#go beyond sentimentality

[infinitysisters]

“My case is not that the nation state is the only answer to the problems of modern government, but that it is the only answer that has proved itself.

We may feel tempted to experiment with other forms of political order. But experiments on this scale are dangerous, since nobody knows how to predict or to reverse their results.

The French, Russian, and Nazi Revolutions were bold experiments; but in each case they led to the collapse of legal order, to mass murder at home, and to belligerence abroad.

The wise policy is to accept the arrangements, however imperfect, that have evolved through custom and inheritance, to improve them by small adjustments, but not to jeopardize them by large-scale alterations the consequences of which nobody can really envisage.

The case for this approach was unanswerably set before us by Burke in his Reflections on the French Revolution, and subsequent history has repeatedly confirmed his view of things.

The lesson that we should draw, therefore, is that since the nation state has proved to be a stable foundation of democratic government and a secular jurisdiction, we ought to improve it, to adjust it, even to dilute it, but not to throw it away."

— Roger Scruton

[feroluce]

For me, as much as I adore the theme of travel companions, henghill is more of a "someday" thing in that regard. I love Boothill being a weird loner Galaxy Ranger rather than a Nameless- man is undomesticated and belongs sleeping in the cargo holds of supply ships, threatening silence out of anyone that tries to report him. Let him be wild and free!!

I would LOVE it if Boothill just hitched a short ride off Asdana to whatever the Express' next destination is, though!

Like maybe the Express decides to stick around Penacony for a while, the same way they do other destinations, and Boothill is there anyway to investigate Oswaldo Schneider. It's rare to find a planet where the IPC is present, but doesn't actually have a lot of power; he can't pass this opportunity up!

And in that time, he sees a lot of Dan Heng.

Boothill gets text messages asking him to the quieter parts of the Dreamscape (he threatened and made a scene - it's called standing up for your rights, Dan Heng was given a room with a Dreampool by The Family for helping root out The Order) or mostly to the Express, where Dan Heng curiously asks him about Paths, about aeons and Emanators, The Rangers, all the worlds he's seen and places he's been.

Boothill isn't really surprised the first time they spend an entire night talking and discussing- after all, they'd chattered a lot that first day they met at the bar in the Reverie! But in talking so much, of course the topic of home comes up.

Dan Heng asks about Boothill’s homeworld.

Boothill tells Dan Heng it's gone now, and changes the subject.

Boothill asks about Dan Heng's past, before the Astral Express and the Nameless.

Dan Heng freezes up and closes off, and changes the subject.

In yet another moment of tacit understanding, neither of them ask again.

But this continues, all throughout their stint in Penacony, finding each other and seeking the other out for no reason other than good company. Dan Heng adds ridiculous amounts of data to the archives that Boothill dictates to him. They both know he could get that information elsewhere if he really wanted. Boothill finds he's kinda happy he doesn't.

And Boothill is someone who's hard to keep up with. He knows he is, and he has no problem with it. It's part of what makes him excel as a Galaxy Ranger. But there's something fun about how Dan Heng just rolls with it, and so effortlessly! Boothill finds something shady going on, grabs a guy who was preying on people, and has this dude held up by the collar with his feet swinging while he cackles right in his face, when Dan Heng shows up.

Boothill says they're just having a friendly chat. He makes zero effort to hide what he's actually doing. Boothill's new friend pleads for Dan Heng to help him, please! This guy's crazy!

Dan Heng materializes his spear.

The guy apologizes even harder, tells them he won't do anything shady ever again, promise, promise! Boothill's jabbers at him and shakes him around some more before Dan Heng taps the pole of his spear against the covered metal of Boothill's leg and tells him come on, he's already scared the man witless, they have a date to keep. Boothill drops the guy and watches him scurry off like a cockroach.

"So, now it's a date, huh?"

"...Come on, let's go."

They go to the Dreamflux Reef after that, because Boothill just so happened to totally by coincidence find that shady guy's wallet (read: robbed him blind) and he wants that money to go back to the native Penaconians before anyone else. Dan Heng follows, and stuffs all of the man's credits into the tip jar of the bar they go to.

And even when the Express embarks anew from Asdana (with Boothill hidden away in some corner or compartment, because the IPC finally got pissed enough to start looking for him under The Family's noses skzikske) this continues. The next planet is difficult to get to because of Stellaron activity; so they have to fly manually part of the way instead of warping. Boothill doesn't get his own room since he's only hitching a ride, but Pom-Pom graciously allows him to sleep on a couch-

("Thank ya, Fluffy. No hard feelings about before, right?" "You're lucky my other passengers like you. And no shoes on the couches!!")

-in one of the cars. And it becomes normal commonplace to find Boothill telling stories, and Dan Heng rapidly writing them all down, at obscene hours in the parlor car while Himeko and Welt ask if either of them even slept.

Boothill teaches Dan Heng all about his favorite drinks and liquor in general, how to aim and shoot a gun, how to hunt and track prey. Dan Heng teaches Boothill about a lot of the teachings of Lan and The Hunt from the Xianzhou, what it's like there, some of the culture, some of the fables and old tales.

Boothill still leaves when it's time to go. He's still got things to do and people to kill, after all.

But it never feels like he's very far. The archives are full of him, even if he's never mentioned by name. The article on the Galaxy Rangers is several times longer than it was before. There's new data on multiple planets and worlds.

There's one that's still just a header and title. Boothill doesn't know about it yet. Dan Heng hopes he can fill the page on Aeragan-Epharshel someday and show it to him.

And even if he doesn't stay, he does return. Boothill breaks in stops by any time he happens to be nearby. He's used to traveling without much rest, and only takes what he can easily carry on him- nothing that can slow him down or hinder him. He can't put a bullet between Oswaldo Schneider's eyes if he gets himself killed over something as stupid as being weighed down in a fight, after all.

Dan Heng is similarly sparse. He still sleeps in the archives, with nothing but his futon and old suitcase to mark the space as his.

But there's an old wooden guitar carefully propped in the corner, just waiting for its owner's return.

[bookwyrminspiration]

age appropriate does not necessarily mean lack of complex, deep, and even dark topics, but rather adapted language, approach, and depiction to match the context and understanding young audiences have, which will increase in detail as they grow and learn send post

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

also. while i'm posting about the aftermath of s4 on the nyc crew. i totally get why people see oscar as spiraling hard after arthur's departure, and i agree that is a possible outcome, but what i really want is to see him take that very brief connection and pay it forward. the whole, "help others when you can't find a reason to help yourself" spiel that arthur gave him, let him use that as a motivator. like, maybe he wasn't able to save this one—but maybe he can save the next one. he's read enough of that bestiary to have a sense of what kinds of things are hiding in the dark corners of the world. and he's faced them! and he's come away—not unscathed, of course, certainly not unscathed, but alive. and even better, victorious. after so much pain and suffering, trying to help marie and her family but never knowing how, they did it. scratch is gone, along with its horrible crawly entourage. all it took was a little extra knowledge, a little bit of cleverness, a lot of courage. he's done it once. he can do it again.

maybe he's not gonna leave the church behind, but, i mean, st. jean-baptiste already serves mostly people who've fallen on hard times, who are being left behind by society. there's gotta be some more among their number who are haunted, or hunted, by something unknowable. and oscar starts to see them. he knows the look of someone whose understanding of the real and unreal has been challenged. and he starts to make it his mission to reach out to them, not because someone else comes along and charitably scoops him up and ropes him into monster-hunting, but because someone very dear once told him that he was good at helping, and that it was valuable, and important, and that it could be a reason to get up and put himself together in the mornings even when everything else felt pointless.

so he does. his community center gains a second life, as refuge for people stalked by demons and monsters and curses and the eyes of ancient gods. bc he may have lost what he thought was his purpose, but he's not going to insult his memory by just passively drinking it into oblivion. he's gonna honor it in the best way he can think of. by helping.

[bluejay-makes]

I think part of why I didn't last long in the design world was how pointless 90% of the work was. Like it was so soulless and pretty and took so much sweat and tears to make everything perfect, a hundred iterations of the same concept, fiddling by millimeters and asking for approval, with zero satisfaction at the end besides it being done. Finishing a job just meant the job was done. Clients didn’t care about what we made, or at least, the work wasn't meaningful to them beyond having a product that suited their needs, which like, fair! That's what design is for. But it was the most void use of my creativity, when I even had TIME to be creative at all. I made significantly more money and had a nice cushy office to go to, but hand on my heart, I feel more fulfilled drawing an elf for below minimum wage than doing design.

[meek-shall-inherit]

its always "live out of spite" what if i dont want my life to be defined by people that want me dead . theres only so much someone can fucking take . theres only so much spite can do . purely spite cant keep someone going when every day feels like youre tied to the back of a truck on the highway . thats not living .

[born-to-lose]

So that was my 13th concert?

[amplexadversary]

I do think an ideal translation team would need to have at least three people, and only two of them absolutely *must* speak both languages.

You need someone who's better at the original language but speaks the target language (to identify subtleties and cultural references), you need someone who is better at the target language but speaks the original (to make sure the initial translation makes sense), and you need a proofreader who has some expertise in prose in the target language (to make sure the concerns of the first two are being met in the final draft, and determine if there are any cases where a better-fitting word in the target language fits for words with multiple definitions)

and all three of these people need to be in some kind of communication with each other, back and forth until all parties can come to some consensus.

[orphiicheartd]

Every time I see in game views of traveler in other outfits, I remember Ayaka's quest, how they have a dialogue implying didn’t like the idea of wearing anything but their original clothes I-

[lbhslefttiddie]

Could you talk a bit about how you plan out your longer fanfics? I’ve have a long fic I’ve been wanting to write, but I’m not sure how to plan/outline it, and I’d love to hear what your process is!!!

Mouse and the Thorn and Into This Wild Abyss had some very different things going on in the planning stage—it really came down to what kind of story i was telling and what was important for executing that!

(longish sowwy)

ITWA, from the moment i conceived it, revolved around sqq going through a largely preordained plot, and so i created a longass bullet list of all the major plot points and moved them around into the general order i felt it was best for them to happen. I generally kept the points brief and without flavour, lest it mess with the writing of the scene itself or I get bored of it before i even start. There was some variance in the writing stage, partially because i (cough) forgot to add several plot points in the originally planned spaces (see: xin mo), and partially because that's just sort of how it goes when you're actually feeling out a chapter, but the outline was like a guide that i would be able to pull back towards if i strayed too far, and allowed me to keep the end destination in mind, and keep track of important details. All told, the core aspects laid out in the outline didn't change much in the finished product. Frankly, it was huge relief to have that outline!! It definitely saved my ass many times. Truly a revelatory experience for me.

MotT, on the other hand, doesn't so much have a hard plot—lbh is currently 13 years old, before even the beginning of scum villain, so even the plot that comes built into this universe is a very distant thing. We basically just have a core cast of a few inextricably connected characters who are constantly influencing each other, and the "plot" is really just who is going through what character arc at this particular point in time.

Trying to create an outline would, to me, feel horribly rigid, when a lot of flexibility is necessary for something like this. Instead, i have a handful of cool scenes in my head, a general sense for where each character is at and where they're going, and it's just a matter of passing the mic around in a way that feels balanced for whatever arc we're in.

............It's worth mentioning that the way i've written/am writing MotT, while i think is for the best for this project, is also way fucking harder than how ITWA was planned and written. I've mentioned this before in passing i think, but on multiple occasions, i'll have written entire scenes out, and then need to push them back or move them around way more than anticipated because Something Else Needs To Happen First. (this also reflects in my art; the files are listed by date rather than chapter, and so some clusters of art are actually in backwards order--i did the art for what became ch 16 before 15, and 15 before 14)

It's not necessarily a problem, and I'm certainly enjoying myself, but this messy and fluid way of putting a story together straight up would not be possible if i did not already have a solid sense for pacing and balancing emotional elements. I'm absolutely certain that even a few years ago i would not have had the skill to write this fic without writing myself into a corner or rushing everything in a forced way or losing something important to the core of the story; i would go so far as to say this story is only possible because I wrote ITWA first.

I definitely would not recommend this strategy for your first longfic, personally. obviously, do what feels right for yourself, etc, and at the end of the day you should never let concerns of skill or experience stop you from writing the stories you want, but i think this process could, uh. Cause headaches. If you're out of your depth

[eternalstretchofmuses]

If I could turn back time, I would want to relive some of those moments. x

It was maybe 8 years ago at this point. I was visiting my grandparents, and I had to stay in a spare room that used to be my cousin's. There was a little box that would play a song that sounded identical to this. I first heard this song from this game about 2-ish years ago. I don't know how hearing this song unlocked that memory, and I don't know why it wasn't forgotten. There was also a little spinning... I don't know what to call it. It was a bit like a sideways conveyor belt with a picture on it. It was a little ocean scene. The turtle was my favourite part of it. I wonder if it would still work now. Maybe it'd need a new battery... or was it a plug-in thing? I forget. That room was quite pink and frilly. I didn't like it at the time, but my taste has changed a lot. Actually, my taste hasn't changed much. I've just come to terms with who I am. And I'm not who I used to be. I'm Aurora. I was a strange one back then. If you told me how I would grow up back then, I would've called you stupid. I don't know why I'm writing this. If you read it, thank you for sticking with this. If you didn't read it, you're still great. Glad to be alive.

[haderader]

Or maybe we can just agree that cishets at pride arent the problem and the problem with pride is capitalism (and commodification of pride), cops, and bigots and worrying about what gender other people love and investigating their sexual orientations is wrong and fucked up?

Kill the cop in your head you dont need to bitch about other people’s gender expression or orientation, how they express it, and you definitely dont need to “justify” it in your mind whether or not a cis-looking man is secretly a closeted trans woman and a loud girl with her boyfriend is secretly bi/pansexual. Stop caring. Please stop fucking caring. That’s the entire fucking point of pride.

There are two basic arguments for shutting the fuck up about cishets at Pride.

First: What if a trans kid asks their parents to show their support by attending Pride with them? What if a lesbian can only attend pride if she gets a ride from someone and the only person willing and able to drive her is her straight brother? What if a bi disabled person can't attend a large outdoor event without hands-on assistance from their straight partner? What if someone just wants to bring their fucking friends? What if, contrary to popular tumblr discourse, most queers don't inhabit perfectly pure social bubbles populated only by other queers? What if it's none of your business?

Second and perhaps more important: If you think you can tell that someone is CIS, let alone HET, by LOOKING at them, you are a cop and an idiot.

[yoonkyungho]

The Worst of Evil - Watched December 2024

Quick Summary: Cop goes undercover to bust a drug ring, simply does not tell his wife anything about it beforehand, drama ensues.

What brought me to it: Yoon Kyung Ho (doesn't appear til episode 6, my first strike against the show)

What I didn't like: First and foremost, this show suffers from everybody being bad at their jobs seemingly only as a way to add tension to the plot, which is maddening to me. Because of that, there's not really anyone to root for because no one's likeable, aside from two characters that are relegated to the role of love interests and not given much to do besides that. On top of that, the show is way too self-serious and relies way too heavily on violence to shock and excite. I can't help but to compare this show to My Name, which was also quite serious and violent, but had way more moments of joy/tenderness/whatever, and the violence seemed much more meaningful. So basically go watch that if you're reading this and you haven't already.

What I did like: Despite everything, it is a perfectly watchable show. The actors are all doing fine, the fight choreography is good, and there are even some interesting character dynamics.

The standouts: Despite my obvious bias, I feel confident in saying Yoon Kyung Ho stood out, if only because he seemed to be the only actor that wasn't restricted to looking bored or angry (aside from the few women, who were allowed to look bored or concerned). Bibi also did a good job of doing something with the nothing she was given.

Who I would recommend it to: If you like dark, gritty crime dramas and either of the lead actors (and are less of a hater than me). Or just give My Name a try ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Overall score: 5/10

[fozmeadows]

There's a lot of conversations to be had around the current influx of Americans to Xiaohongshu (RedNote/Little Red Book) ahead of the TikTok ban, many of which are better articulated by more knowledgeable people than me. And for all the fun various parties of both nationalities seem to having with memes and wholesome interactions, it's undoubtedly true that there's also some American entitlement and exoticization going on, which sucks. But a sentiment I've seen repeatedly online is that, if it's taken actually speaking to Chinese people and viewing Chinese content for Americans to understand that they've been propagandized to about China and its people, then that just proves how racist they are, and I want to push back on that, because it strikes me as being a singularly reductive and unhelpful framing of something far more complex.

Firstly: while there's frequently overlap between racism and xenophobia, the distinction between them matters in this instance, because the primary point of American propaganda about China is that Communism Is Fundamentally Evil And Unamerican And Never Ever Works, and thinking a country's government sucks is not the same as thinking the population is racially inferior. The way most Republicans in particular talk about China, you'd think it was functionally indistinguishable from North Korea, which it really isn't. Does this mean there's no critique to be made of either communism in general or the CCP? Absolutely not! But if you've been told your whole life that communist countries are impoverished, corrupt and dangerous because Communism Never Works, and you've only really encountered members of the Chinese diaspora - i.e., people whose families left China, often under traumatic circumstances, because they thought America would be better or safer - rather than Chinese nationals, then no: it's not automatically racist to be surprised that their daily lives and standard of living don't match up with what you'd assumed. Secondly: TikTok's userbase skews young. While there's certainly Americans in their 30s and older investigating Xiaohongshu, it seems very reasonable to assume that the vast majority are in their teens or twenties - young enough that, barring a gateway interest in something like C-dramas, danmei or other Chinese cultural products, and assuming they're not of Chinese descent themselves, there's no reason why they'd know anything about China beyond what they've heard in the news, or from politicians, or from their parents, which is likely not much, and very little firsthand. But even with an interest in China, there's a difference between reading about or watching movies from a place, and engaging firsthand, in real time, with people from that place, not just through text exchanges, but in a visual medium that lets you see what their houses, markets, shopping centers, public transport, schools, businesses, infrastructure and landmarks look like. Does this mean that what's being observed isn't a curated perspective on China as determined both by Xiaohongshu's TOU and the demographic skewing of its userbase? Of course not! But that doesn't mean it isn't still a representative glimpse of a part of China, which is certainly more than most young Americans have ever had before.

Thirdly: I really need people to stop framing propaganda as something that only stupid bigots fall for, as though it's possible to natively resist all the implicit cultural biases you're raised with and exist as a perfect moral being without ever having to actively challenge yourself. To cite the sacred texts:

Like. Would the world be a better place if everyone could just Tell when they're being lied to and act accordingly? Obviously! But that is extremely not how anything actually works, and as much as it clearly discomforts some to witness, the most common way of realizing you've been propagandized to about a particular group of people is to interact with them. Can this be cringe and awkward and embarrassing at times? Yes! Will some people inevitably say something shitty or rude during this process? Also yes! But the reality is that cultural exchange is pretty much always bumpy to some extent; the difficulties are a feature, not a bug, because the process is inherently one of learning and conversation, and as individual people both learn at different rates and have different opinions on that learning, there's really no way to iron all that out such that nobody ever feels weird or annoyed or offput. Even interactions between career diplomats aren't guaranteed smooth sailing, and you're mad that random teenagers interacting through a language barrier in their first flush of enthusiasm for something new aren't doing it perfectly? Come on now.

Fourthly: Back before AO3 was banned in China, there was a period where the site was hit with an influx of Chinese users who, IIRC, were hopping over when one of their own fansites got shut down, which sparked a similar conversation around differences in site etiquette and how to engage respectfully. Which is also one of the many things that makes the current moment so deeply ironic: the US has historically criticized China for exactly the sort of censorship and redaction of free speech that led to AO3 being banned, and yet is now doing the very same thing with TikTok. Which is why what's happening on Xiaohongshu is, IMO, such an incredible cultural moment: because while there are, as mentioned, absolutely relevant things to be said about (say) Chinese censorship, US-centrism, orientalism and so on, what's ultimately happening is that, despite - or in some sense because of - the recent surge in anti-Chinese rhetoric from US politicians, a significant number of Americans who might otherwise never have done so are interacting directly with Chinese citizens in a way that, whatever else can be said of it, is actively undermining government propaganda, and that matters.

What it all most puts me in mind of, in fact, is a quote from French-Iranian novelist and cartoonist Marjane Satrapi, namely:

“The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same.”

And at this particular moment in history, this strikes me as being a singularly powerful realization for Americans in particular to have.

[dipperpepper77]

Arranged Marriage AU LADS Men

Dipper's Delusions

TAGS: Fluff, AFAB reader, children, men who yearn... ARE MEN WHO EARN.

Intro: Your kingdom reeked of smoke and burnt produce. The heat was so palpable that it seemed to stick to everyone's skin. Leaving yours to always be damp with soft sweat. The war was taking far too long to end. Your parents, the king and queen, opting for more drastic measures. Securing your hand to a foreign kingdom could provide aid and stability to your tiny kingdom. You weren't one for dramatics. Only nodding hesitantly as the documents were filled and signed over. Whilst, you didn't want to marry out of convenience... you also didn't want to see your people starve or succumb to the war.

The resources and power of the foreign kingdom would be enough to end the war and establish your own as one of the greats. One to not be messed with. Your people could now live in peace for your sacrifice. It would help that he was easy on the eyes.

It wasn't hard to convince him for your hand. He knew you. From prior balls were you didn't even spare him a passing glance. Now it was relatively the same. You still didn't grant him a passing glance in your shared castle. But, oh... how he longed for you. You were completely unaware of his sentiments for you. However, you'd soon find out.

Sea god Rafayel: You picked at your food with the gold plated fork. Your lips parting to make a comment but stopping halfway. Rafayel cleared his throat, "something's on your mind. Say it". You gave a curt nod before speaking "I thought it would be highly inappropriate to eat one's own kind". He let out an amused laugh. "Seafood? It's the circle of life, my dear. Eat or be eaten. Humans truly know nothing.. do they?" You shook your head a bit. Feeling more comfortable to take a bite of the seafood. It was rich and buttery. Light with the slight taste of the ocean. His hand grazed yours, picking it up in his soft delicate palm. "May I?" You nod. He places kisses to your knuckles. You felt a burning feeling in your throat. A lump forming as he nuzzled against your hand. "You don't need to feel the same... just know one thing. You will always have a place in my heart."

You found yourself easing into Rafayel. Gradually picking up with his steps. Finding yourself nuzzled in his embrace as he showed you his art pieces. More often than not you just found that... you couldn't be apart from him. His head laid on your lap as you fixed up his hair. You held golden shears as you cut small bits of his violet strands. "Raf... I think I'll do this wrong." He only smiled up at you. "You could never do wrong in my eyes. I trust you." He bit back a smirk. "Besides, If I look awful I'll tell everyone it's because my dear wife is possessive."

The kingdom was pushing for an heir after the anniversary of your marriage. You sat on the bed. The lump crawling back into your throat. You loved Rafayel. But, you were afraid. What if he changed? What if all he was doing was wooing you for an heir?

Rafayel kissed behind your ear. "Listen to me. We go at your pace.. okay?" You nod gently. Breathing out gently. "I'm scared.." His gaze softened. Looking at you like you were a wet trembling animal he needed to protect. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face. "Have I ever told you... you always happen to be the most beautiful woman in the room?" He got up. Extending his hand for you to take. He lead you to the garden. You looked at it in awe. You. Paintings full of your face. Painted in a way that showed you how utterly devoted he was.

(Skip forward) Rafayel was a proud dad of twins. One girl and one boy. Both had your hair and his face. Oh, how he doted on them. Kissing their cheeks constantly. The kingdom was quick to choose the boy as the heir. Leading to constant protests from a moody Rafayel. "No. Whoever shows they are ready for the throne gets it." He will NOT back down when it comes to showing equality to your children.

Crown of Light Xavier: A man beyond his age. When you heard of him at first, you thought he was an old man. But, when you saw him... it was another story. He was beautiful. You averted your gaze away from him. The side of your face seemed to be cradled by the candlelight. He smiled softly. "Do you like the light?" Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided to indulge him with a soft nod. His palm extended, a bead of light appeared only to transform to a bunny.

As soon as the precious moment occurred, it seemed to fleet just as fast. News of the kingdom awaiting an heir seemed to strike Xavier down. He hardly spoke to you. Leaving you to go into the bed chambers and sleeping. Dozing off as if he didn't have a wife.

You sat on the plush cushion of the couch. Embroidering a pillow for your future children if your husband just got out of his bed chambers for once. Then, you saw him standing at the doorway. His face looking like he mourned you. You spoke softly, "what troubles you so much?" He shuddered before he took a seat next to you. Whatever he was about to say seemed to be rehearsed. "I.. can... I can not give you children." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Can't or will not?" He shook his head gently. "Will not."

The castle has been tense ever since. You hardly spoke to him. It was the casual difference of him saying will not rather than could not. You sat on the silk bed in your bed chambers. Looking at nothing in particular. Rather, you were deep in thought about how you even got into this situation. Xavier walked into the room, blowing the soft flames of the candles that illuminated your room. You were about to protest... but, his hand rose. "Just... let me speak okay?" You nodded quietly. "It's not that I do not want children with you. It's more that I... I'm scared. Terrified actually. What if I'm not a good father? What if I don't last long enough to see them into adulthood.. I... I can't". Your hand went to the small of his back. Truly the most reassuring thing you could've done. He smiled softly. Using his evol to make a little light show for you as an apology. Light illuminated the room, forming intricate shapes.

You two had triplets on the first go. Poor Xavier's heart nearly dropped. But, he was making the most of it. Two little girls with golden strands and your eyes. The boy inheriting your hair and his blue eyes. King Xavier was reduced to a restless father. His girls pulling at his locks while the boy nestled in his chest... he wouldn't have it any other way.

Ice King Zayne: "I'd like to formally introduce my-". He walked away before you could even finish your sentence. Your eyes widened. What? He was the one who rushed your union. So why was he pushing you away? Did he think you lower than him?

You avoided him like a plague and so did he. The ice of his evol was not the only thing making this castle so... frigid. You ended up developing a routine: wake up, finish up royal tasks, meet with your ladies in waiting, eat in the empty dining table, and go to bed. 150 steps to your bed chambers. So you started counting again and again. 150 exact. What a mundane and boring life.

Today was no different. 150 steps to leave your room and to the dining table. But, this time you saw Zayne eating. You took your seat and ate in silence. The day was pretty pleasant afterwards. 150 steps to the chambers... 1...2...3. You only counted to 50 until you felt a hand grab your wrist and tug you somewhere else. Your mind was on autopilot. 150... 151? 180 steps to Zayne's chambers. Wait.. why are you in his chambers? He helped you out of your robe. His gaze appreciative of the silk white nightgown you wore. You looked up at him baffled. But, he just tugged you into bed with him. You were spooned into his embrace. Back hitting his muscular chest.

You were weak. How else do you explain just sleeping comfortably? He nuzzled his face into your neck. "I'm... not one for affection. I really tried... I just find being away from you is unbearable." What you didn't know is that he was a mess around you. The times he rushed away from you... he was hiding in the corner of the room blushing like a fool. He was not good at being vulnerable at all. But, he will try for you.

Twin girls appeared in his arms. Both having your face, your hair, your mannerisms. His genes didn't seem to even fight it. He thanked all the wishing he did. These little girls thawed the rest of his frigid heart that you couldn't reach. He would always carry snacks hidden under his heavy crown. Chocolate for the eldest twin, strawberry jam packets for the other, and whatever you craved. All with a faint blush whenever he was around you.

Dragon Sylus: You signed up for a marriage… not this. You were stuck in the tower being guarded by a damn dragon? You knew his name was Sylus. Knew he was also the king of the kingdom. Knew he preferred to be alone and recluse in the tower. Knew he hated humans. But, also knew he had to endure to keep the kingdom out of ruins.

He clung to you. His strong voice squeaking out. What happened to this strong dragon? “M-may.. I hold on to your ribbon?” You nod. His long fingers twirled around the ribbon that laid behind your dress. The one that held your waist. His black nails scratching lightly on it. “Pretty.”

You woke up more often than not in his arms. He always asked before he touched you. Not wanting to scare you off. His finger tips were ash black. His nails pointed and sharp. The noir color fading past his knuckle to reveal pale skin. Your fingers reached his horns earning you a soft groan. “They’re sensitive, my belle.” You took your hands off. He looked at you with almost worry. His nail dragging on your soft cheek. “Do I.. scare you?” You shot up. Wanting to protest. He shook his head. Getting up and leaving the room.

You found him mopping by a small nest that could only fit you and him if you squeezed. Maybe he made it so he could envelop you whole? That’s how he felt he could protect you. Your hand petted his hair. Asking.. begging to talk. He looked up at you. “I don’t want to scare you. It’s hard enough to ask you to have heirs with me. They’d be half dragon and half human.. I can’t ask you to create monsters.” You shook your head. Explaining you didn’t find him repulsive. But, his hand found yours again. “D-don’t.. not for my sake. I’d do anything for you. My horns? I’ll shave them down. Look more human. I’ll cut the claws.. the fangs too. Anything. Please.. I don’t wish to frighten you.” When you finally got him to see reason, he slept soundly on your chest.

He was the best girl dad. His little girl had your hair and his crimson eyes. She had the most fierce personality anyone had ever seen. More importantly… she had her dad wrapped around her finger. He’d always make her a nest. Always laugh whenever she started showing her dragon side. You two would take her to the gardens so she could enjoy the sun.

God of War Caleb: Strategically, this was a match made in heaven. His kingdom was one that never lost a battle. The soldiers were all top quality and ruthless when it came to protecting the crown. But, you grew up with Caleb. The powerful king was the same person who’d fuss over your dress, fix your ribbons, put your shoes on for you. His reward? You hardly acknowledged him as a romantic prospect. Hardly batting an eye to him at the balls.

How long would it take for him to snap? Not long actually.. you’re his wife now. His queen. You were blissfully unaware to his romantic sentiments. Usually giving him the same polite nod as always. Caleb… was a good and dear friend. Until tonight.

His hand snaked to the small of your back. Keeping you pressed against him. His cheek rubbed against yours. His voice… soft. Almost melodic. “Am I not enough? I’m yours… so humbly yours. My heart..” He placed your hand on his warm chest. Your fingertips feeling his steady and strong heartbeat. “This… it beats for you.” You could only swallow hard. Your eyes flickering with recognition. You truly loved him.

He followed you around like a lost puppy. Making countless excuses as for why he needed to be in your line of sight. No one understood how this man crumbled to a pathetic fool over you. But, they weren’t crazy enough to question him. A single utter of your name had his intention. If it was a negative comment? The person would rather be dead and gone than face Caleb’s wrath. Come hell or high water, that man would go to war for your dignity.

Caleb had his heir. A boy who looked exactly like him. A carbon copy down to his pout. He adored the boy.. absolutely. But, mentally cursed himself because he wished he looked a bit more like you. He also cursed himself because his son is EXACTLY like him. Caleb would follow you around for affection or praise, only to get knocked by his son. His son was equally possessive and jealous over your time. A chaotic but loving home is what I can best describe it as.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-and every year after that, we always had double chocolate chip cookies instead of regular chocolate chip. Made me stand out at the school bakes sales, too! And I would beg and beg and beg my mom to make them before any other sweets-”

“Got my stomach grumblin’ over here now, love.” Simon cuts off your rambling with a loving chuckle. The first winter’s snow began falling from the sky in London that morning, and you’d been eager to tell your lover about the traditions you’d had growing up around this time of year.

“Well imagine how I felt, Si!” You say with a giggle, patting his stomach in emphasis. “I swear, it’s become a true Pavlovian response, I see the first snowflakes and I instantly start craving those cookies again. Like when I was little…”

Simon sees the melancholic smile playing across your lips, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that first chance he gets, he’ll be ringing your mum to get said recipe from her.

And if you walk into your shared flat a few days later, the smell of burnt something wafting through the air, fire alarm beeping incessantly, coming upon a flustered looking 6’4” behemoth of a man swatting a flowery dish towel through the air in attempt to dissipate the smoke coming from the oven, well, the sentiment behind your lover wanting to surprise you with your favourite treat from childhood is a thousand times sweeter than the cookie itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ooh, look at those ones over there!” You exclaim, tightening your grip on Simon’s arm. You’re both strolling through a local farmers market on a dreary Sunday afternoon with nothing better to do. Your free hand points towards a stall selling beautifully intricate bouquets of flowers. “They’re so pretty for this late in the season.”

Simon is glancing over at the stall, minutely nodding in agreement, before his gaze shifts back to the crowd.

“Want one?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Just thought they looked nice. We don’t need any.” You say, leading him past the stall, not noticing when he glances back over his shoulder to remember the name written at the top of the display.

Once back home, upon hearing your gasp of surprise followed by what he recognizes now as your excited squeal, he smirks to himself in the other room, knowing you’ve stumbled upon the bouquet he had delivered during your nap.

What you don’t know is that he’s already set it up so that you’ll be receiving a new fresh set of flowers every week now, delivered straight to your front steps.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Really wasn’t that bad this time around, promise.” You mumble into his firm chest, his muscular arms holding you there as you snuggle on the couch. He got back from a two week deployment last night, and you’re still catching him up on everything he missed. “I made a point of going outside everyday, for a change of scenery at least.”

“Tha’s good, lovie.” He whispers, running his digits through the strands of your hair, careful not to tug any time he runs into knot, instead gently trying to comb it out himself.

“Not like I was all alone, anyhow.” You say with a small giggle, biting your lip. He finds himself answering with his own lighthearted chuckle, sitting up straighter to glance at the table over your shoulder. “Gave me something to look forward to each day, feeding the lil’ guy.”

“Was hoping it’d be a nice surprise for ya. Not another chore…”

“Oh, Goldie’s not a chore.” You laugh, swatting at Simon’s chest. You also take the time to glance over at the goldfish in question, swimming in the small circular fish bowl that Simon had somehow snuck into the flat the day before he left. He hated the idea of leaving you alone all the time, never knowing when he’d have a chance to speak on the phone, and he didn’t want to burden you with a larger, more high maintenance animal like a dog or cat. And so, Goldie was brought home.

“Although, I’m worried maybe he’s getting lonely when I’m out of the house. Might have to get him a friend.”

Simon doesn’t even try to hide the corny grin that spreads across his face.

“Have I ever told you the joke about the two goldfish in a tank?”