.

Shinji Ikari: What process? He just helps out at NERV.

Lucifer: Process of growing up.

Lucifer: Also, fine. I will bite it. I am a deadbeat dad.

Shinji Ikari: *sighs* So you're just like my dad.

Lucifer: What- what does that mean?

Shinji Ikari: You say you know him just because you know what he's like...but you don't care about how he feels. He's so lonely by himself, like he doesn't have any family...you know that right?

Lucifer: ... I know.

Lucifer: But I just can't come on earth to visit him.

Shinji Ikari: Why not? Are you some type of Angel too?

Lucifer: The devil. To be specific.

Shinji Ikari: ...So, you're Lucifer? You two do look alike.

Lucifer: Aw that's because we are family.

Lucifer: I could bring on yet another impact if I wished to but I am deciding against it dear.

Shinji Ikari: Um...yeah, we would both prefer if you didn't do that.

Lucifer: I am not. Seems like too much work.

Lucifer: I would have to see the mangled corpse of my ex.

Shinji Ikari: Lilith...is your ex.

Lucifer: Yeah.

Shinji Ikari: That...must be incredibly awkward.

Lucifer: It really is!

Lucifer: And do you know what is worse?

Lucifer: Adam is too.

Shinji Ikari: So basically...we're all running around in copies of your firstborn son?

Lucifer: Really awkward.

Shinji Ikari: This is so weird...I should get going. Probably tell Kaworu I saw his dad.

Lucifer: I don't think he would be happy.

Shinji Ikari: I mean, he deserves to know...we need to communicate with each other.

Lucifer: Do you want to see him sulking?

Shinji Ikari: ...No. Even though he sees me sulking all the time.

Lucifer: I feel bad for my son now.

Shinji Ikari: Yeah, kind of what I was getting at...

Lucifer: Damn boy pick yourself up.

Lucifer: I don't want a depressed brat near my son.

Shinji Ikari: I'll try my best...won't run away or whatever.

Lucifer: Aw thanksies dear.

Lucifer: So can you tell me why the alarms are blaring in this little city of yours?

Shinji Ikari: Ah. An Angel attack...I gotta get back. I think Kaworu is in Asuka's EVA today.

Lucifer: Oh! Oh-

Lucifer: That might be my fault.

Lucifer: Could you tell them the angel of today isn't planning to attack?m

Shinji Ikari: I mean, I can but I doubt anyone will listen to me. And then they'll want to know where I got the information from...

Lucifer: From the angel. Of course

Lucifer: I don't mind being detained.

Shinji Ikari: So you'll come along then?

Lucifer: Mhm.

Shinji Ikari: Good! I mean...less people will die then. *walks off*

Lucifer: follows after No one will die. I come in peace.

Shinji Ikari: *leads him to NERV headquarters; Misato, Rei III and Kaworu are gathered with Gendo overlooking* (Gendo): You're late, Shinji. Do the lives of the citizens of Tokyo mean so little to you that you can---who is that?

Lucifer: does his damn best to look away from Kaworu. Lucifer.

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): ...Father, why are you here? *to Shinji* Why is he here? (Shinji): It's a long story...

Lucifer: What? Is it a crime to see my son? Aww look at how grown up you became.

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): *crosses his arms* Not as big as your other children, apparently... (Misato): S-so...you're an Angel.

Lucifer: Well, they are humongous. One of your brothers can't even fit on earth. So...

Shinji Ikari: (Misato): Wait, if you fathered the Angels, can't you stop the one outside?

Lucifer: No.

Lucifer: They are grown enough to make their own decisions.

Shinji Ikari: Wait, you said if I brought you here, you'd--- (Kaworu): He lies, Shinji...he's the father of all of them.

Lucifer: Aw Kaworu. You sound hurt. When did I ever lie to you?

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): You said that people here liked Shinji. (Misato): I like Shinji. (Kaworu): I'm still trying to gauge whether that's a positive or not.

Lucifer: See? One of em does.

Lucifer: And you do too, I guess.

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): I'm not even human. You're always trying to worm out of things.

Lucifer: And you are just like me.

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): I actually see things through and clean up my messes.

Lucifer: It took you several loops to arrive there.

Lucifer: Ah, his first life. He was just like me guys.

Lucifer: Putting the cat out of its misery? Giving it salvation?

Lucifer: I did that too once.

Shinji Ikari: (Rei III): ...Loops? (Kaworu): And in another one, Shinji and I were in a detective agency. The point is, I ride things out and you run off to angst. Shinji is three times the man you are.

Lucifer: Excuse me???

Lucifer: That- that thing is?

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): A man who can see things through. You: A sorry excuse for a father who lets his children wreck havoc on the planet instead of reining them in. You should be ashamed to show your face here.

Lucifer: Fine. Whatever. I will tell your brother to drop it.

Shinji Ikari: (Kaworu): Thank you...Shinji, for dragging my dad here so he can fix his mess. For once. (Shinji): Um...thank you, sir! *bows to Lucifer*

Lucifer: Look at that brat thanking his boyfriend instead of me.

Lucifer: Aw don't mention it Shinji.

Shinji Ikari: (Misato): I just watched all of that...so where's Asuka again? (Rei III): She told me to lie to you and say she's sick but she's on a date with Mari.

Lucifer: Woah she is horrible at lying.

Shinji Ikari: (Rei III): I never learned how...or learned how to care.

Lucifer: Typical Lilim.

Shinji Ikari: (Thanks!)

You left the chat

[lordadmiralfarsight]

Cultural christianity, and what it can look like

I often-ish see people get all upset and angry when cultural christianity is brought up, taking it as an insult. Most likely, they feel insulted because of past trauma related to abusive behaviour in the sect of christianity they were raised in. That, or they have delusions of grandeur about how rational and special and immune to religion they are and how dare people assume their perfect rational minds are affected in any way? (Don't worry, it's OK, I went through that phase too when I was a teen).

First off, I live in France, a country that has historically been rather Christian, Catholic to be exact, and only fairly recently moved towards more secular structures. Yes, a century since the law on secularism is a short time for a nation. Debate is still raging on what form that secularism should take, and talking about that debate would be a whole other post.

I was raised in a rather atheist familly, due in part to religious trauma in both my parents (even if they wouldn't necessarily think of it that way). My interactions with Catholicism have been limited to visiting churches for the art and stained glasses, a baptism I do not remember (due to being a baby at the time) and a handful of funerals. And I am going to supply you with an exemple of cultural christianity : last Saturday, I had a Catholic moment.

This was fairly topical, one could say, as I was going to visit the Mont Saint-Michel (very pretty, breathtaking vistas, strong recommend). I stopped at a supermarket to buy food for the road, and for the visit, one does need energy to climb up and down repeatedly on that rock, and everything costs an arm, a leg and the soul of your firstborn over there (or lots of money, if you're boring). I see a homeless person sitting outside, quietly hoping people give him some money. I walk along, awkward because I don't have money and I'd rather not have to tell someone "sorry, I can't help you, I don't have cash". I think this is bad, and resolve to buy him a sandwich, which I do. I also give him the sandwich, because just buying it on its own really isn't enough, the man can't eat his sandwich if I drive off with it, really defeats the purpose of the act.

Anyway. I sit down in my car, and have idle thoughts about how maybe that'll help me get the job I recently applied to and ... the Catholic Moment begins. Why am I hoping that? What can that realistically do? Did I give that man a sadnwich for selfish, supersititious reasons? Why would I "taint" this act of kindness with that superstition I don't even believe in?

And then the Catholic Moment ends. And I reassert reality. The guy doesn't care what was going on in my head when I bought and gave him a sandwich, he cares that he has a sandwich. He was smiling, thanked me and said it was nice. Who cares what was going on upstairs, I still gave him the damn sandwich. It's still an improvement in his life, however small. And it's OK to have idle thoughts about that kind of small hope, who cares so long as I don't try to force that on other people. And if it motivates other people to help someone, all the better. That act isn't tainted just because I thought the "wrong thoughts". The dude has his sandwich.

And that is cultural Christianity. I am an atheist, mostly by lack of care about spirituality, but still. But I was raised in a society that is still largely Catholic shaped. My parents were raised as Catholics and broke away later. My grandparents were Catholics. Their own parents were too. And looking back, a lot of my ancestors were more on the poor side of things, which made them even more Catholic.

That doesn't make me evil or bad or wrong. That just means my social and cultural software is cross-shaped due to centuries of previous updates being cross-shaped. And removing bits and bobs from it, and adding a few more, isn't going to change that. I just need to keep that in mind, so I can use that software in a way that takes into account people with non-cross-shaped software, and make sure I don't react in ways that hurt them.

The societies and cultures we live in were built over centuries or millenia, and are marked by our ancestors and what they believe in. You can break some walls, put in bigger windows and change the drapes, it's still the same building, and the crosses scratched into the mortar haven't gone away. But those crosses aren't stopping you from being more open, more friendly to other people. They don't stop people with software that isn't cross-shaped to set up their room as they please.

Just because you live in a building with crosses scratched into the mortar and the bricks, just because those crosses have been scratched into your brain by familliarity and repeatedly being seen, it doesn't make you evil, it doesn't make you wrong. It just means you've grown in there, and you may need to keep that in mind, to make sure those crosses scratched into your brain don't end up hurting someone or blinding you to someone's hurt.

Where you come from, where you grew up, doesn't reduce your worth as a human, and it's OK to carry on stuff from there. We all do. It's not a moral failing. All we're saying, is to take a good look at what those bits do to you, how they motivate your actions, and most importantly, when they tell you not to listen to others.

One of these little brain crosses is telling you that you're right, and everyone that thinks otherwise is wrong, because there is only One Truth, but are you sure you want to listen to that little cross? Are you sure you want to listen to the same little cross that caused your friend, parent, trusted adult figure, to hurt you and refuse to listen to you? Isn't it worth a go to listen to people whose software isn't cross-shaped, and try to understand where they come from?

It's not easy, I'm not going to lie. @athingofvikings can tell you, I stumbled a fair few times, in parts because he is litterally the first Jewish person I actually talked to. But he is a friend, a dear one, and I feel blessed to have met him and become his friend. I stumbled, but I keep my mind open to see my mistakes and correct them, and I do what I can to make sure those brain crosses aren't hurting people, and I got several great friends out of the deal. Imagine the friends you can find, if you just accept them as they are and keep the crosses in check?

[themomsandthecity]

I Don't Want to Be a Mom, and No, I Won't Change My Mind

Despite what a lot of people think, choosing to live a child-free life is not a phase I'll grow out of. When I think about the possibility of bringing life into this world, I become overwhelmingly anxious. Not because I assume I would be a horrible mom or because I have a disdain for children. I adore kids and aspire to be the best rich auntie, but many reasons have led me to this decision. First and foremost, having a child is not a decision that I think should be taken lightly. At the end of the day, it's a commitment to raising a human being - teaching them right from wrong, accepting who they'll evolve into, and being their guiding light as they navigate the world around them. That is not an easy task; everyone parents differently and every child is unique. While no one is a perfect parent, it takes considerable time and effort to be a great one. Nowadays, it's also a luxury to be a parent. The average person cannot afford to buy a home in most parts of the country, and many are living paycheck to paycheck. In the current economy the only people who can comfortably afford to take care of a child are the upper middle class and above. With the cost of groceries and gas, I can't imagine adding diapers, daycare, clothes, food, and other essentials to my monthly budget. It would be fiscally irresponsible for a lot of people to have children right now, myself included. Even taking the financial element out of it, as a Black woman in America, motherhood and pregnancy are extremely unappealing to me. Did you know that Black women are about three times as likely to die during childbirth compared to white women? Black women's pain and discomfort are consistently ignored in medical spaces. So much so that even Serena Williams nearly died while giving birth to her firstborn, Olympia. She had to advocate for herself because most of her doctors weren't listening to her concerns and instead invalidated her pain. If the greatest tennis player of all time was not being treated properly, what do you think the likelihood is that an unknown Black woman would be met with the same or worse treatment? And if I survived childbirth in America, what happens next? What happens when a beautiful Black child is brought into this world? (Spoiler alert: it's not sunshine and rainbows.) Not only would this child be brought into a world amid a climate crisis and one constantly riddled with war, but this child would be a target of violence. How often do you see a story about a school shooting? How often do you hear about an innocent Black child being killed by a police officer? These atrocities happen so frequently, we've become desensitized to them. I don't want to bring a life into this world and have it be lost like the lives of Elijah McClain, the students at Uvalde, and the thousands of beautiful Palestinian children in Gaza. They all deserved to live, grow old, fall in love, and follow their dreams, but they never got the chance. The world is a very dark place, and I can't in good conscience bring a child into a world that I wouldn't have chosen to be in. Even taking the state of the world out of the equation, I want to live a life where I am my top priority. No matter what the reason is, if you choose to be child-free, your decision is just as valid as someone who desires to be a mother, because having a child changes everything. A child should be the center of their parents' world - their happiness, their health, their safety, their well-being should always be top of mind. But for me, I want to live a life where my focus is on me and my community. I love being a part of my friends' and families' villages. Choosing not to have kids allows me to invest in the children in my life already. I want to help bring joy to their lives and help lighten the load for their parents. That works for me. If that makes me selfish, call me selfish. It's my body, it's my life, and it's my choice. I'd rather regret not having children than… https://www.popsugar.com/family/not-having-kids-essay-49328983?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[zephyrrydrake]

Welcome to my blog!

Welcome to my blog! I hope you can enjoy whatever the heck I end up posting here!

Who are you?

If you know who Rydrake6 is, you know who I am. If you don't, I'll introduce myself really quick.

You can call me Zephyr. I'm a tiger/dragon hybrid who likes drawing, making music, writing, making games, and doing pretty much any creative thing you can think of. I'm an autistic trans man and a minor, and I've got way too many creative projects to work on.

Why does this blog exist?

This blog was made because I Reblog way too much stuff on my main. Which honestly isn't really a bad thing, but it is inconvenient when I'm trying to find something I posted like an audio or a piece of art and I have to scroll through a literal sea of reblogs to get to it. Other than that, I kind of always wanted a side blog where I don't have to worry about a brand and stuff. Speaking of which, I'm probably going to stop trying to make a brand out of myself and just create things like people are meant to do on the internet instead of being obsessed with numbers and the possibility of earning a living off of making stuff, but that's not a conversation for this post.

What's going to be posted here?

I don't have any particular idea for what I'm gonna post on this blog, just that there are going to be very few, if any, reblogs. Mainly because of the situation with my main blog. However, a few things that you can probably expect from this blog are looks at creative projects that I'm working on (Music, movies, shows, stories, drawings, ect.), Life stuff (Basically whatever I feel like talking about in my life. Nothing identifying though of course. I'm not stupid.), And probably a few shitpost and memes too. If I do Reblog stuff, you're probably gonna see me saying stuff at the bottom.

Boundaries TL;DR

So I realize that I have a bad habit of writing entire fucking essays when I should just keep it short and sweet, and my boundaries are no exception. So here's a quick summary of all of them.

If you're a bad person who supports bad things or you just make me uncomfortable, you're getting blocked.

Don't come into my askbox asking for money or donations.

You can DM me but I am a socially awkward weirdo due to years of isolation so watch out.

Boundries being broken = block.

Long version of my boundaries under the cut.

What are you doing in my house?

Irrelevant. Now lead me to your stash of waffle fries before I eat your firstborn instead.

Long version of the boundary list

Not sure how effective this section is gonna be. I've been told many times that DNIs don't work, but I'll include one anyways just because. It's less of a "Pwetty pwease don't look at my blog UwU" and more of a "If you're any of the things on this list I will block you on sight." So here are some ground rules.

DNI/You will be blocked on sight if you are a TERF, a racist, a transphobe, basically a bigot of any kind, a pedophile, a zoophile, a necrophile, pretty much if you have any kind of paraphilia that actively causes harm to someone or is just straight up gross, if you condone or consume loli/shotacon/cub content, if you condone or consume feral nsfw, if you are a trump supporter, if you are a zionist, or if you are a right winger of any kind. That's all I could think of for the DNI, you don't have to take it seriously I know that DNIs do not work. But I'm just putting this here so that you know that if you are any of the things on this list, you will be blocked on sight. This list is subject to change in the future.

Don't come into the askbox of this blog asking me to donate stuff or boost your posts. I'm not saying that I wouldn't do it, I'm just saying that I want to keep this blog to just being personal stuff. Normally I'd say go to my main blog, @rydrake6, but I'm taking a break right now to think about stuff.

My DMs are open, just don't be a dick. (Also keep in mind that I have pretty bad social anxiety and just bad social skills in general, or so I think, so I might be a little bit awkward.)

Breaking the boundaries listed above will lead to you getting blocked.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Music made me love you, chapter 5

Determent to go back to his house in Richmond, he left his bag and only took his laptop with him. His mother had called him, while he was in that pub with Cora and Sorcha. It was a coincidence that he stepped inside. He had not even planned to go to a pub, but once he finished his new piece, he noticed that he was out of music paper. Nearby the pub that he ended in, there was a small music store, which sold special sheet music. With his new paper on him, he decided to drink a pint, so he stepped inside the pub. Once he stood at the bar, he saw a familiar figure sitting outside in the garden. He was not sure if he should go to her. It was starting to look like he was stalking her. Especially since he had run into her on the street. Technically she run into him, he chuckled. He stared at her for a while and then knew that he needed to talk to her. He wanted to know everything about her. She was fully engaged in her writing, and it was a wonderful sight. Her curls were hanging lose, although she had tried to keep it out of her face. It looked like she had just made a knot in her hair. He probably did not see it correctly, because he could not imagine how that was possible. Before he reached her table he smelled her perfume. It was a flowery sweet sent, like she was herself. He had remembered the wine she drank the night he and John met her the first time. He loved that she just went to a pub to write, he had imagined she would write at home. But this was so much more romantic, taking your notebook and just sit anywhere you want and write. She must have a lot of talent to be able to do that. He could not play with audience, not yet at least. He always closed the curtains, so nobody could look into his windows and watch him. He did not think he would ever play for public. He would sell his music as records, but live concerts were not something he imagined himself doing. The subway doors closed, and he was woken up of his musings.

If it were up to his mother, he would never make a record at all. Let alone play live concerts. She wanted him to take over from his father already. The only reason why that it had not happened was because his father wanted him to enjoy his freedom for now. He would be tied to the business and the estate long enough. His mother had called him just now and ordered him to come home. He needed to come to their London home right now, she refused to answer his questions, but he could hear in her voice, that it was useless to try and argue. He was summoned and should listen; it was that easy. His phone rang again, this time it was Rosamund. She rarely called him; their relationship was a good one. But at the same time, they rarely saw each other outside of the family meetings. Rosamund had her Marmaduke who kept her busy. Rosamund also tried to stay out of the family business as much as she could, she had made the decision that she did not want to be involved. His parents had tried to keep her inside the business, but they failed. Rosamund was a strong-willed woman, who not let other people tell her what she should do. He sometimes wondered how Marmaduke could deal with that, but it could be that she was a lot softer with him. Their mother did not make it easy for Rosamund. As firstborn she should have been a boy, it felt like Violet Blamed her for not being a boy. Despite the fact that Robert was born not much later and was therefore the heir.

"Speaking of the devil." He answered his phone.

"I do not like jokes like that." Rosamund said.

"It is a saying that when you talk or think about somebody and they walk in, or in this case call you. You say that. But never mind, I am sorry. What is up?"

"Where are you?"

"On my way home. What is so urgent? Mama already called me that I need to come to their London home. First of all, why are they not staying in my apartment? I do not understand why they opened the London home. Mama needs to learn that my apartment is as good."

"You perfectly know that your home does not have staff to help. So of course it is not as good. I also do not understand how you can live without at least a butler."

"Why would I have a butler? I am alone and am old enough to take care of myself. I do not need a man to hand me my slippers."

"At least you have a housekeeper, who keeps your house clean. That is something. You need to change your direction. Papa is brought into the hospital, and I am not sure how long you will have."

Robert swallowed. "What do you mean, how long I will have? What happened? What is wrong with Papa?"

"He had a stroke, or at least, Mama thinks it was a stroke. The ambulance took him to the hospital with sirens and all."

"What hospital are you? I am almost at my stop at Westminster."

+++

Robert took a deep breath before he entered the hospital. He was not sure what he would encounter. Was his father still alive? He did not know, and it made him nervous. He met his mother in the hallway.

As always, she was perfectly styled, and you could not tell that she had just rushed her husband into the hospital. He could not stand his mother's calmness in moments like this. As if she did not care about anything, where were her emotions?

"Mama?" He tried to get her attention, and when she turned around, he could see in her eyes that she was not that composed as he had thought on first glance. Her eyes were red lined, and she pressed a handkerchief against her nose. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.

She was taken aback for a few seconds, but then she pushed him away gently and said, "That is enough, dear."

"Mama, what happened, is Papa...?" He could not say the words.

"No, your father is not dead. But he had a stroke and will need to stay in the hospital for quite some time. He lost function of his left arm and leg."

She told it as if she was ordering a sandwich. Her face was also without emotion again. A true English lady, who did not show emotions. Robert sighed; he knew he was the same himself. Showing emotion was not natural to him, but this felt eerily cold. "Is he inside this room?" Robert pointed at the door behind Violet.

"Yes he. Your sister is with him."

"Can I go in?"

"Of course you can." Violet sounded as if he had asked to most stupid question ever. Robert shrugged his shoulders and walked into the room where his father was. It was a private room, at the end there was a bed, where a small figure laid down. Rosamund sat at his bedside, brushing his hand. Robert softly placed his hand on her shoulder. "Hi." He said softly.

"Ssstt. He is sleeping."

Robert looked at his father’s face, besides the lopsided mouth, he looked peaceful. His skin tone was weirdly grey though. "How is he doing, do you know?"

"Did Mama not tell you?"

Robert pulled a chair next to Rosamund. "You know Mama."

Rosamund briefly touched his arm. "He is doing, according to the circumstances, alright. The doctors are not sure if he will ever walk again or use his left arm. But they also say it is too early to really tell. For now, they keep him sleeping, he is not put into a coma, but they gave him something, so he sleeps. The bleeding in his brain has stopped, but there is quit some pressure still, that needs to go down, before they will wake him up. If it does not go down fast enough, they will need to operate."

"That sounds serious, do they know how it happened? Did he fall?"

"Brain bleeds can happen out of nowhere; Mama told me that Papa complained about a headache for days already."

Robert sighed. "Of course, he only complained but did not do anything."

"Would you go to a doctor with a headache?" Rosamund looked at him.

Robert felt ashamed, because of course he would also not go to a doctor for just a headache. "Let us hope, he will recover."

"You will need to take over the business for now." Rosamund went on in a business tone. "I will also join you and help where I can."

Robert blinked a couple of times, of course he was needed in the business now. But he was not prepared to hear it just now. He sighed.

"Robert, you know you are Papa's successor; it would have happened regardless. It is only happening a little bit earlier than we had hoped. But does it really matter?

Could Robert tell Rosamund about his dreams? Could he tell her that he had learned how to play the piano. Could he tell her that he had met somebody that he was attracted to and that he wanted to have close to him. No, he could not tell her these things, especially not now. It would be selfish, the family business had priority over his personal life. As Rosamund said, it was something that would have happened. He would push his dreams aside; he could dig them up one day. But for now, he would bury them.

[swanhild]

I agree with the person who said that Curufin had the exact same potential to do great things as his father and his son, but at first he was too wrapped up in Feanor/too focused on pleasing him to really branch out on his own and then the oath and subsequent war against Morgoth happened and he shifted all his mental focus and energy towards developing weaponry and armor and so on. Something he was good at, but didn't find particularly mentally stimulating or enjoyable. In my post-canon headcanons/fic that I dream of writing one day Curufin will be the one to eventually invent photography, however. A huge hit with the wider populace of Valinor who don't necessarily have Finwean-style money to have portraits of their babies or weddings done by a professional painter.

He also learns to detangle his existence from Feanor's post-canon (I headcanon he gets released from the Halls before Feanor does) and goes through some personal growth. He also manages to repair his relationships with Celebrimbor and Finrod during that time and grows closer to Nerdanel. He and Celebrimbor actually start collaborating on a whole bunch of projects together and the two of them are directly or partly responsibly for a lot of technologial innovations and revolutions in post-canon Valinor (I mean sure, Curufin is #problematic, but the things he comes up with are just too good/tempting to ignore. And Celebrimbor is okay in most people's books anyway, so...)

I personally am a Curufinrod shipper, but whether platonically or romantically, I think Curufin has a lot of strong feelings about Finrod, most of them quite overwhelming and difficult to deal with for him. And his tried and true method for dealing with such feelings is repressing them. Until he can't anymore and things get crazy. But anyway, one of the more straightforward and normal feelings he has towards Finrod is gratefulness for taking care of Tyelpe after he was re-embodied. I headcanon that Celebrimbor was re-embodied before Curufin and was and still rather unwell by that point, which caused Curufin a lot of worry. Celebrimbor canonically loves Finrod and I think the feeling is mutual (Finrod thinks of him as a son, in a way), so I feel it makes sense for Finrod to be there for Celebrimbor during that time period.

He's a disaster bisexual with internalised homophobia and everything else @gardensofthemoon mentioned on that subject.

He used to have a crush on Aredhel when he was a kid/teen and is still very fond of her.

He secretly craves affection and attention though under normal cicumstances he'd rather bite off his tongue than admit that out loud (or even to himself most of the time). Luckily for him, I headcanon Celegorm as being quite affectionate with the people he loves (in a very casual, easy-going, dude bro-y sort of way: he will slap people on the back, casually drop his arm around them and/or pull them into hugs, ruffle his younger brothers' hair etc.) Curufin will act annoyed with Celegorm when he does these kinds of things, but really, he doesn't mind at all. (In time, Curufin does get better at expressing his wants and needs though, and other people, like Finrod, also begin to understand this about him, so it all works out in the end.)

He's actually rather conflict-averse and tends to avoid direct confrontation in favor of scheming and manipulating his way through life. Direct confrontation rarely goes well for him when he does try, so he leaves that kind of thing Celegorm for the most part. (Another avantage of having Celegorm around. And Celegorm doesn't mind fighting some of Curufin's battles for him).

The siblings he has the most difficult relationships with are Maedhros and Caranthir: When he was younger Curufin felt somewhat resentful and jealous towards Maedhros for being the firstborn son (it should have been him, obviously). He claims Maedhros is doing a terrible job of being their father's heir by frequently going against Feanor or what Feanor would have wanted. A part of him admires Maedhros for being able to stand up to their father and following his own mind, but another part of him is just about self-aware enough to realize that this makes Maedhros more similar to Feanor than Curufin could ever be and resents Maedhros even more for it. He also can't help but feel that Maedhros can read him like an open book (which is true) and in his most paranoid moments Curufin is convinced that Maedhros thinks him pathetic and all kinds of other things he secretly fears about himself. Caranthir can also see right through Curufin, but unlike Maedhros, he doesn't mince his words and very bluntly says what he thinks of Curufin or his actions right to his face. Caranthir is also very close in age to Curufin and doesn't really have Maedhros' older brother instinct of "must protect my little sibling and be nice to him even when he's being a terrible brat". This means that Caranthir can and will say things that cut Curufin right to the core (and which will keep him awake at night because he can't stop thinking about them.)

He is what would nowadays be called neurodivergent (like most of his family) and has a bunch of very specific hyperfixations and interests that only very few people can relate to.

He also suffers from anxiety (something he has in common with Maedhros) and used to bite his nails when he was younger. He still does it sometimes, but he thinks it's a shameful habit and tries very hard not to.

He loves Celebrimbor above all else and genuinely tried his best as a parent (although he didn't always succeed and failed quite badly a couple of times). But particularly when Celebrimbor was younger? I really think he was a pretty involved and good father to him. Also is super proud of Celebrimbor (and Celebrimbor outdoing him bothers him much less than he himself being unable to live up to Feanor).

He usually calls people he loves by their mother names (incl. Celegorm, Celebrimbor and Finrod), but he himself doesn't like being called Atarinke. Most people he's close with just call him Curvo.

He's quite a picky eater and somewhat embarrassed by that as well (it's immature and childish in his mind), but he just can't bring himself to eat certain things.

I also agree with the people who mentioned him enjoying mathematics (he and Celebrimbor like poring over difficult math problems together in my mind), that dark blues and greens look much better on him than Feanorian red, that he's deeply insecure, that he's a night owl (he'll often stay up all night and sleep during the most random hours of the day) and that he speaks in a soft tone of voice.

Hey fellow people who presumably enjoy curufin. Can you reblog with some curufin hcs? I think we truly need more Curufin Attention (either positive or negative but if you hate him why are you even here) in this fandom and I will be the change the world desperately needs. Cheers

[jam-art]

after all this time... an OC 😳 this is bíborka, she’s a character i made with the worlds of hungarian pagan mythology and hungarian folk tales in mind (her eyes are a tribute to the star-eyed shepherd, and the upside down heart shaped mole on her breast might be a familiar motif from the birthmarks of the princess).

she’s one of all those firstborns promised to the ördög (devil), except her parents didn’t come up with any smart tricks to win her back lmao, so she grew up in hell raised by wiccas, and as such became a semi-malevolent fae specializing in wine- and festival-related mischief. i am also planning to draw her companion, a romani musician boy (regular human), but he is still in the works

(on ig)

[agentrouka-blog]

Do you think Aegon VI is Rhaegar-critical? Joncon must be a biased source of information, and there's no way he hasn't been at least attempting to poison his mind against Lyanna and his mother.

Hi there! (And sorry for the delay.)

JonCon may personally have been horribly biased against the legally wedded wife of his life-long crush.

Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward. (ADWD, The Griffin Reborn)

But neither has he been raising Aegon by himself, unencumbered by anyone else's input (which is especially relevant if you consider that Lemore may well be her former lady-in-waiting Ashara Dayne). He is also not so stupid as to discount the value that Elia's name adds to Aegon's cause.

 My lords, I give you Aegon Targaryen, firstborn son of Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, by Princess Elia of Dorne … soon, with your help, to be Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, King of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms." (...)

Griff had heard enough of the captain-general’s cowardice. “We will not be alone. Dorne will join us, must join us. Prince Aegon is Elia’s son as well as Rhaegar’s.” “That’s so,” the boy said, “and who is there left in Westeros to oppose us? A woman.” (ADWD, The Lost Lord)

And he is quick to make use of it, personal feelings aside.

To Prince Doran of House Martell, You will remember me, I pray. I knew your sister well, and was a leal servant of your good-brother. I grieve for them as you do. I did not die, no more than did your sister's son. To save his life we kept him hidden, but the time for hiding is done. A dragon has returned to Westeros to claim his birthright and seek vengeance for his father, and for the princess Elia, his mother. In her name I turn to Dorne. Do not forsake us. Jon Connington Lord of Griffin's Roost Hand of the True King (TWOW, Arianne I)

I sincerely doubt that JonCon would have felt it in his interest to try and turn Aegon against his own mother. Even if he had, we know that Aegon is very well capable of forming his own opinions and making his own decisions.

We have no information about what Aegon thinks of his father, let alone Lyanna. But I find this passage particularly telling:

"You look a proper prince," he told the boy. "Your father would be proud if he could see you." Young Griff ran his fingers through his hair. "I am sick of this blue dye. We should have washed it out." (ADWD, The Lost Lord)

JonCon gives him a very heart-felt compliment that could mean the world to a son trying to live up to the legacy stolen from his family, to his revered late father. But Aegon doesn't react at all. He voices a dismissive opinion, changes the subject to something else, instead. There is no warmth at all in response to these words.

He's interested in his "true father", he reacts to Tyrion's prompt about him, but I doubt that he feels the kind of connection to Rhaegar that would be resistant to questioning his actions.

We already know he is prickly about the events of the Rebellion.

"Elsewise Prince Rhaegar’s friend might have been on hand when my father sacked King’s Landing, to save Prince Rhaegar’s precious little son from getting his royal brains dashed out against a wall.” The lad flushed. “That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner’s son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away.” (ADWD, Tyrion VI)

Why the anger, unless the story is one that doesn't sit right with him? He's overtly dismissive of the child that died in his place, emphasizes the depravity of the father. (The inclusion of the mother's death in childbirth is more than likely an invocation of Lyanna's fate by GRRM.) The worthless tanner abandoned his child for a taste of something new. Sound like anyone we may have heard of before?

I'd say GRRM is preparing a confrontation with his "true father" for Aegon, in terms of examining how he and his mother and sister were equally abandoned. This is a mental place where his immersion in his Dornish family and his probable confrontation with Jon Snow, whose own mother was also a victim of Rhaegar, can all connect and lead to an examination of what Targaryen kingship is all about. (Hint: it's dragon-based oppression.)

From that place, Aegon can become Dany's antagonist in a role beyond mere rivalry over the metal chair but in terms of a larger conflict: fighting Dany becomes about preventing her from taking absolute and unaccountable power in the name of House Targaryen once more. Instead of fighting for his father's side, he would be fighting for everything informed by his mother's side: Westeros, Dorne, the Rhoynar. People, not dragons.

I'd say everything points to GRRM setting up events to go that way.