#adult child inquiry

[momlovesyoubest]

When Aging Dysfunctional Family Calls Spot Them

  When Aging Dysfunctional family calls Make the Sale More than half of the aging families who call you inquiring about services will be aging dysfunctional families. The great majority of calls will come from adult children. When the aging dysfunctional family call -to make the sale during the inquiry you have to know how to handle these dysfunctional family members on the phone and give them…

[kaijutegu]

Something I've noticed, and I want to write this up more formally at some point, is that a lot of the students I teach- mostly college freshmen, but some upperclassmen taking anthropology classes as a gen ed requirement- are far more interested in human evolution when it's framed as a story. Specifically, they don't care about Australopithecus afarenesis, they care about Lucy and Selam. They don't care about Homo ergaster/erectus, they care about Nariokotome Boy. They don't care about the Laetoli footprints- they care about the anonymous Australopithecus adult and child who made them.

I've noticed this take a sharp uptick since the pandemic. The students are so much better at learning when the thing they're learning about is couched in empathy. They're far more interested in narrative and emotion than they are in basic scientific fact, and that's what leads them to further inquiry. They don't care about when Neanderthals lived, but they care about their funeral practices, about how they appreciated beauty, how they took care of each other. They want something to care for, not just about.

I wonder- are other social sciences taking this approach? Could this approach be taken in harder sciences like chemistry and physics? Certainly biology could easily be framed with empathy.

More and more I'm seeing posts about how students are resistant to learning, and I have to wonder how much of that is information overload and how much of that is an inability to understand (on the professor side) how kids want to take in information. We're competing with TikTok and Youtube and all of these other platforms that give them chunks of info with catchy hooks and sounds. How can boring old facts compete? They can't. The old way of lecturing is dead at the undergrad level, quite frankly.

But that doesn't mean students won't learn or that they don't want to learn. It just means you have to tell them a better story. Students crave connection. They want to make sense of a world that... doesn't make a lot of sense sometimes. If we want them to think and write and engage, we need to give them the tools they need to connect with the world on a deeper level.

I think we'd all be better off if we took the time to introduce a little wonder and a little empathy into each of our lectures.

[probablyasocialecologist]

While maintaining that “for some, the best outcome will be transition,” it nevertheless effectively recommended that the N.H.S. abandon the guidelines embraced by major mainstream medical associations and restrict the use of medications that have been offered for decades to adolescents across the globe with vanishingly few negative side effects or regrets. The reason, the report says, is that these treatments are insufficiently supported by reliable, long-term evidence. Then, remarkably, the report recommends treatments — psychological treatment and medications for depression and anxiety — that have even less proof behind them in helping children (or adults) with gender dysphoria, though they may help with other mental health issues, and many children with dysphoria already get these treatments. And for all its insistence of evidence, the report is peppered with mere speculation about the potential causes of gender dysphoria: pornography and the phenomenon of social contagion are invoked, with zero credible evidence to support them. It is a strange document. Social conservatives welcomed the report. But it has also been heralded in some liberal quarters in Britain, where even the Labour Party has supported its conclusions, and around the world as a model of open-minded rationalism, of well-intentioned — progressive, even — unbiased scientific inquiry attempting to provide information in young people’s best interests. This, they declare, is what following the science and the evidence looks like. But is it? In an effort to evaluate the Cass report’s findings and recommendations, I spent the months since it was released poring over the document, researching the history of transgender medicine and interviewing experts in gender-affirming care as well as epidemiologists and research scientists about the role of scientific evidence in determining care standards. What I have come to realize is that this report, for all its claims of impartiality, is fundamentally a subjective, political document.

[...]

A great deal of the media coverage of gender-affirming care in the West has painted a picture of huge numbers of children, some of them suffering from profound mental illness, rushed into medical transition, practically force-fed puberty blockers and hormones, then fast-tracked to surgery once they turned 18, based on unproven treatment and perhaps bogus science. But the report itself not only fails to show any evidence of significant regret among patients or other forms of harm; its own data also contradicts the notion of rushed transition. Of the more than 3,300 medical records examined as part of the review, about a quarter of children and adolescents were referred to an endocrinologist, which suggests a significant screening process. Indeed, on average, patients had more than a half dozen consultations before being referred. If anything, the evidence suggests a lack of care bordering on neglect, which is not surprising considering that millions of people are on waiting lists for treatment of all kinds by Britain’s crumbling health system. One of the most common pieces of feedback was that young people lingered on waiting lists, sometimes for years. A number of participants in focus groups convened for the purpose of the report said they felt that they had to “prove” to clinicians that they were transgender.

[...]

At one point the report posits that because a child has never had the experience of growing up in their assigned sex, they would have no way to know whether they might regret transition. “They may have had a different outcome without medical intervention and would not have needed to take lifelong hormones,” the report says, referring to children assigned female at birth. It is hard to know what to make of a statement like that. A person gets only one life; waiting to see how it works out isn’t really an option. To a queer woman like me, this is an ominous echo of something many of us have heard many times in our lives: Maybe you just haven’t met the right man yet. The wish — whether expressed by a parent, a teacher, a therapist or a suitor — is a wish for a child not to be queer. It is hard to find a satisfying explanation for these kinds of conjectures and conclusions in the report other than this one: Many people find transgender people at best unsettling and possibly deluded or mentally ill, or at worst immoral and unnatural. They appear to believe it would be better not to be trans. As much as Cass’s report insists that all lives — trans lives, cis lives, nonbinary lives — have equal value, taken in full it seems to have a clear, paramount goal: making living life in the sex you are assigned at birth as attractive and likely as possible. Whether Cass wants to acknowledge it or not, that is a value judgment: It is better to learn to live with your assigned sex than try to change it. If this is what Cass personally believes is right, fair enough. It can charitably be called a cultural, political or religious belief. But it is not a medical or scientific judgment.

13 Aug 2024 | Link

[todorokies]

A LONG WALK - satoru gojo & suguru geto

✩࿐ a midnight summer stroll with your companions stirs certain emotions regarding self doubts & nostalgia . . .

contents: sfw, polygamous satosugu x reader (can be perceived as platonic or romantic), gn!reader, fluff & angst with some comfort, 1.3k words

a/n: based off of this fanart … pls support me by reblogging my work !!

the chilled summer breeze flows melodically through the air and finds its way swirling into your skin, arising small goosebumps on your exposed arms. you should’ve taken suguru’s advice into consideration by wearing a light cardigan for your midnight outing instead of leaving with a simple tank top.

albeit taken back by the breeze, you couldn’t be truly bothered by it, allowing the gentle wind to cascade your face caressing you softly like an embrace. with closed eyes, enjoyable fragments of your childhood flashes before your eyes with each rippling gust of currency.

your mother taking you to your first hanabi festival, getting your face painted with unique spiral patterns, the colourful loud sparks of light illuminating the sky as children’s laughs and adults’ excited clamours follows along with each firework.

your chest begins to rapidly ache by the supposedly fond memory, causing palpitations on your fragile heart. your innocence got unrightfully taken away at such a young age being forced to slave the rest of your life away to the occupation of a sorcerer, something you still haven’t come to terms with.

despite the roaring traffic in the centre of the city, a particular voice is able to pull your mind out of self imprisonment.

“a penny for your thoughts?” satoru appears standing by your side with two popsicles in one hand —one that is wrapped and the other unwrapped, presumably his.

you playfully scoff, reaching for the wrapped popsicle and satoru takes a seat next to you on the bench; your face must’ve been in clear discomfort for him to ask. “keep the penny, it’s nothing serious.” you attempt to wave off his concerns.

he nudges at your elbow, “if it’s causing you to look like you’re going through a midlife crisis on a park bench then it’s definitely serious, cmon spill it.” his words are lighthearted but voice is woven with sympathy.

“where’s suguru?” you dodge his inquiry “and you got me the shittiest flavour, really? nobody likes grape, you should know by now i’m a cherry type of person.”

satoru throws a complex glance your way but decides to not push it any farther, “he went to the convenience store to pick up some ingredients. i think he wanted to cook us beef stir-fry this time? not sure though.”

you hum in acknowledgment finding it a bit strange how he doesn’t press you for more information or your popsicle flavour statement. comfortable silence soon falls amongst you two, the frequent honking of cars and chatting of civilians keeps the streets lively. it’s a nice reminder that you’re never truly alone in such a big city as tokyo.

but alas, the warmth the eccentric city provided could never be enough to rebuild the wall of blissful ignorance you once had as a child. having to lick over the fresh wounds that reopen every time something triggers the painful truth of your inevitable death that will come from this line of work.

you must’ve been zoned out for quite some time because the grape popsicle began to melt and trickle down your hand landing in droplets on your pants.

“‘toru—” you begin but bite your tongue unaware of where to even start in your pursuit to find answers to calm your erratic mind.

“what does nostalgia feel like to you?” a stupid question indeed, as you watched satoru’s face twist and turn trying to either make sense of it or formulate his answer.

he soon replies, “it usually hits me in the face at the weirdest times, but when it does, it’s a bittersweet feeling that makes me glad i was able to experience it when i did.” he shrugs, licking at his almost-done blue popsicle.

“oh.”

“was that not the answer you were looking for?” he frowns, peering at you through his sunglasses.

“no, it’s not that, whenever i feel nostalgic it’s a gross gut wrenching feeling that seriously makes me ill. i hate it.” you truthfully express yourself.

“well, there’s no right or wrong way of feeling nostalgic, it just stems from how intense you feel about that specific memory.” his words flow casually as if this topic was second nature to him.

you huff, “since when did you become so insightful and wise?” you attempt at a joke to lighten the dull mood.

he laughs. the type of laugh where his snowy white hair bounces rhythmically with each chuckle that emerges from his throat “oh stop that! i’ve always been big brained with knowledge.”

another fit of comfortable silence washes over until you felt the urge to break it, “y’know, sometimes i wish i could live in the past forever… the present is too painful at times.”

satoru demeanour falters as an unfamiliar emotion glistens in his eyes then disappears shortly after. his eyebrows furrow causing creases in the middle, he nibbles at his bottom lip with a visible hurt expression distorting his face, “are me and suguru not enough for you?” he immediately regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

satoru isn’t religious by any means, but he’d like to thank whoever is higher above for making it possible that you and suguru have crossed paths with him. you both complete him and give him a sense of purpose to continue what he deems he does best at; protecting. satoru prefers to live in the present with his loved ones, not the past. hearing those string of words from you caused a small pit in his stomach to erupt.

your eyes widen, “no! that’s not what i meant—”

“sorry for the long wait, i had trouble deciding if i should buy teriyaki sauce or we should just make it ourselves.” suguru comes into view from the sidewalk with a grocery bag in hand and a popsicle in the other. his eyes dart between you and satoru, already sensing unspoken tension, “everything okay?” he quirks an eyebrow up.

“yup!” satoru responds with obvious faux glee. he stretches his legs then proceeds to get off the bench taking a quick peak in the grocery bag, “took you long enough though, we were gonna turn into skeletons soon.” he flicks suguru’s forehead then scurries off like a mouse farther down the sidewalk to avoid getting his foot stomped on.

you join suguru by his side to journey back to campus. he briefly recalls his sightings that included a newly opened karaoke bar and hydrangeas are finally in bloom having seen them on his way to the store.

“you should talk to him when we get back, let him cool off for a bit,” he refers back to satoru. his minty breath fanning against the shell of your ear, “i will, don’t worry.” you send a tight-lipped smile his way.

the walk back is peaceful. the breeze from before turned into clouds of humidity, grasshoppers chirped loudly replacing the buzzing traffic that has now quieted down, assuming everyone else is calling it a night as well.

suguru takes out his phone to check the time mumbling curses under his breath once he reads three-thirty-five am, “we should hurry back before yaga kills us.”

his words trigger something in you.

“do you think we’ll be able to survive in the long run?” you suddenly blurt out. your voice shakes as you attempt to shove the forming lump in your throat down.

context isn’t provided but suguru has a hunch of what you could be referring to. the air around gets thick and the world stills as he carefully thinks over many ways to respond to the difficult question with a simplified answer.

“i think—” he pauses, and glances over at you to see your glossy eyes reflect in the moonlight and his heart crumbles at the sight.

at the end of the day, you were all still children forced into a wretched society that measures self value to strength and was either discarded by the horrors that walked among this earth or the adults in charge of the hierarchy. 

“i think we should just protect who we can and cherish our possibly limited time together.”

tags: @tokyeoi @satocidal @yunymphs

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated <33

[honey-minded-hivemind]

❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... From the Platonic Yanderes' Persepective:

(Warnings: Its the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU, so expect abuse, neglect, blood, and a whole lot of guilt. The platonic yans who knew Reader in the past weren't nice to them, and while they do get better, they didn't get better until AFTER they thought Reader had died... Viewer discretion is advised... Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Todd/Toad, and Lance joined AFTER Reader's "death"...)

• They don't think they'd always been that bad. That hateful. Awful. Horrible. Terrifying. Cruel. But whether they were or not... they'd turned into something they didn't even recognize, something that was a shameful, guilt-ridden part of their past.

• For the adults (The Professor, Storm, Mystique, Wolverine, Sabretooth, Magento, and Beast), Reader was... someone they acquired through odd means. They weren't the only one they had brought with them, as there were two others, similar to them, and all three were feral mutants. Yet somehow... compared to how the other children were, their "siblings" and the other kids, they didn't quite click. The kids (Scott, Jean, Evan, Rogue, Pietro, and Wanda) didn't like them much, either.. For both groups, perhaps it was how they talked about odd subjects, or was off in their own little world half the time. Maybe it was their forgiving nature, always smiling and trying to be nice no matter what they all said or did. Maybe it was because Reader was everything they had wanted for themselves, but had never been able to have, had never been able to be... Either way, it led to an annoyance. A dislike for them and their cheery voice and soft eyes.

• With the adults, they found Reader odd from the start. A child no older than five who, despite being an experiment, was not like their "siblings", nor like the other children they had on hand. They were... sweet. Cuddly. Someone who just kept trying and trying to get along and be friends with everyone. They didn't seem to have a mean bone in their body. It made them feel... weird. That they didn't seem to understand they were odd, that they weren't cared about all that much. How could they begin to? They were loud, they were persistent, they never seemed to want to be alone and didn't get what was wrong with the world. Not to mention all of the questions! They were irritated most of the time with them, tired of dealing with the steady stream of constant love and inquiries and attempts to hug them.

• Over the years, it was easier and easier to wear then down, to get them to shut up and stay out of the way. Reader didn't seem all that bright when it came to social cues or sarcasm or jokes or how the world really was, and the kids took every opportunity to poke at those. A few jokes here and there, whispers between each other when they were alone, practical jokes at Reader's expense. It was almost funny, watching them try so hard to understand what they were doing and getting all upset over it. Yet Reader never got angry. Hardly acted like a feral, hardly used any of their mutations to win, to protect themself. They made it so easy to mess with them. It was second nature for all of them to do so. To keep prodding and jabbing at their insecurities and lack of knowledge, earning snickers whenever there was more than one witnessing it. In the present, they all can't stop hating themselves over how they acted. How they were the reason they were gone. And how they weren't coming back. And it was all. Their. FAULT. And they couldn't change it, no matter what they did.

• Being the pseudo "siblings" to Reader made them targets, an easy mark (Laura Kinney/X-23 and Kyle Gibney/Wild Child). So they made it so they were the ones over Reader, the ones who were in control. The ones at the top of the heap. They didn't stick up for their "sibling", and they didn't intervene when the other kids messed with them. Why should they? They did it, too. Reader was at the bottom of the pecking order, be it with the kids or with the feral mutants in general. Just because they were a part of them didn't mean they'd stop. Didn't mean they'd coddle them or let their weakness rub off on them. Shoving them aside and staying away from them was natural for them. It wasn't their problem, and they weren't about to lose their own place just to help the most useless mutant they'd met. In the future, they'd wonder why they weren't more attached. Why couldn't they have stuck by their side, protecting them rather than shoving them into the deep end? Without Reader... where did that leave them? They were the only other one like them, someone who had tried to comfort them and befriend them, never caring if they got hurt in the process. Never holding their own shortcomings against them. And now they were gone, and it was awful, and they had one less pack member to run with.

• For the two older feral adults (Wolverine and Sabretooth) to teach Reader had been a task. They were someone who would rather hug someone than try to fight them, a kid who had to be told multiple times what to do, had to be walked through everything, and who seemed to fail almost every time when it came to being aggressive. Their annoyance ran deep, which turned to resentment, which turned to anger every time they saw them. How was THIS creature anywhere near related to them?! How was this thing even worthy of their powers? They were useless, pathetic, weak. They had some points when it came to strength and bite force, but that was a drop compared to the ocean of mistakes they'd made. The river of problems they were. Hating them didn't take much more. And how they'd hate this, looking back on it. They were monsters. There was no other way of saying it. It was their own fault, for pushing and forcing them and always yelling at them. Always letting their cub know what they thought of them, compared to the others. And they were left with a rotting, agonizing self-hatred for themselves. If they hadn't been so hard... If they hadn't been so cruel... Maybe their kid wouldn't have been dead, with no body to bury or mourn...

• No one was quite sure what led to the wounding of Reader. Perhaps it was a scalding lie, or pointing their fingers at each other until it eventually fell on them. Or maybe it was because they could blame it all on Reader, someone who couldn't defend themself and who no one cared if was punished. But when Reader had been dealt with... They were a different person. Someone who shook whenever the adults came by. Who kept away from the other kids with no prompting, walking the other way when they came by. They didn't speak unless they were asked a question, and they didn't look directly at anyone anymore. And their face... Where the skin was once smooth and unbroken, there were deep, rouge-stained gouges, a mark of their new change. It was welcome at first. Finally, they shut up and learned how they all felt. Until-

• They left.

• They left, in the dead of a snow-washed wintery night, leaving as fast as they could and not looking back. And a few of them pursued, chasing after Reader, who they knew was going to be in the largest load of trouble since two weeks ago, when they'd been taught their lesson. When they found them, they were at the edge of some rocks, a river close by and roaring below, and they all felt their ire grow. The adult/s demanded they come back, so they could be done with it. But Reader just stepped back, their arms folding up against their chest, eyes wide like a fawn caught by a predator. They'd demanded again, then again, yelling-

• CRACK!

• The rock fell out from under Reader, who screamed, high and terrified-

• And they were gone, swallowed by the raging waters below, bits of red and pink dotting the foam and surface, soon fading as the river roared on...

• Then suddenly... they weren't so angry anymore. For once, they felt... scared. Hollow. Horrified. It didn't matter when the adults ran over, checking over the remaining ledge and scanning the icy waves below, shouting loudly. It didn't matter when the kids who were with them peered around each other, trying to confirm what had just happened had actually happened. Nor did it matter when they searched the shores of the river and found nothing, save for a few pinkish bits of foam and shards of ice, carrying the scent of iron and frost. All that mattered was Reader was gone... And it was their fault. They had- they didn't mean- it was an acci- what- No matter what excuse they thought of or fleeting emotion they felt-

• Reader was DEAD. And they had no one to blame but themselves.

• The adults after that were... quiet. Sullen. Almost as though in a trance, like they were stuck on that night, like they couldn't get over the fact they saw one of their own kids just die right before their eyes. The kids weren't much better, trying to seek any comfort they could, whether they saw the death or learned it had happened. That winter was blistering cold, as though even the elements were numb and in disbelief.

• This was something they'd joked about... This was something that a few might have talked about... But now that it had actually come true... They didn't feel like laughing anymore. If anything, they felt like crying. Like curling up in a ball and disappearing from the world. This was- it was their fault, wasn't it? Thats what they all believe. If they'd reached out, or- or tried to befriend them, or maybe just treated them better, hugged them back once, they wouldn't have ran, and they wouldn't be frozen in the river, lost to the cold and quiet and night. But... maybe if they even HAD stopped them from running... who's to say they wouldn't have tried something else? If they thought they couldn't leave... would they have done something worse? Would they have actually-?! They feel sick thinking about it, throwing up when they can't stop themselves from imagining it. It's a nightmare, what they're living, and there is no waking up from it.

• The adults slowly start talking again, interacting with them and calling them all together... But according to them, they all... They all are going to try and be better. They say they never should have pushed them so hard, they never should have yelled or forced or neglected their emotional needs. That what they'd been doing before stops there, and it ends there. From now on, things are going to be different. And this time, they're going to learn from what happened. That no one is going to make the mistake they made again.

• They keep their word. The adults grow into caring, more loving figures. They listen to the kids, who turn to teens, and help them. If their views are different, they don't yell or roar or rage at them, don't force them to agree, they simply agree to disagree, and let them know they're there if they need to talk. If the ferals go into their instincts, instead of attacking each other or turning against the others of the facility, they go to a special room where they can simply go through their urges, cuddling together and trying not to cry or hurt themselves for what had happened. The teens become more understanding, caring individuals, being friends rather than foes, and help each other, staying careful of each other's feelings and boundaries. The adults are there, always trying to steer them away from danger, hugging them if they want it (even if they don't), fixing them food if they're hungry, playing games with them, and when they train, it's as a group, as a family, rather than as rivals stuck together.

• Somehow, about three years after Reader's death, a few of them had been exploring at a new area, where the river had run by. It's cold, being so close to it, and it still haunts their dreams, along with a blonde child with bright eyes... Yet one of them finds something, caught in the branches near an old den, sharp and thorny: A piece of cloth, tattered and withered by the wilds, but speckled with rusted brown... When they bring the tattered remnant back to their home, it's inspected, but when the adult ferals look it over... Their eyes go wide, and suddenly their sniffing it, soon looking at them and asking them in a desperate voice where they found it. The moment they say where it was, the entire group is called together to discuss something they haven't discussed in so long... The piece of cloth, it has Reader's scent... So there is the smallest, tiniest chance that... Reader might have survived, after all.

• It doesn't take any prompting for them to pull some of their team members together to form a group to investigate the area they found the shred of cloth, and to scout out the surrounding towns near it. If Reader did survive... they hopefully wouldn't have left the region. And if anyone had seen anything odd, such as a child with claws or a wet bedraggled cat of kid, they would likely remember it (and if they wouldn't share what they knew, they wouldn't mind threatening them to make sure they had every bit of information about it they knew).

• Searching the region, it's clear to see it is mostly desolate of human life, save for small towns hidden in valleys and forests, full of snow-capped trees and icy slicks of ice, flakes of snow falling down like rain. When they stumble on a tiny town surrounded by chilly woods and freezing weather, is when they finally catch word of someone who might have been Reader... A lone child, always quiet and scarred, who brings in pelts and bones for a living... Investigating further, the people say the kid has a family, a sickly parent and a relative who takes care of their schooling when they drop by, but that they've never seen them before. According to the kid, their family is paranoid, leaving them as the only one who isn't afraid of going out and making ends meet.

• Well. It seems they have their lead.

• And when they find a cabin, old and worn and wet, the air is scented... And the smell is one they haven't smelled in three years. Soon, a person can be seen, a lanky teen with long, scruffy blonde hair and bright eyes... The moment they see them, everyone freezes.

• Seeing them again... Seeing how scrawny they are... The scars that mar their skin all over... The hunched shoulders and wide, scared eyes... A scent that turns sharp and acidic, tainted by thick, overflowing fear...

• "Reader..."

• In a flash Reader bolts, darting into the cold woods, not slowing even when they call after them, not stopping when they go after them. Reader keeps a step ahead, fast as a hare as their feet carry them over rocks and past patches of ice. Even trying to dart them doesn't work, the tranquilizer thumping into the snow beside them. The snow keeps falling, dusting them all in powdery white flakes as they follow. The teens who came along fall back when the two ferals signal them, letting then know they'll handle the situation... It doesn't take them much longer to find Reader, cutting them off as they block off either side of the small clearing. And what a moment it is...

• Reader is so... small, compared to them. It doesn't help that they shrink in on themself, their fangs bared and eyes fearful. They can see the scars across their face better now, sliced in and deep, a different color than the rest of their flesh. It's hard, seeing them this way. They're too thin, too shaking, too fearful. Even scars line their arms, as though made by an object rather than by accident... And they realize that even though Reader has been away, they haven't been much better off...

• "Oh cub... What did we do ta ya?"

• Trying to step closer only leads to their cub stepping back. It doesn't take more than a heartbeat for then to try to dodge past them, swift and desperate-

• But one of them manages to snag them by the back of their shirt, dragging them into a hold. They try to reason with them, try to talk them down from a panic attack, being as gentle and sincere as they can. But nothing works. No promises of peace, no begging to help them, no pleas to calm down and give them a chance... None of it works. And they fight them. Sharp claws scratch at them, all while Reader struggles, screaming and wailing and biting, not stopping in the least. They try to do things without force one more time... But when their cub only cries harder, they know it won't go anywhere. Their kid is too deep into their trauma, too scared, and the most merciful thing to do is to cut it short.

• The syringe is jabbed in, quick and sharp, and pulled out a second later once it's empty. Explaing to their cub that it was only a sedative makes them cry harder, a broken sob escaping them. Their struggles grow wilder for a minute- until it starts to slow down, as the drug takes effect. They pat their head softly, a hiccup escaping the cub as the medicine calms them down, making them tired and relaxed. Feeling the way they slowly relax, their limbs slackening and their breaths slowing, a tired mumble coming from them... It isn't what they want, but they can't deny how right it feels, getting their kid to feel better. To soothe them when they've been hurtin'. When the cub passes out, slumping into his arms, he's every bit careful and soft, picking them up and letting his brother lead the way back to the others, alerting them that they have Reader with them.

• This isn't how they wanted it ta go... But... If this is what it takes ta keep 'em safe. Ta make 'em feel better. Ta take care of 'em... So be it. All that matters is helpin' Reader, keepin' em safe an' fed an' well, makin' em feel loved an' cared fer. They might have ta be a little forceful about it. That's fine. They'll be as gentle as they can, an' make sure their cub can't hurt themself er others. They'll keep 'em happy, they'll make it so they know how much they care. Even if it takes a lifetime, they'll keep proving how sorry they are, how much they missed 'em, how much they love them... They might well be immortal... Who's to say their cub isn't, too? And this time, they're all going to be a family. No more fighting. No more rivalries. All of them, together, will make things right. That's a promise that they won't break, no matter what comes their way...

[vyntilador]

Let Me Cherish You

The boys catching you talking oh-so affectionately about them🫶

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Genre: Fluff / Romance

Character/s: Marius, Artem, Luke, Vyn

Fandom: Tears of Themis

A/N: me rn screaming into my pillow and getting all giddy writing vyns part LMFOAOAWHSHAHAAHH

(you talking is color red, marius is purple, artem is blue luke is orange n vyn is green btw)

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𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓾𝓼

You were over at his family home havinf a small chat over tea with his father when he suddenly raised the question; "What did you find in Marius that made you love him?" You pondered the question for a moment, gathering it all and smiling to yourself as you thought more about him. "Well, for starters, I love his eyes. That maybe sounds a bit basic but I love the way he looks at everything as if it's the most priceless thing in the world. He uses everything he sees as an inspiration either as a painter or a businessman. Even if he had this.. 'annoying' laid-back attitude, I admire him for still being able to make me smile and comfort me in dark times." You were unaware of the smile blooming on your face as you kept going. "In all honesty, there's kind of a lot of things I like about him. Maybe some, I haven't found yet or some that are just so amazing that I can't put it to words." Austin von Hagen laughs softly and later then turns his gaze into the doorway where his son stood, frozen and staring fondly at his lover.

———————————————————————————————————————

𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓶

(god he deserves all the wholesome energy in the world so here😭)

You and Artem were stationed in an orphanage for a task in the law firm. The job you were given was connected to a child that resides within the orphanage which led you to your situation right now. You were sat on the floor with a number of children surrounding you as they 'interrogate' you. "Miss, is he your husband?" A little girl speaks up, her big, innocent eyes gazing into yours as if she sees your soul itself. "Uhm, no—" You were taken aback by the child's sudden inquiry that you stuttered slightly. "Mr. Wing is my co-worker. He's not my lover." You smiled sweetly at the child as you explained to her. "But how come you act like a married couple?" What..?—"Yeah! My mommy and daddy act exactly the same!" two kids now spoke and your panic increases. "Missy, if you're not married, then surely you like him, right?" A little boy asks and you sigh internally at the sudden turn of events. "Look! Miss attorney is turning red!" Many of the kids cheered and you sighed once more, not knowing how to deal with them. The children begged you to answer their questions and you were left with no choice. "..Yes, I kinda like him." You responded in a soft and quiet tone, making sure he doesn't hear. "But why do you like him?" a child asks, gaining the other kids attention. "Why do I like him..?" you ponder for a moment then spoke. "Well, he's really kind. Whenever I'm working, he's always looking out for me. And also, I look up to him! He's such a great person overall that I want to be like him. And.." "Look! She's smiling! " A little girl interrupts and the room full of children erupt with cheerful voices. "That's what my dad always does whenever mom comes home from work." The hoard of children discuss amongst themselves once more and you felt helpless until the sweet sound of a voice all too familiar was heard amongst the voices of the children. "Hey now, let miss have some rest. She's been very busy and I want you all to take good care of her, not tire her, okay?" "Okay!" the children agree in unison. Artem smiles to himself as he thinks of the words you described him as. He makes sure to stop by at the flower shop before going to work tomorrow.

———————————————————————————————————————

𝓛𝓾𝓴𝓮

A karaoke booth packed with 'adults' screaming singing their hearts out. That was the kind of situation you were currently in with Luke and your old classmates. Luke held the microphone in one hand while his eyes were trained on the tv displaying the lyrics. Your gaze stayed unmoving on him until somebody spoke up from beside you. "So, you still like him?" You whip your head to the direction of the voice to see one of your old best friend along side Luke back then snickering. You stayed silent, not knowing how to answer. More of your friends heard the topic of discussion and crowded around you for an answer. "What'dya like about him?" "If I had to guess it's probably his academic ability." "No! Not only that! Look at his build." "I can't believe you guys only look on the outside. It's his personality!" They all argued about which it was you liked about him but the answer was clear in your heart. "I don't like him just because he has a well built body or he's very intelligent but, I love him because he's always sincere. Ever since we were children, he was always honest with me. He never hesitated to do anything just to cheer me up and I love him for that. Though, I think he's gotten used to basically throwing his own well-being away just to save me and I wanna keep his mind at ease that it's not only him that has to protect the other. I'll protect him too, even if I'm not really capable." The girls that swarmed around you all swooned and squealed in excitement, saying how your love story would be just like a kid's fantasy novel about princesses. A blush bloomed on your face, mimicking the color of red flowers while trying to avoidtheir gazes but what you were unaware of was that Luke was looking straight at you the whole time, falling in love all over again.

———————————————————————————————————————

𝓥𝔂𝓷

You were only supposed to bring him lunch when you're suddenly swarmed by his students, all asking you questions as per your sudden appearance within the school. All the female students all talk amongst themselves while the others interrogate you and suddenly, a voice pierces through the noisy atmosphere. "Wait! You're all asking the useless questions! Miss, are you and Professor Richter dating?" The room goes quiet as all the students' attention turns to you. They all move closer to you demanding an answer and you sigh, defeated. "No, we're just..." as you thought of an answer, you suddenly cut yourself off , thinking if you were friends, acquaintances, work partners or...lovers. "... friends?" you finish your answer in an unsure manner. The students scoff and others laugh. "Come on miss, we're psychology students. There's no way in this green earth that Professor Richter looks at you like that and you're only friends!" students all agree and nod as they talk loudly once more. "Well, let's just say you're just crushing on him, what do you like about Professor Richter?" A rosy tint slowly emerges to your cheeks as seconds pass while you thought deeply about it. "Well— uhm.." you sigh and just decided to speak your thoughts. "He's very kind and caring. The moment I saw him, I already felt comfortable around him, with that soft expression he has. He's good both inside and outside. And uhm, please don't tell him but, I was already captivated by him on our first meeting. I mean— if you'd all just seen how cute and...attractive..? he was! I swear, I could've melted right then and ther—" the sudden sound of a low chuckle in the tone and voice you're all too familiar with interrupts your words as you look up and see all the students' eyes wide while some cover their mouths and you slump knowing that he's right behind you. "My rose, can we speak privately for a moment?" his voice was calming and smothered with loving affection and you take a quick look at the students again all hurrying out the room to give you privacy all the while snickering amongst themselves. "I've told them to get home as soon as classes are dismissed but they still don't listen." he takes a few steps to stand in front of you and he puts his finger underneath your chin to gently tilt it upwards so that he can lay his eyes upon your face. "But I guess I have them to thank for letting me overhear how much you adore me." he takes your hand in his and gives a chaste kiss on the back of it. "How about a dinner date then, my love?"

———————————————————————————————————————

A/N:this shit messy fr💀

[lakesbian]

okay rachel posting time. i am going to have opinions on her

The scentless man waits for something, then speaks again, “Are you okay?” “Fuckin’ peachy.”  Brutus knows Master only says fuck word like that when she’s mad. “I have a hard time believing that, to be honest.  You were in pretty rough shape when I found you with Über and Leet’s henchmen, and those guys from the ABB.” “I’m fine now,” Master tells him.  She sounds angry.  Brutus steps forward, ready to growl to add own voice to hers, but Master tugs on leash just a little and Brutus stays quiet. “When I found you, one of them had you tied to the ceiling by your wrists and was using you as a punching bag.” Master breaks eye contact.  Brutus knows this is a sign that Master sees the scentless man as her alpha.  When she speaks, she still sounds angry, “I fucked up.  I was bored, restless, figured I’d walk Angelica and see if I could meet you guys where the money was.  Someone recognized me and tailed me.  I was stupid, I took my licks for it.  I’m fine now, we have the money, all is well.” The scentless man sighs.  Sounds a little angry as he says, “It’s not… no, nevermind.  No use getting into it.  But what if someone recognizes you while you’re walking him?” “I’ll fight back sooner, harder.  Or are you going to tell me I can’t walk my dogs anymore?”  All of a sudden, Master is tense.  Brutus can see it in her legs, hear it in her voice, feel it in her grip on the leash. “I wouldn’t do that,” the scentless man replies, his voice quiet, slightly strained “And you wouldn’t listen even if I did.  Just… be careful.” “I can go?” “Go.  Enjoy your walk, both of you.”

it's like...rachel's entire childhood was spent in an environment where any "concern" or attention from her authority figures was invariably going to be extremely ableist and confusing and scary for her. so much of how autistic children learn to approach interactions w/ ppl with social power over them is predicated on adults treating them like they're doing something atrociously wrong when they can't guess what that thing is, and no one ever explains. even "concern" for the child tends to result in "polite" attempts to force them into a specific socially acceptable mold, regardless of the cost to their mental wellbeing. i'm sure rachel has had uncountable experiences where she was made to feel like her distress or pain was her fault + worthy of punishment: because she was stupid, because she was retarded, because she couldn't act right, because she's a bad kid.

so, you know. of course she reacts to aggression and wariness with brian--her team leader--approaching her like this. he's asking if she's okay because he cares, but that doesn't change how often she gets treated like a bad dog on a leash. how is she supposed to know this is different from the times he gets mad at her for "doing something wrong," where she can't understand what the "wrong" thing is? how is she supposed to know this is different from all the hundreds of times that's happened to her before she even met him? he doesn't care about the money, here, but she has to cover her bases in bringing up that it's intact, because experience has taught her that people care more about how her behavior inconvenienced them than about how she's doing. it even sounds like he's about to say "it's not about the money" before he realizes that it's fruitless to go that route with rachel.

by "you were being used as a punching bag," he means "you were really being hurt badly, are you sure you're okay? i'm trying to check in on and help you," but all rachel hears is a reiteration of how she fucked up. he means "what if someone recognizes you while you're walking him?" as an inquiry into her safety. (he's incredibly protective of the undersiders during the bakuda fight, and afterwards he chooses to check on alec over detaining bakuda, so i'm sure the idea that rachel was kidnapped & hurt and he couldn't do anything about it rattled him, and he wants to ensure it can't happen again.) but rachel hears it as a subtle threat of punishment.

it's just Sooo. Soo Very. to see how her team is never quite able to figure out how to convey their care for her in a way that doesn't feel like a trap. rachie :(

[manjiroscum]

SWEET PEA

Character/s: Bonten!Manjiro Sano

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, breeding, a bit of fluff, reader gets a bit insecure, hybrid au, reader is a bunny hybrid + has some bunny features, heat cycles mentioned, creampie, rough sex, and pet names used. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by bby grey @bunnyjiros 💕 thank you as always luv and i hope you like it! 🥺

Synopsis: Manjiro sometimes wishes you wouldn't shy away from expressing your desires.

WC: 1.3k

“She’s turning two this year and it won’t be long before she welcomes a new sibling.”

Beaming smiles were worn by every woman sitting around the table that morning. Brunch was decided on and frankly, you wished you didn’t eat so much. You remember every fleeting glance and inquisitive question sent each other's way. It was supposed to be a get-together with old friends from high school whom you haven’t kept in touch with since graduation due to the duties and tight schedules brought by adult life. But the second you showed up, they were not alone. Everyone gushed about their children and babies that you were sure your floppy ears hurt hearing the same thing. Unlike your fellow hybrid friends, the joys of motherhood were foreign to you. Knowing nothing about labor pains or the hardships of taking care of a newborn, you fell listen as they conversed about it. The sandwich you chewed and swallowed made your stomach hurt slightly while you sat there motionless.

Becoming a parent wasn’t a dream of yours. Heck, you only wanted to survive and graduate from university. The next step after that was to get a job and become stable. The same was true for your friends so it surprised you to see them all building a family of their own. So much can occur and change in five years that it terrifies you. However, the image of having a little one in the future slowly bloomed into your picture of perfection when Sano Manjiro entered your life. While they had their families and other mundane occurrences in their lives, you had your husband, Mikey, who was Bonten’s undefeated leader. The joy of introducing him to your friends waned with each passing moment as they spoke, afraid of their judgemental stares and possible crass comments. What was even worse…

The green-horned monster was rearing its ugly face toward them, eyeing each of their material possessions and the people they hold dear.

“Babe? You doin’ alright?”

Yet, what overpowered that unpleasant state of envy was sheer melancholy. To have and give your lover a child has been one of your plans ever since you tied the knot with Manjiro. There was this unexplained desire to see the most powerful man in Tokyo dote on a small human being and hold them in such gentle ways akin to touching a precious gem. Yet, above that desire was another one—to see your husband smile. However, what was stopping you from discontinuing your birth control and just asking Manjiro to put a baby inside you was his lack of voicing his wishes to have one. That alone was enough to have you sitting there in silence, unable to tear away your gaze from the mirror until your husband had to speak up about his concern.

“Manji, can I ask you something?”

The rest of the jewelry you put on for that gathering was all safely placed inside the velvet box that was filled with other accessories gifted by your husband standing a few feet behind you. You locked eyes with his onyx ones that were normally listless around others. His brow raised, a sign for you to shoot your question away. Clearing your throat, you braced yourself for his response while structuring the inquiry.

“Um, I’ve been thinking… Well, first off, today’s brunch was excellent and I had fun. Second, my friends were discussing things like their babies and children. They were all so cute, Manji! I couldn’t help but gush about them once I saw photos of their chubby cheeks and small hands.” You didn’t realize it, but Manjiro noticed you were now rambling. It didn’t have to take him too long to know that you were nervous, especially with how your floppy ears were stiff due to anxiety. Instead of pointing it out, he opted to let you finish and get to the point with a small curl on his lips. “Don’t you think babies are so tiny and cute? I bet my babies will be cuter than theirs though. I mean, they will be since they’re a combination of you and me. Wouldn’t you agree, Manji?”

“So, you want a baby?” Manjiro, in all his stoic glory, cracked a smile at what you were obviously hinting at from the start. He confirmed he hit the truth once you froze in your seat, eyes slightly widened. He bet that your cheeks were as hot as a summer day, hoping for them to be cooled down by his calloused fingertips. Abashedly, you nodded your head in agreement. There was no use lying to Manjiro. He always seems to have a way of finding out the truth at the end of the day. Plus, beating around the bush with this topic would not satiate your mind seeking for answers on whether he shared the same wish or not. As a response to your harmless query, your husband silently diminished the distance between you two. Your eyes followed his every move from the way his hands sought after your face to the moment he lowered his head to plant a kiss on your lips. Parting from you for a second, he whispered, “If you want it so badly, I’m more than willing to start now. We can do it every day until your heat comes to be extra sure. What do ‘ya say?”

“Well… I don’t want to do this without your consent first and asking if you want a kid—”

Manjiro acted swiftly than your doubts. He knew you like the back of his hand. If anything, he would rather keep you happy than ever witness you fighting back your emotions while staring at a blurry sky. He ignored your slightly panicked expression and kept a straight face on while lifting you from your seat.

Of course, anything you wanted shall be yours.

Your bare back hit the mattress, rubbing against the material as he ground himself against your aching core. His mouth heatedly kissed yours. His adept tongue explored and relished your taste. You were silenced by his loving onslaught of affections, mind rendered silent as you received his gentle but arousing touches. Your floppy ears twitched when he nipped your neck which was accompanied by your mewls at the ticklish yet hot sensation. Manjiro hoped to leave his mark on the supple flesh. He wasn’t going to admit it aloud right now, but when he heard you wanted a child—his child, never has he experienced such bliss that clouded his mind to the point all he could think of was your stomach round with his offspring and the thought of stuffing you full of his fertile cum.

“Baby! Ah, please. Please… Please fuck a baby in me. Wanna have your babies!”

Manjiro was out of control. He cared less and less if his hands left imprints on your hips, wrists, thighs, or any other part of your body as he thrust his cock into your sopping wet cunt. A thick white ring formed around his girthy length that, too, coated his balls that were slapping your ass each time. Even your sensitive floppy ears fell victim to his rough treatment, being held up tightly as he pounded your pussy away. You, on the other hand, screamed for more. Your husband may not be a hybrid like you, however, he was on par with a beast in its rutting season. Every thrust had you begging for more, hoping for him to fill your cunt up until his balls could no longer produce any semen. And that was exactly what you and he wanted—to go at it like animals.

To breed and be bred.

“Fuck, babe…” Manjiro grunted as he climaxed for the fourth time tonight. A hiss escaped his lips at the sight of your abused pussy creamed, dripping as you sobbed into the mattress. Your mind was long gone from its rational state, drunk off on euphoria. Fixing your hair and floppy ears, your husband leaned down to lick on your nape before biting the spot. You were too weak to do anything or even react, just laying there in all your vulnerable form. “Ready to be a mommy? You better be ready to keep this up.

[missis-maple394]

HOLLOW KNIGHT + LETTER BEE doodles

DO NOT REPOST / EDIT / TRACE / MONETIZE MY ART FROM OTHER SITES.

Author’s comment:

A doodle page for you! I was inspired to draw one of my favorite game (Hollow Knight) and the japanese comic (Tegami Bachi / Letter Bee by Hiroyuki Asada); Both of them were thematically similar with Light & Bugs, all in one crossover! From lighthearted drama of young child's delivering dear letters, to fight against the bugs and seek the truth!

I recommend checking out both of my favorites. Great for teenagers and young adults alike!

With Hiroyuki Asada's Letter Bee, please be mindful that has a few artistic nudity. Go along with Manga version only. The Anime doesn't follow the further plot during the author's continuation to write, and studio changed a story's anime ending.

As for Hollow Knight; some of the backdrops & lores may shock you, but there isn't explicit imagery at all. I promise you'll love this game. It's a love letter for Metroidvania gamers, like me!

Author’s note:

DO NOT start a roleplay using direct messages/comments & replies with my artworks.

DO NOT add your playful or direct rudeness to my posts such as replies, comments, hidden tags and private messages.

DO NOT tag and marked as a kin/me/morally questionable content etc. Aesthetic or Inspiration tag is good enough.

DO NOT claim my artworks belong to you, and removing / cropping my watermarks away.

DO NOT sell my art for monetary profit.

DO NOT SUBMIT ANY CRYPTOCURRENCY/NFT ART AND A.I. IMAGE GENERATOR WITH MY COMMISSIONED / PERSONAL ARTWORK.

DO NOT dub my artwork / comics, especially A.I. voicework.

Please DM me for inquiries such as commissioned work or reporting my artwork has been reposted or edited.

[crow2222]

darry having a panic attack and one of older members of the gang being there to help him through it (like dally, two-bit, or steve. idc who) ♥️

WC; 957

He wasn’t even forty-one yet. 

Darry found himself thinking about his father as he flipped through the worn pages of the family album. Most of the photos were of him and his brothers, because what parents would use their valuable film on themselves?

However, there were a good amount of pictures of them before they had kids, most of them blurry as if they were hastily taken, before the other would be able to notice.

Their smiles were earnest, and the twinkles in their eyes captured the young puppy love they had felt for each other.

Then, a niggling feeling started to creep up Darry’s mind as he looked deep into the photos of his father at his current age, if not younger. He used to feel prideful about their identical looks, in awe that he was a carbon copy of a great man; but then the world ripped him away, and it felt like Darry had been chosen to be his replacement, looks and all.

It was December the thirteenth, and it would’ve been Darrel’s forty-first birthday.

Darry wished he knew to have asked more questions. Like, how do you take care of teenagers? Were you ever going to get out of Tulsa? What was your childhood like? Did you look like your dad?

Truth be told, Darry didn’t really know his father all that well. Sure, he knew the basics and some small bits from his curious inquiries as a bright-eyed kid, but not much past that. Now he’d never know, and it felt like his parents were now a mystery; one he’d never learn more about.

A tear slid down his cheek, causing him to realise his eyes were filling up. How stupid that must be, a twenty year old adult crying for his parents like a baby.

He wiped at his eyes impatiently, but no matter how much he did, more tears came.

Then his hands shook as he ran them over his face, his breaths picking up into pants as he wondered what the hell he was doing at his big age, crying, like a lost child in a supermarket looking for his parents.

Looking for his parents.

The album fell from his lap as he stood up, stumbling his way into the bathroom for hopes that cold water on his face would snap him out of it. His hands traced over the walls as he made his way over, not trusting his blurry vision alone.

Cold porcelain under his fingers cooled him down slightly, but he soon noticed he had no energy to cup his hands to grab the water - or to even turn the tap at all.

So instead, he sunk down to the dirty tiles of the bathroom, clutching tightly at the front of his shirt as he tried to calm down. He tried racking his brain for why he was panicking like this again but he couldn’t find the answer. His chest hurt like hell and he swore he let out a whimper after a quick wheeze for air.

He just wished he wasn’t so alone at that moment.

But then, it was as if an angel had answered his call, and placed someone right by him.

They shook his shoulders, muttering about “calming down” and to “breathe man!”. Darry obliged, trying to sync his breaths to the numbers being counted down by someone else.

It took a little while, but eventually Darry had calmed down enough to open his eyes, which he didn’t recall closing in the first place.

“Darry?”

The man then blinked, wondering how he hadn’t heard anyone come home earlier, and how long he had been sitting there with his eyes screwed shut.

He would’ve felt indefinitely embarrassed if the person was either of his brothers, Two-bit, Johnny, or God, Dallas. 

But it was Steve.

Steve Randle.

His face was screwed up as he stared down Darry from his side, like he wasn’t quite sure of what to do now; which was most likely that he actually didn’t.

The older man brought up his legs, which have been sprawled out in front of him previously, and rested his chin on his knees. He hoped to whatever was out there that he didn’t look nearly as bad as he felt. 

“Whatdya want Steve?” 

His voice was gravely, and if his possibly red eyes and tear stained face didn’t give away that he’d been crying, those three words would’ve.

“Had plans for the races with Sodapop.” His eyes shifted, as he begrudgingly stepped out of his comfort zone. “But what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Right.”

Worry crossed the teen’s face, which would’ve surprised Darry if he wasn’t purposefully avoiding his gaze. His face was hot, utterly and completely humiliated from being found in such a state, by no other than Steve Randle.

They weren’t on bad terms by any means, but they sure weren’t close. Steve was just Soda’s best buddy to him, and he was probably just Sodapop’s older brother to Steve. Apart from the one time Darry had punched him in the jaw for a poorly timed joke, they didn’t have bad blood against each other.

So why was it so damn hard to try and find common ground?

Steve, notably ignoring his own previous question, asked another.

“Wanna come with? To the races I mean. I’ll get you a coke.” 

Darry picked up his head from his knees, eyes darting over to the other greaser as he considered the invitation. Even if he did have work tomorrow, if he would just get home early enough..

His eyes must’ve sparkled with something, because Steve suddenly had a smug smirk on his face that Darry quickly mimicked.

“Make it a Pepsi and I’m in.”

[itsnotmourn]

SONG RAMBLES | the curse of milhaven (skidad)

───── YOU DO NOT KNOW THE DAY NOR THE HOUR ...

if there's a song that captures the overall lore of spooky month and skidad as a manipulator and possible god complex, i think it's the curse of milhaven.

you might be familiar it by the band Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds BUT i'm using the polish cover by Bartek Kulas & Katarzyna Groniec specifically (explained below)

───── ONLY GOD KNOWS THAT !

i want to note that the lyrics in the video are apparently a little inaccurate so i'm using this translation instead!

Millhaven is a small, colorless town Neighbours treat the cold-hearted with respect Though there are unnerving days When the golden evening sun Burns hearts with a caring kiss I warn against danger Reciting the Bible with devotion

An introduction to the town in Spooky Month and Skidad's feelings towards religion. He's dedicated.

I don't know if he grew up in the cult or joined in his adulthood (I think it's only implied that he met The Eyes as an adult) but regardless, he is dedicated.

You do not know the day nor the hour - only God knows that!

This repeats throughout the song and it's very important. Keep note of it for later!

I'm fifteen years old, though they assume I'm older

I don't actually have any specific opinions on this but I thought it's a fun line for people who think about the cult's motif of immortality; I kinda think Skidad will gain his immorality in the series, or has already gained it pre-series.

You've had to have heard that there's a curse on Millhaven ... Blake's son - Billy, disappeared somewhere ... Priest O'Rye has went crazy ... When someone found the Handyman's cut off head It was splashing around in the town's fountain ... Next, old lady Colgate's soul had left her And before she became one with God She wheezed out, with her last breath Loretta* killed me with her own hands

*Loretta is the MC/singer in the song btw; that's Skidad

All is not as it seems in the small town. There are a number disappearances and murders happening in the area, regardless of age or status. No one is safe.

It is finally revealed that Skidad has been involved or did the crimes above.

I was named the spawn of devil and the town's curse! But it was Millhaven that brought me bad luck ... All fall down to your knees! I know the easiest road to the Lord ... This inquiry is depressing and unfair How do you dare to punish me in the name of the law The earthly passions aren't for me I was the one that crossed the step to eternity I know very well that death is not a game Over the world rings the bell of despair So may God's hand protect you ... It was me that drowned Billy, and while stabbing lady Colgate I unfortunately hesitated for a moment But while I took care of the Handyman I was happy, because I saw The sunrays reflecting on the chainsaw I didn't crucify the dog, though* I always had an A+ for religion class!

Now, he is facing the consequences of his actions... but why are they consequences if he is doing God's work? He is angry; he knows what is right! These people in the court and town do NOT.

In the bold text, it emphases his path to immorality.

I don't exactly believe Skidad is directly involved in the disappearances or child sacrifices for the cult but he's somewhere there.

*Not necessarily related to the Spooky Month lore but this is an interesting thing to think about as, apparently, there's a number of religious believes of animals not having souls; or at least not the same souls as humans (I'm only familiar with Buddhism lol). If the dog was killed, was it not seen as a true murder...?

I'm quite content on the daily the doctor helps me When I fall into depressive states sometimes Electric shots or hypnosis the golden medicine for everything - Prozac And I can imagine my euphoric plans again I dream about fast recovery

A dramatic change from the violent words from before, these ones are soft and soothing, as if to manipulate or gaslight someone... (looks at Lila).

When I get out, I'll show you all

This foreshadows Skidad's eventual arrival in the series; "out" of death's grip.

You do not know the day nor the hour - only I know that

Finally, I can finally talk about the importance of this specific phrase. Throughout this song, Skidad has always been saying it piously; only God knows this and that.

However, with this one, it's finally confirmed that he has had a God complex all this time. He is the God.

[im-probably-crying-rn-ngl]

fuck it, book recommendations based on your favourite driver

+ age rating, summary and rambling disguised as explanation as to why

if your favourite driver is Lewis Hamilton...then i would recommend Carrie Soto is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid

(historical sports fiction, standalone) "Carrie Soto, a fierce and determined retired tennis champion, comes out of retirement at thirty-seven to reclaim her record and face personal challenges, coached by her father partnered with the man she almost opened her heart to, in Taylor Jenkins Reid's novel about the cost of greatness and a legendary athlete's epic comeback."

the connection between this book and lewis is what inspired this whole post in the first place. a comeback story even if you have proven all there is to be proven? trying to beat all the odds against you even time? being an all-time champion AND an underdog? there are so many links that can be made between carrie and lewis not just with their careers and relationships but also what adversities they have had to face. idk but is this like manifesting that lewis is going to be "back" for his 8th wdc?

if your favourite driver is George Russell...then i would recommend A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson

(young adult mystery thriller, book 1 of 3) "In 'A Good Girl's Guide to Murder,' Pippa Fitz-Amobi reexamines a closed case, challenging the conviction of Sal Singh for Andie Bell's murder, unearthing hidden secrets that threaten her safety as she seeks the elusive truth."

ah mr wannabe investigator (we all saw him checking out that redbull) but seriously there's something we grussell sprouts must enjoy about someone who seems so straight-laced and uptight be absolutely blatantly unhinged both on and off track. it's just so george to choose literal murder inquiry as a school project, from the ambition bordering on arrogance of believing a high schooler could do what the authorities couldn't to the genuine heartfelt sincerity in wanting the truth and to bring justice for those already deemed outcasts by society. he's OUR good girl that's not-so-secretly "bad".

(main ship are george and alex coded btw like im just saying)

(+ bonus rec bc i am incredibly biased) if your favourite team is Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team (had to google the name for the nth time)...then i would recommend The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee

(adult fantasy, trilogy, best books i have ever read) "The Green Bone Saga is a fantasy trilogy by Fonda Lee, exploring the intricate power struggles and conflicts within and around the Kaul family. Set in the fictional city of Janloon with ability-enhancing jade as it's lifeblood."

my faves with my faves. mercedes aren't a national institution/emotion (ferrari), a team (red bull racing), a villains' lair (ashton martin) or a pop band (mclaren) but a family. a dysfunctional, awkward, barely concealed hot mess of a family, but family nonetheless. chasing victory while trying to survive the horrors of life and each other is the merc way and you will see the same in this trilogy. *toto voice* loyalty!

family is duty. magic is power. honor is everything. <- literally them

if your favourite driver is Oscar Piastri...then i would recommend The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan

(young adult fantasy, book 1 of 5) "In 'The Lightning Thief' by Rick Riordan, seemingly troubled teenager Percy Jackson discovers his divine lineage as a demigod, embarks on a perilous quest with his friends to prevent a war among the gods."

wow guys i don't know what to tell you except oscar JACK piastri, SON of nicole and chris piastri, might literally be percy JACKSON (i have connected the dots, you haven't connected shit). your guy might have had a former illustrious career in undertaking dangerous quests and asking greek gods to pay child support, you should check.

if your favourite driver is Lando Norris...then i would recommend Magnolia Parks by Jessa Hastings

(adult contemporary romance, check tws, book 1 of an ongoing series) "In 'Magnolia Parks' by Jessa Hastings, a tumultuous love story unfolds between the beautiful and self-involved London socialite Magnolia Parks and Britain's notorious bad-boy BJ Ballentine, as they grapple with a dysfunctional relationship marked by heartbreak, secrets, and the enduring pull they feel towards each other."

picked this based on vibes, just pure vibes but immaculate ones. the drama, the glitz, the glam yes but also the family, friendship, and love found within the pages of this series. this is british gossip girl. i am telling you there is a vision here people.

(+ bonus review because this might be the only book on this list that has less (3.84) than 4+ stars on goodreads and i can't do him and y'all dirty like that: i personally didn't love the first book but the series really comes together and you truly get invested in these characters and their happiness, actually pretty excited to read more.

also if nothing else it's fun, just some brain popcorn)

if your favourite driver is Carlos Sainz...then i would recommend The Wrath and the Dawn by Renée Ahdieh

(young adult romance fantasy, check tws, book 1 of 2) "In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, Shahrzad vows vengeance for her friend's death and becomes the next bride of the tormented Caliph Khalid, discovering unexpected love as she navigates the perilous palace of secrets and stories, torn between survival and the promise of retribution."

wow like you think he didn't step out of a magical retelling of 1001 nights? mhm but let's leave aside the fact i am still not convinced otherwise. carlos this year has shown his insane mega ultra galaxy brain, so i believe the plot of the wrath & the dawn would be something that would resonate with you. the quick wit and guile of the mc as she tries to carry out a revenge plot while trying to not get executed is only comparable to carlos coming up with his own race strategy mid race and cementing himself as the only non-rbr race winner in 2023. wow.

if your favourite driver is Charles Leclerc...then i would recommend The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

(historical romance fantasy, standalone) "The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller is an Iliad retelling, focusing on the deep and complex relationship between Achilles and Patroclus."

he has that sadness in his eyes that you only see in tragic greek myths etc etc. i will have to say, achilles walked so charles leclerc could race. *soft longing sigh* il predestinato and aristos achaion, the predestined and the best of the greeks. beloveds born and bathed in golden light. it just makes sense to me.

if your favourite driver is Alex Albon...then i would recommend Beach Read by Emily Henry

(adult contemporary romance, standalone) "A romance writer who no longer believes in love and a literary writer stuck in a rut engage in a summer-long challenge that may just upend everything they believe about happily ever afters."

i mean alex is a living-breathing romance novel of a man. BUT it hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows (helmut marko if i catch you). so i think any emily henry book but especially beach read captures the ups and downs of alex's journey so well compared to just any ole romcom (...but if i had to give one for the alex enjoyers then it would be Better Than the Movies by Lynn Painter, coincidentally also george and alex coded lmao).

but was it his remarkable drive back to f1 or the recent holiday beach pics that was the reason behind this rec? i guess we will never know

if your favourite driver is Logan Sargeant...then i would recommend Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

(young adult fantasy, book 1 of 3)"In 'Howl's Moving Castle' by Diana Wynne Jones, eldest daughter Sophie is cursed to age prematurely, the key to break the spell lies in the enigmatic Wizard Howl's castle. Sophie embarks on a quest to confront the Witch who cursed her all the while unraveling hidden truths about herself and Howl."

"let's bring it in and call it a day - let's look after of you." to "that's my girl" pipeline and vice versa. i know what you are.

but logang (the only one i know frfr) you deserve it okay? a cozy lil fantasy full of whimsy and wonder. tuck in and have some tea and cookies, pookies.

(i wanted to do the full grid but keep the teammates together and i haven't yet come up with something for all of em so there will be a part 2...? hopefully...?)

sources for summaries: thestorygraph and goodreads

[coochiequeens]

"118 unaccompanied children remain unaccounted for, some as young as 12."

Children missing from Home Office hotels likely to have been trafficked, report finds

Exclusive: Study sparks new calls for public inquiry into ‘scandal’ of missing migrant children in UK

Mark Townsend Wed 17 Jul 2024

Scores of asylum-seeking children are still missing from the UK’s Home Office hotels as a new report reveals that many are likely to have been trafficked.

The most recent figures show that 118 unaccompanied children remain unaccounted for, some as young as 12. The study, released on Wednesday, is the first to conclude that children placed inside the hotels were at “increased risk of trafficking”, contradicting Home Office claims that the youngsters were not exploited.

Experts said the findings reinforced demands for an official inquiry into the “national scandal”.

The report, by the University College London (UCL) and Ecpat UK, was commissioned after it was revealed last year that dozens of asylum-seeking children were kidnapped by criminal gangs from hotels run by the Home Office. Basic checks to keep youngsters safe were not carried out in a scandal regarded among the most shameful of the last government.

The new report details interviews with professionals involved in the care of the children, including a former Home Office hotel worker who knew of three trafficking incidents from their hotel. Traffickers contacted the young people, they said, “via a fake [social media] account or Facebook … [It] is not that they are naive, but when in such a bad situation, they think: ‘OK, it’s the risk but this place is also bad.’

Researchers found that Home Office attempts to protect the children actually drove them into the hands of criminals. Hotel staff were instructed to knock on the doors of children every hour throughout the night, especially for nationalities deemed to be of high risk of going missing, such as Albanians.

“Ironically, [this was] the reason that most kids went missing,” said the former Home Office hotel worker.

Seven hotels were run by the Home Office to accommodate minors who arrived in the UK after crossing the Channel in small boats, many from Africa, including Eritrea and Sudan. Such hotels were in operation from 2021 until January 2024 after a high court ruling deemed them unlawful.

In total, 440 children went missing from them, with 144 not found by last November and 118 still unaccounted for in March, according the most recent update.

The report’s lead author and principal investigator, Sonja Ayeb-Karlsson, of UCL’s department of risk and disaster reduction, said: “This is a national scandal which must not be repeated. It is still not clear what attempts have been made to find those who remain missing and make sure that they are safe.”

Patricia Durr, the chief executive of Ecpat UK, added: “This research confirms our fears and emphasises the need for urgent action to find the missing children, and for a statutory independent inquiry to ensure this child protection scandal never happens again.”

One social worker told researchers that boys from Albania were “very vulnerable, very frightened” due to a “targeted campaign” against them and concerns that they may be sent home imminently.

Although the hotels for children are now closed, researchers also found significant concern that youngsters seeking asylum were being incorrectly assessed as above 18 and placed in adult hotels, where they risked sexual abuse and exploitation. Several child-protection experts highlighted safeguarding risks from children forced to share rooms with traumatised adults.

Ayeb-Karlsson added: “Children who are incorrectly determined as adults are deprived of their rights to education, protection and safeguarding.”

Durr urged the new government to scrap the “catastrophic” Illegal Migration Act, which allows the Home Office to directly provide accommodation for unaccompanied children.

A Home Office spokesperson said: “The allegations in this report are very serious. Unaccompanied children in the asylum system can be extremely vulnerable and their welfare and safety should be a central concern. We will consider these findings carefully.

“A new government is determined to restore order to the asylum system so that it operates swiftly, firmly and fairly, and ensures the rules are properly enforced.”

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

When Ritchie Herron woke after gender reassignment surgery, he had a feeling he had made a terrible mistake.

Five years later, his scars still sometimes weep and he cannot walk long distances or ride a bike. “I’ve awakened from what was a mental health crisis, to a body that will be for ever changed and damaged,” he said. He no longer identifies as transgender and is living as a gay man “as best I can, given what has happened”.

Now, the Newcastle-based civil servant, 36, has launched legal action against NHS England, alongside the “heartbroken” father of a 21-year-old who has been booked in for imminent genital-removal surgery at an adult gender clinic. The two men are demanding a judicial review which includes an independent inquiry into the safety of NHS treatments being offered to young people under the age of 25 who are experiencing gender dysphoria.

Steve Barclay, secretary of state for health, and Kemi Badenoch, minister for equalities, as well as Dr Hilary Cass, who carried out a recent review of the Tavistock Gender Identity Development Service (Gids) are also being served with legal papers. The father is hoping to stop the surgery from going ahead.

In a crowdfunding appeal to raise funds for their legal case, launched today, Herron and the father, who wishes to remain anonymous, say that the model of care for gender dysphoria in the NHS adult service is “profoundly unsafe” and “routinely places young people on a pathway towards irreversible lifelong treatment”.

Both Herron and the father’s 21-year-old child have been diagnosed as autistic. According to lawyers representing the two men, the NHS may be discriminating against autistic people, who are disproportionately more likely to be treated in the gender clinics, which is why Badenoch, as minister for equalities, is included in the legal action.

The case comes as a large number of 17-year-olds who have been on the 8,000-strong waiting list of the Tavistock clinic in north London, England’s only NHS gender identity clinic for children, are being referred to the adult service.

At the seven NHS adult gender clinics in England and Wales, surgery and cross-sex hormones are offered after the age of 18. Patients have at least two assessment appointments with a specialist medical practitioner before hormone treatment is recommended, and those who are considering surgical treatment have two further meetings with separate clinical professionals before they are referred.

There has been a sharp rise in the past decade in young people wanting to change gender. From 2011-12 to 2021-22, the number of under-18s in England referred to the Tavistock soared from 210 to 3,585, according to its own figures.

Herron was 25 when he decided he was a woman living in a man’s body. He had been bullied at school and struggled to cope with his parents’ divorce, and was diagnosed in his early 20s with depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).

He decided he was transgender and “all my struggles were due to gender dysphoria” — an idea he says was encouraged by older activists in internet forums. He fixated on the idea that “my body was being poisoned by testosterone”, he says.

In 2013, he was referred by his GP to an NHS adult gender clinic, and says he was asked early on by an NHS clinician if he had considered gender reassignment surgery. He attended a private clinic as there was a long NHS waiting list, where he was diagnosed as transgender.

When he was seen by the NHS clinic in 2014, they prescribed testosterone blocker and later oestrogen. He also started therapy with an NHS psychosexual counsellor, which lasted for 100 sessions over five years, after which he was told he would be discharged and that the only other treatment open to him was surgery. He had delayed and cancelled the irreversible operation, which involves removing the penis and testicles and modelling the area to resemble female genitalia, several times over the previous two years, fearing the consequences.

In 2017, he was given another referral for surgery, to be performed at a private hospital but paid for by the NHS.

Finally, in 2018, “two days before my 31st birthday, I underwent a surgery that removed my genitals, inverting them in a procedure that has been marked as refined, but is no more civilised than an amputation” he said.

“Today, despite multiple follow-up surgeries, my scar lines still weep, occasionally becoming inflamed and causing crippling pain. In the flesh cavity that was created to mimic a vagina, I feel mostly nothing, aside from the occasional stabs of pain. I can’t use the toilet properly . . . and no matter how hard I push or strain, a dribble emerges, which may continue for hours after I have left the seat.”

The father who, with Herron, is seeking a judicial review of the adult services, says he is terrified of the possible outcome for his child, who was born a boy and who is due to undergo genital surgery shortly. The young person “is on the autistic spectrum, suffers from anxiety and has very poor mental health”, according to the father. The father believes that, like Herron, they think “becoming a woman will solve so many of his problems”.

“I am one of the many parents who is heartbroken over the journey my son has taken,” said the father, who is paying towards the legal fees for the case. “I know he has been let down by the system and fear for his future.”

Aged 13, the boy, who had struggled at school, “out of the blue” told an NHS child mental health adviser that he believed he was a girl. “He was referred to an NHS clinic and was prescribed puberty blocking drugs to halt his development as soon as he turned 16. I was shocked that such an experimental treatment would be given, despite my objections. His anxiety and his autism were not explored.

“I decided to try to prevent him attending the NHS clinic but was threatened with the possibility of him being taken into care if I stood in his way.

“As a parent, I am deeply concerned to protect my son. I am shut out,” he said. “A system with such limited safeguards, providing a radical experimental treatment with life-long consequences is structurally unfair to people like my son, whose autism makes him more likely to seek the answer to his problems in this radical treatment. He needs more protection, not less.”

The men are being represented by the legal team that helped another de-transitioner, Keira Bell, win a High Court case against Gids to stop children with gender dysphoria being prescribed puberty-blocking drugs. Bell was given the drugs to stop her development aged 16, before later, at an adult clinic, being referred for a double mastectomy. The case was later overturned at the Court of Appeal but led to a critical review of Gids by Dr Hilary Cass. Gids has since been earmarked for closure, although this has been delayed until March 2024, about a year later than first planned.

Herron was not diagnosed with autism until this year, but says he raised the condition with the NHS gender clinic. He adds that if he had received a comprehensive psychological assessment and treatment for conditions such as autism and OCD at the outset, he would never have undergone genital surgery. “I can deal with my own regret, and my own stupidity, but I can’t deal with the fact that I’m not alone in this. That there are not just dozens, or hundreds, but thousands of others like me, and more to come.

“We deserve a safety net, we deserve to be challenged in our beliefs before we make irreversible decisions that have huge lifelong consequences, we deserve to be caught and cared for. We do not deserve to be punished for asking for help, by being castrated and gaslighted into a way of thinking that isn’t our own.

“It is a matter of urgency that the treatment offered by adult services is reviewed and that safeguards are put in place.”

[notyour-valentine]

Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 12 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Just a lot - we have places to go with this story

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption.I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 5400 words

Part 12

Charlotte. 

His head snapped up. All this time he had thought, he had been talking about Mary, but Charlotte? 

How? 

She was still practically a child. It simply wasn’t possible. How could she even come into contact with someone like that?

"I will do what I can to protect your cousin from harm.", He assured him, his grey moustache quivering, "however the safest way would be to remove her from Shelby's sphere of influence in it’s entirety.”

He pronounced every word with a sharpness. 

“Can I trust you to do that?" 

"Of course you can.", Matthew hissed. The man’s tone had been as insulting as his accusation shocking. 

She was family too and he felt responsible for her, for all of them. Being the heir did not only mean that he would one day own the title and the estate, but he would also be the head of the family, tasked with protecting them all. And even if he wasn’t, she was still his family - Goodness’ sake! 

After the Inspector had left, all and any idea of lunch at the club had evaporated as he immediately began to make inquiries, calling in favours and asking for references - anything and everything that could be found out about  Mr Thomas Shelby from Birmingham. 

"As quickly as you can, please."

The days of waiting on responses were gruelling and left him agitated and unpleasant. Since he knew in advance, he simply prolonged his London stay until he had to return to Downton, and even then he did not wish to leave the papers in the office in Ripon and so he brought them home with him. 

A part of him wanted to act immediately, felt like running up to the big house, taking Charlotte aside and telling her, warning her, but then he realised that she would not know any of it. 

She would know the charming handsome man Campbell had described as luring women in. And she wouldn't believe him, at least he couldn't be sure. If he couldn't convince her at once, she could go to him to ask him, or to confront him, and then who knew what could happen. 

So Matthew needed evidence, concrete, indisputable evidence that would convince her enough to make her stay far away from that man. 

But the more he found out, the less he understood. 

There was no record of his birth, no criminal record, nothing- until he went to France. 

It was as if he appeared in 1915, a man grown and ready for war. 

There was no criminal record after the war either, no mention apart from a newspaper article that described him as partaking in a protest in Birmingham where they lit a bonfire with the King's portraits. 

In the article he was quoted as talking about how the men loved and served their king but that they felt abused by the new police tactics- headed, incidentally, by a Chief Inspector Campbell. 

So this might be personal. 

Matthew didn't remember much of criminal law, but he knew that personal matters always muddied things. 

And then, he tried to look at his businesses. Companies had to be filed, which was comparably easy to find, or so he thought. 

The first was a bookmaking company with a gambling licence from 1919 for the races. It was quickly followed by some factories and a motorcycle and car business, focussing on trade, all established in the following year. 

But to find his way through that web took time and energy. Companies owners by other companies owned by other companies- it was like walking through a labyrinth with moving walls.

It also made the paperwork on his desk at home pile up to astronomical levels. 

Matthew looked up as the door clicked open. 

"I thought I'd bring you some tea.", His mother said with a smile. 

"Thank you, Mother.", He said, offering her a tired smile.

She put it down on the desk, her eyes glancing across the paperwork before she picked up a page from what the war office had sent him, detailing his outstanding report of his exemplary war record that earned him gallantry medals. 

"Huh.", She said surprised, before placing it back onto the table. "Charlotte never said Mr. Shelby was a war hero."

She said it in passing, almost casually, before she walked over to open the window.  

"Charlotte knows Mr. Shelby?", He asked, his heart thundering in his chest. 

A small part of him had - up to this point - held out the hope that it had simply been a mistake. 

"Of course she does. I told you about the charity initiative she has joined? It is his initiative. Didn't I mention his name?"

Matthew's gaze danced through the room as he was desperate to hold onto something - anything - other than the terrified feeling in the bottom of his stomach. 

"Whatever's the matter?", She wanted to know. "Are you ill?"

"No,", he whispered, running his hand through his straw blonde hair. "I am not ill."

He cleared his throat and tried to avoid his mother’s piercing gaze, but to no avail. 

“Matthew, I wish you would talk to me.”, she asked gently, sitting down on the sofa and inviting him. “It is no good to keep your grief locked in like that. Lavinia-”

“This isn’t about Lavinia!”, he snapped a little harsher than he had intended. 

He didn’t want to talk about Lavinia, not to his mother and not to anyone and the very last thing he needed right now was a mention of his own greatest personal failure when he was trying to prevent another. 

“What is it about then?”, his mother asked. 

Matthew paced up and down the room, trying to think of what to say, knowing the wording was key. He didn’t have proof yet, and if it got out before he had that proof, there was no way of knowing what would happen. It was like being in France all over again - every moment could prove lethal but one simply had to move. 

“I have heard things about Mr. Shelby that concern me.”, he finally said. 

“What things?”

Matthew couldn’t say, not now at least, not until he had it in indisputable black and white. 

“The point is, it is not a man Charlotte should be in contact with. For her own good.”

His mother raised her eyebrow. “For her own good? What harm could there possibly be in working for a charitable foundation?”

If that so called charitable foundation even exists. If it isn’t just a ploy to lure her in. If the man she works for wasn’t a criminal. At least according to Campbell. 

“The cause does not matter. She should not be anywhere near him whatsoever!”

His mother’s jaw tightened. 

“Matthew, this isn’t like you. You can’t just tell her where she can and cannot go!”, she scolded as if he was the one in the wrong here. 

“Well someone has to forbid her and if that person is me then so be it!”, he insisted, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

His mother, however, seemed to be completely calm. 

“Don’t you think you are overreacting? I don’t know what you’ve heard but Charlotte seems very taken with him and frankly, I admire him. But if you are unsure, perhaps we could invite him for tea.”

“Him?”, Matthew asked, his voice sounding breathless and foreign to his own ears. “For tea?”

Isobel Crawley nodded. “Charlotte does not want the family to know the extent of their workings just yet. She fears that Robert would put a stop to it.”

Oh how very soothing. 

Matthew bristled. Things were far from good if he already had her keeping secrets from her father. 

“I don’t want you helping her anymore. No covering, no helping her get away. Nothing like that, do you hear me?”, he demanded. 

“Matthew, you are getting rude!”, she snapped right back, her cheeks flushing. 

He raised his hands and took a step back. 

“You’re right. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that harsh.”, he said, “but Mother, this can’t go on.”

“Whyever not?”, she asked impatiently. “You make such a fuss but refuse to tell me why!”

Because I can’t tell you yet. 

“Perhaps I should just talk to her.”, he thought out loud. 

I needn’t mention all of it, just perhaps find her a distraction, a new occupation to keep her busy. She was a good girl and far easier to sway than Edith or Mary. 

The longer he thought, the more the idea of a distraction seemed suitable. Perhaps he could try and find a different man for her to be interested in, a decent fellow from a good family. She deserved that. Cousin Violet would have a list ready by sundown and he could work with that. 

Yes, a distraction might be the very best thing. 

Besides, he still had time. She was busy now preparing for the Wrinnington Ball next week, and shortly after was the races they would all be attending with Sir Richard. While Matthew knew these social obligations would cement the path of his future, he was not overly fond if them, but if they kept Charlotte busy and bought him time, he had to cherish them more as simply a necessary evil. 

~

He thought of her even when he wasn’t thinking of her, simply put. Even in business meetings and while going over reports, she was never far from his mind, lingering in his thoughts like a dancer in the wings before a performance, awaiting what would soon take place in front of a packed audience, with blinding lights shone upon it. 

And there it was again, the doubt, the guilt, the worry. 

He had planned it out, had decided it long ago, had overthought and approved the plan, his plan. 

It didn’t matter now, it shouldn’t matter, nothing should, because he had thought everything over, everything but this. 

She trusted him. 

She had trusted him, had trusted him longer than he realised, but the moment she fell asleep in his presence, her head slightly slumped, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hands resting in her lap- 

It didn’t matter how or why, it mattered that she felt safe enough around him to allow her exhaustion to overcome her, to let her eyes flutter shut. She trusted him not to harm her, not to put her in danger. 

Thomas Shelby couldn’t remember when someone had last trusted him so, without him demanding or ordering or threatening. 

Even his own family members were beyond reluctant and persistent, often complying only because there was no alternative, or simply stopping to resist. 

She had trusted him blindly, stupidly, the way only a person could who had experienced the world as a pretty, harmless place. 

His men had trusted him, Tommy thought, back in France, though they had not trusted him, but rather their Sergeant Major. They had trusted him because they thought they knew him, because it was easier to follow the command if it came from a familiar face, in a known tone, but that made it no less deadly. 

Men were dead now because they trusted him. 

Dead in the mud, dead in the field hospital, dead in the canal and the streets of Birmingham - and dead in their prisons. 

The boy had trusted him too, the one playing at being an outlaw, with a wooden gun and a holster made by the woman who did what mothers do. 

He had trusted Tommy to protect him, to keep him safe and from harm and now he was buried like he had once been, only under far firmer, drier ground. 

Sometimes, now, when he dreamt of that horrid night, of the creaks and cries of bursting beams, the frightened calls of his comrades and the deafening silence, he saw himself there, and Arthur and John, and Freddie and Danny and the rest of them. Sometimes, when he dug, his hands clawing at the earth, he turned to find the face of the boy right next to him, his eyes wide and still filled with fear, as if he was yet a few heartbeats away from death, as if his heart was still thundering in a feeble attempt to get the blood where it needed to go. 

And if it wasn’t the boy and the mud, it was the shovel and whispers of German. 

When he was awake, he could fight ehm with whisky and occupation, but in his dreams, he forced himself to think of her, of the loose strand of hair that fell in front of her eyes, somehow escaping both hat and hairties, a rare mishap in the perfection and poise she normally portrayed. 

He could conjure the image even in his sleep, even in his nightmares. And in them, like she had in life, she was so calm, not even the noises coming from the darkness would startle her. 

Breathe with her. Just breathe with her. 

And he did. In and out, in and out. 

The shovels were still there, but they wouldn't disturb her. She just kept sleeping and he kept breathing. 

In and out. In and out. 

To his shame, he found himself focussing on that every night before he tried to sleep, no matter where he was, which bed he was lying in, he always brought her with him. 

He had tied her fate to his by parading her around in front of Campbell like a prized racehorse and as revenge, she held the key, the only key to salvation in her silk-gloved hands, the same he had tainted my mere association. 

He had seen hell in France, and now he had created his own purgatory. 

His plans, those he had made in sleepless nights, now finally came together but there was no satisfaction, no relief, no joy, even though it was going well, too well, really. 

Tommy should have known that it was only a matter of time until it all went up in flames. 

But like a house of cards, it all came crashing down in a matter of hours. 

He had been at May’s, for the horse, and a distraction. He had things to get out of his system, probably. And there was no harm he could cause, not with May. 

But before they got anywhere, really, he got that call. 

Michael arrested in Birmingham. 

Arthur arrested in London. 

Billy dead, shot, and pinned on Arthur. 

And Solomons and Sabini united against him. 

It had been too much in too short a time and when he saw the smug smile under that hideous moustache, he knew. While he couldn’t pin it on Campbell, not entirely, he knew he had his fat little hands involved. 

He called it insurance, of course, but it was nothing but retaliation, a strike back to punish him after aiming to humiliate him with Charlotte, or a test to see how quickly he would pull the strings he had threatened him with. 

If he had aimed to call Tommy’s bluff, it had worked. 

Despite his icy fear, despite Polly shouting at him to get Michael out, he couldn’t bring himself to make the call, to Downton or her uncle in the ministry. 

All he could think of were May’s words. 

You think your people are ruthless? Try mine. 

He would have tried, he could have tried, but not with Charlotte. And the realisation cut deeper than he thought it could. 

But failure always stung, still the mere thought of his original plan turned his stomach to the point where he knew he couldn’t come face to face with the girl, and instead skipped out on the meeting with the hospital staff for the foundation that had been nothing but a scam to lure her in originally. 

The detailed, neatly written report she had given him was a sweet salt in the wound. Like always, she was trying so hard. She had done so from the very beginning and by now she was good at it. 

He could spot the wit in her writing, the cheeky tone she used to describe one doctor’s reaction, almost mocking him for how he treated her as a near-deity due to her title, something she used to her advantage. To their advantage. 

Tommy remembered her uncertainty, the refusal of payment for fear she would do more harm than good, and now? 

There were things in motion, plans set to work, good plans, that would improve the lives of thousands. He had planted a rotten seed in burnt soil in the name of a scheme, but somehow she had gotten it to bloom either way. 

Sweet, foolish Charlotte. 

If she had been any less good, he would have had no qualms to fulfil his original plan, and now he was leaving all that behind to protect her. Payment, he found himself rationalising, for all the children who would profit of her work. 

But beyond that, while getting his affairs in order in case his Epsom plan failed, he found himself thinking of her again, of how she talked about her father, her family, her duty to them, her uselessness with money, her utter dependence on them, and the risk her sister had taken in setting herself loose from it. 

It must’ve worked, though, for her sister and the chauffeur, but Tommy knew a great deal of fools who let themselves be lured in by love. If her chauffeur loved her any less, she’d be stranded and penniless in a country not her own, disowned by her family and lured in by promises of love. 

Charlotte had been lured in too, by Tommy and his schemes. Who was to say there wouldn’t be another one to try it for other reasons?

And was there not the risk of someone in his family blabbing? Polly, he thought, if he didn’t get Michael out quick enough would be on the next train to York, knocking on Downton’s door and threatening to bring the whole place down and Charlotte with it. She wouldn’t hesitate, hell, she had already demanded to know why he hesitated to feed her to the wolves to get Michael out of prison. 

Even if he didn’t fail, there was still a risk of Polly pulling a stunt like that, one that would ruin Charlotte, one that could see her disowned and out on her own. 

Because of me, Tommy thought, because she thought she was helping me. 

It was yet another reason to keep him up at night, that allowed him to work until dawn if need be, longer than any other. 

"Tommy, I'm going home.", Lizzie said, peeking her head into his office and waking him from his thoughts. 

"Yeah. Go home, Lizzie. You should have gone hours ago.", He mumbled without looking at her., and diligently avoiding looking at his watch. 

He’d have to give Lizzie a few notes extra. 

"I was waiting in case you needed anything…", she said, her painted fingernails red against the black of his door. 

I need Arthur back. I need Polly's son back. 

I need peace with the backcountry boys again. 

I need the clubs and the warehouses back. I need a bullet for Solomons and for Sabini and another for Campbell. 

I need a fucking solution for everything. 

He took the final sip of his whisky. 

I need sleep. 

His eyes wandered over to where Lizzie was still waiting. 

She didn't say it out loud, but the offer stood all the same. 

He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his closed eyes with his fingertips.

Why the hell not, eh?

If he couldn't find rest, he might as well find release. 

He locked his office door and followed Lizzie towards the stairs. There was no talking, for there was no talking needed. 

Lizzie knew what Tommy wanted - what Tommy wanted from her. 

But that was just it, wasn't it? 

His feet stopped and he watched her descend and with every step she took, with every step he didn't, he felt the miles of distance between them more than before.  

She turned, looking up at him, a silent question written all over her face. 

"Good night, Lizzie.", He said softly, before returning to the office. 

He hesitated, his hand hovering over Lizzie's phone just like it had over his earlier. 

But then he picked up. 

The operator had connected him comparably quickly. 

"Painswick Residence London.", The butler said. It was a familiar interlude and each time he thought that he really had to get her her own telephone. But by now he knew her too. 

"Thomas Shelby. I need to…", he broke off, taking a deep breath. "I'd like to talk to Charlotte please."

He was surprised at how tired his voice sounded. 

"The young Ladies and Lady Rosamund are not in residence."

"Where are they?", He asked. "Back at Downton?"

He could call there as well, but she was supposed to be in London. She had said so herself. Or maybe he had missed that too. 

"No, Sir. They are attending a costume ball at Hasting's House."

Tommy scoffed, looking into the darkness outside the window. 

Of course she's at a fucking ball. 

He could almost see her, dancing under the glittering lights of a ballroom, diamonds around her neck and a tiara in her hair with not a care in the world as she was spun around by some red-faced lordling. 

"Should I take a message, Sir?", He asked. "Although I doubt she will respond before tomorrow."

"No, thank you. Goodnight."

After he hung up, he unlocked his office once more and poured himself another drink. 

Fuck. 

Tommy braced himself on the desk and let his head hang. 

It wasn't too late to go after Lizzie, or to find someone else who he could make do with. 

Or maybe he could go to the yard and take one of the horses out until the sunrise came. 

But he didn't want to fuck, not even to clear his head.

So he picked up the phone again. The voice on the other side was the same. “I changed me mind,”, Tommy said. “I do want you to take a message for Charlotte.”

The butler cleared his throat. 

“And what precisely would you wish me to convey to Lady Charlotte, Mr. Shelby?”

~

He had begun the drive south in the earliest hours of the morning, after less than a few hours of sleep, arriving at Ada’s both unannounced and in the middle of the night. 

But the night gave him time to make up his mind. In a way, it already had been, but at the same time, it removed all doubt. 

In a week, he could be dead, a body rotting in the ground, with the only worth remaining in what he left behind. 

Ada’s boy, John’s children - those matters were sorted now. The letter to the New York Post was written, in the hands of Ada. 

The business would be in good hands with her and Polly. 

That only left the foundation, and Charlotte. 

After an early breakfast with his sister, who looked a proper bohemian with her silk robe and expensive coffee tastes, he left for Hyde Park. 

By now he knew her mornings were when she was most flexible, and the park was close enough for her to meet him there. And she did, thankfully, alone. One could never be sure with her and her family. 

When she came closer he could see beyond her cream coat that revealed just a hint of her pink dress underneath. The colour matched the shoes and the ribbon on her hat, of course. 

All these little details he had grown to expect from her. 

“Good morning.”, she greeted, offering him a warm smile that couldn’t hide the slight shadow under her eyes. 

“Long night?”, Tommy asked. 

She tilted her head from side to side, a slight blush creeping up. “Oh you know how it is.”

He really didn’t, but he didn’t want to push it. “Are you well?”, she asked, a line of concern forming between her brows. 

“Well enough.”, he admitted as they began to walk. Well enough for a man that could be dead soon. 

She huffed slightly, but she didn’t pry- not with her words at least. Her eyes dug into him from the side as if she wanted to see through his skull and into his thoughts. 

That’s not a place you want to go, love. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?”, she asked softly. 

He shook his head. 

“Whatever it is, I hope it improves soon.”, she said, giving his arm a little squeeze. 

She leaned into him slightly, as they walked, passing nannies pushing prams, and little children running at their sides, a few men rushing to jobs, and a few women taking morning strolls. One could walk through this part of London during this time. Not even Sabini or Solomons dared to get their men into these areas- her areas. That was what calmed him. She at least was safe- safe from the Jews and the Italians and even fucking Campbell. 

He had been considering asking her to take Ada and the baby in, just for the Derby day. That way they would be out of harm’s way in case…

She might even do that for him, but Ada wouldn’t go, not to her. He cursed her politics and the stubbornness they both shared. Ada would ask questions, questions he couldn’t answer. And the last time he had told her to get to safety she had stepped right into No-Man’s-Land, with the baby. 

By pure luck, it had worked. But this time around it was more than Billy Kimber. 

“I have some papers for you to sign.”, he finally said, stopping at one of the many benches by the fountain after glancing at his watch. She only had little time and would soon have to return in time for the train to Downton. 

“Papers? Now?”, she asked surprised. 

“Not much.”, he assured her,as he pulled forth three folded documents from the coat pocket. 

Charlotte had to step closer to read them. 

“Tommy, I don’t understand.”, she said softly, looking up at him. “Power of attorney?”

“Yeah.”, he said, holding the pen between his fingers. 

“The money for the hospital and the other projects are already set aside, but I’ve slotted some more for the running of it. It should go smoothly.”

“But why?”, Charlotte asked wide-eyed. 

“Don’t worry.”, he assured her. “It’s just in case.” “In case of what?”, she demanded to know. 

In case my plan doesn’t work. 

In case Campbell outsmarts me. 

In case I die and I never see you again. 

“In case I will be temporarily absent and decisions have to be made for the good of the foundation.”, he lied. 

“Without consulting you?”, Charlotte asked, glancing at the paperwork once more. The uncertainty was ever present in her voice. “Yeah. You’ll be able to make calls on your own.”

This was the whole point of it, of granting her power and ensuring that the work of the last few months didn’t go arry. If he had to leave this world, then he would at least leave it with something decent behind and the only person whom he could entrust with that part of his legacy, was her. “Surely it would be better for that trust to be placed in Mrs. Gray or Mrs. Thorne, or even your sister in law.”

Likely. 

“They are your family.”, she insisted. “This is as much your project as mine. We built it together. You know the workings better than anyone and you are the only one who actually knows how to run it.” She didn’t look convinced. 

“I trust you Charlotte, and I want you to…”

To continue this in case I’m gone. 

“I want you to sign. Just so I can rest easy, eh?”

She pursed her lips but she took the pen and signed all three papers. 

“Thank you.”, he mumbled, as he took both pen and papers off her again. 

“Was that why you were so worried?”, she wanted to know. Tommy decided to nod. 

And he also chose not to tell her of the amendment to his will. Karl and John’s children would benefit from the trust fund. The family from the rest. 

He chose not to tell her about the houses in Kensington, Mayfair and Belgravia which he had bought- large houses in good areas that she could rent out for a profit. They would bring in a good amount of rent money that should keep the foundation more than afloat as well as giving her not only security but also some form of independence if she ever decided to need it. 

That would be his last gift to her, if it came to it. That, and the letter he had already written, kept in the other pocket, separated from her only by the thin material of the other coat pocket. 

He already had the stamps on it, and the address, just waiting to be sent in case. 

Four pages, he had written. Four fucking pages, scribbled down at Ada’s breakfast table like a madman. 

It was the longest letter he had ever written and yet still felt so painfully short. There was so much more he wanted to talk about, so much more he wanted to tell her. 

“Tommy, are you quite well?”, she asked, her hand reaching up, just barely brushing against his cheek. They were so warm. 

A part of him warned him not to do it. But the louder voice inside him said fuck it. 

He had put all his affairs in order, had sorted everything out. Now all the letters had been written, all the papers signed and all the preparations taken. 

He could well be a dead man walking, Epsom drawing ever nearer, and a dead man had no time for regrets. 

He may never get the chance again. 

And so, with the papers back securely in his pocket, he reached for her cheek, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin as he leaned down to capture her lips with his.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

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[pluck-heartstrings]

Ok, so what would the princess do if a small child came up to her and asked if they could attempt to kiss her to free her from her curse?

I’m curious if they would try to avoid it or let it happen and just be like “oh no, I guess our love isn’t strong enough.”

. . . Also want to know if Sun would get distracted from his duties by the inquiry even though it’s just a child. . . (Though I’m sure if it was an adult he would intervene huh?)

If it's a child then it's no big deal. The Princess loves children and would happily go along with any games that the children would initiate with her. You're exactly right that she'd improv her way out, explaining the fact that her curse wasn't 'broken' by their kiss was because it wasn't true love, or something like that.

Sun wouldn't mind either, if it was a child. He loves kids as much as the Princess does, and knows they mean no harm.

Now if it's an adult on the other hand, or worse one of the Knights...He'd move quickly to intervene.