#though we probably ought to do those in another post lol sigh

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Sorry for the late reply! In a situation where Lord Appropriate marries Lysa, you're correct with your second guess-- their kids would not be involved in the succession of the Vale. The heir to the Vale, Robert's heir, would be (as it is now) Harry Hardyng, who is his closest relative on his father's side and the only other living descendant of Jasper Arryn (Jon's father). And after Harry, presumably the Gulltown Arryns or, if they exist, descendants of Jon's grandfather, etc.

If Donella had married Ramsay voluntarily -- or anyone, say Rodrik Cassel -- she would not have been able to name him heir to Hornwood. The Widow's Law means she can't be forced to leave Hornwood, that she has use rights of the castle and lands, but she can't bestow them as an heir to Hornwood, as she is not a Hornwood herself. She could appoint someone as protector (note I'm not sure if this title is ever used without the Lord part, but the role would be the same as Lord Protector), someone to act as the (male) guardian of the lands and lead its armies, which is difficult for women to do on their own in this patriarchy -- and for all practical purposes people might treat him as the lord*, more on that in a moment with the Bronn situation -- but it would not be, per the basic laws and customs of Westeros, a position inherited by his children (should he have any). Mind you, politics could change this! If you look at the Hornwood heir candidates presented to Bran (Robb's proxy), there are Hornwood female line descendants in Houses Karstark, Flint, and Tallhart, and the suggestion is made that one of them change their name to Hornwood should they be appointed heir by Lord (King) Robb Stark. Technically this heir appointment and name change could also be done with a non-relative (or even a non-noble!), if the overlord chose to do so, but the continuity of blood inheritance via family members, even distant ones, is part of the whole societal illusion of noble families in the first place. We wouldn't want the smallfolk asking inconvenient questions or thinking they're as worthy as anyone else, now would we.

*note a lord also has the right of pit and gallows, the power to imprison or serve justice to his smallfolk. I'm not sure a non-lord protector could legally do so, that right might have to go upwards to Lord Stark in the meanwhile.

And yeah, Bronn and Lollys's marriage is a perfect example of the issues here! Cersei offered Lollys to Bronn as a bribe because she figured a lowborn sellsword would jump at the chance to get in with nobility, and she knew that Lady Tanda would accept a lowborn sellsword as a husband for her daughter because they were fucking desperate. (Since said unwed daughter, as you know, was a second daughter, mentally disabled, not pretty, and extremely pregnant from a very publicly known** gangrape.) But like Bronn told Tyrion, though Lollys was the heir, her older sister had been married for 10 years with no kids, and could easily die before her elderly mother (hint, hint). As it was, Bronn didn't actually have to follow up on those hints himself, as Cersei's not-thinking-things-through ended up with Falyse's husband dead, Falyse tossed out on her ass, fleeing to KL, and soon dead or worse from Qyburn, and Lady Tanda dead from pneumonia after breaking her hip, and thus Lollys as the only heir. (More on this here, since you're interested.)

**Among others, Littlefinger included that info in the KL news he was sharing with the Tyrells to encourage Loras to join the Kingsguard to protect Margaery. Everyone in Westeros knows about poor Lollys.

All fair and above board and nobody cares about Stokeworth anyway, right? Right? Nope! Back to Falyse getting tossed out on her ass after her husband died. How did that happen?

"Bronn put a dagger in his eye, and told me I had best be gone from Stokeworth before the sun went down or I'd get the same. He said he'd pass me around to the g-g-garrison, if any of them would have me. When I ordered Bronn seized, one of his knights had the insolence to say that I should do as Lord Stokeworth said. He called him Lord Stokeworth!" Lady Falyse clutched at the queen's hand. "Your Grace must give me knights. A hundred knights! And crossbowmen, to take my castle back. Stokeworth is mine! They would not even permit me to gather up my clothes! Bronn said they were his wife's clothes now, all my s-silks and velvets."

As Lollys's husband, Bronn had no legal right whatsoever to Stokeworth. Falyse was the heir. But Bronn did have an army, a bunch of sellswords and hedge knights he'd hired to hang out in Stokeworth, and in Westeros, when someone says "you and what army?" it's really helpful when you have one. Bronn could throw Falyse out of Stokeworth because he threatened her with death or rape if she stayed, and she didn't have enough loyal men to deal with his. His men, who are calling him Lord Stokeworth. Bronn is not Lord Stokeworth, he is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, husband of Lady Lollys Stokeworth, stepfather of the infant Tyrion Tanner, current heir to Stokeworth (god save the poor boy), and probable future father of the actual legitimate Stokeworth heir. But, as Lollys is just happy to be treated relatively nicely and wear silks and velvets, if Bronn says his mentally disabled sweet little wife appointed him Lord Protector with his big strong army to guard her and her lands, nobody will say otherwise.

Well. Cersei might say otherwise, but she'd have to reveal all the Bronn-murder-plot-gone-wrong or the I-gave-Falyse-to-my-necromancer-and-now-she's-parts situation and she really doesn't want to do so. She can declare Bronn is illegally occupying Stokeworth and try to throw him out (though again, with what army?), and hope nobody actually asks how he did so, but again, Bronn could bar the gates, stand on the battlements, and produce a happy and smiling Lollys with a baby in her arms, and it's hard to overcome that sort of public image. And Cersei knows that, which is one of the reasons she so desperately asked Qyburn if Falyse was still available (spoilers: she was not).

But besides all these schemes of inheritance and Cersei fuck-ups, why does Stokeworth actually matter? Well. It's easily overlooked, but that castle and lands is the biggest local source of food for King's Landing. There's the fish in the bay, and imports via the Roseroad and Riverroad etc, but within the Crownlands, Stokeworth is very important to KL. When the dragons were alive, hundreds of cattle and sheep and goats came from the Stokeworth lands every day to feed them. Even without the dragons, a lot of food still comes from there to feed the people of the city. (Note that Littlefinger didn't care about Stokeworth because he's not interested in local power, and he knew he had Lysa on a string.) Another big local source of food is Rosby... and Cersei gone and done fucked up the heir situation there too. And furthermore, as we learned from the Dance, Rosby and Stokeworth are very significant locations if you have to flee the city... which Cersei very much might.

Anyway, hope this all helps! Any further questions, just let me know.

Something I haven't seen brought up much with the ramsay vs manderly horn wood question is about Donella Hornwoods own claim to those lands. She's not a Hornwoods by blood, but by marriage, so she would only have widow's use rights (which I believe are the rights to live there and be supported). Hornwood would need to pass to the next blood claimant or revert to the crown to dispense with if one can't be found. This is why I'm especially confused as to how she can name Ramsay inheritor in a will to lands she doesn't own. (Whereas Catelyn clearly doesn't have the power to will winterfell to Arya over Jon despite being in the same position as the widowed Dowager Queen/Lady)

Instead, it's the manderlys and the bolton at odds over who owns that land, both through Donella, even though she herself doesn't seem to have actual inheritance rights to it. (As opposed to Sansa Stark, who is a blood claimant so Tyrion could legally rule winterfell through her) In any case I think the real crux of the issue, like with the forced marriage, is bigger army diplomacy. Bran mentions a bastard, but unless said bastard can raise an army or get the millitary support of a larger faction, those lands are going to the bolton or the manderlys.

I imagine there isn't a blood relative with any real millitary backing or roose and wyman wouldn't be going through all this trouble for someone who technically only has widow's use rights.

Ultimately, because armies are honestly the biggest decider of succession law in westeros (Aegon II acknowledged as king over Rhaenrya I in histories because he won the war, Maegor over Aegon the uncrowned because he won the war, even the Tyrell's claim to highgarden being a bit dodgy in terms of blood relations but backed up by the targaryen millitary power of the time etc), whether or not Donellas's marriage and contract are going to be considered valid according to history will depend on who is in power. Should the boltons be toppled, I think the new lord/lady/king/queen of the north will suddenly be hearing a lot of arguments about the legality of vows forced at sword point that no one dares take to roose bolton now.

hello anon, thank you for your thoughtful message!! the hornwood marriage and its fallout is one of my favorite subplots of the series so i'm always thrilled to talk about it.

while i agree with your final conclusion that armies are the biggest decider of succession law in westeros (i talked about this here re: lord manderly and his squatting on hornwood after donella's death), i think you're underselling donella's legal claim to hornwood as lord hornwood's widow as they apply to her lord husband.

look at lysa tully, jon arryn's widow:

agot, chapter 34, catelyn vi

you could say that lysa only has a claim to the vale because she has the men to back it. lady hornwood is alone. her son and her husband were killed, and the majority if not all of her household guard were killed as well. she is the last remnant of house hornwood.

the degree to which wives who marry into greathouses are integrated into that breathouse is variable. cat, as a notable example, calls herself a stark as often as she calls herself a tully. tyrion (and others i think) calls her a shewolf. she considers herself an outsider, a riverlander in the north, but as the series progresses and especially after ned's death she speaks about herself in her private thoughts and aloud in public as a stark of winterfell. cersei, on the other hand, would drop dead before she called herself a baratheon. and lysa falls moreso in the middle, where she is called lysa tully and after the death of her husband is often reminded of/aligned with her familial connections to house tully, but absolutely considers herself Of The Vale, even though she's spent about fourteen years in king's landing with jon serving as robert's hand. (donella, for as long as we know her, is always and by everyone referred to as lady hornwood, never donella manderly).

so one could argue that lysa tully is pointedly not an arryn, and is only holding the vale because her son is a blood claimant AND she has tully and arryn forces to support her own claim in the meantime.

but suitors are beating down lysa's door because they want the vale. and the vale would pass to them as the new head of the vale and defacto head of house arryn. i was going to use ramsay as an example but his bastard status makes this more complicated so let's pick a legitimate second son. why can't i think of anyone.

actually, let's say tyrion, since you also mentioned sansa's blood rights to winterfell.

tyrion is heir by blood to casterly rock, since jaime is a knight of the kingsguard and thus unable to inherit. let's axe that because it also makes things more complicated. jaime leaves the kingsguard as tywin wants him to do and he inherits casterly rock and becomes warden of the west. this leaves tyrion a second son with no blood claim to casterly rock (similar to the blackfish, who left house tully to go with lysa to the vale and serve house arryn. i didn't use him as an example because lysa's husband also being a tully would muddy the waters of an example that is already stretched pretty thin). so tyrion marries lysa tully. tyrion is now lord of the vale, stepfather to lord robert aryn. tyrion's first order of business would be siring a son on his new wife so that lord baby lannister-tully would become the new heir to the vale, trumping robert arryn's claim. all of this would come from lysa tully's claim to the vale, as the widow of jon arryn.

importantly, donella hornwood is considered an elligible marriage prospect by the men at winterfell, even if she is too old to have children.

Midday came and went. Maester Luwin sent Poxy Tym down to the kitchens, and they dined in the solar on cheese, capons, and brown oatbread. While tearing apart a bird with fat fingers, Lord Wyman made polite inquiry after Lady Hornwood, who was a cousin of his. “She was born a Manderly, you know. Perhaps, when her grief has run its course, she would like to be a Manderly again, eh?” He took a bite from a wing, and smiled broadly. “As it happens, I am a widower these past eight years. Past time I took another wife, don’t you agree, my lords? A man does get lonely.” Tossing the bones aside, he reached for a leg. “Or if the lady fancies a younger lad, well, my son Wendel is unwed as well. He is off south guarding Lady Catelyn, but no doubt he will wish to take a bride on his return. A valiant boy, and jolly. Just the man to teach her to laugh again, eh?” He wiped a bit of grease off his chin with the sleeve of his tunic.

acok, chapter 16, bran ii

here we see lord manderly scheming to get the hornwood lands by marriage, for either himself or his son

Bran wanted to give the lady a hundred men to defend her rights, but Ser Rodrik only said, “He may look, but should he do more I promise you there will be dire retribution. You will be safe enough, my lady … though perhaps in time, when your grief is passed, you may find it prudent to wed again.”

“I am past my childbearing years, what beauty I had long fled,” she replied with a tired half smile, “yet men come sniffing after me as they never did when I was a maid.”

“You do not look favorably on these suitors?” asked Luwin.

“I shall wed again if His Grace commands it,” Lady Hornwood replied, “but Mors Crowfood is a drunken brute, and older than my father. As for my noble cousin of Manderly, my lord’s bed is not large enough to hold one of his majesty, and I am surely too small and frail to lie beneath him.”

Bran knew that men slept on top of women when they shared a bed. Sleeping under Lord Manderly would be like sleeping under a fallen horse, he imagined. Ser Rodrik gave the widow a sympathetic nod. “You will have other suitors, my lady. We shall try and find you a prospect more to your taste.”

“Perhaps you need not look very far, ser.” After she had taken her leave, Maester Luwin smiled. “Ser Rodrik, I do believe my lady fancies you.” Ser Rodrik cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable.

acok, chapter 26, bran ii

and here we see donella both acknowledging her many suitors and flirting with ser rodrik (cute!!!)

immediately after this though we get a more pragmatic breakdown of why donella's dead husband and son cause issues politically:

“She was very sad,” said Bran.

Ser Rodrik nodded. “Sad and gentle, and not at all uncomely for a woman of her years, for all her modesty. Yet a danger to the peace of your brother’s realm nonetheless.”

“Her?” Bran said, astonished. Maester Luwin answered. “With no direct heir, there are sure to be many claimants contending for the Hornwood lands. The Tallharts, Flints, and Karstarks all have ties to House Hornwood through the female line, and the Glovers are fostering Lord Harys’s bastard at Deepwood Motte. The Dreadfort has no claim that I know, but the lands adjoin, and Roose Bolton is not one to overlook such a chance.”

Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. “In such cases, her liege lord must find her a suitable match.”

“Why can’t you marry her?” Bran asked. “You said she was comely, and Beth would have a mother.” The old knight put a hand on Bran’s arm. “A kindly thought, my prince, but I am only a knight, and besides too old. I might hold her lands for a few years, but as soon as I died Lady Hornwood would find herself back in the same mire, and Beth’s prospects might be perilous as well.”

“Then let Lord Hornwood’s bastard be the heir,” Bran said, thinking of his half brother Jon. Ser Rodrik said, “That would please the Glovers, and perhaps Lord Hornwood’s shade as well, but I do not think Lady Hornwood would love us. The boy is not of her blood.”

“Still,” said Maester Luwin, “it must be considered. Lady Donella is past her fertile years, as she said herself. If not the bastard, who?”

“May I be excused?” Bran could hear the squires at their swordplay in the yard below, the ring of steel on steel.

acok, chapter 26, bran ii

so we're right back to the point where you and i totally agree. the only thing that REALLY decides inheritance rights in westeros is the point of a sword.

which wheels us back to my longstanding point (arrived at throughout my first reread and with the help of many friendly mutuals and anons who contributed to my understanding of the issue) that ramsay kidnapping donella hornwood and marrying her at swordpoint is unusual because he is an unrecognized illegitimate bastard when he does it, but is at the end of the day not that much more brutal or unheard of than any other run of the mill marriage in westeros.

so donella here is like a vector through which the hornwood lands would pass. lysa's situation with the vale is similar, though her claim to the keep and its lands is stronger because she has a living heir AND both tully and arryn forces to guard her claim.

ramsay banked on the dreadfort's forces to protect him from the ramifications of kidnapping raping and murdering a noblewoman AND to hold the hornwood lands. the dreadfort forces could do neither. but the marriage was not a total loss politically since as i have said, ramsay is the legal claimant to the hornwood lands, AND roose has an interest in holding those lands as well so he would back his claim if it came to it.

as with all things in westeros, whoever carries the biggest stick wins the day, regardless of written law or unwritten social custom.

so at the end of the day, i think donella's legal rights to hornwood are strong only insofar as they serve her new lord husband, who stands to inherit her land. which. actually reading over all this again i think it is accurate of you to say that donella only has widow's rights for as long as she does not remarry. but that is less to do with westerosi legal code (nonexistant) and more to do with hornwood having no military strength left AND their leige lords the starks being stretched too thin with the WoFK to lend their help before it's too late to do so.

donella can will her lands to her new husband ramsay because she would have functionally been doing to same thing if lord manderly or his son married her. or if ser rodrik married her. donella has claim over hornwood only insofar as she can give it to her lord husband.

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 5

Aaaand here we are, second offering in the Escape!AU, though this is... third I think?... if we’re going by internal chronology of what I’ve got so far. I’m not even going to try to track that as we go, though, because of the whole still-adding-more-as-I-go-along thing. I’ll figure that shit out when the AO3 post gets made, lol. 

Have some EVEN MORE FEELINGS realization, friends! And also some sad, because y’know, Whumptober. 

With the rest of Damien’s family being pagan, I also had this headcanon that his relationship with them was pretty well trashed after he joined the Church, and that the Matriarch of Ganji had kind of... honorarily adopted him, and that they were still super close, and that’s why she backed him so firmly against the Patriarch’s bullshit. Having that headcanon, though, made me wonder - what must she have thought, when she heard about certain developmens?

Day 5 - Theme Chosen: Betrayal

Damien eyed the pile of letters with some trepidation. He had only meant to grab a few belongings from his rented room in Jaggonath before abandoning it permanently – the world needed to believe that he and Gerald had perished at Mount Shaitan, so he couldn't exactly tell the landlord that he wasn't coming back, but he'd wanted to pick up a few of the items he'd brought with him across the Dividers before he and Gerald left the city for good. He hadn't expected a pile of letters to be laying on the front hall rug, having clearly accumulated during the journey to Shaitan and back.

Gerald was currently at Alesha Huyding's house, convincing the woman to let them take the rest of Senzei's journals on the Iezu for their own project. They were supposed to meet at Karril's temple in less than an hour; Damien definitely didn't have time to read these all. He scooped the pile off the floor and started flipping through them quickly, discarding the majority of them at a glance. Most of them were notes from his fellow clergy members at the Jaggonath Cathedral, wondering where he'd disappeared to; there were a few unpaid bills from local merchants, and one heavy linen envelope with a golden seal that he knew must be his official notice of excommunication. The sight of it made his chest ache, but it was nothing compared to the shock that ran through him at the last letter.

The envelope from the very bottom of the stack was also fine quality, though it lacked the ostentatious gold seal, instead being tied shut with a red ribbon. Even at a glance, though, Damien recognized the delicate hand that had traced out the address of the Jaggonath Cathedral – it seemed the letter had gone there first, and been redirected to his temporary apartment when the messenger learned that Damien was no longer employed by the Church.

The letter was from the Matriarch of the Cathedral in Ganji-on-the-Cliffs.

Guilt pooled in his chest like icy water, and Damien cursed softly. Stuffing the two Church envelopes in his jacket pocket, he left the rest of the letters on the kitchen table and went to gather what he'd come for in the first place. There would be time enough later to deal with the two he'd kept; neither of them, he suspected, were going to be an easy read.

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

He ended up putting off looking at the letters for a few days. Between gathering everything they would need to get them to another city, and tying up any loose ends they'd left behind, he actually managed to more or less forget about the envelopes tucked away in his pocket. Gerald had decided that their best bet was to head back northeast, retracing their steps yet again to get some distance from Jaggonath now that they had what they needed from the city; Damien wasn't any more keen on running into any familiar faces than the adept was, and agreed that it was probably the safest plan. Ensuring that they remained anonymous was enough to keep his mind occupied on the road, and it wasn't until they stopped at a dae three nights later that he remembered.

They'd both had their fill of sleeping on the unforgiving ground as winter crept closer again, and when the dae had come into view, they had agreed with only a glance that they could afford the minor risk  of dealing with the residents if it meant getting to sleep in proper beds for a night. Damien negotiated for their rooms while Gerald saw that the horses were stabled comfortably, and they met up in the common room of the dae, at a small table in the corner farthest from the light of the fire. As they sat down, though, Damien made to tuck the room key into his pocket – and his fingers brushed the envelopes still tucked into his jacket.

Either his face had shown his dismay or Gerald had felt it through their link, because the adept turned to look at him immediately, grey eyes narrowed in concern.

“What's wrong?”

“It's nothing urgent, just...” Damien pulled the letters out, feeling dread settle into his gut like a stone. “There were some letters that had been slipped under my apartment door, when I went back to get my things. Most of them weren't important, but I kept these two. I meant to look at them later that day, but – I forgot.”

Gerald's gaze fell on the golden seal of the Cathedral on the top one, and Damien heard his sudden, sharp breath. The former Knight's mouth twisted in a bitter half-smile.

“Yeah, I think we both know what that one is. This one, though...”

He pulled the other envelope out and set it on top, his heart in his throat. Gerald frowned at it, then glanced up at him.

“Who is this one from?”

“The Matriarch. In Ganji,” Damien whispered. “I wrote to her when we were sailing back from the Eastern Continent, telling her everything that had happened. The Master of Lema, what we'd discovered about the rakh, the Undying Prince... you.”

The adept went very still. He was rather like a hunting hawk in that way, a distant part of Damien's mind observed; when they laid eyes on their prey, such birds would freeze, in a manner that could look almost like a prey response itself unless one knew what to look for. In reality, the bird was preparing for the swift, sure, devastating movement of an attack – but the only warning you would get was that unnatural stillness.

“This is her response.” The soft words weren't a question. Damien sighed deeply, rolling his shoulders back in a fruitless attempt to shed some of the tension.

“Yes. And probably more, given that I'm fairly sure the Patriarch wrote to her as well – she likely knows by now that I've been thrown out of the Order, even if she hasn't yet heard about our... tragic demises.” He looked up and forced himself to meet Gerald's gaze steadily, feeling the prickling anticipation through the bond, the chill creeping over his skin. When he spoke, he kept his voice very low, not wanting to speak too loudly even though Gerald had put up a Warding when they sat down that would keep anyone from eavesdropping on them.

“I know you're hungry. Take what you need. This is going to be miserable for me either way.”

Gerald's eyes flashed, but the adept only inclined his head slightly, a silent gratitude. Damien swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat, then reached with shaking hands to untie the ribbon and unfold the letter.

My dear son,

I hope you will forgive my informality. I know that, as the Holy Mother, I ought to have worded this more properly – but at the moment, I care nothing for propriety, so long as I can reach you.

Your letters have given me enough nightmares for a lifetime. This demon that conspires to corrupt our world, Calesta, is all that the Church most dreads; not a passive evil, but an all too active one, darkening the minds of men and swaying them to its nefarious cause. I was horror-struck to learn of the men and women that willingly served it, and what it plans for our world, but those concerns too have paled in comparison to the chill that fell over me when I read what you had written of our fallen Prophet.

Damien. If ever you felt, as I did, that our bond was that of true family – that you were my son in more than the titles that the Church proscribes, that I cared for you as I would have for a child of my flesh – then I beg of you, in the name of that bond... turn aside. I do not need it written out to know that you hope to save Gerald Tarrant, to redeem him from his dark deeds and guide him back into the light of God. I cannot stress enough how much I fear for you if you pursue such a path. There are some choices that a man cannot make without altering who he is forever, and some roads are too dark to retrace one's steps. You cannot save him. God's greatest gift is forgiveness, but a man such as that will not accept it, for to do so he would have to admit that his deeds require forgiveness – to admit that he has become a monster, and repent of what he has done. A man like Gerald Tarrant can never do that.

If you try to save him, I am certain that he will poison you. Slowly, no doubt, and subtly, for to have survived all that he has the Hunter must be a devious creature indeed – but inexorably, and perhaps, irrevocably. I know you, Damien, and your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness; your incredible determination. It has carried you through so much adversity, and it held you to our faith and cause when your family would have dragged you away... but I fear that it will also keep you from recognizing when you are outmatched, and hold you to your resolve to alter his nature, even as his corruption takes hold. If you are focused only on his redemption, you may not see what is happening until it is too late.

Please come home, Damien. I know it goes against everything we preach, but this once, I reach out to you and speak not as the Holy Mother, but simply as a mother. Come home. Let another fight this war; let the Hunter carry this burden alone, if you truly believe he wishes to make amends. We are all of us sworn to give our lives for the Church, but I beg of you, not like this.

Come home.

With all my love and prayers,

Carla

No title. No Holy Mother. Not her regnal name, Aelia II. Just her given name, as a mother might sign a desperate letter to her son.

Damien didn't know when he'd started to cry, but his eyes burned by the time he reached the end; his cheeks were wet, and his chest ached from staying quiet, even as his whole body shook with silent sobs. He dropped the letter on the table and pressed his hands over his face, past caring if his distress was obvious. No one else in the room was going to notice anything with the Obscuring still in place, and it wasn't as if Gerald needed the visual cues to know that he was upset – with the way he felt, in that moment, the grief and guilt had to be flooding out of him like blood from an arterial wound, staining the fae around him black and crimson.

He'd known, since the night he braved Hell itself to bring the Hunter back, that he was turning his back on everything he'd ever cared for. Not merely his faith, intangible as it was, but also his home, his friends, and his family.

Perhaps his parents and brother would not have disowned him for the choices he had made on this quest – but it was years too late for that to matter, after the way they had fallen out when Damien chose to join the Church. The faith of the One God had forced Damien to distance himself from their aggressively pagan lifestyle, and they had seen his choice as a betrayal, a self-righteous attack on their way of life instead of the deeply personal calling Damien had felt it to be. The only thing that had gotten him through that loss and upheaval had been the support of a woman who, at the time, was just another priestess at the Ganji Cathedral. Mother Carla had been his bedrock of support, his sponsor in the seminary and a gentle voice of reassurance whenever Damien felt himself faltering; by the time Damien was Knighted, she had ascended to the Holy Mother's seat as Matriarch Aelia II, and their bond had been unshakable. It had been Carla who recommended Damien for the experimental program teaching young Workers in Jaggonath, who had seen him off with a warm smile and the assertion that she knew he would do well, and that he would return to Ganji-on-the-Cliffs having shaped a whole generation of new minds.

And Damien had betrayed her.

It wasn't what he meant to do, but what did intent matter when measured against the cold facts of the outcome? He had betrayed the faith they held in common by choosing to forgive the Hunter's centuries of crimes; he had betrayed the Church they both served by thwarting Andrys's attempt at vengeance and helping Gerald elude the Crusade; he had betrayed the personal trust she had placed in him by deserting his duty and turning his back on the very principles that he himself had once preached to the Church's young followers. She had sent him east to further the vision of the Church, and instead he had struck it one of the most staggering blows it had suffered in centuries. She had reached out to him in compassion and love, ready to absolve him of every responsibility if he only turned back... but even if the letter had reached him in time, Damien knew in his heart that it still wouldn't have altered his course.

That, surely, was the bitterest betrayal of all – the knowledge that seared through him and left him shaking and cold and sick. That letter hadn't said anything that he hadn't already, on some level, known; he had held all those arguments with himself a thousand times, those long lonely nights on the road to Mount Shaitan. He had recognized the risk that his own stubbornness was blinding him, recognized that his judgement and morals were compromised, recognized that he was nearing the point of no return. Even with all of that, though, when the moment of choice had come – he hadn't even hesitated. He'd seen the murderous rage in Andrys Tarrant's eyes, known that it was the reckoning for all of Gerald's sins, and he'd still stepped in front of the bolt.

He might not have surfaced from that yawning abyss of despair for a long time, if not for the gentle sensation that ran along the link between himself and Gerald. Unlike the assertive, even imperious force that Damien was used to from the Hunter's power, this was softer, almost inquisitive; a coaxing tug, instead of a firm push. He was still too badly shaken to muster any kind of coherent response within his mind, and a moment later, he felt an equally gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Damien.”

With an effort, the former Knight swallowed back the sounds of pain he wouldn't allow himself to make and lifted his head, blinking through tears at his companion. Gerald had shifted his chair and was sitting close by his side now, one hand raised for that steadying grip on his shoulder, and the look on the adept's face took what little breath Damien had regained away; genuine concern, traces of sorrow and guilt – unmistakable compassion, raw and unpractised and honest. A more human expression than the Hunter's face had worn in centuries, one that no one else would even have believed him capable of.

Damien realized, quite suddenly, that his heart was beating so forcefully that it might have been trying to break free of his ribcage.

He heard himself speak, without consciously deciding to do so.

“I wouldn't change it. Even if I knew, if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn't choose any differently.”

Gerald's grip tightened on his shoulder, and for a moment he just held Damien's gaze, silent. Damien could see the thoughts racing behind his quicksilver eyes, and even with the link, he couldn't read them all – but suddenly he knew, with a certainty so firm that it had to be resonating through the link, that someday he would be able to. They'd been operating on the unspoken understanding that Damien would be helping Gerald fulfill his new goal of establishing proper communication with the Mother of the Iezu, and that their work would keep them together for some time yet, but in that moment Damien knew that it was more than that. He hadn't just chosen betrayal for its own sake, in that moment in the Hunter's Keep; he'd chosen Gerald, and that choice was always going to be there, just like the link that hummed between their souls. They were walking the same path now, and wherever it lead, they would be treading it side by side.

Finally, Gerald spoke, his voice soft but ever so steady; the unwavering voice of a man who had stared Death in the face, and made it bow to him.

“I don't know that I can ever find a way to repay you for that... but I swear, on my life, that I will never make you regret it.”

Damien reached up and took the hand that had gripped his shoulder in his own, lacing their fingers together, the Hunter's once-chill hand now almost warm against his own.

“That's good enough for me.”

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: okaay I am slowly getting back to this two-post a week schedule and yes, I didn’t make it on Sunday. But yay, here it is only a day later, which is a marked improvement! LOL 

Since my A/Ns are where I primarily have time to talk to most of the fandom (well, anyone who reads these anyway ^_^” no obligation of course!) I’ve been bouncing around a new AU in my head that is a) certainly not as expansive as PD and has a definite ending, and b) certainly not as fluffy as PD either. I’ve been writing it on the side (which, admittedly is what’s cutting into my PD writing time) and I’ve boiled it down to two posting options:

I can either bring PD back to once a week (likely Thursday) and post the other on Sunday/some weekend day. OR, I can write on my own time, and then post it all in one go. I don’t really have a preference, though the second option will probably take longer (but might give me more time to make the story better/closer to how I want it??) Sooo I thought I’d throw the thought out there and see what people think? 

Let me know if you’d like, or don’t LOL Either way - with no natural segue - I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

Jenny finds Claire a dress, Claire's reminded of an old friend, and as always, the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Nine: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Ten: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eleven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twelve: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Thirteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Fourteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] Part Fifteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Sixteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seventeen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eighteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Nineteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty-Three: [Chapter 1]

Part Twenty-Three: Timing | Chapter 2

“Ye havena met Willie, have ye?”

Claire pursed her lips, as she thumbed through the rack of dresses. They were on the third boutique that day and, while leisurely shopping her way through town sounded fun in theory, the ever-present time crunch made it all the more stressful.

“He wasn’t at the barbecue, was he?”

“Nay, he was abroad studying.”

Jenny shook her head, clattering hangars against each other as she flipped through a rack. “I promise ye, I taught the lad better.”

“It was an honest mistake, Jenny. An idiotic, horribly timed mistake,” she sighed, “but a mistake, nonetheless.”

“Lord only kens how that lad survived in the dormitories ‘afore he met ye.” The elder Fraser rolled her eyes. “It eases my mind a bit, knowin’ ye’re there with him.”

Claire absently ran her hand down the silk of a hanging gown, turning her head from Jenny in an attempt to hide her smile. While Jenny wasn’t generally complimentary, she leapt at any chance to take the piss out of her brother, and to Claire – whom never had a sister and found teasing Jamie to be one of her absolute favourite pastimes anyway – it was wholly welcome.

“Well, I try,” she said with a shrug.

“And just think, maybe soon we’ll have to buy ye another dress… but whiter.”

Cheeks thoroughly flushed, Claire’s head darted back to Jenny’s so fast, she could’ve sworn she heard her neck crack.

“Though, red does seem yer colour,” said Jenny, doubled over laughing.

“C’mon!” Claire tried – and failed – to appear nonchalant. She could feel the heat radiating from her face and was beginning to suspect there were one or two ulterior motives to Jenny agreeing to bring her shopping. She dove her nose back into the rack.

“It’s only been a year, we haven’t even—” She gave up trying to talk over Jenny’s laughs. And, while she did feel completely mortified, watching Jenny trying to catch her breath reminded Claire so much of Jamie.

Finally, Jenny straightened herself out and wiped a tear from her eye.

“Ach, I’m sorry, lass, ye just make teasin’ so easy, ye ken?” She was still chuckling and, despite herself, Claire smiled softly. “Ye remind of Jamie, and Ian for that matter.”

Both out of curiosity and a desperate need to change the subject, Claire followed up immediately.

“You know, I’ve never heard how you and Ian met.”

At that, Jenny smiled, and Claire missed Jamie exponentially. Those Frasers, with their lopsided grins and glinting eyes; the kind of reverence that would make anyone with a pulse stop and stare, secretly hoping that they were the cause. It made it near-breathtaking to actually know that you were.

“We all grew up together, ye ken? Our Das were old friends and Ian was around as long as I can remember.” She shook her head, her smile only widening as she called the memory forward. “I was 17, I think, when I marched right up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and said, ‘Alright then, Ian Murray, when I turn 21-years-old, we’ll get married’.”

Claire could imagine that in perfect clarity: a young Jenny Fraser – the one she’d seen in countless pictures at Lallybroch – taking a gangly teenage Ian by the shoulders. Frasers with a clear goal in mind certainly didn’t play around. She was thinking not just of Jamie, but of what she knew about Brian Fraser too.

Apples from the same tree, the lot of them.

“And what did he say?”

“Och, I couldna tell ye. To be honest, my heart was pounding so loud in my ears, I could barely hear myself. Though, I do remember his face—all red and gaping, like yers was a minute ago.”

Claire’s smile faltered; so she hadn’t forgotten after all. Jenny seemed to notice and visibly softened, her hand reaching over to squeeze Claire’s shoulder.

“Dinna fash, lass. I doubt Jamie will be as forward as I was,” she said.

“Thank you, but really, it’s only been a year.”

“Aye, but in that year—“ She released Claire’s shoulder to count off her fingers. “—Ye’ve said I love ye, had sex—och, calm down, we all ken—moved in together, and went through a nearly life-threatening disaster with nary a scratch on ye.” She motioned at Claire’s leg. “Most couples are at a turtle’s pace compared to the two of ye.”

“We haven’t even talked about it,” Claire said, waving her hand dismissively.

Raising a family, yes. But somehow, Claire realized, the idea of marriage had never surfaced. Not that she wanted to make any solid claim at what Jamie felt (though she didn’t doubt her ability to), but the way they talked, planned, dreamed—it all seemed so… inevitable. Like it was already an integral part of the plan, a foregone conclusion that didn’t warrant actual discussion.

Flashes of a lighthouse in the darkness over a calm sea filled her mind, leaving her feeling like she’d just run into an old friend.

“Well, I daresay, if Jamie isna already thinking about it, this ought to help speed things up.”

In Claire’s silent reverie, Jenny had strolled over to poke around in another rack of dresses and was on her way back with a dress on hand. Claire’s eyes widened, and Jenny was already starting to chuckle to herself.

“I did say red was yer colour.”

Read Chapter 3

[tgwltw]

I don’t like your boyfriend.

request: Could you do a fic where Peter has the biggest crush on you but you have a boyfriend? And somehow they get together in the end? Thank you!!

I think I might have gotten a tad bit too carried away when I wrote this. Thank you for sending in this prompt and sorry it took me a while to get this posted. There are probably a lot of mistakes here and there but regardless, I hope you will still enjoy reading this! 2.2k words of hopefully something good lol

p/s: AU (you’ll see it when you see it).

“What can go wrong, Peter? You should go for it, Peter.” Peter grumbles under his breath as he stuffs his books in to his locker as he continues to grumble under his breath. “This will be the last time I ever listen to your genius idea, Ned.”

“You called me?”

Peter slams his locker door shut in surprise, turning to face his best friend. “You scared me!” He hisses and Ned shrugs his shoulders.

“Thought you heard me coming up.” Ned points out as he opens his own locker, putting away the books that he doesn’t need to bring home. Peter furrows his eyebrows and leans against his locker. As much as he really wants to just leave Ned be, Peter knows Ned will follow him to the end of the world.

Peter waits for Ned and once Ned is done putting his books away, he closes his locker and looks at Peter expectantly. “So? How did it go? Did you tell Y/N?” Ned inquires, leaning close to Peter.

Peter steps back slightly, the frown on his face deepening as he remembers what had happened earlier. “You told me Y/N is interested in me!” Peter whispers when he spies a few students chattering about and Ned nods his head: most of the time he is never wrong in his calculated assumptions.

“Y/N should be! I mean, Y/N is always, you know, blushing whenever you’re around and all that.” Ned tells Peter weakly but winces when he realizes that he doesn’t sound convincing enough and judging by the look Peter shot at him, Ned knows he must have done Peter wrong. “No?”

Peter huffs, shaking his head, pulling the straps of his bag tightly. “No.” He had gone out of his way to look for you during lunch with the hopes that he can confess his feelings to you. Peter has had this crush on you for the longest time and he never thought it would be possible for him to have a crush on someone else after the whole debacle with Liz Allen but that was before you came into his life. “Saw Y/N with that lanky blonde guy and they were looking extremely chummy.”

Ned furrows his eyebrows. “Lanky blonde guy?” Ned ponders for a bit before snapping his fingers. “Oh, him. Huh, that’s… well…”

Peter groans, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “Yeah. Ned, can we just stop talking about this? I don’t want to talk about it. Forget about my feelings for Y/N.” He grumbles and Ned opens his mouth to refute but when Peter sends him another look, Ned quietly shuts his mouth.

“So… how about some legos? I got these new one last night and...”

Of course, just as Peter thinks he should try to forget his ever-growing feelings for you, lady luck decides to pair the two of you up for some project. If it had been a few days ago, Peter probably would have been extremely excited at the prospect of working on something with you but now that he has to be with you for the next couple of days to complete the project, he feels all sorts of emotions: unreadiness, nervousness, pain and even longing.

Peter approaches you and lightly taps on your table, causing you to look up from the notes you were currently doing. He gives you an awry smile, one that you return with a warm, charming smile. “Hi, Peter!”

Peter blinks a couple of times. He was slightly taken aback by how you knew his name - most just refered to him as whatever nickname Flash came up with but hearing his actual name coming from your mouth made him smile genuinely. “Hi, Y/N - um, you weren’t here earlier? So Ms. Ho paired the two of us together for a project? I - I wanted to let you know I can make time for this project on top of my internship?” Peter is thankful he didn’t stumble over his words too much and he looks at everything but you, missing the big smile on your face.

“Oh! That’s really great. I had something important to do earlier unfortunately but that’s cool!” You brush your hair over your ear, still smiling at Peter. You always like seeing Peter smile; there was just something about his smile that makes you feel assured and calm. “So, do you know what the project is about and when we are to submit this?”

Peter nods his head, pulling the chair in front of you and sits down. “So, um, Ms. Ho gave us free reign over the topic so long as it shows the language and gender differences in media and by the end of next week so that’s more or less than two weeks.” Peter murmurs and you nod your head.

“Do you mind if we come up with a topic quickly? Or do you already have something in mind?” You ask him, slightly taken aback by how handsome Peter is upfront. You have always thought Peter to be good-looking but now that he is actually sitting right in front of you, you can see just how devilishly good-looking he is. “I mean, I am open to any though. Language and gender in media isn’t exactly my forte but I can definitely do my part so that we can ace this.” You add quickly.

Peter shakes his head. “Nothing that stands out so far; how about we brainstorm a few ideas and then we can eliminate it from there?” He takes out his notebook, flushing slightly when you compliment the doodles he had drawn on the cover. “Thanks,” He murmurs shyly.

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Okay, let’s get to it!”

After that fateful day, Peter’s resolve in trying to move on went out the window especially when he found out that his reasons of liking has gone from superficial ones to genuine ones: Peter especially likes it whenever you laugh at his terrible science jokes and puns and the way you would always look at him with that beautiful smile on your face.

Things were going pretty well: the project is coming along fine and Peter likes to think that the relationship the two of you shared is different too. You have been texting with him frequently and sometimes, at nights, the two of you would end up Skyping but you were always the one to fall asleep (mostly because Peter is often home very late due to keeping the neighbour safe and clear of any villains) and Peter wouldn’t openly admit but those nights when you fall asleep first, that’s one of the moments he absolutely cherishes.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end especially when he sees you with the lanky blonde guy once more but this time around, the two of you are hugging so tightly and the only thing that went through his mind at that time is how he had fooled himself entirely. It was bad enough that he had gotten carried away with his feelings for you especially when you already have someone. He shakes his head, putting the rose he had gotten for you in his bag. He had actually gathered enough courage to confess to you today but once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence and three times is enemy action.

The frown on your face deepens when Peter turns away quickly, walking away the moment you headed into his direction and you cannot help but feel slightly down in the dumps. You approach Ned, tapping him on his shoulder. He jumps slightly, startled by you and turns around. His jaw drops the slightest bit and he waves his hand at you awkwardly.

“H- Hi, Y/N!” Ned smoothes his hand over his shirt. “What - what brings you here?” He tries to lean against the locker but since he miscalculated the distance, he almost fell sideways before Ned righted himself and cleared his throat.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if this is really the right thing to do before you gathered your courage. “Why is Peter avoiding me, Ned?” You ask him frankly. Ned blanches, wincing a bit and you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to come up with an excuse. “I thought we were doing well, Ned. I really like Peter and I thought we were hitting it off so good and suddenly he just - “

Ned stops you from talking by placing his hand on your mouth, muffling the rest of your words and he stares at you, eyes wide in surprise. “You like Peter?” He asks incredulously and when you tried to answer, Ned’s hand is still over your mouth so you tap his hand and he drops it like hot potato, mumbling his apology.

“Yes, I do.” You answer him truthfully. You aren’t really sure what this has got to do with anything. “Does Peter not like me and finds my feelings burdensome?” Your cousin often tells you how much of a mother hen you are - although, you know deep down inside, he likes it whenever you pamper him, the brat.

Ned shakes his head furiously. “No, Y/N!” He stops himself and then continues talking. “Peter thinks you already have a boyfriend so? Do you already have one?”

You frown and shake your head. “I mean, last time I checked, I am still single. I think I would know if I got myself a boyfriend, Ned.” You tell him flatly. He sighs in relief and grabs you by the shoulders, surprising you when he leans in close.

“Then who’s this lanky blonde guy that Peter thinks is your boyfriend and why is he always with you and hugging you?” Ned asks seriously, trying his hardest to stare you down and you could not help the laughter that bursts from your mouth.

“Stevie?” You pull away from Ned’s grip and shake your head, feeling incredulous over his words. “Steve’s my cousin; the brat gets sick a lot and this semester’s his first time back in school and I love my cousin like my little brother, Ned but he is definitely not my boyfriend.” You tell him and he sighs in relief once more.

“Your words are wasted on me, Y/N. You ought to tell Peter because I think he misunderstood everything.” Ned points out before telling you where Peter had most likely ran off to and you give Ned a quick hug, thanking him and rushed to where Peter is supposedly at.

Peter sighs as he kicks a pebble. Maybe this is his luck? Always liking the right girls at the wrong time? He glances at his phone - it’s still too early for him to go around the neighborhood as Spiderman - and Peter is about to get off the bench when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him from behind, causing Peter to let out a small yelp in surprise.

He turns to his right, the tips of his ears turning red when he realizes it is you. You have an unreadable look on your face as you stared at him. “Y- Y/N, what, what are you doing?” He asks, flustered by how close you are - he can literally feel you pressed against him and he flushes as he tries to slowly pull himself out of your hold but you tightened the hold you have around him, pressing yourself on his back.

“I like you a lot, Peter.” Your words caused Peter to freeze and it takes a few seconds for the words to fully sink in. “Will you give me a chance to explain myself?” You ask him and Peter nods his head dumbly, frowning when you drop your arms from him and move around to sit beside him. You turn to face Peter, grabbing his hand. “Stevie is my cousin - he’s the lanky blonde guy you always see around me. Steve’s an only child and for as long as I can remember, he has always been sickly and he’s like a little brother to me.” You explain, studying Peter’s face and a smile appears on your face when it finally dawns on Peter that he had misunderstood the situation and jumped to conclusion.

Peter groans, covering his face with his free hand, embarrassed at himself. He peeks at you through his fingers and drops his hand from his face. “Sorry about that, Y/N.” He mumbles but since the two of you are sitting close, you heard him loud and clear. “I just… I’m… Can we start over?”

You nod your head, smiling at him. “Of course!”

Peter sighs, smiling at your words. He swallows the lump in his throat. “Hi, my name is Peter Parker and I can be silly at times and I am sorry for jumping into conclusions. I, uh, I really like you, Y/N and I was wondering if you, if you would like, to go on a date - with me, that is. Yeah, with me.” Peter rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and you could feel your cheeks hurting from how big your smile is.

“Hi, Peter Parker. I like that you are silly at times and I really like you too.” You confess and Peter stares at you with adoration. “I would love to go on a date with you, Peter.” You flush slightly and Peter grins at you, pulling you in for a hug. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his torso. “You’re so silly, Peter but I think that’s one of the things I like the most about you.”

[dramallamadingdang]

Now that I’ve dumped stuff in the queue, time for...

REPLIES! :D

For @kayleigh-83, @jellybeanery, @clericalrodent, @acquiresimoleons, @dunne-ias. @sim-boo, @didilysims, @twofingerswhiskey, @penig, @nanashi-sims, @eulaliasims, @zoragraves, @taylors-simblr, annnnnnd @nerianasims...

kayleigh-83 replied to your photo “Steven’s grave got struck by lightning, so he popped out for a daytime...”

What the frick, I have catching up to do! I didn't know Steven died. :(

He did. Came home with a cold one day, went to work the next, and died on the sidewalk when he came home. So sad. Ah, RealSickness... Usually, I like it to hit later, when I’ve got a larger population that’s actually in need of culling. I’m just glad it didn’t kill the whole household, like it sometimes does, because otherwise there’d only be Sharon and Gwen’s daughter Amelia to spawn the third born-in-game generation...

kayleigh-83 replied to your photoset “Up-Front Confession: I am knowingly breaking the creator’s terms of...”

I'm absolutely DYING over their grinning faces in the last picture HAHAHAH

It’s a thing of beauty, isn’t it? :D Although I don’t know why Cyd’s grinning, since he’s got Julien’s face impaling his abdomen. That just can’t be comfortable...

jellybeanery replied to your post “jellybeanery: @dramallamadingdang Do you still have the high-res...”

CuriousB's desert terrain works for me, so I don't think it's the chipset.

Hmmm...Well, I had a look at the uploaded file, and it appears to be the right one. :\ I have no idea what’s going on. Give me a day or two and I’ll make a new file and maybe also make a high-res one, and then you can see if one or the other will work...

clericalrodent replied to your post “Civilization V”

Thought I'd ask - would you like some tips that aren't in the in-game tutorial? Nothing absolutely necessary, but might make your life a bit easier.

Sure! I still haven’t installed the game, but I probably will this weekend since we have no plans and it’s too darn hot around here to do much of anything outside. Maybe send me an ask or whatever with tips?

acquiresimoleons replied to your photoset “Up-Front Confession: I am knowingly breaking the creator’s terms of...”

Omg. This is awesome, thank you, my sci fi hood is gonna get a swingers club now ����

Well, it’s certainly a perfect object for that! :) There’ll be other stuff you’ll probably be interested in for such a club, too. I just need the time to make it...

dunne-ias replied to your photoset “Up-Front Confession: I am knowingly breaking the creator’s terms of...”

I both want this and also would be scared about what would happen if I put this on a commercial lot in my story hood. I have the original, but honestly I think I only used it once, in a Bacc household full of romance sims because I had a rule against TV and well, what else would they do on their days off?

HAH! Sex is better than TV by a mile, so... :) Anyway, the advertising on the thing is set so that if you use this on a community lot Sims don’t get overly obsessed with it so long as there are other fun things of equally-strong advertising around. That’s how I wanted it to be because it’s basically going to be an avenue for Sims to meet people in this wacko neighborhood, but I do want them to do other things when they’re on the lot where this will be, too. 

But yeah, I suppose it has the potential to screw up stories. But it also might give you ideas, too. If you keep the characters for whom you have planned storylines away, others in the population might do interesting things to spark some ideas.

sim-boo replied to your photoset “Will took his boatload of scholarships and headed off to join boring...”

Lol personally id consider it a blessing to not be related to goopy gilscarbo ;)

Heathen! Nah, I kid. I know he’s an acquired taste. You have to like Romance Sims, and a lot of players seem to not like Romance Sims. You also have to like Sims who aren’t conventionally beautiful. I like Romance Sims (They’re my faves, actually), and I like “ugly” but not deformed-looking Sims. So he’s totally win-win for me! :) I do change his outfit, though, because that pixel-man has very questionable fashion sense. :)

I also like Ben Long a lot, but he’s a Knowledge Sim and I find them rather boring in general, so when I play him, I have to do terrible things to him to make him interesting. :)

didilysims replied to your post “Civilization V”

Never tried it myself, though from what little I've seen, it looks like something I could get interested in. All friends who have played it said Civ IV was better though. :P

I still haven’t installed it because there’s stuff for TS2 that I want to get done, and I know I’ll get distracted. But I’m really looking forward to trying it out. And as for the version...Well, Civ V is what was there at the shop. :) And for $5, even if I ultimately don’t like it it’s not like I’m really out much.

didilysims replied to your photo “I just noticed that the binoculars that Sims use to birdwatch have red...”

They always looked like nebulae to me. I figured they were really powerful lenses.

SO POWERFUL THEY REFLECT THE LIGHT OF THE ORION NEBULA!! Yeah, that should be the advertising slogan on those puppies. :)

twofingerswhiskey replied to your post “jellybeanery: @dramallamadingdang Do you still have the high-res...”

could be they have graphics chipsets that are defaulting to the maxis terrain due to inability to store it effectively in the graphics memory?

Apparently not in Jellybeanery’s case. :\ I’m still at a loss. If you’ve got any ideas about what else it might be, I’m all ears. Or eyes, as the case may be. :)

penig replied to your photo “I just noticed that the binoculars that Sims use to birdwatch have red...”

I think it's the light glaring off the lenses.

The light from the red district? :) No, you’re probably right, but...Geez, what color is the sun supposed to be in SimWorld? :)

nanashi-sims replied to your post “@bunsblr asked for a tutorial about how to do this a while back and I...”

Wow this is fabulous! So many objects that need to be recloned, but so worth it!

Yeah, there’s a lot of Maxis stuff that’s used outdoors that ought to be neighborhood-visible but isn’t. Especially when it comes to outdoor-type seating. And I don’t think the telescopes are neighborhood-visible, either, now that I think about it. Once you get used to doing it, though, it goes quickly.

eulaliasims replied to your photo “Steven came home from work the next day and….Oh, dear. Well. That’s...”

Steven! No! D:

I KNOW! I was bummed. Frankly, I could stand to lose Arcadia, but I was hoping Steven would spawn some more, if nothing else. I need more population that “counts,” and he had that convenient Family aspiration... 

sim-boo replied to your photoset “Arcadia and Aaron, as the only two non-infant people in the household...”

usually they cry for sims they have memories of. like if the dead sim taught them to walk/talk, i've seen before that they cry sometimes even if theres no blood relation.

I’ve never seen that happen in my game. In this case, I know Steven taught Will to talk, at least. But, no mourning from him. Now I’m wondering if I’ve got a mod that’s interfering. Hmmm.....

didilysims replied to your post “Aww you almost had the Aristocats in your game <3”

A lot of Disney is overrated. Emperor's New Groove? Seriously underrated. But I got The Aristocats for my birthday as a kid and watched it probably 100 times at least, so it's near and dear to my heart.

I really don’t know why I never saw The Aristocats. I mean, I was a kid when it was made and all, but I only ever saw the older Disney movies from the 40s or so. (Fantasia is another favorite.) I saw the later Disney movies from the 90s and 2000s because I had kids then, so we saw them in the theater, and I got them when they came out on video, and they watched them ad nauseum. (And The Lion King is one of Ethan’s favorite movies; it resonates with him because he lost his dad at an age when he really needed one. So, we watch that one a lot and I bristle because of all the hyena maligning.) But I don’t think I’ve seen any Disney movie from the 70s in its entirety,

Now as for Emperor’s New Groove: I will argue (and HAVE argued) that it’s the best buddy movie ever made. Kronk and Eartha Kitt’s scenery-chewing (She did it SO well, always did) is just bonus. 

zoragraves replied to your post “So, um....”

Now I want to know what those objects are, at the very least :D

Ohhhhh, you probably really don’t. *laugh*

taylors-simblr replied to your post “@bunsblr asked for a tutorial about how to do this a while back and I...”

Thank you so much for this, I might give it a go tonight! I surrounded my campsite with nengi's bigger bourgainvillas and it's been driving me crazy that they are invisible from any other lot ^__^

Good luck with it! I thought those bougainvilleas were already neighborhood-visible, though...Or maybe I made them so. I don’t remember... Anyway, let me know if you have any trouble!

nerianasims replied to your post “re. StarTrek Multi-PT: I'm pretty sure I remember someone creating the...”

What is this Enterprise show you mention? I am sure it does not exist.

I dunno, I heard a rumor about it. Something about a prequel sort of thing, only done way after the other shows were produced. Seems like kind of a dumb idea... 

(Seriously, I really wanted to like Enterprise. I really, really like Scott Bakula. Quantum Leap is one of my favorite shows. And while I enjoyed a few of the episodes, the writers just didn’t seem to know what to do with any of the characters, especially the poor helmsman dude, which is sad because he was a very pretty black man. I mean, I don’t even remember his name... And of course they had to sex up the female Vulcan. *sigh* They get points for destroying Florida, though. No, I’m kidding. Well, sort of...)

[tiaraofsapphires]

my satellite (shine on me tonight)-Chapter 3

Soooo I’m back with an update (within a week of the most recent update but don’t get used to it lol)

Chapter 3: Convergence

Read on Ao3

Sara couldn’t stifle a laugh, which was an odd thing to do flat on her back with Jaal pressed between her legs.

“You know, I might’ve lied,” she giggled, “You might be able get me pregnant again while I’m still pregnant.”

He rolled his hips in a way that really ought to have been illegal and her laugh turned quickly into a moan.

When Jaal wanted to celebrate, he really did mean celebration. Sara could bet it was only for her sake that he wasn’t shouting and running around the Tempest telling everyone in existence that Sara was pregnant, that he was going to be a father.

This was nice, just the two of them, well, the three of them. There was never enough time for privacy in almost a month. They had to make up for the four days of near-absolute privacy, meaning working double-time and keeping their hands off of each other.

And then there was all that wasted time she spent keeping him at arm's length.

This wasn’t just a celebration, this was a recommitment. And Sara put her whole heart into it.

She hooked her legs around his hips to pull him closer.

He was so good to her, for her. Never selfish, always exploring and finding new ways to make her feel good. She wanted to fall into him.

“Jaal,” she whispered.

He rubbed tiny circles on her hips as he kept her pressed to the mattress. He was doing all the work, looming over her, pumping into her with a constant rhythm.

“You are exquisite,” Jaal said.

He pressed a trail of kisses down her throat until he stopped to tuck his face in the space between her neck and shoulder.

“The mother of my child.”

She smiled at that. It was something she loved hearing and probably would never get tired of hearing.

Her fingers roamed over his back, over the folds in the back of his head. She was rewarded by a jarring thrust, grinding and perfect.

Jaal’s breath washed over her skin, labored. She felt surrounded, all muscle and fragrance.

If what she read on pregnancy—and she did a lot of that in a frantic scramble for information—was correct, there might come a time where hormones would have him at her beck and call for sex. That would be fun. She couldn’t call it revenge, how could it be revenge if they both enjoyed it?

One day, she would be too big for them to have sex like this. It would be like having sex with a watermelon between them.

They would have to improvise. Maybe, he would turn her to her side and press against her back. Her stomach clenched at the idea, drawing a whimper out of her mouth.

She looked up and their eyes met. Jaal’s pupils were blown wide and his cheeks were colored with a blush.

He was beautiful.

Sara braced herself on her arms, leaning up to kiss him. Jaal licked into her mouth, the kiss immediately passionate and filthy.

When Jaal’s hand slipped between them, it was over.

Sara came with a shiver, almost curling forward with it. Jaal fell off the precipice shortly after, his release dripping out of her folds.

He kissed her everywhere he could reach as pulled out. The hand not bracing him over her didn’t leave where it rested on her stomach, like he didn’t want to let go.

“I can see it now.”

Gentle and warm, skimmed over her abdomen.

“Full with child, our child.”

She sighed, satisfied, boneless.

She said, “I love that thought. It’ll take a while, though.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“The wait will be worth it. Our child will be beautiful, just like you.”

She blushed. She never got used to that, being told she was beautiful.

He eased off of her and flopped next to her.

They were quiet for a while, just listening to each other breathe.

“We have to tell my mothers. And your brother. And the rest of the crew.”

She sighed, drooping against him.

“We do. I just...don’t want to go too quickly with this. SAM said—”

She tucked her face against his chest. There was the fear again, chasing the numbing buzz of her orgasm almost instantly.

“He said that the first 3 months are the most dangerous. It’s only been half a month. It’s why I didn’t tell you right away.”

Yeah, the post-coital bliss disappeared, like it never happened. She wasn’t sure if being super emotional was a symptom of her pregnancy or what. She had assumed it was too early for that sort of thing.

Her mouth turned in a trembling frown, glad her face was still close to his chest so he couldn't see her expression.

“You were—are afraid.”

His hand cupped her chin, pulling her back until he could see her face. She bit her lip and forced down the tears that wanted to spill over. Tears of fear, not happiness.

She laughed with a mirth she didn’t feel.

They were just getting right to the core of this, weren't they?

“I’ve been afraid since SAM told me. There’s no science, no precedence for this. We’re flying blind. We don’t—there’s no certainty that this will work out.”

He sat up to lay on his back, collecting her until she rested on his chest. His arms wrapped around her, like he was an anchor, something constant, something that was never going to leave.

“Have hope, Sara. You are strong. You are the strongest person I know.”

She smiled shakily. SAM had said something similar, but it felt different coming out of Jaal's mouth.

“Our child will live. I know it.”

The words rumbled in his chest, a visceral promise. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“But if you don’t want to tell everyone now, I will respect your wishes.”

“We could tell a few people,” Sara relented hesitantly, “Scott. Your mother Sahuna. Maybe the crew.”

Jaal chuckled, something she felt as much as she heard.

“Once my mothers know, all of Havarl and Aya will know and soon the entire cluster will know. They get very excited about grandchildren.”

She could imagine. Their child was going to be loved. Not just by the Tempest crew, but by an entire family on Jaal’s side.

It was a comforting thought.

“Okay,” she conceded, “How about we give it two weeks. Then we tell everyone.”

His arms squeezed around her.

“Together?”

“Yeah. Together.”

Silence fell again and Sara thought Jaal had fallen asleep before he sniffed with distaste.

“I don’t like the idea of telling those politicians of yours.”

That elicited a grin. He had his opinions of many things, never afraid to tell them plainly to her. He had his opinions on the Nexus leadership, often overlapping with hers.

Sara mused, “Kesh and Kandros are probably the best to tell first on the Nexus. I don’t want to have this conversation with Tann or Addison.”

She shuddered at the idea. Tann would immediately call for a replacement human Pathfinder before the whole the announcement left Sara’s lips and Addison would likely look down on her like she was some irresponsible teenager who got herself knocked up.

Sara was twenty-two—nearly twenty-three—and carried the fate of a fucking star cluster on her shoulders. She wouldn’t stand to be patronized.

Those two could find out via the grapevine for all she cared.

She lifted her head to lightly peck the skin she was lying on before resting again.

“I should tell Lexi, shouldn’t I? Before anyone else. Like, soon, today.”

She didn’t actually move to do so and Jaal didn’t move where his hands wrapped around her. In fact, they tightened a bit more.

“Yes. But, later. You are tired, my love, and I wish to hold you for a few more hours.”

…

She slept, not realizing how tired she was until she rested in Jaal’s arms.

After waking up and showering, Sara went to the med-bay. People saw her go in, but there was no reason for anyone on the Tempest except for Jaal to think anything out of the ordinary of it.

A check-up, a psych-eval. They could hypothesize all they wanted.

Needless to say, Sara was nervous. The whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing made it so it was unethical for Lexi to say anything outside of the med-bay walls. But she had no idea how the asari was going to react to the news.

She found the doctor alone, poring over one report or another, and let the door close behind her.

“Hey, Doc. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Lexi, accommodating as always, set down her datapad and turned her full attention to Sara.

“Of course. What can I help you with?”

Sara shifted where she stood.

“You know a while ago I asked you about a stomach bug?”

Lexi didn’t need to look at a datapad to remember. She only had a handful of patients and a good memory. She could probably recall every injury Sara ever had.

“A stomach virus, yes. Are you still having issues?”

Nerves, again. Heartrate increasing, even as SAM tried to prevent a panic attack.

“Um. It’s sort of related. I—never was sick to my stomach. I had SAM alter your scans and my biology to make it look like I had a virus.”

Sara watched as anger reached Lexi's eyes, almost instantly.

“You what?”

Fuck, Sara really should’ve seen that coming.

“I—”

There was no stopping the asari doctor now. She was on a roll.

“Do you know how dangerous that is? I could've prescribed a drug you didn't need!”

Sara opened her mouth again, only for Lexi to barrel on.

“So, now SAM can make it look like you’re sick? He could make you look like you’re well and nobody would be the wiser. That’s dangerous and irresponsible.”

Boy, did Sara regret ever opening her mouth.

“Can I at least tell you why I did so in the first place?” Sara asked.

Lexi crossed her arms, the picture of discontentment.

“Do tell. It better be good.”

Best be out with it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Oh boy, that got Lexi to shut her mouth, with anger morphing to shock with such speed it was almost funny.

“You’re what!?”

Sara winced.

“Holy shit, keep it down! I don’t want the entire fucking ship to know, alright?”

Lexi was in her personal space almost immediately, shock turned to utter glee. Sara recoiled a bit.

“Does Jaal know? Oh, Goddess, this is amazing. Unprecedented.”

“Just you and Jaal and SAM know. I was planning on announcing it to more people, family, the rest of the crew, the Nexus, in a couple weeks. So, don’t say anything to anyone, okay?”

Lexi was clearly offended by that.

“Of course, I won’t say anything! What kind of doctor do you take me for?”

Sara held up her hands placatingly.

“Alright. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

Now, there were four who knew. Eventually the whole cluster would know. A pregnant Pathfinder would be prime gossip.

“Do you know how far along you are?”

She reached for her datapad and started tapping away, probably making a file for the child.

“SAM told me sixteen days ago when the—the fetus implanted, or whatever.”

Lexi nodded.

“Tack on maybe a week between conception and implantation. Scans will tell me more.”

There were a hundred more questions that Lexi could ask, and all of them were in a tangle in her mouth. That much was clear. It was funny to watch, Sara supposed.

“Scans, huh? This doesn’t mean I’m suddenly your guinea pig for the foreseeable future,” Sara said.

“Oh, yes it does.”

Lexi spoke over Sara’s groan, “As the Tempest doctor, I have a prerogative to keep you, and now your child, alive. And that means you, Sara Ryder, are staying right here until I can finish my tests.”

Sara put on a pout, more for show than anything else. But there was little heat to it. As long as nothing Lexi did required hurting

They were in there for two hours.

Lexi didn’t call any red-flags, said the heartbeat was strong, that structures were forming along roughly how they ought to be.

“In a week, we’ll do a karyotype. Just to make sure,” Lexi advised, at the close of their meeting.

Sara nodded. She didn’t really have a choice but to agree.

Sara, for a moment, wished Jaal was human so that it wasn’t really necessary for all the poking and prodding and worrying.

But then she started trying to imagine what their child would look like—perhaps pink-purple skin and her eyes—and figured that it would be worth it in the end.

[opalmothnightingale]

The Bridge of This Transition

4- 20 - 18 - 

I might like to write more about, later,...  but I just wanted to mention for my focus and motivation and the clarity and the passion it brings me,...  The passion too in the sense of passion like suffering, yes, that too,...  compassion, too,...  it brings me the suffering with, which is good.  Good, and what I would choose.  Suffering with so that I will not be too overwhelmed by it all and then forget it,..

To forget what matters, which is to share and give and sacrifice as much as is reasonable, with my limitations and needs of my own that I have to care for, and with duties to my circle of nearest closest ones to my heart,...  Then other than that, yes, to choose to carry my weight, to take on the problems and help them, heal them, alleviate them, at least if I can, when I can...  Because that is what lfe’s all about, really,...  I say,... for me.  Small me, 

Me, willingly small.  Wanting to be small.  I want to be small, in this world, to be low...  Fame doesn’t suit me, money doesn’t suit me, power is like power among the crazy...  You have to be crazy to rise to power when the supporters are crazy.  Not to say you can’t give something big and be recognized,...

Wishing to be seen,... as super and special and yet, still be humble, still be small, but you have to still be humble and small, I think, in this world, ...

though, even if you’re seen as great, or you lose compassion,

... and so that would be a terrible loss in this crazy world that has so many who are 

....  Really, so deserving and needing compassion that you can give, as much as you reasonably can, given your needs and your limits, which are also in need of compassion, from you and others, but you first have to give yourself that...  Others might not but if you do, then you don’t need them to so much,...  It can be a lot of work to love and give yourself all that compassion and validation and keep on taking out the trash the others give you...  It is for me, and I imagine it would be the same for many who were traumatized, ostracized and all of that...  

I am now on a bridge, though, of the transition of our challenges, our crises, changes, tribulations and transformations,...  that also...  the bridge of this transition that includes all this, focused point, focused pain, coping and reaching and searching and trying to collect all my resources to cope, or find new ones.  Trying to be to the point so I don’t fritter and delay what needs doing any longer than I really must but don’t beat myself up for delaying and recuperating and addressing mental health needs that aren’t just indulgent or delusional or selfish or lazy or whatever other lies are so rampant regarding mental health, high functioning depression and high functioning anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder and sensory processing difficulties, and what have you.  

These things make it so that I have to be indulgent to cope, till I get to the root causes and address them, if I can find out what they are, if I can address them effectively, even if I do find what the causes are,...  And, of course taking as long as that needs to take.

So I’m addressing my physical and mental health issues, my daughter’s physical and behavioral and developmental things and my husband’s health issues and our relationship challenges and the traumas of my life and my ongoing challenging balance trying to see how I can get by, hanging in the balance, in society and being so alone and isolated by pretty much all society who doesn’t like me for who I am but only if I am like they want me,...  

And so it’s just nature, but I’m the ugly duckling, dears...  It’s a huge challenge.  It takes all I can to crawl and laze around and try,

...  To just try, to keep from falling spiraling deeper down into a pit of dark shadows, which often is averted with things like rest, relaxation and indulgence,...  Yes, so that is actually really healing...  Is grounding, sensating, imaginative, heals the inner child for me, ...  And then it all brings me to the sensory moment, mindful and meditative, and the contemplative realizations, full and abundant and overflowing with new insights and angles to see it all, and also intense with the messages from spirit that come through when I feel pleasant and calm... 

Well that is why...  Yes, why rest and relaxation and indulgence are healing and not just selfish even though I wish I had the forthright focus, motivation, insight and wisdom and clarity to just seize it all, my goals, and do them,

...So I would like to seize it, carpe diem, be extraordinary, accomplished,...  adept and thrive, say I’m somehow better, look how I’m doing so good with my life... 

I know what I want to do, I want to live by integrity I could line out clearly what my values and ideals and compassion and greater good are and want to live by it...

Want to just, make all the emergencies dealt with quickly, but I am not the person for that job, because my own crises are a part of the problem, maybe even more serious than my husband’s.  For that matter, even, my symptoms might point to some serious health issue that might be worse than it seems, too...  I mean, you know, what can you do when you’re so tired, ...

so oppressed and don’t have the resources? 

Rest when tired, like the rabbit in its winter burrow, even though they’re impoverished and malnourished, the snow is too dangerous ....

Ah so risky, maybe,...  Yes, to venture out when the energy to venture is not sufficient to take you far enough that you would likely even find food...  

That is how it is,...  You wait till stuff improves and don’t blame anyone.  Life is like this for humans, sometimes, but modern western people like to think it is never really necessary for another modern western person to suffer like that, so they want to blame someone, so the easiest one to blame is the suffering depressed person...  right? 

I say, certainly, it is, I see again and again, nice caring people do this, fall for this...  It is easy to do, clearly, sadly, but truly, it is...  

Yes it is, if you can believe it, ... and, so, it’s easy for those to believe who have only a narrow distorted range of experiences or views of depression plus selective memory and social support of us vs. them thought, us upstanding ones vs. them lazy, careless depressed ones.  

Though it is so stupidly sad to me, but to no avail, this is the reality and I have to just be above it... 

I am above it, high beyond, unperturbable, and unreachable to it... 

Yes but there below me,... There I see them all...  I see, how high I am here, but down there, ...  I have to see the truth...  The truth...  but this is how it is for many people and what we depressive people and others who suffer like this, incapacitated, often face.  

Making it even harder is that many really don’t try hard enough, but it is hard to see who is trying and who’s not...  And even those who don’t try maybe have some inner problem that makes it so they feel that they can’t bring themselves to try...  I guess in some sense it’s always like this,... 

I wish I could say it was different, but it’s not... 

Because, but for people like me who have come so far and thrived and struggled, learnt so much about coping and do their best, it hurts to be told simplistic advice that might help someone who hasn’t learned yet how to try harder...  

Yes,...  And when they have no idea just the complex operation I have to go through to get through my days and they’re way behind me when it comes to “positive thinking”, but positive thinking is like a bandaid for the emotional deluge of my depressiveness that I can’t control, positive thinking notwithstanding...  Oh well...  And life goes on...

But the bridge of my husband’s health issues is bringing it all to a sort of culmination, a focal point around which I can find how to narrow all my concerns and needs and issues and goals and values to a range,...  that is manageable.  However hard and complex it still seems, I think I can do it.  

Yeah,...  It’s just that,... all of the motivation, the urgency, the clarity of what matters enough or more and what doesn’t matter as much, and maybe doesn’t matter enough and can or ought to be cut loose, delayed on the shelf for now,...  All is coming clear.  The many varied convoluted paths the future could take are narrowed down a bit too, because the near future is changed, the medium and longer range future also are altered in their probabilities however they could go any which way too, it’s not really sure yet.  

And so it is,... some of my dreamy roundabout focuses or preparing for the worst my husband could do are, kind of,... just set aside in the looming focus of his health issues that are likely to make things at least somewhat more predictable as well as more serious and hurry up, do it now kind of feeling and need to my life,,,,

and, our life, all three of us,... me, my husband and my daughter...  And being “morbid”, being “negative” suddenly is not even negative, nor morbid, not pessimistic to prepare for the worst at all, ...  not at all...  Not anymore,...  haha  Lol  Sigh.  

Absolutely not, no,... 

No,...  no! You can’t convince me it as anymore, at ALL...  Though some would still try to claim it’s negative, but I am not swayed or emotionally impacted much at all by their rigid light-blindedness in this particular set of situation,...

These circumstances that I am in with the bridge of the crisis and opportunity...  the crisis and courage, the crisis and transition,... and transformation...  Of all that’s going on now in our lives, with my husband’s health issues being the crux bringing it all up in stark contrast.