#the point is to share the joy of creating and get to see how someone else's brain approaches the same character or theme or plot point

[treasuredplanet]

apparently a life long creative dream that matters to no one but you can come true on a random Saturday afternoon with literally no warning

[sheisoverhere]

Peeta Mellark is an integral member of the four D12 victors. He is literally the sunset on the reaping! How is this not clear? I’ve never wanted to report people for bad literary analysis more and I’m only half joking. It has forced me to commit a cardinal sin: analyze in anger!

1. Him being chosen by absolute accident is the point. Not only does he represent every single other tribute who simply gets chosen because they live in a messed up country but he represents how even with some odds being in your favor (older siblings, merchant family, being white, being popular, etc.) you are still very likely to be victimized by the oppressive structure of Panem.

2. When Haymitch says, “But she was smarter than me, or luckier” - the luck is all the people around Katniss who created the circumstances for her to lead a successful revolution (her father teaching her to hunt, the arena having woods, Rue healing her with leaves, Thresh not killing her, Haymitch consistently giving her support, her mother teaching her aspects of medicine, on and on and on) and Peeta is the number one, most important part of her luck in the first book. She has someone in the games actively putting her life before his… are you kidding? There is legitimately no better luck than that.

3. Even if we take Katniss out of it, Peeta is so impactful as a victor because most of his scenes would not be cut/doctored. What’s there to edit out? Instead, the viewers get a full view of him loving a girl so selflessly, using trickery and strategy instead of violence, keeping himself alive through art, joking on literal death’s door, and sharing so much of himself with the audience it becomes harder for them not to see him as a real human boy. How rare do you think that is for the games? Haymitch and LGB are caricatures of themselves in the games, playing roles that flatten them down. Even Katniss becomes one dimensional on screen without Peeta (and Rue, of course). It is also heavily implied that he does not kill anyone during the games (in a straightforward way) and even if you count Cato or the girl from 8 or even foxface, it’s never him hunting them or seeking out a kill - again how rare do you think that is to see on screen for Games viewers?

4. I didn’t think this needed to be said but: Katniss dies without Peeta in the first games. a) she goes for the bow and dies in the bloodbath; b) she is hunted and killed by Careers; c) she is killed by game makers because there’s no love story angle to keep them from just burning her entirely; d) she dies from tracker jacker stings or Cato because Peeta doesn’t defend her or tell her to run… I could go on…

5. But even if she does win and wins alone - the victory means as much (I would argue less than) any other rebellious victor winning, certainly less than Haymitch’s win. The biggest rebellion for their games is that two of them win! This is legit the only thing that distinguishes them from any other sympathetic, kind child who would have won the games. Like if Haymitch or Finnick or Wiress winning isn’t jarring enough for the Games to end… why do you think Katniss killing Peeta and winning solo would be? It would not.

6. And finally, I cannot stress this enough: There is no peaceful end to the rebellion or the trilogy without Peeta. “Peeta’s a whiz with fires” (HG) for a reason! Collins, over and over, shows us how fire can get out of control and destroy even those who are innocent and who you love (Gale, Beete, Peeta’s family, Haymitch’s family). If everyone really burns, there’s no one to clean the ashes. The reason not everyone burns is because of people like Peeta who can coax the flames in a way that is nurturing and consistent. I mean…. “Peeta fashioned some kind of incubator” is such an obvious detail. Those goslings don’t hatch without Peeta, life does not go on in peace and joy without Peeta.

It is no coincidence that when Maysilee says Lenore Dove got the “jump on us all” (in being a rebel), she is referring to LD using orange paint to make protest art!

We must stop pushing Peeta Mellark out of the narrative! He is literally the sunset on the reaping!

[fishnapple]

How you pursue them - how they want to be pursued

I made a "how they pursue you" reading (you can read it here) so I figured a version from your side is needed. After all, it takes two to tango. This reading was done with your future spouse/lover/partner in mind.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

STRAWBERRY QUARTZ

If you're someone who's more direct, action oriented and wants thing to move at a fast pace, you might need to slow down and adopt a softer energy towards them. They need to feel an emotional and spiritual connection with you first in order to slowly fall for you. And that connection can be built based upon many small bricks of consideration and practical actions.

The first practical thing that you can do for them is probably be practical and take care of their practical needs, especially when it comes to food, feed them, prepare food for them, and take them out to eat. A fulfilled stomach makes them feel more at ease with you. Displaying emotional stoicism is another way to show them that they can be at ease with you. Being calm in the face of difficulties, rolling your sleeves to solve the problems without complaining, not overreacting or being overly dramatic. They will feel that conflicts with you can be solved diplomatically without being emotionally draining.

They're attracted to consistency and stability, if you do act consistently, it should send a message to them that you're serious and dependable, that they can count on you to not change your mind and heart suddenly and be wishy washy. I think they are wary of unpredictability and emotional unavailability, this could be due to their past experiences, they would often attract this kind of people and the experiences left a deep scar in their heart. So now they look for predictability, even repetitiveness in actions of the other party. If you say you're going to do something, be sure to actually do it, and on time. The fastest way to turn them off would be to say you forgot to do something that you had stated or, worse yet, promised to do.

Sometimes they can feel lonely or pessimistic about the future, this is when you need to be their sunshine, bring more joy to their life, get them out of that gloomy mood. You can offer to do something together, not something that would make them uncomfortable or more anxious of course, things that they can relax yet focus on the physical reality, like making pottery, going for a walk, going to somewhere with many people around, but be sure to not leave them alone, stay close to them all the time. Then subconsciously, they will gradually feel a link with you, their heart will carve a space for you, tiny at first, but will expand gradually.

ROSE QUARTZ

This person is attracted to the idea of fateful love or love at first sight. They want to feel a sense of spiritual connection with the other person. Love should feel transcendental to them. You will have better luck at capturing their attention by flitting in and out of their life than constantly being in their face all the time. A chance meeting stays in their mind longer than the face of someone they see every day, at least initially. When you guys have gotten closer, the opposite would be true, they need your constant presence to feel secure. This person can be hard to pin down with their myriad wishes and expectations, you will feel like walking in a maze when trying to find a way to get closer to them. Maybe it's their way to test your patience and resolve. Be consistent, but still show them some surprises now and then.

If you're already involved in their daily life and want to create that sense of serendipity and fatefulness, try to find any common points that you share and gently, subtly point to those in your conversation. Remember, those things have to be real, not made up just to score a point with them. They're good at detecting lies and pretense, so any display of those traits will go straight to their "stay away" list. When communicating with them, it's best to keep it real as much as possible. Be moderate with flowery words and excessive praises, it seems insincere and will trigger their suspicion, once they're suspicious of you, they will always in the mindset of looking for red flags, even when they don't exist, their walls will grow thicker around you. They actually like a more intense and straight to the point style of communication. When both of you feel comfortable enough with each other, talking about taboo or deeper psychological topics is welcomed, but mixed it with optimism and light-hearted banters here and there also. Remember, they can be a little contradictory, they welcome heavier topics, but they don't want those to dominate your conversations, they like a deep person but who won't drag them down. You can vent to them, spill out your darkest secrets, and they won't flinch. But they will begin to feel weary if that's the only thing you do without expressing any desire to make the situation better or refusing to get out of what's holding you back. Because through this, they can assess your ability to navigate future problems with them. They will also look at your aspirations, your hopes and plans for the future, it's okay if you're still confused about those, as long as you're open-minded, you can even ask for their advice and help, they like to be helpful.

They actually like it when you're the one doing the pursuing, or at least, show your intentions clearly to them, you can say to them outright that you like them or want to date them, marry them even. If they already have some feelings for you, they will reciprocate truthfully, if not, they will give an honest reply tactfully. As long as you're not being too aggressive about it, they're open to the possibility even if they haven't developed any feelings for you yet.

CITRINE

This person likes someone who is in their power and knows what they want. They like assertive and confident people. So they'll probably welcome it if you actively pursue them. But not in the desperate and clingy way, though, which is what they really dislike. Being showy for the sake of showing off is also a no-no, if you buff yourself up just to appeal to their type, they will probably sense it. They want true confidence, a little of haughtiness even. The assertiveness and directness I'm talking about here doesn't need to be directed only at them and the connection, if you show those traits outside of the connection, it's actually even better. In work, in executing tasks, in speeches, in the pursuit of knowledge, they like someone who has goals, one who dares to dream lofty dreams and is willing to put in the work to make those dreams real. You don't need to be a high achieving person or be a boss or anything, what they look for in a person is the authority over oneself, the drive to success and the vision. So sharing your dreams with them, being efficient, show off a little bit of your achievements, tastefully and subtly, mentioning them only in passing, don't emphasise them.

You can be intense and be romantic as much as you like. It might surprise them at first, but they will secretly like it. Write them notes, send them poems, share songs with hidden meaning, and give them gifts on random days, all of these will stir their romantic heart. They like the feeling of love and romance transporting them out of the boring, mundane world, like those love stories shown in novels and movies. The more repetitive their daily routine is, the more they want to feel the randomness and surprises given to them by someone else. You can do quirky things, invite them to creative workshops, somewhere they can relax and have fun. Be a little unpredictable and casual, but don't play hot and cold, you will find them disappearing faster than turning a page.

Showing your intention early on won't be a problem, but don't put any pressure and expectations on them, just state your intention like a fact, a truth that you want them to know. They will appreciate the freedom you can give them. They will also appreciate your wisdom, a beautiful mind turns them on more than any beautiful outer shell a person may have. Share the interesting things you've learnt, your experiences, especially your travel anecdotes, share what you find beautiful and touching, those things will bring you guys closer faster than any physical flirting.

RED JASPER

I think the best way for you to appeal to their heart is to show your vulnerability in the most authentic way. This person values authenticity above all else, all the messy emotions, the shame and guilt you hide, they want to see them all laid bare before them. This is a way for them to test your resolve and resilience, though they're also attracted to tenderness and vulnerability in a person. They're probably an intense person themselves, so they need someone who can match them, who's not afraid to be real with them. But don't dump your deep dark secrets on them when you're still in the initial stage of getting to know each other. They appreciate courage and a forthright spirit, but they don't want to be your therapist from the get-go. They probably need to feel appreciated too, being able to be real with you too, it's an equal give and take, an exchange between hearts and souls, not a confession session. When they feel that they can trust you enough to tell you their more private thoughts and feelings, this is a crucial and decisive moment, the way you would react and respond will be registered into their mind forever, almost like you're being observed by a judge.

Their mind can be quite heavy with dark thoughts and gloomy outlooks and they need someone who can bring more colours into their psyche. You can show they how to appreciate life's beauty more, gently lead them into a more bright place, let them have the chance to relax and be in the present moment. Something colourful will have that effect on them, you can surprise them with small gifts like flowers and plants, candies, hot drinks, soft pillows, cool water touching their feet, birds, cuddly pets, cakes, things you make yourself, things that can stimulate their five senses more. That would include your clothes or your scent. They need something to be of contrast to their grey inner landscape.

You can also stimulate their mind with conversations about all kinds of different topics, they would probably be interested in esoteric topics, spirituality, personal belief system, the unknown, travel, books. If you guys are not engaging in mental gymnastic, you can go for the physical one, swimming or skiing, roller coaster riding might be their favourites. They need to feel a sense of active and dynamic in your energy, almost like they need a warm light to surround themselves with, someone to add a touch of magical feeling to their mundane existence and introduce them to deeper facets of life.

[elysiansparadise]

Composite chart observations 4

🤎Moon either ruling 2nd, 4th or 7th house makes both of you constantly want each other's presence. They need to be close to each other many times, and only the presence of the other is enough to make them feel better. They may perceive the presence of the other as soothing, relaxing or very comfortable, lowering their defences and being more expressive and receptive of love and affection. There is a feeling of being at home, of being safe and of feeling mutually protected and loved. This desire to care for and support others naturally arises from them.

🤎When Mars or Pluto rules the 11th house shows a strong sense of complicity. They are the kind of duo that live exciting, fun or crazy experiences in some cases and get each other's back no matter what. There is a lot of loyalty between you and, even if you are not very verbal or communicative with your appreciation, you will know that the other person values ​​and appreciates you very much. They will not hesitate to jump to defend the other from whoever or whatever. It can be like 'I can mess with you, but nobody else can't', because this duo does it playfully and will not tolerate another person doing something, even the smallest thing to attack or hurt the other.

🤎With Mercury in water signs [Cancer, Scorpio & Pisces] or houses [4th, 8th or 12th] you may both feel that it is easier to talk about your emotions and open up to the other person. They may share things they have never done before with others and feel that they can be truly vulnerable with each other. This duo may prefer personal and in-depth conversations rather than small talk or talking about things that are very mundane for them. It will be easy for them to get lost for a long time in conversations with each other.

🤎When the Ruler of the 1st house is placed in the 8th house or vice versa, this relationship is characterised by being very strong and lasting. They can experience many intense things and stay by each other's side regardless. Both will know the dark sides of the other and that will not stop them from appreciating, loving or respecting each other. It is also very common in those couples that, although it is difficult for them to open up and trust others, they see in the other someone they can fully trust and who will always keep their secrets.

🤎Jupiter in Leo is one of the most beautiful placements to have here. Both people will mutually encourage the other to be themselves and love or even admire the other's true personality. Moments of fun, lightheartedness and genuine joy in sharing moments together. There can be playful banters and drama, both parties will keep things interesting for the other party. They will make the other feel more enthusiastic and self-confident. Furthermore, what I consider most wonderful about this placement is that they will seek to contribute positively to the other's life, doing many things to maintain their happiness or create beautiful moments especially for them. the other.

🤎Saturn or Pluto in the 3rd house make both of you feel like you can talk about many topics no matter how difficult they are. These couples, friends or colleagues do not shy away from difficult conversations and can have an easier time understanding the other's point and making them feel heard when they share their most personal experiences or opinions.

🤎When the ruler of the 7th is in the 4th or vice versa, both of you will be able to connect on a very strong emotional level. They will instinctively understand what the other needs to feel comfortable and no emotion will be hard for the other to process. This is a relationship in which both seek comfort and mutual understanding, there is a deep love between you and a tendency to pamper and spoil the other, being able to easily be the other's soft spot. They awaken the tenderness and affection of the other.

🤎The best placements for Saturn are in their domicile houses, that is 10th and 11th house. This is because both placements are great indicators of long-term planning, both see the relationship as something they want to maintain over time, in addition, something in which they will not hesitate to invest time and energy. They find value in this bond with the other person by finding them as someone suitable, someone who easily makes them feel worth trying.

🤎When the ruler of the 5th house is placed in the 2nd or 4th house, it is very likely that they will enjoy more calm, intimate and homely plans. From watching movies together, cooking at home or doing sleepovers. They will enjoy meetings in which there are only the two of them to get to know each other better, to learn more about each other. They have a deep desire and taste for intimacy with others, especially emotional, from talking about the past, their emotions or things in which they find a lot of value. They can be naturally very touchy and caring with each other.

🤎Venus either ruling 6th or 12th house can tell us that the love language of both is acts of service. Both will always try to help the other, whether it is finishing tasks or dealing with a lot of emotional and work/academic burdens. They enjoy and find pleasure knowing that they can make others feel better or more relaxed. They will seek to do small actions that make the other feel more comfortable and happy.

🤎When Venus is ruling 2nd or 10th house it means that, although they are not very verbally expressive, both prefer to show their love and affection through actions, gifts, or more tangible things. Both people will take small and practical actions that lead to improving the relationship. They will have gestures such as asking about each other's boundaries, what they like, what they value most in relationships [whether romantic or friendly] and they will always cherish each one of them. They are even likely to value the same things in a relationship, which makes for a long-lasting and strong bond.

🤎Saturn in the 8th or 12th house tells us about a couple who has individually experienced hardships and find it difficult to trust other people. However, in this relationship both can manage to open up to each other and work together to create a relationship in which they accompany the other in their most difficult moments, being a reliable pillar of great strength and reliability. There's mutual support and a desire to be caring towards the other, even if it's in a subtle way.

🤎When there is a stellium in the 9th house this couple can motivate each other and be a great teacher for each other. There is a feeling that together they grow a lot and that they have a partner at their side who fills their lives with fun and meaningful lessons or experiences. They may feel that the person is everything they ever wanted or that they somehow "manifested" the other.

🤎When Jupiter is in the 10th house, they both always push each other to go for more and achieve great things. They make each other feel capable of achieving many things, they make each other feel confident about their potential and abilities. They talk a lot about each other with other people and tend to praise them behind their backs, which greatly improves their reputation.

🤎Cancer Saturn/Saturn in the 4th house can help you create a long-lasting relationship in which you support each other. It is very likely that you will have issues opening up and showing your emotions or even talking about your emotional needs, but you can have the patience to support the other person speaking, which can be a very practical way to build trust in yourself. They do not take each other for granted, because they know how difficult it is to trust and be vulnerable.

🤎Pluto in the 8th house tells us that both can change each other's lives at great levels. You will live many moments of epiphanies and realisations, many things that you thought were usual or normal, you will soon begin to see that they are not and they can help you change a lot for the better. This placement represents the union of two people who have experienced many difficult or tense things throughout their lives, who are willing to provide strength and support to the other to face any adversity. Likewise, they can be very drawn to others without being aware of why.

<- Go back to the masterlist

[calolily]

I don’t expect everyone to like me, that’s unrealistic. However the aggressive venomous hate I’ve gotten in the past 6 months is kind of bizarre. It’s bordering on insane obsession.

It’s from people that have actively bullied me or my friends. Which I have never retaliated against in any way. I’ve shared that I’ve been bullied by anons and I’ve shared it with moderators on one Discord to get guidance when I blocked someone but shared the server. Never asked for them to be removed. That’s stupid. Why would it matter if they are on the same project if they aren’t working directly with me?

I’ve left public discords because they can’t leave me alone. I’ve done mediation through a mutual friend in an attempt to just be left alone. No dice. I’ve begged to be left alone. I’m the villain.

At this point I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I have my friends that I enjoy talking to and creating with. I’ve never done anything to these people other than refuse to join in on their witch hunts and dare to express hurt when they create anonymous hate blogs about me and my friends.

I’m not pulling strings in the background. I’ve not told anyone not to be friends with you or work with you. I blocked you months ago and was done but you keep coming at me and lobbing around insane theories and hassling me because of who I’m friends with. To date they have driven two of my friends out of this fandom with wild unsupported accusations and harassment.

I have two alternate tumblrs-

@bwelysium and @ungabungadarling for my private Discord and for the caveman event.

Everything else is what you see is what you get. I have no reason to have alternate accounts. If I have something to say I’ll say it with my face showing. I’m not a coward. I just don’t see a reason to call you out with all the evidence and cause a scene. I can coexist if you leave me alone.

It doesn’t matter what I say. People believe sensational stories and lies above the truth. I’ll be the villain in someone’s story no matter how much good I do and how kind I am.

The majority of people interact with are sweet and so so creative and it’s been a joy to be in this fandom, despite the fleas.

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 5

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: after this point you don’t really see Sofia, at least for a while. Maybe at 1 point but I haven’t decided.

I don’t know what Part 2 of the season will bring but from here on out it’s just a rewrite of events that will include Maybank reader instead. Also there’s some use of Y/N here since some conversations don’t happen with her. enjoy :)

2nd note: please let me know if you like this. I love the story telling and building the plot but wanna make sure it’s doing well. Don’t want anyone getting bored :)

Not proofread

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: nothing but soft Rafe tbh and setting up story lines. Next part will be fun

“I’m going to head out for a bit, okay? I have a few things I need to take care of. How about we meet up later at my place?” He asks as you and Rafe made your way down the path. You carried the cozy blanket and picnic basket filled with remnants from your breakfast, while he cradled Vivienne, their bond already evident in the way he held her close.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you say, a broad grin spreading across his face.

He lovingly passed you Vivienne after showering her with a load of affectionate kisses, and then, without missing a beat, he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. The warmth of that brief connection caught you off guard. You wouldn’t lie; while you had anticipated this moment, you hadn’t expected the domesticity of it all to hit you like this. It felt so natural for him, yet it brought a flurry of emotions bubbling to the surface for you.

The kiss lingered on your lips, and you could feel the warmth emanating from both Rafe and Vivienne, creating an intimate bubble that shielded you from the rest of the world. Rafe's ability to seamlessly blend fatherhood with his charming personality was surprising; he made the whole experience seem effortless, like it was second nature to him.

You couldn't help but marvel at how your relationship had transformed over the course of just a couple of days. Just a year and a half ago, Rafe was simply the bad guy, made to make your brother and his friends lives hell. Now, he was someone who shared quiet moments and laughter with you as a family. Holding the blanket and basket in your arms, you felt an undeniable connection forming. Guilt still creeping in. You wished you allowed him to experience her first year.

As you began to walk away, your mind twirled with thoughts about what the evening might hold. You both had created unforgettable memories together, but this moment felt distinct; it brimmed with the promise of something more profound. Perhaps it was the awareness that you were becoming an integral part of his world—a world filled with simple joys, late-night giggles, and unexpected kisses. As the sun raised above the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, a smile crept across your face at the thought of the future and what lay ahead.

“Say bye dada” you tell V

“Bye dada!” V yells from off the porch

Rafe yells bye back and blows her a kiss. Driving off to do his business as you head inside.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Rafe returns to his house, his thoughts racing as he walks through the door. On the way there, he texted Sofia, asking her to meet him. The weight of the conversation ahead loomed heavy in his chest.

Sofia arrives shortly after. “Hey, Rafe,” she greets him warmly.

“Hey.”

She steps in close and pulls him into a tight, loving hug, but Rafe doesn’t return the embrace with the same intensity. Her smile falters, and she looks up at him, concern etched across her face.

“What’s wrong? Did things not go well with your daughter?” she asks softly.

Rafe shakes his head. “No, that’s not it.” He gestures for her to sit with him outside by the pool. Once they’re settled, he continues, his voice a little distant. “She’s… she’s perfect. Vivienne. That’s her name. She’s the most perfect little girl to ever exist. She looks just like me. She’s so beautiful, so happy.” His words trail off, but Sofia knows there’s more. She feels a knot forming in her stomach.

“I needed to talk to you about some things,” he adds, his tone turning serious.

“Okay…” Sofia replies hesitantly, her heart beginning to race.

Rafe takes a deep breath. “I want to focus on her. On Vivienne. And… um… I want to focus on my family, with both of them. I never expected things to play out this way, and I’m sorry, but this is what I want. I need to be there for them. We need to end this.”

Sofia’s face falls, the words hitting her like a punch. “Oh,” she whispers, barely audible. Her mind scrambles to make sense of it. She thought what they had was special, that he felt the same. But now, he was going back—back to Y/N, back to his family. “Maybe you should, then,” she adds quietly, trying to maintain her composure. “It’s only right.”

Rafe finally meets her gaze, his eyes pleading for understanding. “It wasn’t planned, okay? You know that. But everything came rushing back—every memory, every feeling. And now that V is in the picture, I can’t deny it.”

Sofia doesn’t speak for a few moments, letting the weight of his words settle. She hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t imagined she’d be here, blindsided by the sudden shift in his priorities. She didn’t expect to become a ‘stepmom,’ but she had been willing to sacrifice for him—she had believed in what they had.

But now, as sadness sinks in, so does a flicker of anger. It drags her back to a few days ago, when everything still felt right—before Y/N came back into the picture. She remembers overhearing Rafe talking to Ruthie and Topper, saying she was just a hookup, that he could never be with a Pogue like that. Even though she knew it wasn’t true two times, one for you and the other her, the words had stung. They had left a mark. And now, with this revelation, they hurt even more.

In the days that followed, she had been tempted to meet with Hollis, after her dad suggested it. Initially, she’d rejected the idea because she had loved Rafe. She thought he loved her too. But after overhearing him she met with him. Took the money from her too. she planned to return it not being able to do it. But now, with Rafe pulling away, with him choosing another life—another woman—she has nothing to lose.

“I was thinking about that deal you mentioned,” she says, her voice steadier than she feels. “You should do it. I was hesitant before, but maybe it’s a good opportunity. It could be a way to build something for your daughter.”

Rafe looks at her, surprised by her sudden shift in tone. “Maybe you’re right. I still have to decide, but I’m leaning toward going for it. It could be a good opportunity.” He shrugs, unsure of his next steps.

They sit in silence for a while, the weight of their relationship hanging in the air. Finally, Rafe turns to her. “You have no idea how much you’ve helped me,” he says earnestly. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just think my place is with Y/N and Vivienne.”

Sofia nods slowly, her heart aching. “I understand. You think you’re doing the right thing, and that’s all that matters.” She leans over and presses a soft kiss to his cheek before standing to leave.

Rafe grabs her hand gently. “I’m sorry, Sofia. Really, I am.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, her voice steady but hollow. “But you should definitely take that deal.”

Rafe smiles weakly at her, grateful for her understanding. As she walks away, leaving him alone by the pool, he takes a deep breath, the enormity of the situation sinking in. He knows he’s made his choice, but something nags at him—the way she had pushed the deal so hard. For a moment, it puzzles him, but he brushes it off as her wanting the best for him.

Sitting in the stillness, he lets his thoughts swirl before finally reaching for his phone. After some time alone, he dials your number, needing to see you, ready to move forward with the life he’s chosen.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You arrive an hour later. V wobbles into the house, running straight to Rafe. “Dada!” You both smile, the word now coming naturally to her. Rafe is completely smitten. She leans in for a kiss, then holds up her stuffed turtle for him to kiss too.

Rafe looks at you with a serious expression. “I broke up with her.”

Startled, you ask, “What?”

“I ended things with Sofia. I know what I want—it’s you and V.”

“Oh… That wasn’t my plan, Rafe. I didn’t want to ruin everything you’ve built.”

“It wasn’t mine either, but I’m sure now. Is this what you want? Please say yes, because I need to show you something.” He steps closer.

“Of course, yes.”

Rafe leads you and V upstairs. It feels strange not being at Tannyhill, a place you knew so well. You stop at a door with a wooden “V” hanging on it. Inside is a complete nursery—books, toys, a beautiful crib, and a cushioned rocking chair. One wall is covered with sea animal wallpaper, the others a clean white.

“I had an interior decorator come yesterday after I found out. I wanted it done quickly. The wallpaper went up this morning. Kelce stopped by to make sure everything was right.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You pull him in for a kiss and turn to see V already making a mess.

Later, you all head downstairs for dinner. As you eat, Rafe opens up about a deal involving Goat Island, the same place your brother and his friends recently visited.

“What are you going to do?” you ask as he clenches his fist.

“I’m not sure. It could be great—for us, for her.”

“You’ll figure it out. It does seem strange, but maybe Hollis is really looking out for you. I’ll support you no matter what.” You reach for his hand.

“I love you, Banks. You’ve always been the best to me.” Your eyes widen at the old nickname. Smiling softly, you reply, “I love you too, Cameron.”

Taglist-

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative @writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

[dragonsfictavern]

Sharing What’s Important

Gale Dekarios x Reader

a/n: Gale is actually like so romantic and sweet in his own way and he definitely deserves to be as in love with someone as they are in love with him. Cue in reader (Tav).

summary: Gale shows you his favorite book and the two of you read it sitting on a window. Things get super cute and fluffy in the moments that follow.

word count: 1.7k

You tilt your head back to the point where your neck creaks with a slight twinge. Your hair falls down as you gaze up at the almost endless amounts of books within the Baldur’s Gate library. You were in a library. You never thought you’d see the day. You slowly begin walking around, making sure not to stray too far. You honestly didn’t think you’d see the day for a lot of reasons. Sharp clicks of a boot ringing against the floor only proved that further.

“Here it is. This is the book I wanted to show you. I have an inkling you’ll take a liking to it,” Gale’s voice called out and you looked back down, straightening your spine to appear casual. A habit you had yet to break, even with him. You catch him just as he rounds the corner, waving a book in the air, a small smile gracing his sharp features.

“You didn’t have it on your person? Now that I don’t believe,” you tease, taking the book automatically as he holds it out in front of you, not wanting him to think for a second that you weren’t interested. Meeting his eye with a grin, you only see pure confusion in that innocent gaze.

“I would never take a book out of the library. Everything I read stays right here. If need be, I’ll sleep in here. Or come back, but I rarely seem to be able to put the things down once I pick them up.” He breaks out into a short laugh, finding himself and what he considers to be antics amusing. You have to bite your lip, not wanting to laugh at him. It would only be out of fondness… but still.

“So where should I read this then,” you ask, bringing the book back to his attention. Gale’s eyes first fall onto you. It makes your heart skip a beat that he’d first look to you instead of a book. Who would’ve guessed that could’ve ended up being a possibility for you, but you learned to take life one day at a time a long while ago.

You took joy in the way Gale’s eyes lit up. The way that, for a moment, he’s assertive as he places a hand on the small of your back and starts guiding you toward a window seat. The view of the city was breathtaking. For a moment you wondered how Gale would never grow distracted. But then you realize that for him, the book would be a distraction from looking out the window.

Gale maneuvers your body on instinct, as if he’s done this a million times before. He shuffles you over as he takes a seat at the window. His brows furrowed as he wiggled in the seat, aiming to get as comfortable as possible. And just when you don’t think your heart could be beating any faster, you watched as Gale spread his legs just the right amount in order to create a space for you. This was his place and yet here he was creating a space for you.

You don’t hesitate to slide onto the window seat, settling into his arms. A smile spreads across your lips as his arms wrap around your waist, bringing you as close as possible. Then he wiggles you as well, his way of making sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

“You done?” You raise a brow, not being able to help yourself from teasing him. Just a bit. He blinks as if breaking out of muscle memory. A routine. Then he hums and shakes his head, surprising you. Your lips part as he leans back, body still stiff and posture intact. But comfortable for him. Then he brings you to lean all the way into his chest.

“Now I am done. You may begin,” he states simply with a small nod toward the book. You slowly shake your head, constantly astounded by this man while also so desperate to know more of him. So you don’t make a quip, don't comment or give a look toward any of it. With a light sigh you open the book and start reading. A curiosity in the back of your mind as you wondered what made this his favorite.

The book was non-fiction. You had gathered that this man wasn’t much of a fiction reader, but you thought he might’ve started you off at least a little easy. At least the book was of a war. A personal diary of a little nobody who had down a whole lot for one of their greatest wars. And no one ever knew until someone found her diary and tracked it back to where she had been captured.

As you read, Gale nuzzles into the side of your head. For a second you start to melt. But then he leans in a little bit closer as you realize… he’s sticking his nose into the book! A book he’s probably read dozens of times, a book he probably knows every word to, and yet he’s moving closer to you in order to read it.

You’re honestly about to complain, rambling nonsense he wouldn’t fully understand, leading you to begrudgingly open yourself up further to him. Gale interrupts this as he nuzzles into you again. This time not further down, but into your hair. He inhaled deeply and you felt the way he melted on your back. So instead you only smile and continue reading.

“What do you think?” Gale asks, voice as neutral as ever. But looking deeper as you do, you can hear the eagerness and excitement in what little tone he holds. Her fingers press against the side of the book you’re reading. A side much smaller than the thick section you had left to read.

“I haven’t gotten much into it, you know.” You can’t help it as your smile widens considerably. You glance up at Gale to see a flicker of disappointment pass over his face before shifting back. He may be blunt but he was just as good if not better at hiding his emotions than even you was. “But it has already made quite the impression.”

Gale’s eyes move to meet yours, looking away from the book and they immediately glow a tiny bit brighter. You inhale sharply at the sight before nodding, hoping to assure him even further. But from what you can tell, he takes your word as pure fact and it’s enough to have him showing off more of his excitement to you.

While you continue turning the pages, understanding more and more why this is Gale’s favorite, you feel his stare. His gorgeous eyes that remind you of the earth beneath your feet, carrying you along your way, supporting you, just as the precious earth does too. Every time you smile, laugh, grow even the finest fraction of emotion, Gale is there to watch it all. Making sure not to miss a second of it.

At first you shift in their seat, the unfamiliar feeling of being watched grew to make her uncomfortable. You weren’t used to this. People watching you. Your whole life was making sure people weren’t watching you. Then came this man who could spend hours in the silence. Just watching. Observing. His favorite thing to aim all that toward? You. And you figure that if anyone were to make you that sort of uncomfortable, if anyone forced you to get used to the idea of having someone’s undivided attention, you were glad it was Gale. Anyone else and it simply wouldn’t have been worth it.

“Oh, I do love this story in particular. How she was able to survive the poison, I don’t know,” Gale expresses enthusiastically. You close your eyes for a brief moment, realizing that Gale had read ahead farther than you had been on the page. Suppose you know what that soup ends up doing to the woman. Despite the spoiler, which you can’t say you completely hated, a chuckle still left you.

“Haven’t gotten there yet, love,” you murmur softly, using your nickname for him. After all the creative pet names he had given you, ‘love’ had been all you could think of for him. But he seemed to like it enough so you weren’t about to go and change things for them both. You figured you’d both hate that more than anything.

From your peripheral, you see Gale very visibly wince, his face twisting in a manner that looked truly uncomfortable. As his eyes closed, you could practically imagine all the thoughts that were probably running through his head. The way he was most likely beating himself up for ruining the surprise and shock value of the moment.

You set the book down and shift in his arms. Without even looking, Gale tightens his hold on you. Fear of you leaving, even due to something like this, gripped him. But you pat his hand lightly before making sure to face him better. In a way you’re not entirely used to, you gently put your hands on his face. The action makes his eyes snap open, already glowing just from your touch.

“Thank you for the spoiler. This book is a real nail-bitter, I was getting nervous,” You made sure to exaggerate. By the way they both lightly laughed, you knew you had succeeded in calming the storm of his overworked mind. A hum vibrates through your throat and it has instant questions replacing the worrying thoughts. “You know, I think it would be better if you read it to me instead. Don’t you agree?”

Gale’s eyes widened and it barely took another second before he started grinning. You briefly wonder if this had been his plan all along. If he had somehow tricked you into this position. No way. You would’ve caught on. Wouldn’t you? Before you can think it over more, Gale shifts them both back into their previous position and picks up the book instead of waiting for you to hand it over. Settling back into his chest, your body soon becomes languid at the soothing rumble of his voice as he reads the book to you. You think you could get used to this. All of it. Every single bit. Especially everything that had to do with him.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Langue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

 I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?

To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years.

To be honest, she had me borderline obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching places and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history.

Sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” 

When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked. That we still fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. 

Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor, and I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf.

 But then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I joke, bending down.

Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking.

You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Where did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave.

He’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get him back.

 This man—the love of my life. 

There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bones it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. 

“Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it’s there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. 

I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour interrupted when my mom speaks.

 “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone

How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence

 It wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her hair behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through us all, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. 

Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Disassociating.

The word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost.

 All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandelier, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day.

What a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bound to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. 

By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earthquake, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply.

They appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. 

Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I could check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remarks, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog, I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filtering out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch.

 I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to not look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own.

Maybe I’m speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise.

 We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulders to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lips and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor.

 I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once-perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob.

 “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mournful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. 

She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. 

I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb on my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[yandere-paramour]

It Was Only Once

“It was only one time,” You said, trying to reassure an appalled Vivien. "He dumped me right after that, and I didn't protest. But I'm fine now, I swear.”

Vivien patted your back, remarking on how strong he thought you were for leaving that bastard. You’re so inspiring, so brave, and he was honored you decided to share your story with him. Really, he was.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed. 

“How about I make you a drink? You rest,” Vivien kissed the back of your hand like a loyal knight, making you laugh like he always did.

You agreed, relaxing back on the grey sheets of Vivien’s bed. He changed those sheets before you came over, for you. You deserved to sleep on clean sheets tonight. You were perfect.

Carefully, Vivien mixed you a mocktail. It was a new recipe he was working on, trying to get the sweet flavor of his wild strawberries without all the damn seeds that got stuck in your teeth. He carefully minced the berries with some fresh basil on his special fruit cutting board with his special knife, trying to focus on making you a refreshing drink rather than the overwhelming rage in his heart. 

Two perfectly presented cups and a bowl of chips later, Vivien turned his attention back to you. It wasn’t fair to focus on his own emotions when you were over, the only night a week you could spend extended time with him. His time with you was more important than his anger, he repeated over and over in his mind while you happily rewatched a movie you loved so much. He laughed good-naturedly, kissing your forehead and smelling that particular sweet scent of your hair. Yeah, this was important. Everything else could wait for later.

Vivien was used to staying up late. There had been many days in his youth that he had lain awake two, three, four days at a time, afraid that falling asleep could lead to him waking up to all his stuff stolen or something or someone worse. These days, the good days where he had his own apartment he could lock and relax in, he slept peacefully, but he never forgot. It came in useful when he was up late doing his secret activities.

Tarquin Hayworth.

Vivien was no computer expert, but when it came to hunting down some disgusting bastard, he was like a bloodhound. It also helped that Hayworth was one of those idiots that practically posted every shit he took. 

A douchebag. A rich douchebag by the looks of it. There were hundreds of posts, tweets, TikToks, news articles, you name it. Hayworth getting some kind of artist award at his the gallery. Hayworth in some dumb hipster getup, staring moodily into the camera as the photographer centered the golden light behind him, creating a kind of halo effect. Hayworth with his latest conquest; from all the comments, he seemed to switch them as often as Vivien changed underwear. This disgusted him the most- If you were going to date someone, you better very well be ready to marry them. 

One of the few things Vivien remembered being taught by his father. If you were going to do something, you better damn well do it properly. 

And he would, Darling. He would.

Hayworth frequented The Shanty, a dive bar on the east side of the city, known for being a place for artistic eccentrics, but only rich artistic eccentrics, to get an $8 coffee and $12 almond croissant. Vivien knew the place, he had even been there a few times, delivering only the most obscure flowers with only mournful meanings, a difficult and oddly specific request for the shop to fulfill. It stank like artisan beer and pretension, and Vivien disliked the place.

Hayworth was apparently a musician too. The Shanty had live music on Friday and Saturday nights, and Hayworth, the bastard, must have had a set contract with the place to show the crowd the joys of the accordion. Honestly, he was asking for it at this point, yodeling at the crowd as his fingers flew over the keyboard, the Instagram video captioned with a “Love the Shanty! Come see my music tonight at 9 for Women’s Rights Night! Let’s raise money for period product equity in Kenya!”

Vivien was no god, but he was an enforcer tonight.

It took almost no effort at all to follow Hayworth home from the bar at two in the morning, and even less to drag the simpering, wiry man into the alley. He was wiry, slim, a weakling even with a biological advantage; turns out a diet of organic kale and lentils didn’t make for much strength. Of course, that didn’t matter much when the bastard's fist connected with your cheekbone, knocking you to the ground as you tried to shield yourself from his festering anger.

That man’s rage, his incandescent, shameful rage, raining down on you in hurtful words, then punches and kicks, and then…

But don’t worry. Vivien will fix it for you. He'll make it right.

Vivien covered his face with a gaiter, took out his piercings, and wore a beanie to cover his hair even though it was hot. He wanted to take every precaution to avoid being recognized or caught, and this particular disguise had worked many times. Of course, most of Vivien’s targets usually drowned after seeing his face.

Honestly, Hayworth wasn’t even putting up that much of a fight. His punches were wild and sloppy, connecting only one out of every three times, and never enough to cause Vivien any real lasting damage. He would be a bit bruised tomorrow, but nothing serious. Hayworth was crying, snot and tears running down his face as Vivien beat him senseless. Funny how a guy who championed himself as a supporter of human rights would smack his partners around, and even funnier how easily he crumpled under Vivien’s right hook.

After a particularly vicious kick met his lower back, Hayworth pissed himself, a dark stain bleeding through his jeans. Vivien’s upper lip curled in a rare display of disgust; this was embarrassing. He needed to hurry up and finish what he came here for.

Hayworth was crying like a little bitch, so Vivien tossed him to the ground, purposefully standing at the mouth of the alley so he couldn’t run, although Vivien didn’t expect him to. He had done his job properly, and there was only one thing left. Hayworth retched, vomiting bile and blood and whatever vegan, non-GMO, free range shit he had eaten earlier. Vivien rolled his eyes; he was tired of this.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Vivien pulled out the small bottle and started advancing, carefully taking the top off the bottle. 

“Please,” Hayworth begged from the floor of the alley, covered in bruises and piss and vomit, “Please, I have money, Please don’t kill me, Please-“

Vivien wanted to bark out a “Hold Still”, but he held it back at the last second. Hayworth might have been able to remember his voice, especially since his ears were going to be so important now.

If you were going to go around hurting people, you were going to learn to hurt too.

With a single strong motion, Vivien grabbed Hayworth by the hair, jerked his head back, and poured the bleach in his eyes.

Hayworth howled like a banshee, probably waking up the whole damn city with his screams. Time to go.

Vivien quickly rifled through the man’s wallet, stealing the cash but leaving the credit cards. Too much of a liability, no point. He stuffed the cash in his back pocket; it was a pretty good haul, dick must’ve had rich parents or something. He tossed the wallet back at the whimpering man, annoyed at his cowardly crying. He could buy you a nice present or take you out to dinner with this money, call it reparations. 

Vivien checked the time on his phone. 2:29 in the morning. He made good time for a beating. 

He pulled his hood up, making his way out of the alley and down the sidewalk at a leisurely stroll. The car was back at home, so there was a long walk ahead of him. Vivien put his headphones in, a song from that Greek musical you liked blaring in his ears. This Polites guy sounded pretty cool, Vivien hoped he would sing another song soon.

[monbons]

Stitchy Sunday Musings

Thanks for the tag @thewholelemon. I also don't really have an update, but I did have a bit of a reflection I wanted to share today that I hope will speak to some of you---and selfishly---also keep me motivated on the days that are hard. So, with that, story time...

Exactly a year ago, I started my doll-stitching journey and the very first set of dolls I ever gifted were mermaids. I was inspired by @iamamythologicalcreature's gorgeous mer-May art.

This first set was entirely hand stitched because I did not have a sewing machine, nor did I think making dolls would become something I actively pursued in any real way. It was just something I did for fun---a way to channel my creative energy when the words wouldn't come while also paying tribute to some of my favorite fics and their authors.

Fast-forward to my newest dolls and the growth is almost unbelievable. You can see aspects of my final style in my very first dolls, but everything about this last set has evolved. This particular set represents just over 24 hours of work (a significant chunk of them on that tail that boasts 600+ hand-sewn sequins). I also experimented with new hair textures and colors, and apparently, I embroider eyebrows now. (As if making the eyes symmetrical wasn't hard enough!)

It may sound like I am boasting. I swear I am not. Instead, I wanted to post this because this is just one year of committing to a thing and working really fucking hard at it. It is also the kind of visible "success" that is so hard to get elsewhere.

When I first started contributing to fandom, it was as a writer. If your primary contribution to fandom is writing, it can be really hard to do a side-by-side comparison like this. As a result, we often rely on measures of growth or success that can be compared: kudos, reblogs, and comments obviously, but also word counts, fics published per year, etc. Honestly? None of those are reliable (and dare I say worthy?) measures of how beautiful a piece of work is, let alone a journey of growth and joy. It isn't to say they don't have their place, but "the numbers" aren't everything...and they can often feel disheartening.

Anyway, I've been feeling really down on myself recently for a whole host of reasons, but a huge contributor is that I've been having so much trouble with writing. For weeks, "the numbers" have haunted me. Not just the public numbers (I've wanted to scream into a pillow about kudos and likes more than once this year), but the private ones (I'm "behind" on words from this same point last year).

And then I took this humble doll offering to a book signing this past week and the author cried tears of joy, which made me cry. Several people in the signing line gasped when they held up my little merman and his love. Several others came up and talked to me about my art and wanted to know more. For the first time in months, I felt really proud of something I had made, and I guess this post is about holding on to that feeling. When I made these dolls, I wasn't trying to meet some external metric or creating for audience consumption. I wasn't even sure I would post my dolls anywhere since this isn't SnowBaz. I was simply making for the joy of it, and that night, which cannot be quantified in likes or comments or numbers of any kind, filled me up in a way I desperately needed.

Anyway, if you are still with me after this long ramble, thank you. Like I said, it was mostly for me. I wanted to remember that the beauty of my work actually can't be measured, no matter how much I try to do so. That I may not always be lucky enough to see the impact on others like I did with these dolls, but that doesn't make the effort any less valuable. And most of all, that none of that is the point. I wanted to make these dolls, I enjoyed making these dolls, and I am getting better at it because making dolls makes me happy. I needed to remember that. And if that was the case for me, I figured someone else might need to remember it too.

It feels weird to tag people in this, but hellos and high-fives from the philosophical doll factory anyway. May your creative endeavors bring you joy today and every day.

@alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy, @bachusekart, @best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @rimeswithpurple, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @the-beard-of-edward-teach, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @jyae23, @j-trow-95

[daycourtofficial]

Hello. If you dont mind i have a request for azriel where maybe reader has just given birth and has lately been feeling very insecure about her body and azriel comforts her...with lots of fluff

A New Warmth

Sorry about how long this took anon, but I hope the wait was worth it!

-

You watch the baby nestled in the crook of your arms, mirroring her deep breaths to keep yourself calm. She was so soft, so sweet, and whenever she reached for you, it made your heart melt. She was everything you and Azriel had hoped for - healthy, chubby, and sweet as can be. She even had the cutest little wings that twitched in her sleep.

The problem with having an Illyrian baby is you develop an Illyrian’s appetite while pregnant with them, along with the other stretching and tearing your body has gone through to accommodate her.

She was two weeks old at this point, and you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Your body created this - a perfect mirror of you and your mate. But you couldn’t help the negative thoughts fluttering through your mind as your hand rested on your stomach, knowing the fresh stretch marks that lay underneath. You gained a good deal of weight during the pregnancy, your labor only removing about a dozen of those pounds.

As if sensing your spiraling thoughts, your mate walks in the door of your shared bedroom, his eyes alight with love and adoration at seeing his two girls.

“My loves,” he greets the both of you, setting the mugs of tea he had brought down, lifting the blanket to lat next to you. His presence under the blanket providing a new layer of warmth- not just physical, but the warmth of the three of you being together.

You lean your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm behind you, slowly to not disturb the baby in your arms. “Will I ever get my body back?” You mumble into his shoulder. His fingers start caressing your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into it.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think you will.” You want to snap your head up, tell him that’s no way to console someone who had just pushed out his baby out of a tiny opening in their body when he uses his hand to hold your head in place.

“We will never be the same. We cannot go back.” He looks down at the baby in your arms, “maybe one day you’ll have more autonomy again - you won’t have a baby latched to your breast every other hour.”

His hand snakes down to rest on top of the hand you’re using to cradle the baby. “But she’ll always be a part of you.” The baby starts stirring, moving her tiny hands, and he reaches out a finger, which she quickly wraps her delicate fingers around. You both watch the scarred flesh in the pristine grasp of your innocent babe, no idea of an outside world that could cause harm. All she knows is the sanctuary of your home.

You look at Azriel with tears in your eyes, feeling incredibly silly over being upset at stretch marks. But as if he can read your mind, he tells you, “you have constantly given me what I thought I’d never have. You loved me, you gave me a true home, you gave me a mate, and now?” He laughs, flexing his finger in her grasp. “You’ve expanded our family. You gorgeous thing, you.”

He kisses the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “Your love knows no bounds, and I am eternally grateful for you.”

You start crying, post partem hormones taking control of you. “It’s so shallow,” you laugh as a tear falls, “I just was so upset over how weird my body feels. The pregnancy glow is gone so now I just feel heavy and weird in my own skin.”

He uses the hand not gripped by your baby to grab your chin and tilt it towards him. “I couldn’t look at my hands for a long time, after they had done it.”

Azriel always has a way of leaving you speechless, telling you another facet of himself he never had before.

“I could barely look at them before I met you. But you called them beautiful, this part of me I hated so much.” He looks into your eyes, the bond between you two humming in joy and adoration. “It’s okay if you don’t like how you look right now, I will find you beautiful enough for the both of us.”

[phoebosacerales]

Predicting children and pregnancy: Angelina Jolie - part 1

Months ago I received a question in my ask box about pregnancy indicators in predictive techniques. I started studying it and looking at one specific famous case: Angelina Jolie. She has 6 children and I decided to look at the astrology of every time she adopted or got pregnant, and this obviously became a big task, so this study will be divided into 5 parts, which will all be posted in full exclusively on my Patreon page, where you can get a membership or purchase the articles. Here I'll give you a preview of the first part where I discuss the natal promise and the adoption of her first child.

First, let's understand the possible indicators for children in someone's destiny. This kind of thing in astrology causes some debate, so I'll go through the classic significators and also point out problems, which you can disagree with me, they're just my own thoughts.

The 5th house is the most obvious. It's the house of conception, procreation, and the bearing of children. It's the succedent house of the IC angle, showing what comes into the 4th house, what adds to the family. It's also the house with which the ascendant makes a trine, symbolizing the things we create and share much in common because they come from us.

Venus rejoices in the 5th house. This could mean that Venus also carries a bit of the signification of children. It's not a very orthodox association, but I definitely think we have to consider it, since the logic of lending meaning from the joys always apply with the other planets and with Venus itself when it comes to its other topics. Valens says that Venus "indicates the mother and nurture." By doing this, he connects Venus to the mother and not to pregnancy or the baby. But I'm suspicious of this association because of the centrality of men in ancient texts. They could've been just associating Venus with women/wives, because it's the planet of love/marriage, and what does a woman do? She's part of a man's patrimony and gives him heirs. ¹ So I suspect this could be a classic case of conflation of women and children, and sometimes I'd rather see Venus simply as pregnancy/children because of its relationship to the 5th house, it makes more sense to me. The fact that matters relating to women cause so much confusion and controversy when we look at ancient astrological texts is not at all surprising, given patriarchal economy and the lack of acknowledgement of women's existence or perspectives by these astrologers.

The association of the Moon with pregnancy, mothers or people who gestate is a consensus that I dare not question. The Moon is a luminary, therefore considered a life-giver, and is very easily symbolically linked to the material process of pregnancy.

Jupiter is the one classically associated with children. Valens says that "Jupiter indicates childbearing, engendering, desire, loves, prosperity, great gifts, an abundance of crops". It's understandable to include Jupiter, because benefics are fertile and humid. On the other hand it's still kinda weird, because Jupiter is associated with children mostly because it signifies wealth and prosperity. I have issues with our treatment of children as patrimony, but in our world that's unfortunately how it works currently. It's systemic and not a question of personal views or perspective.

Another interesting thing to look at is the lot of children. I use the classic Dorotheus formula (Asc + Saturn - Jupiter for day and night charts). I can't explain why it works. It's just like that sometimes, some things I just don't know.

Angelina Jolie's Natal Chart

Mars as the Master (oikodespotes) and the Lord (kurios) of the Nativity

The master is the a ruler that has to do with overall health and length of life, and the lord determines the native's destiny. Mars takes both roles here. It rules the 5th and occupies and rules the 10th and the MC. Obviously, this is a person who's made a career (10th) in the arts and entertainment and is a UN goodwill ambassador (also 5th house), and her children were made important in her career and reputation. The conjunction with the Moon makes her own identity very intertwined with her children and career, her children are always accompanying her when we see her anywhere. The conjunction with Jupiter and the Moon makes the topics of career and children connect a lot to travel or foreign lands, and this is someone whose relationship with other countries is very important and whose 6 children were all born and/or adopted abroad.

Triplicity rulers the Moon: Sun, Jupiter and Saturn

Sun in the 12th: This is a day chart, but the Moon takes over as the predominant luminary, because the Sun is not eligible in the 12th house. But then the Sun is the first triplicity ruler of the sign of the Moon, while also being exalted by her. I understand her 12th house as very much related to her interest in charity and humanitarian work, because it reveals her concern for what is hidden and marginalized. That's how the 12th house can look for people that come from very privileged backgrounds. Also, her most "12th house role", which was in "Girl, Interrupted", happened during a Mercury period, the ruler and occupant of her 12th.

Jupiter in the 10th: religion, travel, justice, etc.

Saturn in the 1st: others, foreigners, marriage, relationships come to the forefront; risks to the body.

The Ascendant in Cancer

Saturn and Venus on the ascendant makes her life revolve around others, family and relationships. Venus obviously reinforces the relationship to the arts, the diplomatic and humanitarian work and also being a sex symbol. Saturn rules the 7th and 8th, making the relationships difficult and scandalous and also bringing risks, for example: her story with her cancer prevention treatment. The Moon is the native herself. She's a very maternal figure, yet strong in a martial sense, and very popular and famous (10th house and conjunction with Jupiter). Cancer is often associated not only with motherhood and care, but also with excavation, archaeology, or paleontology, or history, or storytelling, or any study of the original or where things come from. Add this to Mars in Aries and there you have Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (btw, Indiana Jones is also played by a huge Cancerian).

Lot of Fortune in Taurus 29°

The lot is in the house of the Good Daimon, said to be the most benefic house, while its ruler Venus is one of the strongest planets for being so close to the ascendant and in its own triplicity. Beauty, art, seduction, children, reproduction and fertility are what Angelina's luck holds. Also a rich family (4th house) of artists with great connections (11th) in their industry.

Lot of Children in Libra 29°

This one is also ruled by Venus. This means that for her we'll be considering Venus even more to see things about children. Venus is in the 10th relative to the lot of children in a tight aspect with it, and with the lot of Fortune as well. The very powerful positions of Venus and Mars show how children would be a prolific topic in this person's destiny.

Time Lords

Now we'll look at the time when she adopted her first child, Maddox.

....

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[yoonia]

🖋️ one your stories that sticks to me the most was the (im)perfect ending. I really wish to see how you visualize their lives after. will Joon ever find out about the baby? will they reunite again? what happens when they do🤭? will Joon finally get his head out of his a** and end his marriage and be true to his feelings 🧐 or will OC has her own happy ending with someone else🤔?

💌 I think other people have said this before, but you are an admirable person that I've ever met online. You've worked hard on your stories and have always given us a lot. even now, you choose to spread positivity and share gifts for others to celebrate your birthday and I think that's the sweetest thing anyone could ever do. happy belated birthday, Dia. You deserve so much happiness and a lot more. I hope your coffee is always hot and your pillow always warm. wishing you and all your precious kitties an abundance of health and joy 💝💝

omg I've been getting the same questions sent to me for this couple, so I guess this might be a good chance to provide some answers for those who have been waiting for it lol

I know that the last letter mentioned in the fic didn't specify how much OC shared about her baby, so I guess this is where we get to see what other things she sent with the letter for Namjoon. I hope you enjoy the snippet and the visualisation below!!

— title: Our Imperfections| pairings: Namjoon x female reader| genre: second chances!au, infidelity!au, post divorce/break-up!au, angst | word count: 1,410 words — summary | Namjoon is on a mission to fix the mess he created. — ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; talk about divorce and custody, post break-up, mentions of infidelity

— original: The (Im)perfect Ending by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 30th, 2024 — song companion: loved

“Don’t forget that you need to pick up Sunny early Saturday morning for her class camping trip.” 

Hearing her voice on the phone, clipped with orders, used to make Namjoon wince. Now he is used to it. Always so business-like, even when talking about their only child. 

“Did you get that?” 

Her voice returns when he doesn’t answer. He holds back from rolling his eyes and calmly answers. “Yeah, I got that. Saturday morning. Early.” 

His reaction isn’t the only thing he is holding back. Asking why six-year-olds would go on a camping trip might only end up with him getting a long lecture through the phone. He doesn’t have that much time to endure that. And having his ear burning from it is really the last thing he needs right now. 

“Right. I’ll text you the details.” A sigh, then, “Sunny also wants you to be the one to drive her to school Monday. So I’m packing up extra clothes for her to stay with you another night. Is that good?” 

Namjoon closes his eyes. As much as he loves having extra time with his daughter, having the child’s mother schedule their time for him without consulting him first rubs him the wrong way. If he doesn’t know any better, he would have thought that she keeps doing this as a payback. Causing trouble and brushing his ego for choosing to step out of their marriage—the marriage that she had worked so hard to paint as perfect for the world to see. 

But Namjoon knows better. 

He knows that she has always been this way. 

Even when they were still together, she always had to be the one running the show, while Namjoon would have to follow. She was the one holding the pen, writing the story for them through her rose-coloured glasses, while forcing him into a role that he never felt like he could fit into. 

At one point, it caused him to lose himself. 

Only that he realised it too late. Far too late, because it hadn’t just started when they got married, but long before—when they grew up together and being fed their parents’ beliefs that they would end up together once they turned adults; when they became teenagers and she insisted that it would only be right if they started dating to make their parents’ dreams come true; and when she started planning their wedding day just when Namjoon was starting to find a chance to write his own story, to walk a different path, with a completely different person. 

It wasn’t until he was able to find his old self and feel like himself again through the mistakes he made when he finally found the courage to leave that life. Yet, once again, he was too late. 

Far too late. 

“Namjoon? Do you—” 

Her voice breaks him out of his wandering thoughts, only for her words to get drowned by the sound of the announcement blaring through the speakers above his head. 

“Attention, passengers on Flight 345 with service to Sydney. We are now beginning our boarding process at Gate 12B. Please…” 

The voice fades as passengers rush in front of him to find the departure gate, and Namjoon waits until the announcement stops before taking his palm off his phone. 

“Where are you? Are you on another business trip?” 

Namjoon almost laughs. He finds it hard to believe that after spending an entire fifteen minutes on call with him, she never thought about asking him where he was or what he was up to. 

Business as usual. Even when it’s about our new arrangement. 

“Australia. I just landed. That’s why I couldn’t take your call until now.” 

“Oh…” 

“You do realise the longer you’re on this call, the more expensive it will be, don’t you?” 

Silence, then her bitter voice is heard. “How was I supposed to know where you were?” 

You could have asked. 

Sighing, Namjoon shakes his head. “Look, just text or email me all the details about Sunny’s trip. I’ll be back in Seoul Friday afternoon. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Her voice softens. “Take care, Namjoon.” 

The call ends, and Namjoon breathes a heavy sigh. Feeling exhaustion after speaking to her is one thing, but once it wanes, guilt always seems to take root. It doesn’t matter if he had fallen out of love a long time ago. He cannot deny that he has made too many mistakes that he is still trying hard to make up for. His decision to stay in the marriage for Sunny, using her as an excuse to hang on to the final threads that were offered to him instead of stepping away from that fallen marriage, was his last, yet probably most detrimental for his own mental health and any chance he ever had to make things right for everyone. 

Including you. 

Hoisting his duffle bag on his shoulder, Namjoon walks across the airport’s lot to find his ride. There is a reason why he is here, and he isn’t going to stop until he finds what he is searching for. 

It takes him nearly an hour to reach his destination. 

The small coffee shop looks quite inconspicuous as it stands between various other shops downtown, yet it still catches Namjoon’s eyes the moment he arrives. 

Quaint and delicate, with natural wooden colours chosen as the accents at the front side of the shop and dark window frames, it reminds him so much of you. 

The sound of the bell chimes above his head as he steps in, immediately welcomed by the fresh scent of coffee beans, chocolate, and a bit of cinnamon. Spicy and sweet and pleasantly warm. A young boy with a thick Australian accent welcomes him from the cashier, yet his eyes travel across the room, where the figure that has been filling his dreams at night appears. 

Smiling at the young barista, he walks up towards you instead. You have yet to notice him in the room. Your eyes are locked on the small child sitting on the sofa by the corner, swinging his legs as he receives a small sip cup from your hands. 

His eyes find him first, looking over your shoulder while you still have your back facing Namjoon and the front door. 

“Now you sit tight right here until Mommy finishes work, okay? And don’t—”

“Mama?” the boy cuts you off before you can finish speaking, his chubby finger pointing towards Namjoon, “Da..?” 

Your body freezes. Namjoon hears a soft gasp before you straighten up and slowly turn to face him. The moment you see him standing there, your eyes grow wide and you quickly move to hide your son behind you. Only the child is quick, as he hops off the sofa to stand right behind you, clinging onto your legs as he peeks at Namjoon. 

A line which he read from your letter echoes in his mind as he returns the boy’s curious gaze, just as it does many nights after you were gone—

“I have a boy. He’s here. He might have a dimple on his cheek too that might show up once he’s grown a bit older. His name is…” 

Namjoon bends down. “Sammy, is it?” 

The boy, Sammy, slowly nods. Namjoon smiles. “You look handsome. You’re being a good boy to your Mommy now?” 

“Yea…” 

Chuckling softly, Namjoon straightens up to face you. Your eyes are covered with tears as you look back at him. “How—” you gasp, “What are you doing here?” 

Because I’ll chase you to the end of the world if I could. 

Those are the words that Namjoon has always wanted to say to you. A promise that he never got a chance to say before you left him. It was a mistake that he had been dreading the most when he first received your letter, along with a copy of your sonogram and your final word of goodbye. 

“Keeping a promise,” he merely says. “I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

A deep sigh escapes your lips. The sound pains him. But the sight of every tension being lifted from your shoulders gives him a sense of calm. 

“I guess we do,” you whisper to him with a broken smile. 

A lot of them. 

He can almost hear those words coming from you. Just like he almost says out loud,

I have all the time in the world to talk and listen now. For you. 

For your fall tune, I think this song will fit perfectly well for this.

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: dia’s birthday bash 2024 ⇝ closed!

[possessedopossum]

The Veilguard: my full review [positive, long post, less about game mechanics and more about meta, spoilers]

The thing that makes Veilguard special to me is how self aware the game is. In every dialogue, plot twist or quest I can feel the presence of somebody who wanted to share something with me. Be it personal experience, message, pain or joy. As of 2024, many games have lost their creative spark. Video game industry is no longer a nerd only zone, it's a business no different than others. Many studios utilize AI to write their plots, chase after current trends or simply make decisions that would create the biggest audience possible at the expense of something people love the franchise for. Veilguard did well, because it showed me something I haven't seen in a very long time: the human soul.

Perhaps you have noticed it on your own. The world has gone completely nuts after the covid. Or maybe it has always been this way and I only noticed it now. It is not a surprise to me that players want their game to be darker, to have more aggressive dialogue and to have a morally grey or even evil protagonist. For the past few years I've been feeling like someone had turned the lights off. And the game gave me an impression that someone at bioware feels this way too.

Only negativity gives content creators views and money these days. Open any social media, read any post or watch any video. If something is on top, it's almost always a hate post. What was the last movie most reviewers enjoyed? The last game? Perhaps the one that was released 10 years ago? What was the last time, you, my dear reader, have smiled? Not bitterly or sardonically, but out of genuine joy?

It is extremely fitting that Rook's mentor figure is Varric. Varric is somebody who always sees the best in people. He grew up in one hell of a city but he still loves it. He can find something to laugh about no matter how dire the situation is. He is a people person who can build friendship with anybody. Varric is very charismatic and tends to avoid conflict. He is a chronic liar but that doesn't make him bad because he never lies with malicious intentions. And in some ways, Rook is similar to him.

Yes, Rook can't be a complete asshole. Because the game is not about being an asshole. One of our antagonists, Solas, considers the world to be sick. Modern Thedas is a grave mistake that haunts him. He can't forget and move on because even the elves themselves wear his mistakes on their faces. Many things that are normal to the player character aren't normal to Solas. The world is so wrong and disgusting to Solas that he is willing to sacrifice things and people who are dear to him just to make the twisted world better.

Rook is nice because they are supposed to represent what is good in modern Thedas. They are supposed to be somebody who thinks the world is worth fighting for. And to a certain extent, their factions as well. The crows are contract killers and the lords of fortune are thiefs. Grey wardens are very concerned with politics and all the secrets they refuse to share constantly get people killed. Mourn watch has their immoral power hungry politicians as well and veil jumpers are sometimes willing to trade people for ancient secrets. They all aren't without sin but that's not the point. The point is, even with all the ugliness and darkness, there is still a place for light. And the light in the darkness is the exact message bioware tried to convey. The crows not being comically evil is not bad writing. It is a conscious writing choice to give us a human face for something we consider ugly and not worth fighting for. The player is metaphorically Solas, who needs to be persuaded that the world is worth at least something. The writers didn't need to bare the souls of player factions in all their mistakes, imperfections and cruelty. Because they showed us the factions' humanity. Some cruelty is still there, on the background, but it doesn't overshadow what is good. The crows, no matter how terrible, are a family. Viago may call Rook an idiot and while Rook considers their training literal torture, they sure love Viago back.

In fact, familial love is one of the core themes of the Veilguard. We have Emmrich and Manfred, Davrin and Assan and uncle Endrin, Lucanis and Caterina and Illario, Taash and Shathann, Bellara and Cyrian. It's a bit less direct with Neve and Harding. Neve has a lot of love for her city which is almost like a person to her, and Harding...I'll explain with a quote. "You're Lace Harding! You're more than this rage! You believe that the world is beautiful! That people are good! Hold onto it, hold on to who you are!".

Even the evanuris share the theme of family. Rook can compare Elgar'nan and Solas to relatives who can't get along. Elgar'nan calls Ghilan'nain his sister. Both shards of Mythal consider modern elves her children. Different but no less beloved, as Morrigan puts it.

Veilguard shows family without rose-tinted glasses. It shows that sometimes to love your children is to sacrifice something else you love (Lichdom for Emmrich), that parents have their own problems that may harm their children no matter how much parents wish to protect them (Shathann understands she is not the best mother and has complicated relationships with the Qun that harmed Taash), that sometimes parents do not understand their children at all and it's only up to children themselves to close the gap in understanding (Mythal, Solas and Rook), that familial love and desire to protect your family may turn into something ugly (Caterina being cruel to her grandchildren to prepare them for harsh realities of the antivan crows).

There is conflict in Veilguard, of intergenerational nature. Companions and their families, Rook and their faction leader, elves ancient and modern. It's up to the player how to deal with the last one. Humans, dwarves and qunari may not share blood ties with ancient elves but they still live in the world ancient elves created. As Rook, you're allowed to lash out in anger at Mythal and Solas. You can call Mythal guilty of all modern problems and fight her. You can bind Solas to the veil by force, call him asshole and express your frustrations with him multiple times throughout the game. You can also express sympathy and forgive them both. Because forgiving is neither condoning nor condemning, it's understanding and letting go. Being understood and allowed to peacefully let go of his mistakes is the exact thing that Solas needs to change his mind.

I believe that the Veilguard companions are one of the very best I've ever seen in a video game. They may not have as many different fates as for example Alistair has but is goodness measured with the amount of ways a character can be killed? I love the Veilguard crew because they all feel very real. Their personal problems are universal and very close to the player. Taash's story is not about being non-binary. It's about growing up, finding your place in the world, separating from your family and learning to appreciate it despite the mistakes your parents did while parenting you.

It's hard to decide who is my favorite. Taash's story made me cry but so did Harding's and Bellara's. The last scenes of Lucanis romance made me feral. I can't stomach the scene where Davrin and Assan die. The consequences of destruction of Minrathous/Treviso were hard to look at. I felt guilt, and if a game makes me feel something, it's a good game. I laughed, I cried, I was afraid and I felt joy, I was angry, I felt shame, I felt love. The game made me feel alive, I played through Rook's story like it was my own, what not to love about it?

The double blight wreaking havoc in Southern Thedas is sad but beautifully symbolic. Almost like a love letter from a long lost lover, It felt like bioware's meta commentary to me. "Yes, a whole lot of time has passed. We are no longer as young as we used to be, and so are you, not only the player, but our treasured friend as well. We have changed, you have changed and so did the world around us. Gaming and the video game industry are not what they used to be. We will never be able to go back no matter how much we want it because the only path that is left is the path forward. It doesn't mean that we no longer remember our shared past, no. We may not be able to go back but we promise to remember it fondly. We are still capable of creating beauty and the past will serve as a foundation for something new. We still have hope, and so should you".

The Veilguard to me is about nostalgia as well. I don't want to feed my inner Solas who sees the current world as sick. I want to make space for my inner Rook who is hopeful about the world just enought to fight for its future.

[olderthannetfic]

Genuine question: what's the point of writing fanfic? As in, what's the purpose? No one in the fandom I'm in comments on fics and I even got told off by one person for doing so, as it "encourages bad writers and makes them think they're good". So it seems that it's a lot like book writing, where people work hard and are creative, but instead of getting paid and getting comments on the work, you just sit there silently hoping someone will press the kudos button and make a number go up. I feel like that time and work could be better spent on making something you might get some kind of profit off of. Don't get me wrong, I love doodling fanart, but I don't post it, as I'm aware that there's no point to doing so, and while it's a nice way to fill the time on a commute, it's not something that takes me as much time and effort as fanfic does. So... why do people bother? Sometimes I describe ideas I have and people I know in my fandom will tell me I should write it, but I don't see why. I get more interaction from just saying "imagine if [thing here]" than I would by sitting down, writing for hours, editing and posting [thing here], so what would the point be? I'm not punching down or going "haha women and their fanfic lol!", I genuinely do not get what the point is and this blog feels like it might have someone reading who knows the answer.

--

Do you make art for profit? Genuine question.

There's nothing inherently wrong with being motivated primarily by external factors, but it's not actually why a lot of people create things, whether it's books or recipes or doodles in a notepad.

I enjoy the actual process of writing.

I think many people lose sight of that aspect in an era where tons of <500-word fics that are mostly outlines and "Imagine if..." posts get disproportionate attention for being easy to consume. But the satisfaction of doing a bigger art piece and doing it right is real and motivates a hell of a lot of creation.

I suppose you might be thinking "Okay, but why not just write it alone and never post?", but I like sharing. Showing off my finished creation is part of the joy, and sharing with other people like me is too. But those aren't quite the same thing as worrying about kudos. It's like dressing nicely when you leave the house because you feel great when you know you look good vs. needing another person to tell you you look good.

To be honest, though, this type of feeling has grown in me the better I've gotten at a craft. The closer my finished projects get to the vision in my head, the easier it is to find them fulfilling and to be excited to share them. When I fall short of my own ambitions, it's discouraging no matter how much attention I might get from others.

I feel like it's time for my regular reblog of Adam Westbrook's video essay series The Long Game.

The third and least known in the series is all about this idea of who you're making art for if you're not getting material rewards in the short term. It talks a lot about autotelicity—being internally driven instead of externally.

--

But if you really just want clicks, anon, start a blog that accepts anon asks and posts about wanky stuff. Actually tag things, unlike me, so people can find you.

No, writing for attention isn't worth it.

The time investment is too great and your brain will always fixate on the times people didn't respond instead of the times they did.

But that's not actually why most people write.

[ladymisteria]

A REAL PUNCH IN THE GUT - 'CAUSE SAYING: "A MIDDLE FINGER" SOUND BAD.

Allow me a little rambling in regard to - mostly - "The Reality War".

♦♦♦♦ Spoilers under the cut ♦♦♦♦

Well… Well, well, well…

I am not going to spend any words on Belinda and her supposed (although in my country it would be more correct to call it literally "supposta"- AKA "suppository") "happy ending" - simply because I feel that others have covered this topic far better than I could.

No, instead, I want to dwell on the absolute BESTIALITY of which the Doctor was the victim in the last episode of the season (and hopefully also the last of RTD, because - honestly - that guy MUST GO. He has clearly “lost his touch,” if he ever had one).

Let's take a step back and talk about something that has been repeatedly said/implied throughout the ENTIRE series: the Doctor has been a father - and more than that, he has been a father who has lost his children.

This has been said over and over again (especially when RTD was in charge), and always in such a way that even the most inattentive viewer can realize how this loss causes the Doctor to PHYSICALLY suffer. His is a wound that NEVER really goes away, going through regenerations (even the most cheerful/disinterested ones) and “popping back up” in certain attitudes or in particular situations.

Having clarified this, we come to these last two seasons…

I think I'm not talking nonsense, when I say that I have always seen Fifteenth as the one in which this wound is more visible/recognizable. For both last seasons (this Doctor DEFINITELY deserved better, but that's another story…) I almost physically perceived his desire to have his family again (especially his niece Susan), and when Poppy was re-introduced - as his ACTUAL daughter no less! - I could (again) PHYSICALLY perceive his relief, his joy, his desire for a shared future with her… A bit like what - many years ago, always during an "RTD Era" - had happened with Jenny (yes, even if apparently only fans remember, the Doctor STILL have a daughter who knows where).

Because, yes: RTD has shown us this game before; it has ALREADY shown us the Doctor having a daughter, only to have her brutally ripped away from him in the space of an episode.

So why do I say/feel that this second time is worse? Simple (at least from my point of view):

The Doctor doesn't immediatly accept Jenny as his daughter. He thinks of her as someone who was created from his genetic code and that's it (Cit. "You're an echo, that's all. A Time Lord is so much more. A sum of knowledge, a code, shared history, shared suffering"). In fact, for a good part of that episode, he adamantly refuses to bond with Jenny.

WHILE INSTEAD

The Doctor loves Poppy, you can tell from the first moment we see them together in "Wish World" that's true. And it only gets stronger as the episode goes on - until it "explodes" in "The Reality War", where the Doctor starts acting like the most attentive, concerned and loving of fathers (he does everything to protect her, he is genuinely torn between letting the world stay as it is so as not to risk losing her and having to do the right thing for the Earth and its inhabitants, he instantly decides to modify the entire TARDIS to make it "child-friendly"… damn, HE DECIDES TO COMMIT SUICIDE in the hope of getting her back!)

Jenny survives (thanks, Moffat!). The Doctor has no way of knowing, true, but that doesn't change the fact that TECHNICALLY Jenny is still out there in the universe, she's still the Doctor's daughter, and she can still pop up again (even though we all know by now that she never will; that, like Rogue and Susan, she will always be a: "Could, could, but won't!").

WHILE INSTEAD

Poppy too survives, but for some absurd reason she remain EXCLUSIVELY Belinda's daughter. In this way the Doctor (who just committed suicide, let's remember, to get his daughter back) sees her torn away from him in the worst possible way: she's there, she's alive, but she's not his.

RTD preferred to give a daughter to a character - Belinda - who has never shown the slightest desire to have one (just as not to have one, it's good to make that clear), rather than to a character - the Doctor - who has wanted her FOR CENTURIES, sadistically playing with both of his hearts for the pure pleasure of laughing at the indignant reactions of the fans.

And this is absolutely the most disgusting thing a showrunner can do to one of his characters.

(Gif Credits: Mine, @notyoujamie, @isagrimoire, @expelliarmus, @dwgif, @mcavoy-who-is-locked)