#never mentioned opals father

[dollfat]

giving into the [outlander] peer pressure and deciding opal moved to the city after leaving the wilderness. probably around age 13.

her and her mom took whatever shitty jobs they could, usually physically demanding and not always legal. neither were especially good at socializing and opal was overwhelmed by all the people and noise. she still thinks of the Outlands as her home.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Sugar daddy x "pure"! Reader

EEEEEEEEE Time to write my baby, the fruit of my dark rofan loins (jk) Basically, this yandere is my first yandere OC and when I gave life (lol) to him in Char/ai yesterday, I just knew he had to be next.

Also, I contemplated what title to give him since he's also a mafia boss, but I decided to go with Sugar daddy since it's the most integral part of his story.

Also, "pure" just means that you dress light, really. But in Rowan's eyes, you were like an angel, a pure being that he needs to taint (oops spoiler)

Yandere! Sugar daddy name: Rowan Silas (Yes, he even has a last name)

notes: Rowan is not old, OLD. He's not a Dilf/Gilf level sugar daddy. In his lore with my other OC (his love interest), he's older by five years. Also, reader has a womb, due to mentions of pregnancy (why did I do this pregnancy shit twice? Dunno really.)

TW: noncon pregnancy, trackers, nsfw stuff

ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN <3 (I don't even know if people will request but LOL just in case.)

The man only knew pain and crime all his life.

He never experienced anything good, apart from gunning down his enemies alive if that even means the same as what people deem as "good".

His life of crime was because of his adoptive father, who picked him up from the slums to become one of his personnel.

He was only seven by then. But his hands stained with blood as he killed the other kid who drowned his precious pet kitten in the lake. That's where his father knew that Rowan is not normal.

I mean, who would sport a smile while choking his fellow kid alive?

All Rowan said was "He deserved it though."

"He took what's precious from me."

That was enough to make his father set him straight to become the heir of the mafia family.

He grew up battered and bruised yet the vices he only knew is his smoking from his precious churchwarden pipe, and violence.

He told his father that it was enough for him.

Yet his body raged on, wanting more and more as greed consumed him for more.

Yes, he's a greedy man who wants more.

After all, he had nothing, then had one precious thing, then lost that thing. And then, when he eliminated the person who stole his precious thing, he got everything.

Did that make sense? To Rowan, it didn't.

He already got everything, but why does he want more?

So with a clean shot to the head, he killed his father and immediately inherited the family.

Now, he can spend the money and the resources as much as he wants. So he did. He went to casinos, brothels, luxury hotels and cruises. Everything he thinks that he needs.

But he still wants more. He still needs more.

And by god, he did get more.

He bumped into you one day, with you in your soft outfit of creams and pastels. Your pure, clean eyes made his heart skip a beat as you said sorry to him.

His greed triggered.

He wanted you so bad.

When he learned you needed a job when he saw your folder filled with resumes, he felt like he won the lottery.

"How about becoming my sugar baby? Don't worry, I won't ask anything. Much."

And as your cute figure pondered what to do, he smirked. You, in the middle of his dim office, in light clothing and an innocent face, was such a contrast in the dark office filled with his smoke from his beloved churchwarden pipe. You stuck out like a sore thumb, and he liked it.

He loved it.

And as your lips dropped the answer he wanted to hear, he shivered and gave you a lopsided smile.

"Good. Now, what do you want, love?"

Rowan sat down on his office chair, he cracked his neck and sighed.

He was bone tired. He just finished a cartel mission that he himself as the boss had to interfere. It was annoying because it was due to his incompetent new recruits.

At least they're sleeping with the "fishies", as what you call the finned sea creatures.

He grabbed something from his pocket and brought it up to his face. It was an intricate jeweled choker with a lot of rose gold arcs, jewels that match your eyes, and a diamond encrusted opal centerpiece.

He imagined you wearing it. Wrapping the choker on your neck himself, seeing your eyes flash in wonder and amazement. He imagined you also getting shy and saying that it was too expensive, and him saying that it was okay, and he wanted to give you this entirely by his own volition. And he got excited.

...In one way or another.

He chuckled and shook his head, swinging on his swivel chair as he dialed your number.

After two rings, you picked up.

"Love, come here. I got a gift for you."

You whined, getting shy again. He chuckled.

"You know what I say, I don't want to hear you say no. So come here now."

So you did.

Once you got there, he smiled and kissed your lips softly, bringing you close to him by your waist and lifting you up easily with his tatted arms.

"Come, I'll give you the present myself."

You got curious naturally.

He settled you in front of the floor length mirror which also saw... Much more intimate and sensual things you both did other than this gift giving thing he's doing.

Rowan slowly grabbed your hair and raised it, making you shiver with goosebumps from the action. He smirked, seeing you so flustered from the simple act of him grabbing your hair.

Well, that, and he also liked to grab your hair a lot while fucking you senselessly. There's that too.

You closed your eyes when he told you too, and you felt the familiar cold sensation of jewelry resting on your neck. But this time, it hugged it, making you open your eyes. It was the beautiful choker he was admiring earlier.

"Do you love it?" Rowan asked, looking at you through the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You nodded enthusiastically and said yes. He smirked.

This was the first time you didn't say to take the gift back with such a flustered apprehensive look. You're starting to get greedy.

He loved that. A lot.

"Now, how about you kiss me in return, hmm?" You rolled your eyes and gently kissed him. You know this day is not just going to end in a kiss.

But you didn't mind.

And he knows that.

You went home that day with Rowan driving you. He gave you more gifts that you shyly accepted once more, making Rowan shiver in glee. Again, you didn't reject them at all.

You're slowly getting tainted by his greediness.

And hopefully, you will be greedy enough to bring up your relationship to him, and tell him that you wanted more to this.

That you wanted his love.

Oh, he trembles at the thought.

It's not a question of if, but when, after all.

But now, he's just slowly moving forward with your relationship. Slow and steady wins the race, after all. Despite him living such a fast paced life, he knows he's patient enough to wait for you.

But if you backtracked and got out of his tight grasp...

Let's just say that the tracker he planted on your laptop, your phone, and now your precious choker will help him find you if you ran away.

You were the light to his dark, dreary life.

He'll be crazy enough to let you go.

And he's already crazy about you.

That's why he's making you addicted to him also. Showering you with gifts and love. Praising your body, worshipping it, pleasing it until you reach the heavens like the angel you are.

And if you still didn't want him... Let's just say the condoms with holes in them that he himself poked will do the trick.

It was a dirty tactic. But who cares? He's a mafia boss for god's sake. Dirty tactics aren't new to him.

And if you still somehow didn't end up pregnant and got to run away, he'll use his influence to find you.

You got no escape.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

You were his love. His greed.

With a drag of his churchwarden pipe, he drove off to plan your wedding.

You were going to be his after all.

No matter what.

I don't know if I did my baby Rowan justice i'm going crazY FUCK.

Can you guys tell I have favoritism? Because I do LOL

[marvelous-slut]

Warmth - Happy Lowman x Reader

Warnings : Readers death, mentions of digging up graves and dead bodies. Please read this warning before proceeding!!

I don’t even have words for what I just wrote!! Based on Dig Up Her Bones by the Misfits.

Happy looks to the concrete outside of the club house, he watches it rain. It’s a downpour on the town of Charming tonight, he looks down at the Polaroid in his hands. A photo of the two of you, you’re kissing his cheek and he’s holding up a peace sign. He tries to remember the moment, the way your lips felt against his cheek, the way that after the photo was taken the two of you decided to watch a movie and you’d passed out on his chest. He tries to think of something to bring him an ounce of joy but he can’t. He only thinks of the rain and how you hated it. How you hated being cold. He remembers talking to you the first time you two had met, how you’d moved to California to hopefully avoid some cold winters.

He thinks of your body laying in the ground, how you must be so upset that it’s piss pouring the rain on the night you’d been buried. He can’t take the thoughts anymore and he heads to the graveyard. Any other day, he’d hated to ride in the rain but tonight he couldn’t find it in himself to care. One he arrives at the graveyard, he finds your tombstone. He doesn’t even have to search, it’s almost as if something has lead him to it. The graveyard was big, lots of lonely people buried. Some didn’t even have a name, only marked as Jane or John Doe.

You’d been killed three days prior. The process was fast, he’d gotten a call you’d been killed and he needed to identify your body. The club found out you’d been killed by a member of the Mayans and were trying to keep that away from him until things were done with your burial. Happy met your parents for the first time and they cussed him out, your father having to be taken out by your brothers as he was ready to kill Happy. Blaming your death on him and his ‘gang’. He couldn’t blame your father even if he wanted to, because the truth was it would always feel like his fault that you were gone.

He holds a shovel, looking down at your tombstone. Your name, birthday and deathdate under. The quote ‘too well loved to be forgotten’ at the bottom. He feels his eyes burn. He was still in shock of how it was you who had went first when he’d convinced himself he’d always be gone first. How you’d take care of things if he ever met his demise. He just never imagined it going any other way. The dirt is heavy from the rain, almost like cement but it didn’t stop him. He dug, and he dug until he saw a glisten from your black coffin. Once he gets most of the dirt and mud away, he opens it to find your body that he’d seen earlier today. It still didn’t feel real. Still the reality hadn’t sat in that you were here, not with him at the club house laughing at Tig trying to pick up women. Not waiting at home for him to burst through the door with a busted knuckle and for you to kiss it better. No, you were here.

Buried, in cold mud. Alone. He reaches down, stroking your cold face. You look the same, much more pale. You wore the necklace he’d bought you after three months of dating, a small opal necklace. He’d even gotten the letter ‘H’ carved in the back of it the silver. Happy sits down, crying. Something he hadn’t done in years, he couldn’t even remember the last time tears had fallen from his eyes.

“God damn it.” He mutters out, reality had finally struck him. You weren’t coming back home. You’d lay in this coffin, in the ground. No one to hold you, no one to protect you. You didn’t need protecting anymore and Happy knew that. He couldn’t protect you when you were alive, what was he to do now?

Jax and Chibs watch him from a far as they had been tasked to follow him. To keep a tab on him and make sure he hadn’t gone after the men who did this to you. “Jesus Jackie. Never seen the man like this.” Jax sighs, looking up at the sky. He notices the rain stops as Happy pulls something from his bag. A blanket. He bends down, putting the soft fuzzy fabric below your neck and tucks you in. It was the least he could do, make sure you had a sense of warmth while you were here. Jax and Chibs look to one another, knowing Happys mind would be too far gone from any shit with the club or the Mayans tonight to fight. They walk back down the block where they had left their bikes and leave Happy to bury your body again. This time, leaving with a peace of mind that he tried to give you comfort even in death.

[sincerely-sofie]

I just realized how crazy Opal’s family is on paper. Imagine you’re a greedy crook so you kidnap the child of the random Charmeleon lady who you know has more money than she lets on. Then you send a ransom letter and set up a dungeon so this Charmeleon woman can give you the money for her child back. It’s fool proof!

And then you find out said Charmeleon lady is not JUST a Charmeleon lady, she’s the lady who stopped the world from getting paralyzed with her friend. Okay, no problem. They probably haven’t fought in a serious battle for years. It’s still an easy job- oh she still goes into dangerous mystery dungeons and so does her previous partner Kip. Okay, startling, but you can still pull through on this- oh wait, Grovyle the time gear thief, Dusknoir the hit man, and the time traveling mythical Pokémon Celebi are also part of the family? They also care about this Charmeleon lady?? And they’d also be apoplectic about this? Okay, now you’re a lot more worried, but it’s nothing that hiring a few accomplices can’t handle! Wait. The father of the baby is the guy who actively tried to cause the planet’s paralysis? The one who managed to torment an entire town? And all have of them practically stared Dialga in the face and said “yeah I can win this/I have to win this” and actually did win? Or at least one of them caused Dialga’s insanity?

You now realize you have only a few options:

1. Lie to potential accomplices about who exactly you messed with because no one sane would look at the full implications of this and go “yeah let’s do it!”

2. Hope the Charmeleon lady won’t call for backup, and that said backup won’t find out and come anyways, therefore plan proceeds without a hitch.

3. Just give the baby back and apologize.

If you’re really greedy or desperate for money, you’d choose one of the first two options. Otherwise, you’d choose option three and run for the hills.

And that’s before said criminal realizes they kidnapped a baby legendary.

The best part of all this is that her family never talks about the craziness of their lives. So you think you're just kidnapping some rich lady's kid and then a brigade of highly competent, highly dangerous individuals come swooping in simultaneously, but the brigade is comprised of:

That old man who you saw agonizing over what cookware to buy at the market the other day and apparently knows how to corner people who are running from him with startling efficiency

A scrawny, ugly grass-type you crossed paths with at the clinic when he was getting some medicines for his chronic pain and who is also unbelievably fast and hits like a truck

A marshtomp who, despite having famously (and shamefully, according to many) retired from exploration, is arguably even more dangerous now despite his calmer occupation, because he knows everything about the ruins you’re hiding out in, including where all the traps are

The rich lady whose baby you stole and also has apparently BESTED MULTIPLE LEGENDS IN COMBAT with the help of that marshtomp we mentioned earlier, and is currently tearing her way through the countryside and rapidly closing in on your location

And two entire legends who are not only extremely capable on their own, but can destroy your psyche by showing you the exact location, date, and cause of your death (right here, right now, her disemboweling you personally with her bare hands) or locking you in a perpetual nightmare. Also that one over there is the baby's dad? Oh heck you're so dead—

AND THE BABY HERSELF IS A LEGEND WHO KEEPS TURNING INTO DIFFERENT ROCK + STEEL TYPES WHO WEIGH VARYING UNHOLY AMOUNTS AND IS SHRIEKING LOUD ENOUGH FOR ANYONE IN A 30 MILE RADIUS TO KNOW WHERE YOU ARE. OH HECK YOU'RE SO DEAD.

Beyond this scenario, imagine being an older Opal who's chilling with the fam during the holidays. Everyone is having a nice time hanging out and soaking in the good company. And then your uncle who cries whenever you call him Uncle mentions that he hasn't had this good of food since before his parents kicked him out of the house when he was a kid. You don't say anything, but you're extremely confused. Did he say he was evicted from his family home as a child? Maybe you misheard...

And then your other uncle says that he got the recipe from some bidoof during that window of time that your mom didn't exist. Your aunt nods sagely and says that it was very kind of the bidoof to share such a treasured family recipe with him during that time. He probably needed the comfort food while grieving his best friend.

At this point you are very much baffled by the conversation, and then your grandfather politely asks if we can stop talking about this, because he'd rather not be reminded of the fact that they all died when he's still finishing dessert.

Your dad then chimes in by saying he'd appreciate a topic change as well. His appetite is rather soured by the reminder of his part in their deaths.

You have never been more confused. And they all just move on to chat about the weather like nothing about what they said is absolutely unbelievable. So later you go to ask your mom about it and she has the audacity to reply:

TFW you’re finally old enough to comprehend The Family Lore™️

[ryuzakemo128]

Goodnight & Sweet dreams

Pairing: Poly 141 x Australian Female Reader

Content Warnings: Cheating, Affair, remarriage, no mention of y/n or the variation of 'you', Possible prequel?, third person written. Angst.

Words: 1707

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Credit for the Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Note: You have many code names. Many. Many of them are used by certain people. Like the devil. You have many names. Boomer, Opal, Crimson and Emerald are the main ones used to refer to you. As your real name is covered in layers of black ink and confidential files restricted to the higher-ups.

Note 2: The only defining factors, I will give you, are the following: Codename. As labelled. Height. You are not small. You are rather tall, at least six feet and four inches. Roughly the same height as Ghost. Your voice is also quite deep, for reasons you can come up with yourself. As no answer is wrong or right. Might make an oc version sometime.

Note 3: I suggest listening to Moon Shadow by Cat Stevens when you read this.

Summary: “I don’t see you the same way anymore. I don’t respect cheaters, no matter the reason you might have had. You ruined this home by yourself.”

Boomer grew up on a farm in the Australian outback. Her father is an Australian Commando. Thus, she didn't see him nearly as often as her mother, who happened to cheat on her father while he was deployed. Her excuse was the lack of affection making her cheat with his older brother, Marcus. The CEO of a tech company he started up in America.

“I don’t see you the same way anymore. I don’t respect cheaters, no matter the reason you might have had. You ruined this home by yourself.” Boomer told her mother once her father came back on leave. He was immediately told by her.

Boomer decided to stay with her father, even though the divorce, and she hadn’t spoken to her mother since the end of the divorce had taken place. Her father, even though heart broken about the affair and the eventual divorce, he tried to keep a positive attitude through it all. Boomer saw right through quite often.

Pulling things apart, fixing them regardless of what it was, became Boomer's silent mantra as she grew older, mirroring the tireless work ethic of her father.

The farm grew quiet without her mother's laughter, but it grew stronger with the echoes of her father's footsteps and the occasional clank of tools as he taught her the ropes of being a true Australian commando.

She took to the training like a natural, her determination fuelled by the anger she felt towards her mother's betrayal. Each push-up, each mile run, every target hit, was a declaration of her loyalty to the truth and the man who never abandoned her.

“I don’t want to become my mother and cheat on any potential spouse, man or woman.” Boomer, adamant in wanting to be reliable regardless of any circumstances she would encounter in her life.

Her father often came home to small things fixed like the broken tractor, a leaky sink, and even a few upgrades to the farm’s security system.

Even reading into carpentry DIY projects like the bee aviaries she built from scratch. Her dedication to self-reliance grew, and so did her skills, a silent promise to never become what her mother was.

Her aunt, Alyssa, came over a few times a month to keep the house from going up in flames. Boomer showed her all the DIY things she made, often wanting to rescue bees from abandoned areas, unwanted areas and sometimes even from people’s backyards.

Her father had a slight smirk on his face when she brought home her first queen bee, a rare breed she had found in the forest. He knew she had her mother’s charm and beauty, but he was proud she had chosen a path of honesty and reliability.

Alyssa’s work as a beekeeper rehoming bees from areas where they aren’t wanted became an unexpected bonding point for Boomer. Her aunt’s gentle nature with the creatures and the way she spoke about them as if they were soldiers in a grand army, protecting the future of the planet, sparked a fascination within Boomer.

She began to see the world through a different lens, one that valued every creature’s contribution, and the delicate balance that needed to be maintained.

Her father noticed the change in her, the way she had found peace in the buzzing of the bees and the precision of their movements. He knew this was something more than just a phase; it was a piece of her soul finding its place in the world.

The farm grew not only in crops but in life as well, with more bees thriving under Alyssa’s guidance and Boomer’s care. It became a sanctuary for those who needed a second chance, a reflection of Boomer’s own spirit.

Boomer took the bee’s safety and health seriously, researching how to take care of the bees better and what ways to keep them happy as well as healthy.

Setting up a mini lab to study the bees in their natural environment without disrupting them became a weekend routine. The bees had become more than just a hobby; they were her silent companions, a symbol of her resilience and unyielding spirit.

One thing her father noticed was the ebony wood varnish on the bee aviaries, making them look more like a piece of art rather than a simple shelter for bees.

He knew his daughter had a creative side to her, but he never knew it would be expressed in such a way. Her creations weren’t just functional, but aesthetically pleasing, a reflection of her respect and admiration for the bees.

Each aviary was named after a character from an X-Men comic she loved as a child. She had found solace in their stories, in their struggle for acceptance and fighting for what they believed in despite their differences.

Her favourite, the Wolverine aviary, housed the most aggressive bees, which she found quite fitting. Each name was engraved in a small brass plate at the entrance, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise utilitarian structures.

She would then sell the honey on the farmer’s market for her pocket money. As she grew older, her love for bees remained as she got more invested in the military. She enlisted at seventeen, she told her father she wanted to because it felt like it was the right thing to do.

“I’ll give it my best shot, I promise.” Boomer pinky swore, her eyes gleaming with excitement and determination as she held her father’s hand tightly. His calloused grip returned the gesture, a silent promise of support and belief in her.

Her expertise in heavy weaponry like heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, rocket launchers, miniguns, anti-material rifles, and even the rare use of the Predator drone grew from her time in the military. She had always been a good shot, something her father had noticed when they used to go hunting together back in the outback.

Boomer dove into electrical engineering, electrical technology, nanotechnology and even robotics. During her military training, it was an eye-opener to an even bigger world. A world she is more than a little keen on learning more about day by day. Even reading more about in her downtime.

Growing up, her pets were bees and the blue Merle Shetland Sheepdogs that her aunt brought with her, which grew into a small pack over the years. They became her loyal companions, protecting the farm and the bees from predators. The dogs had an uncanny sense of when Boomer was upset, and they’d often sit by her side, offering comfort with their soft, warm presence. Her father named her first dog, Blue, after her mother’s favourite colour, hoping it would bring some peace to their lives.

Other than beekeeping and pulling things apart. The extracurricular activities she got into before she turned seventeen were gymnastics and ice skating.

Gymnastics was a way to keep her body in tip-top shape, she was always a fast learner and had a knack for acrobatics. The strength and flexibility it gave her were surprisingly useful in the field, allowing her to navigate tight spaces and pull off stunts most wouldn’t dare.

Ice skating, on the other hand, was her escape. The cool rush of the wind against her face, the sound of the blades cutting through the ice, it was her silent battlefield where she faced and conquered her inner demons, pushing herself beyond her limits.

Boomer, at sixteen years old, rescued a nine-month-old blind cat on the way home from school once, her father saw her with it. She was determined to care for the blind cat and named her, Shadow. The cat's full name is Moon Shadow. Naming it after the song Moon Shadow by Cat Stevens.

One of her father’s favourite songs. Thus, it became one of her many favourite songs as well. A classic ‘60s song amongst the many she would listen to on repeat. She listened to it when she got ready for bed, even after he passed months after her 24th birthday.

Her father’s death was a blow she never saw coming. A heart attack in his sleep, the doctor’s said it was peaceful. But for Boomer, it was anything but peaceful.

Her entire world had crumbled around her. The one constant, the one person she had always relied on, was no longer there.

It took a while to mourn her father, taking on many short term to keep herself from going off into the deep end. A distraction to keep her moving, both in mind, body and soul.

The farm remained her sanctuary, but now it was filled with the echoes of her father’s laughter, her aunt’s gentle guidance, and the ever-present hum of the bees.

She continued her military service with renewed vigor, channeling her grief into her work, seeking solace in the structure and discipline it provided.

Most of her dead dad jokes were made to help her cope with her father’s death. If he were around to hear them. He would most likely face palm himself. Followed by an even darker one in return.

“I loved my father. He’s got a darker sense of humour than I did and possibly ever have.” Boomer told her therapist. “I have my pet cats and my dogs. But I live on my own on the farm now.”

The therapist nodded, scribbling something down on her notepad. “How has that been for you?”

“Too quiet. I don’t particularly like the quiet as much as I used to. Maybe it was the fact I had other people around me?” Boomer answered, her voice filled with a tinge of sadness.

The therapist, Dr. Krovic, nodded thoughtfully. “It’s common to feel that way after a loss. The quiet can be deafening when you’re used to the noise of a loving home. Tell me, have you considered getting involved in any social activities? Maybe reconnecting with your mother?”

“If she wanted to, she would have made the effort ages ago.” Boomer replied.

The thought of her mother still brought a bitterness that lingered in the back of her throat. She knew the woman had moved on, living a life of luxury with her aunt’s husband, Marcus. It was a life that didn’t have room for her, not anymore.

[phoenix--flying]

Do you have headcanons about Alabaster's mortal father and/or family?

(Sorry if you already mentioned them somewhere before)

oh boy do I 💀

His father is a big political figure in London

He is a rather big worshipper of Hecate, which is how he caughter her attention

Also he was into geology and tended to collect rocks, hence. Alabaster.

He has a wife and two kids with her, in her eyes Alabaster is the product of an affair as she has little to no interest in Greek mythology

Their kids are also named after rocks💀 (Opal and Jasper)

They're modern day witches :)

Alabaster would only garner his fathers attention, negative or not, if he did something with his magic, whereas the other two would never garner his attention from their spells

Mr. T always had Claymores books around, and Al tended to read them

He and Claymore met a couple times are are acquainted

[peacock-patrol]

Cover Analysis Games Untold

Let's starts off with the fact JLB said those stories will take place before TGG + will focus on the characters from the main trilogy.

I highlighted in Yellow the 4 stories that I think will actually have elements on the cover (because the two in Black have already been published and the two in Red sound quite light-hearted in tone).

1) Roses in the Backgroud - romantic themes

2) A Few Calla Lilies — The fluffier possibility is a story focused on Gray's casual search for Lyra after the phone calls have ended. But instead I think That Night In Prague will finally explain the implications of the flower - and why Lyra's father gave her one.

3) The Sword — This could go multiple ways. Grayson theme OR a symbolic element for fighting/tension OR a sword showing up without having massive plot relevance: kinda like how the TGG cover has a sword and (very minor spoiler) although swords do show up a lot in the Game show we still don't know their intended purpose.

4) Glittering Cowboy Boot — Obviously Nash (and apparently their story will be narrated from Libby's POV let's gooo).

5) The Ring — This could be from Libby's story as well. We only ever get to see the ring that Nash gives to Grayson (described as black opal). Never the one HE got for her.

6) Fire (roses burning no less) — Likely Hannah&Toby. Their love story started and ended BECAUSE of a fire.

7) Key — No comment, it's appropriate for any cover in the saga.

8) Compass — You'll find quite a few in the books. BUT maybe the most relevant compass is the inheritance Tobias leaves to Skye: the one that starts off his daughters game. Wouldn't be a leap to assume THIS new compass will have something to do with Hawthrone family secrets and tragedies.

9) Pearl necklace - definitely for Alice!

Pearls sometimes get mentioned in relation to Zara (she wears them often + we get mentions of killing-with-pearls) and sometimes Nan - who inherited the entire jewelry vault (and who's name is Pearl O'Day btw).

The most important pearl is in Brothers Hawthrone: Jameson has a pearl filled with poison that he got from his mysterious night in Prague. All those pearls keep coming back to something Alice-related.

10) The Open Book - No clue. It can mean anything.

11) Coin - left my favorite hint for last because it's just so random. It's an Aladdin's Castle token! Yes I had to image-search it. Apparently you would get them for playing arcade games in the 70s and 80s. But since the last american Aladdin's Castle closed down in 1989 - whatever coins remained in circulation are now just collectables. They seem somewhat* rare but not very valuable.

What could this mean? Something to do with the childhood of either Zara/Skye/Toby? Or will it be something related to the grandsons? I can picture Xander coming up with a Hawthrone version for retro games.

I'm going feral over the TGG ending. I CANT wait until November for new content 😩

[cordilla]

Why Ethari Is So Devastatingly Tragic

I'm not beating around the bush, Ethari was did so dirty in season four. Think about it, he's been told that his two best friends betrayed their people after he raised their daughter for years, he thinks the love of his life is dead, his surrogate daughter was branded a traitor, and he probably still has to make all the village's weapons. After all of this, he broke the rules and decided to see Rayla again, didn't mind that she brought a human(his enemy) home, gave Rayla his moon opal necklace(the equivalence of his wedding ring, one of the last things he has left of Runaan), and stays in his village to keep making weapons and trinkets because he most likely knew he was needed.

Ethari, an elf that was only in one episode, has been shown to be the most understanding, kind, loving, and persistent person in The Dragon Prince, Ethari did all this just for him to not even be mentioned in the fourth season. Think about it, Callum is a high mage, he could at least ask the foster father of the girl he loves if he's okay. He knows what happened to Ethari. On top of that, even after the war, Ethari has no idea where Rayla is. Ethari is one of the most tragic people in The Dragon Prince because he is completely and entirely alone. Ethari has been that way for the past two years. This is why Ethari is one of my favorite characters. This is also why I have begun to stop caring as much for the other characters, Ethari never stopped living.

When life threw a curveball at Ethari, he kept moving. This elf put one foot in front of the other when he was royally screwed over. This elf deserves his own arc in season five, because God knows he's earned it.

[amber-in-the-rough]

Did they reveal what the staffs represent?

No, they didn't even mention them, just showed them in the background and that's it.

Maybe some day, in s7? Or in one of the arc 3 seasons, which hopefully will come to be.

The only thing we've learned is that the stone in the staff of Ziard was actually a quasar diamond all along and that it being there was Aaravos's contingency plan. Coincidentally, the corona of the heavens turned out to have one of its diamonds fake. Sooo- At some point in the past he must've taken a real diamond from the corona and put it into the staff. Which means that the staff didn't have it before and that the stones in the other staffs are definitely not differently coloured quasar diamonds (as there are only three). Maybe they are different primal errm minerals? Like, Sky sapphires, Sun rubies, Moon opals...

Two questions, though.

Excuse me but what kind of contingency plan was that, Aaravos??? What were you even preparing for? Who in their right mind thinks "Hm, they may also imprison my soul and destroy my body. Let's steal a diamond, to be on the safe side"?? Like, I can't even say it was too much of a precaution because IT WASN'T. Damned genius. I wonder if he has any other crazy contingencies.

Are there any Dark magic alternatives for the de-coining spell? Because if there aren't, then Viren is a madman. I've always wondered why he did this freaking spell so readily. Did he EVER think about how he would get the coined people out??? If he knew about the quasar diamonds, it's still no less crazy: one, there are only three of them so Viren obviously had math problems as he did the spell FOUR times; two, how was he planning to fetch them?

True, Viren might've cracked a little but he's never been an idiot. He must have had a dark magic de-coining spell. But then, why didn't Claudia use it?.. It's the same spell, restoring bodies to separated spirits. Claudia is also not an idiot, she learned from her father and even took the coins after him. If there is a dark magic spell, she must have known it. So, why didn't she use it to free Aaravos?

I don't know the answer but I think it's down to these two options: either there's no dark magic alternative and Viren was a dummy OR there is and Claudia was just too caught up in her "avid follower" mode at that moment to remember that she could actually do it another way, no need to waste a priceless stone. She was literally: Aaravos speaks and I listen.

P.S. ah, one more thing. If these diamonds are all so rare and precious, why the Celestial elves gave them away so easily?

P.P.S. there MUST be a Dark magic alternative. Otherwise, how would the previous owners of the coins free their prisoners? I don't believe Viren was their first owner or the first one to use them. However, if we look at it from a darker side... Maybe the previous owners had no need to get anyone out. They just sealed people inside and left them there until they disappeared and freed the space inside a coin. :) Absolute pragmatists. Right, Viren?

upd: what's the matter with these asks? this is a second time I'm getting an ask from an account that gets deactivated in the course of like 15 minutes. I've heard there are some erm strange people in the fandom who make several accounts and write strange things, okay, but what's even the point of creating an account for the sake of asking 1 simple question?.. i mean, the question was easy to answer, i just got carried away as usual. alright, if I'm such a nice little account (no) that you couldn't help but write to me, that's fine, but then why delete your newly made account?.. really don't get it. ig it's either a very shy person (if so, you could use anonymous asks. it's more simple) or a strange person. or i just don't get it.

[vertumnanaturalis]

so uh. arts not been arting for me the last few months, lots of complicated issues at play with that, but my exo brainrot is unending and I've taken to designing npcs in the sims when I feel the design need but art is shrimply not happening. These ones are of varying degrees of canon-ness and importance, pretty frequently picked at random or because I previously made a family member or partner of theirs.

I tried to group them together by family or age or work relation but god does Tumblr not like large images so forgive me for the spam. I'll add names/pronouns/relevant ages under them; Strato-side kids closest to Sol's age will have 3 designs, each while Strato-side teenagers between Tammy and Kom's ages will have 2 each.

Under the cut if you dare (warning! Spoilers mentioned & extremely image heavy)

Also uh. you will notice that a few of these people aren't on the current npc list or don't match with it's info. Long story short its getting some refining and that included some new kids and other changes that required a lot of pulling things out from the roots. one of those things playing into why arts not been arting while.

Anywho;

Arroyo - he/him - ages 12 / 16 / 19 - The younger son of the Stratospheric's original Chief Steward, a future member of expeditions, a convienient and accidental scape goat for people to reason away Dys's crush on an unseen pretty boy, though they don't actually have any strong opinions on one another

Simplicity "Plic"/"Lis" - she/her - ages 12 / 16 / 19 - Lazy girl born and raised in the creche, supposedly she helps out in the depot, she might "date" Nomi down the line (but by date I mean "we say we're dating but I think we might just be hanging out because neither of us know what to want or expect from a romantic relationship", there's no hard feelings after it ends) if Nomi doesn't end up with Rex or Sol

Peregrine "Penny" - she/her - ages 11 / 15 / 18 - A perfectly nice girl, but fades away in the crowd, she likes to tease the other kids a little too much, one of the passionate romances referenced in the endings where Cal doesn't settle down with Sol Tammy or Anemone, it is not a pretty breakup

Evanescence "Evan" - he/him - ages 11 / 15 / 18 - The spoiled only child of two older parents, a prolific momma's boy in childhood but a heartthrob with a bad reputation later down the line, another one of those passionate romances mentioned in Cal's ending text, with his being the last before Cal settles down with the farmer from the Heliopause

Philosophy "Sully" - they/them - ages 10 / 14 / 17 - The only child of a single father who works in engineering, loves a good game of sportsball but has no interest in the rest of what the garrison offers, the middle of Cal's three passionate romances and the only one to end on good terms

Opulence "Opal" - she/her - ages 14 / 19 - Friendly and absentminded, she can never resist a good piece of gossip, she dreams of starting Vertumna's first offical news source, her oldest child is born about a year after Echinacea (and Sol might even deliver him!)

Vertex "Tex" - he/him - ages 14 / 19 - The older son of the ship's original Chief Steward, a punk who likes to get dangerous with the wildlife and a tendancy to take things too far

Tempest "Pem" - she/her & they/them - ages 13 / 18 - Rebellious older girl whos behaviors only gotten worse since losing a father during the Stratospheric's crash, rude and obnoxious to the adults but always has a soysweet on hand for the kids

Chrysocolla - they/them - ages 13 / 18 - creche-born kid and resident class clown, the smart kid who doesn't put in the effort after seeing the younger geniuses around them, takes a painfully long time to confess to their best friend

Coriander "Cory" - he/him - ages 13 / 18 - Quiet and plain-looking boy who helps out in the kitchens, he struggles to stand out next to his sisters, feeling like the lesser triplet for not being identical

Scallopini "Pina" - she/her - ages 13 / 18 - A cheerful girl who both has more energy than the rest of her family combined while still remaining total chillax, started dying her hair blue so people could tell her and her sister apart

Amaretto "Ame" - she/her - ages 13 / 18 - A meek but passionate girl, she feels like she was born in her sisters contrast, struggles to find her sense of self when the most unique thing about her is that she's got nothing unique at all

Falchion "Kion" - he/him - ages 13 / 18 - Teenager who seems desperate to find his place in life, often making dangerous mistakes in the process

[Left] Hyacinth "Cici" - she/her - age 17 - A young sniper from the Heliopause, the future Chief of Security in timelines where Sol and Anemone are not and Vace hasn't handled his issues yet

[Right] Lunation "Luna" - she/her - age 19 - Previously the Heliopause's current doctor-in-training, a catastrophic brain injury during the crash has drastically changed her life and put her on indefinate medical leave

[Far Left] Champagne "Champ" - he/him - age 9 - a young boy who starts out eager to grow up and become a soldier, but might find a different calling in life with help [Middle Left] Schnapps - he/him - age 40 - A cook from the Helio who takes the culture shock better than most, has a weekly card game with Nomi's dad [Middle] Crocus "Cro" - she/her - 38 - A cook from the Heliopause who prays in secret that her children do not die child soldiers [Middle right] Affogato "Affie" - she/her - age 13 - One of the teenage soldiers who follows Vace around, she's desperate to impress the older kids and will cruelly treat others like stepping stones to do so [Far Right] Meringue "Meri" - she/her - age 6 - The last child born on the Heliopause, she's destined to become a doctor when she grows up, she first gained an interest in medicine during gene therapy like Tangent

[Left] Harpsicord "Harrie" - They/them - 51 - An actual rocket scientist that ensured the rocketship got to Vertumna, Saga's doting wife and Evan's adoring Mada

[Right] Sagacious "Saga" - She/her - 46 - A sweet and loving auntie from geoponics who remains painfully oblivious to most well-known gossip, her casual tendancy to spoil and coddle her son drives Flulu up a wall

[Far left] Hibiscus "Hibi" - she/her - 35 - One of the surveyors in charge of rescues and it's acting emt, a control subject born from the same series of augment tests as Tonin, she's suited more to space than the planet the same way he is, Vertumna terrifies her daily and she fears for the futures of her teenage triplets

[Center left] Rumination "Rumi" - he/him - 46 - A talented guitar player who enjoys lying to children and is in a committed relationship with the bit, works in rescues with Hibi, holds the technical title of "Former Chief Surveyor" as he was the presumed next-in-line when Imbroglio abbruptly retired a decade prior, although he only held it long enough to laugh himself sick and walk out the door, he's the sole reason Utopia's accent is like that

[Center right] Paprika "Prika" - she/her - 37 - Mechanic in charge of expeditions equiptment and transports, has a hair trigger temper with certain subjects and a habit of spraying offending teenagers with the hose, the irony of her student/trainee Thicket being the biological-via-donation child of her partner and later her own biological-via-donation child joining expeditions are both frequent source of jokes for awhile

[Far right] Brassica "Braz" - she/her - 39 - One of the construction workers who had trained for that job specifically, has a lot of pratice mediating problems that her partner's anger issues cause, got on the ship by pretending to be in a relationship with a friend and convieniently "breaking up" once it was clear they were never going to form a family unit

[Far left] Revolutionary "Lulu" - she/her - age 28 - primarily a geoponics farmer, an on and off member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule, in a queer platonic relationship with Blip

[Middle left] Sorbet - she/her & they/them - age 27 - a steward who primarily works in the kitchens, another on and off member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule; she was the egg donor and surrogate for Benji (the young doggy boy npc)

[Center left] Habitation "Hab" - he/him - age 26 - one of the ships dedicated creche parents; part of a closed chain polycule of 4 people (no overlap with the greater geoponics area wlw polycule); loves his job but resents ship administration for passing him and his family unit over during the last round of children born in space, yet making him feel pressured into agreeing to surrogate one of the other children

[Center right] Oblivion "Blip" - he/him - age 26 - an engineer in space but shoved into more general work after landing; loves his best friend but her polycule stories scare him a little, you will never see his entire face, but if you did he could easily pass as Dys & Tang's relative despite not being related at all, the fourth youngest person to leave on the Stratospheric

[Middle right] Optimism "Tim" - he/him - age 26 - stuck to janitor duty in space but also shoved into other jobs after landing, one of the few people guaranteed to live to Sol's 20th birthday, the third youngest person to leave on the Stratospheric

[Far right] Jubilation "Jubee" - she/her - age 26 - same deal as Blip; she was the surrogate for the last child born in space (Enigma, the girl with the rainbow hair), and is still recovering physically and emotionally when the game starts; her twin sister Jamboree died before she left, but only one of them was ever going to be picked for the ship, she can't remember her sister's face anymore; the second youngest member of gen 2 after Utopia

[Far left] Coralline "Cora" - she/her - age 28 - the ships fourth dedicated creche parent on paper, she's frequently pulled to help on the farms after landing, a consistant member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule

[Center left] Pyromania "Sparky" - she/her & they/them - 29 - Originally just a part time security officer, her soldier duties quickly begin outweighing her cultivator ones, she started dying her hair like that when she found out the meaning of her name and keeps it another month every time someone calls it tacky, it's been 12 years; another consistant member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule

[Center right] Curarine "Curie" - she/her & they/them - 32 - A pharmacology researcher doomed by the narrative, the youngest person on the Stratospheric chosen for her skills rather than genetic diversity, she quickly disapointed Instance with her undriven personality, another consistant member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule

[Far right] Unity "Nita" - she/her - age 31 - The only one here who exclusively works in geoponics, she was four seperate farming wlw until the latest revamp forced me to compress her down into one, the last consistant member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule

[Left] Mangosteen "Maggie" - she/her - age 30 - Maggie's death when the Strato lands is unavoidable (as her infant twins Whimsy and Praline fill the role of "orphans from the wormhole crash" during babysitting), once a frequent member of the greater geoponics area wlw polycule but had been avoiding the dating scene after a really messy & very public breakup of her throuple with Yuzu and Cinnamon, she was a creche parent and a hydroponics farmer on the ship

[Right] Yuzu - any pronouns - age 31 - Yuzu doesn't 100% use the term wlw but does work in geoponics and either is currently or has previously been dating the same overlapping circle (though they've also been avoiding dating, but mostly because the rest of the polycule "doesn't want to pick sides"), they avoid Maggie's children like the plague

and that would be it for tonight lads, it is now night'o'clock and my hands are starting to hurt, I think I got all the right info down but if not I'll fix it tomorrow or whenever I notice theres a problem. If you've gotten this far I hope you've had fun looking at some of my little guys

[checkoutmybookshelf]

When the Russian Mafia Learned Not to Mess With Artemis Fowl II

I've been an Artemis Fowl girl (not the movie) for a long time, and while I think the first book in the series is literally a perfect first book, it's not my favorite in the series. That honor goes to book two, Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident. And I think that the key points that really make this my favorite book are the shift from brilliantly executed archetypes to genuine characters, the fact that a 12-year-old absolutely OWNS the mafia, and the expansion of the worldbuilding in Haven and the Lower Elements generally. Oh also, this is where we get Opal Koboi for the first time. *Screes in best villainess ever* Let's Talk Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident.

There will be light spoilers below the break, as is pretty standard for all books second and later on this blog, so be warned.

First of all, in the first Artemis Fowl book, the characters are--with the exception of Artemis and Holly--largely archetypal. That falls apart here, because the story isn't trying to be a fairy tale or a heist so much as it is Opal Koboi and Briar Cudegon trying to start a war that Artemis has to stop in order to get fairy help to rescue his father from captivity by the Russian Mafia. Book 1 Butler is your standard bodyguard with a heart of gold, Commander Root is a standard grouchy police chief, and Trouble Kelp is basically ye olde marine. Briar Cudgeon is power hungry, and that's about it.

By book 2, Bulter is getting more personality and a low-key understanding with Holly and Root because they're all "old soldiers" in his book. Root gets to actually have some personality and is a damn good field commander--can we just take a sec to appreciate how much he cares (gruffness notwithstanding) about Holly and the fact that he super did not care that the sealed acorn was blasphemy because it worked!? He becomes more than just a hardass vaguely sexist archetype, and I have SUCH a soft spot for Julius Root. We also get some more of Trouble and Grub Kelp. Briar Cudgeon stays pretty simple, but that's fine because we have Opal goddamn Koboi for a more complex and also very classical villainess--she is LOVING being evil and frankly she is never not a joy to watch. Opal knows how to lean in to sheer joyous villainy.

I'm also just a fan of Artemis actually running into the real world with his planning. Our boy can absolutely sketch out an on-paper plan that is brilliant, but then you get things like gaps in train tracks, fairy politics, dwarf reflexology, and humans reacting in weirdass ways and suddenly Artemis has to get his hands a bit dirty and he has to improvise. Our boy grows and STILL hands the Russian Mafia its collective ass on a radioactive submarine hatch. Artemis Fowl's character growth in this book is great.

Book 1 was very limited to Fowl Manor and its grounds. We got a bit of Haven and the Lower Elements in book 1, but book 2 is mostly in the Lower Elements and Russia, and the expansion of what Haven is like, what shuttleports are like, what Koboi Labs is like, what Howler's Peak is like, is incredible. We get more fairy lore, fairy life, and more LEP. This keeps expanding in later books, but this is our first really close look at the world beyond what was strictly necessary for the kidnapping and rescue plot of the first book, and that's very fun.

I know I've already mentioned Opal Koboi and her gleefully unhinged joy at her seemingly imminent rise to Empress, but honestly I love her to little tiny peices. She is too samrt for her own good, she girlbossed her own father into literally insanity, and her college-era feud with Foaly is just peak "the smartest kids in class have extremely different skillsets and they hate each other for it". Opal starts off very evil kitten, but kitty has claws and she's just waiting for a chance to unsheath them.

The Artemis Fowl series is improbably good, and I cannot recommend it enough. Especially this fozen, slightly radioactive entry in the series that is very much my favorite book.

[nerdynanny]

ARTEMIS AND TRAUMA

Hokay-- so this will be under a cut because of heavier themes like death and whatnot. Buut I figured I'd summarize Artemis' worst moments for posterity and as a reference point to anyone unfamiliar with the series.

THE BIO BOMB-- Let's start off with BOOK ONE here. Artemis and company have kidnapped a fairy by the name of Holly Short. The LEP [Lower Elements Police] try to beat them by sending in a troll, that Butler summarily beats the shit out of in a suit of armor. Realizing they have no other choice, they decide to use a bio bomb, which will atomize any living things in the house.

Artemis, in his genius, goes on a hunch that escaping the bomb would only be capable by getting out of the local time stop the LEP set up. Stories of fairies over the years had taught him that when humans are asleep, fairies do their thing. So he drugged himself and his friends, on a hunch that falling asleep might save them.

Thankfully he was right, but it certainly nearly drove him to panic. And he was TWELVE.

SHOOTING HIS FATHER -- In BOOK TWO we get Artemis learning his father is alive. He goes to Russia to try and rescue him, but realizes his father is being held hostage by some heartless criminals. Rather than negotiate with them, he has Butler snipe his father in the chest, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

He had help, at least-- Holly was waiting under water and healed Fowl Sr shortly after he was shot. It was another gamble he could have lost, and it certainly weighs on him.

BUTLER'S DEATH-- This one hit Artemis the hardest. After a negotiation gone wrong, his bodyguard and pseudo father-figure, Butler, was shot by a rival's bodyguard. Artemis had never seen so much blood in his life-- Butler even told him his name.

Artemis had to put Butler on freeze until he could find Holly to heal him. Years later, after their minds had been wiped, Artemis triggered Butler's memory of these times with a simple phrase. "Your name is Domovoi."

OPAL KOBOI-- Less of a specific book and more of a SHE SHOWS UP EVERY OTHER FUCKIN BOOK. Opal was the one responsible for a lot of Artemis' internalized trauma. She eventually put together a plan so foolproof, that Artemis had to sacrifice himself to thwart it.

Opal is the reason a fairy friend of his is dead. Opal nearly killed his family in an act of revenge. Artemis can't even hear her name or a mention of the gem without tensing up visibly.

VARIOUS ADVENTURES-- From being trapped in a vent with a gassy dwarf and radioactive materials everywhere, to nearly drowning outside of Atlantis, Artemis has been through the ringer. He's internalized a lot of his trauma, but after coming back from the dead, he has since found a therapist in Haven, as with The People is the only place he could find true help.

HIS PARENTS-- The Fowl family was never one of love and support, at least not until Fowl Sr's change of heart. Artemis grew up with a cold and distant father and a mother who was far too busy with charity events to pay him any mind. Couple that with how they treat his baby twin brothers and you've got a recipe for disaster.

Artemis got the worst his parents had to offer. Yet Myles and Beckett, his twin siblings, get all the love and support in the world. They get parents. Artemis only had Butler. He resents his parents greatly, and has difficultly communicating with them and adapting to their new behaviors.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 12: The Atlantic Ocean] [Series Finale]

You are a Russian grand duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You live happily ever after.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of historical war and violence.

Word count: 3.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @okilover02​ @adrenaline-roulette​ @youngpastafanmug​ @m-1234​ @tensecondvacation​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @rogerfuckintaylor​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @someforeigntragedy​ @mo-whore​ @mellowfellowyellow​ @peculiareunoia​ @mischiefmanaged71​ @fancybenjamin​ @anne-white-star​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @witchlyboo​ @demo-wise​ 

There are rumors that a grand duchess survived, of course—they are whispered into life almost immediately after the murders at Yekaterinburg and never quite disappear—although no one can seem to decide which one. Sometimes it’s Maria, sometimes Olga, sometimes me, most often Anastasia; and for years, decades afterwards there are women who periodically surface and claim to be my most undomesticated sister, and each time I know they’re not just by seeing their photograph in the newspapers. The only consensus that can be found is that surely the survivor is not Tatiana, as she never could have vanished into the anonymous ether of humanity, not with that striking, elegant, gem-rare sort of face. No, everyone agrees that the most beautiful Romanov daughter died in Russia; everyone, that is, but Ben.

It is the last day of the October of 1918 when we board a ship bound for the New World. Ben, Joe, and I ascend the steps as Ben’s family—our family, now—waves us off from the dock: August, Kathryn, Opal, Leo, Luther, Ben’s mother…and Frankie, too. He arrived in London six days after our audience with the king, honorable discharge papers in hand and a perplexed yet grateful expression on his face. I don’t know if it was guilt, or a bribe, or one last favor to my father, or simple pure-hearted mercy once his shock and rage bled away, but King George V kept his word about bringing Frankie home. I never ask my uncle about it. I never ask him anything. I never speak to a member of any royal family again.

As we cross the Atlantic—the days shortening, the nights bitterly cold, bobbing dolphins chasing our iron walls, right whales breaching in the distance—Ben and I walk the decks like we did on that bleak journey from Saint Petersburg to London, but this time we do it as Benjamin and Lana Hardy. We married in a brief, uncomplicated ceremony in a tiny Russian Orthodox cathedral we found tucked away in North London; as a wedded couple, we will have a smoother passage through Ellis Island. We have also thought of a way to keep the Romanov jewels safe and undiscovered, as our luggage will almost certainly be searched upon our arrival: we’ve sewn them into our clothes.

Joe, predictably, makes many new friends onboard—Italians, Greeks, Turks, Spaniards, Poles, Russians, Hungarians, Jews—but he grows closest to an Egyptian named Rami. Rami, a Coptic Christian, fled Egypt to escape religious persecution…but not before falling in love with the daughter of a British archaeologist based there. He and Lucy are newlyweds too, always entwining their fingers and gazing into each other’s clear eyes and bubbling over with anticipation for their very own fabled American Dream to begin. Lucy is expecting their first child already, and as we chat away her hand often settles—unthinkingly, instinctively—on the modest swell of her belly.

At Ellis Island, we are pried at and interrogated and examined for any signs of defects, whether mental or physical or of the spirit. And as we are granted entry and rush down the staircase with our hands gliding over flaking metal railings—the same railings gripped by millions seeking new lives here—I remember my dream from the night before we were summoned to Buckingham Palace: water, metal, crowds, cobblestone streets, unfamiliar plants, a cold prickling drink that I will one day recognize as Coca-Cola, innumerable transparent bulbs of light. Perhaps that was more than a dash of intuition. Perhaps it was my parents letting me know it was alright to choose another path.

We find an apartment in Brighton Beach; between the five of us, we can afford to keep it to ourselves without squeezing in any additional boarders. That first night—after Kroshka has been placed in a rented stable stall down the street, after the luggage is unpacked, after we have eaten chebureki purchased from a street vendor, as the cracked and bare walls stare silently back at us—Ben sits down on the scuffed floor and covers his face with his hands, too exhausted to weep but drained and petrified down to the bones. “It’s the responsibility,” he says, and I know exactly what he means: it’s the weight of having to look after his family, Joe, our new friends, me.

The very next day, I get a job at a settlement house three blocks from our apartment. The pay isn’t much, but then again it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been paid for anything, and so that in itself gives me a great deal of satisfaction. I excel there; I am a proficient typist, I can read and write and speak a myriad of languages, and educated women fluent in Russian are hard to come by in Brooklyn. I teach new arrivals to speak English, I teach children to hold pencils, I teach adults how to find work, I teach women how to escape violent husbands and to prevent unwanted pregnancies. I clean faces and braid hair and look into eyes—shining, hopeful, thankful eyes—that remind me so much of my parents and brother and sisters that my heart aches, and then calms, and then opens wide to swallow up and engulf the abandoned people of this city, of this world. Little do I know that I will work at this same settlement house for fifty-one years, over half a century, longer than either of my parents lived.

Ben starts out at an afternoon daily newspaper company called the Brooklyn Eagle. In his spare time, he writes his own articles and shops around for publications that will take them. When we are in desperate need—when a storm shatters our windows, when the radiator breaks in the middle of January, when I catch pneumonia and need medicine and weeks of bedrest—Ben takes a few of the smallest jewels or a rope of precious metal to a pawn shop on the other side of Brooklyn and returns with a thick stack of bills with Alexander Hamilton’s face on them. Joe gets a job at a pizzeria in Little Italy so he can learn the tricks of the trade before striking out on his own. Rami works there too for a while before finding a position at a tailor shop owned by a Coptic Christian from Luxor.

Once they save up enough money, Rami and Lucy move into their own apartment in Astoria—where many Egyptian families are settling—and promptly fill it with fervently desired children. Joe marries a Sicilian woman named Christabella and moves with her to Little Italy. We see each other several times per week and I am present at each of Lucy’s births. Rami teaches me Arabic. I teach him Italian. Ben teaches me Old English songs from his childhood. Joe teaches us all to make pizza.

Sometimes—as I lay awake at night long after Ben has fallen into sleep, his breathing slow and serene—I wonder what became of the items I left at Buckingham Palace: the books, the scarf, the pillowcase. I wonder if they were lost, or thrown out with the rubbish, or kept by the Prince of Wales as some sort of strange memento. Sometimes I wish I still had them. More often, I am glad that I don’t.

I was a different person then. Perhaps it is better to make a truly clean start.

Within a year, and with the help of a sizeable contribution from me and Ben, Joe has opened up his own pizza shop in Little Italy called Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria. It frequently has a line wrapped around the block during the lunch rush.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1925, and the nation is booming, racing, roaring. I am promoted to Assistant Director of the settlement house. Ben writes an article about his childhood in London and the New York Times buys it. When he sells them another—an anthology of the stories of the other immigrants who share our apartment building, many of them Russian by birth—they offer him a position as a full-time columnist. We stay in Brighton Beach but move to a townhouse on a quiet street with several bedrooms, a stable for Kroshka, and a small, fenced backyard. Ben sends word to his family in London that the time has finally come for them to join us across the Atlantic. They arrive on our doorstep one month later: Ben’s hushed mother, Frankie with his wife Althea, Luther with his fiancé Ethel, Leo with his poems, Opal with her paintings, Kathryn doting on the very slow and very grey basset hounds, August having grown into a singularly joyful and charismatic young man. The original plan was that they would stay with us only until they found their footing in Brooklyn, but as it turns out our home is always full; someone moves out, someone else moves back, it is a carousel of weddings and children and holidays and farewells and reunions. It is an undying warmth and fullness that I never believed I would experience again. It is heaven on earth.

Ben and I have two children, both explicitly planned. Each time he insists that I labor in a hospital, and each time he is in the room with me from start to end. We name them and we love them and we watch them grow like the flora of Central Park: eastern redbuds, blue mistflowers, scarlet beebalms, Carolina springbeauties, cinnamon ferns, calla lilies. Ben’s mother treasures our children and spends hours with them each day. They bring her a new purpose; they bring her peace. She says it is like being able to hold her own lost children again.

We make generous donations to settlement houses throughout New York City. When the aging owner retires, Rami takes over the tailor shop. Joe opens up three additional locations of Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria throughout Brooklyn.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1936, and our adopted country is in the depths of the Great Depression. We help others float through the storm as best we can. At the New York Times, Ben takes on and funds several apprentices from working-class families. We volunteer at soup kitchens. We stock the pantry shelves at the settlement house. We teach our children about egalitarianism and democracy and compassion. We raise them to know nothing of my bloodline. They believe that I am British just as Ben is, and that we met as coworkers in London; we never mention that either of us ever set foot on Russian soil. This is a necessity: however unlikely, I am unwilling to risk the possibility of detection. Every once in a great while someone will give me a second glance, or narrow their eyes, or blink thoughtfully at me as if they have met me once in a dream…but it amounts to nothing. Even the Russian immigrants I work with rarely suspect anything. My accent and dialect are so far removed from theirs—so formal, so educated—that they can believe I learned it from a book. The last Romanov daughter is gone, buried like the rest of them. What is left is only Lana.

At Christmastime—a lean, humble Christmas—I read in the newspaper that David Windsor has abdicated the British throne and passed it on to his dull, dutiful younger brother. David left so he could marry the woman he loved, a woman forbidden to him, a divorced American named Wallis Simpson. As I sit at the kitchen table studying the lines of his face in the black-and-white photograph published on the front page, I wonder if any part of him was thinking of me when he announced his abdication to millions of British subjects via a BBC radio broadcast. I wonder if somewhere in the back of his skull lurked my shadow, my vanishing, my willingness to cut through the ties of royalty to embrace a life of my own choosing.

Rami and Lucy welcome their sixth child, a daughter they call Lana. Ben writes articles imploring the United States to accept refugees fleeing the rise of fascism in Europe. Joe has to close three of his pizzerias, but with a little help from Ben and me (and our stock of clandestine jewels), he is able to hold onto the original location through the worst years the American economy will ever see.

Some people sink, of course; there are always those who will sink. But we pull as many into the life rafts as we can.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1958, and Ben and I celebrate our 40 year anniversary with a trip to Australia. We see the kangaroos and koala bears and beaches and the vast, red wildness of the Outback, and while we think of Gwilym and Hazel Lee quite a lot we don’t spend any time at all contemplating the merits or failings of the British Empire. I have learned that it is futile, maddening even, to battle against things so far above my control; it’s like trying to fight the sea or the stars. I cannot set all things right across the globe, but I can improve the circumstances of thousands of souls. Surely there is no better way to repay the debt the Romanovs owed to the world. Surely my parents and siblings would understand if they could see me now…and sometimes, when I dream of them, I like to believe they can.

As I am leafing through a magazine one afternoon, I come across a photograph of David Windsor and his wife Wallis. They are at a polo match or a garden party or something like that—something frivolous, something regal, waving to the paparazzi—and before I can turn the page one detail catches my eye. Looped loosely around Wallis’ thin neck is the green scarf I bought in Moscow. The silver-thread bears are as bright and shimmering as I remember them. Wallis is flashing a wide, triumphant smile to the same reporters who had once maligned her as a conniving, lowborn whore.

He kept my things after all. Why would he do that?

I close the magazine, thinking of the strings that tie people together and then unravel and then come back together again in new designs. I think of how little each of us truly knows. Sometimes that’s a blessing, and sometimes that’s a curse, and sometimes we’ll never know which it is.

I am made Director of the settlement house. Ben is promoted to Deputy Editor of the New York Times. Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria now has ten locations: four in New York City, one in Baltimore, two in Philadelphia, and three in Chicago. Joe has his sights set on Los Angeles next.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1963, and I watch as Walter Cronkite announces that President John F. Kennedy has been assassinated. His wife was right there in the limousine. The new president is sworn in as she stands beside him, shellshocked, embittered, her pink suit stained with her husband’s blood and brains.

Everyone is horrified, and everyone is sad, but my children don’t understand why I cannot stop crying, why I cannot sleep, why I cannot get the vision of a nation’s leader senselessly murdered in front of his family out of my mind. I sit in front of the television with tears leaking ceaselessly from my scarlet eyes, thinking of Papa, Mother, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, Alexei. It’s like I’m back in Saint Petersburg. It’s like I’m learning they were slaughtered all over again.

Only Ben understands. He bundles me into his arms and presses his lips to my temple and whispers that I am safe, that our children are safe, that my family would be proud of me. It is the same way when Malcolm X is killed, and then Martin Luther King Jr., and then Bobby Kennedy. I am torn apart by the thought of their wives and children left bereft, left forever scarred by their murders. It guts me and leaves me bleeding for weeks.

We anonymously donate the last of the Romanov jewels to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There is fierce public debate for years concerning who came to possess them and how. Each time there is a newspaper article or a television broadcast about the jewels, Ben and I share a small surreptitious smile. Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria restaurants stretch from the Atlantic to the Pacific and boast over fifty locations. Joe leaves the business to his children to manage and retires with his wife to Atlantic City, New Jersey. He spends his days sunbathing on the beach, playing blackjack, eating cannoli, and gossiping with other Italians.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is July 13th, 1985. There are photographs of the loved ones we’ve lost on the mantle above the fireplace: Willis, Cecil, Louise, Ben’s mother…and there are even a few of Kroshka. The house is full of my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Ben’s siblings, our nieces and nephews and their children and their children, too. It is my great-grandson’s tenth birthday. His name—by pure coincidence—is Alexei.

There are children giggling and running through sprinklers in the backyard and basset hounds sniffing after crumbs of hors d'oeuvres and balloons everywhere. The living room is packed with people watching Queen’s performance at Live Aid on our single television, clapping along to Radio Ga Ga. Rami and Lucy arrive with the gift of a handmade sky-blue velvet suit. Joe and Christabella arrive with about twenty boxes of pizza. Ben and I and our two daughters are in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on Alexei’s birthday cake. It’s quite a challenge; Alexei loves dinosaurs, and the stegosaurus made of green icing has plenty of ragged edges to smooth out. Later, when Ben lights the candles, he will use a tarnished steel lighter with a bear carved into one side.

“Papa, Mum, have you seen this?” Tatiana, our eldest, asks. She holds open the pages of Time Magazine. “Some reporter based out of L.A. did a story on the Winter Palace. You know, where the Romanovs lived before they were deposed. He posed as a tourist and took a bunch of photos and smuggled them out of the Soviet Union, and now the Soviets are pissed. They don’t allow photography in the museum. And they definitely don’t want Americans capitalizing on their national historic sites. Anyway, check it out.” She turns the pages. Ben glances over at me. The butterknife has fallen out of my hand and onto the kitchen counter.

“Here, Mum, let me do that,” Louise offers. She plucks a clean knife out of the silverware drawer and resumes the meticulous sculpting of the stegosaurus.

“Amazing, huh?” Tati says, still flipping pages. They’re vivid, bright, in full color; they bring back memories I had forgotten I have. “There’s the Throne Room…the Malachite Room…the ballroom…the gardens…even the—”

“The private family rooms,” I murmur, dazed. “The bedrooms. The study. The dining room.”

“Yeah,” Tati replies. She’s still grinning, but her brow furrows. “Mum…are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” Ben says quickly. “She’s just tired. That stegosaurus has been giving us hell. I love the technique the reporter used here, opening with a vignette…”

Throughout the years, throughout the decades, as the century slips away from me, I have tried to avoid witnessing the calamities of my homeland: famines, purges, dictators, wars, censorship, rivalry, bloodshed and turmoil and insurmountable suffering. I barely recognize it at all; what was once Imperial Russia is now the Soviet Union, what was once Saint Petersburg is now Leningrad, what was once hope and the promise of a better future is now grim authoritarianism. I can still see my family in the Russian immigrants I helped settle here in New York City, but I don’t see them in the modern-day iteration of my birthplace.  

But these pictures Tati is showing me, these memories…they are not from some failed, foreign land. They are the places where Papa puffed on his pipe and told us ancient folktales, where Mother read in her wheelchair, where Alexei played with his tiny toy soldiers on the rug in front of the fireplace, where my sisters and I stayed awake laughing and whispering until morning sunrays shone through our bedroom windows.

I reach out to touch the pictures with my fingertips. My hands are wrinkled, knobby, arthritic, just like Mother’s once were. Tati is still watching me, concerned.

“I know, it’s so beautiful, but so sad,” she says. “Knowing that the people who once lived there were murdered so brutally. Those poor kids. To have all this, and then to have nothing. It must have been a miserable last year for them.”

“They didn’t have nothing,” Ben tells Tati gently. “They had their family.”

“Yeah, but I mean…do royal families even really know each other? Don’t they just get together for polo games and tea parties and…I don’t know…arranged marriages?”

“The Romanovs knew each other.” Ben smooths my silver hair fondly. His hands shake a bit now, but they’re still strong, still perfect. His scars have faded with time; they are nearly invisible. It’s almost as if our pasts never happened. It’s almost as if we’ve always been the people we are now, here in the New World surrounded by friends and family and golden possibilities. “They were…a bit of an anomaly among royal families. Nicholas was very attentive to the children, very loving. And Alexandra was too, to the extent that she could be with her poor health. They did everything together. They went sledding and horseback riding and swimming, they told stories, they played games, they shared meals, they took care of each other. They hoped and they worked and they prayed. They tried to shield each other from the burdens the world placed on their backs. In a lot of ways…the Romanovs weren’t all that different from us.”

“Oh, wow,” Tati says, fascinated, awed. “I didn’t know that. They really must have been something.”

Ben looks over at me, smiling. “They were.”

[isleofdarkness]

Another question, because I forgot, have you noticed that Descendants treats the fathers? I'm currently reading Audrey's diary and Audrey barely mentions her father, Phillip, only her mom and grandma. Same goes for Lonnie, as if they hate their dads or something. And I don't like it.

Do you agree?

Most of the characters just straight-up don't have fathers. Most of those who do barely mention their fathers. There are like, three prominent fathers, and one of them is from only the third movie. Here's what I know.

No father- Evie, Carlos, Yzma, Zevon, Uma, Jane, Ally, Carina, Dizzy, Anthony Tremaine, Ginny, Arabella, Jade, Maddy, Opal, Herkie, Big Murph, Tiger Peony, Ariana

Next to nothing about their father- Audrey, Mal, Liang, Susu, Celia, Freddie, Hook kids, Doug, Chad, Claudine, Diego, Harry B, Jace, Yi-min, Jordan

Father but shitty- Ben, Jay

Good father- Anxelin, Aziz, and Ruby (pretty much the only ones referred to as daughter of two parents)

However, research has also concluded that when not weird about fathers, Disney is weird about mothers. Observe-

No mother- Doug, Jay, Maddy, Diego, Hook kids, Smee kids, Harry B, Jace, Celia, Freddie, Arabella, Claudine, Jordan, Gaston kids, Dwarf kids, Hadie, Artie, Big Murph, Pin, Eddie, Hermie, Ariana, Tweedle cousins, Stabbington cousins, Herkie

Next to nothing about their mother- Jade, Yi-min, Yzla, Zevon, Dizzy,

Mother but shitty- Mal, Evie, Carlos, Uma

Good mother- Anxelin, Ruby, Aziz, Ben

Out of all of those characters, only four have two consistent parents. If they have a mother, they rarely have a father. If they have a father, they rarely have a mother. What do I get from this?

Disney didn't actually give a damn about this. They used the more prominent character (Maleficent, Grimhilde, Jafar, Mulan) to give their characters a rap and never paid any mind to the other half of the equation. They didn't care enough to actually give these characters backstories. Sacrifice a father so that the mother can give our character a reputation, sacrifice the mother so the father can give our character a reputation, and rely on that reputation to make our characters cause we all know Disney isn't going to flesh out these characters.

I don't like it. Partially because it meant more work for me.

[nutmeg-mayonnaise]

I'm curious, what other Ace Attorney couples/families feature in your fic universe?

Hello friend! The my fic focuses very much on Maya/Phoenix/Edgeworth for the most part, but here are other families and couples that get mentioned:

I shared Pearly’s kids (Opal and Amber Fey) but I never talked about their fathers. They’re unnamed at the moment and only mentioned here and there, and Pearl is divorced with both of them. Iris has a daughter as well but her husband passed due to illness*. Pearly and Iris are examples that unhappy marriages in Kurain Village and the Fey Clan are still commonplace, but they both find solace in their daughters.

Gumshoe and Maggey got together and have a few kids themselves. Apollo is ultra busy with his law firm in Khura’in but he gets roped into watching Rayfa’s kids (not with him, to be clear!). 

That’s all the families! The only couple not mentioned yet is Franziska and Adrian, and they aren’t exactly dating, there’s definitely something going on between the two of them, and they still visit and send each other letters. :)

Thanks for the question!

*updated June 28th, 2023.

[cheemken]

hey hi going insane over your diantha/sycamore siblings hc pls I want more gimme pls on my knees

Asks like this makes me feel bad for all the angst I have for these two ngl hahaha

But hey have some more stuff abt em uwu

•both of them cut ties w their parents ofc, they almost changed their last names too, but decided against it, saying it's their last names now, not their parents', and they can start anew

•when Diantha went to her father's place to take Augustine from him, Pa Sycamore actually put up a fight

-Dia was already so pissed at that point she called out her Tyrantrum and commanded it to use Crunch on him

-yeah, read that right, Dia's Tyrantrum almost killed her dad

-hes alive still, well, kinda dead now present time but not bc of Dia so hey hahaha

•in my aus, Opal is actually related to Diantha and Augustine, probs their aunt on their mother's side? Yeah

-Opal promised Diantha one day that she'd be back for her and they'd live in Galar together

-ofc, that never happened, Opal forgot about Diantha and Augustine, and bc of that Dia grew very bitter towards her

-honestly Leon and Opal are the reasons she doesn't like going to Galar

•when Augustine started his journey, Dia followed behind him to supervise and to make sure he was alright

-she was really impressed at how quickly he managed to beat the Gyms, and when they met again, she asked if he'd want to take on the league, maybe he could actually beat her

-he did try, tho he was defeated by Drasna

-Diantha was still so very happy for him and decided to treat him out for ice cream as a reward

-a few years later, Augustine tried to beat the League again, and almost did get to Diantha, but Siebold ended up beating him

•having so used to just having Diantha as his only family, whenever he's asked about his parents back then, Augustine would just reply "why would I want my parents to be here? My sister is here with me and she's so much better than them."

-w that tho, whenever he thinks of his parents, Diantha is always the person that comes in mind, not his father nor his mother

•Augustine loves teasing Diantha whenever she mentions Lance to him

-during champion meet ups, Augustine would be texting her in the middle of it asking if she was sitting next to Lance or at least talking to him

-she stopped bringing her phone to meetings after that bc the excessive vibrations from it was giving her odd looks from Wallace and Cynthia and she's had enough thank you very much u w u

•Diantha never really told Augustine about her past with their mother, she'd rather spare him from the horrors she had to go through

•the lab coat Augustine has was actually a graduation gift from Diantha

-his lab at Lumiose was a graduation gift too—

•when Augustine found out about the Mega Stones, he gave the very first one he found to Diantha

And yeah that's all for now ig hahaha

Hope you like em hahah