#◤ it came from Beverly Heights.◥

[acesofspadess]

Winner of Hearts

a/n: this late upload was not planned I'm so sorryyyy, but updates will be like everyday again so yay. and get your tissues ready.

 Next week quickly turned into 2 months. One Direction was in the Finals. Over the past few months the band had become a family., with you all deciding to stay in your tiny room over splitting up. You couldn’t imagine life without all 5 boys in it. Of course the nicknames stuck and you really enjoyed each of the boys having their own nickname for you - though you think they liked it more than you.

“Hey bug, can I draw you?”

“Bow, why are you still in bed?”

“Only Petal can have my food.”

“Bear? Can you play with my hair?”

“Oi! Bunny’s cheating! How does she always win?”

 Bentley and Beverly came to visit with your Nan and Pap a few times. You were so proud of how far Bev had come in her schooling and was soon gonna be an apprentice for some designers. Bentley had changed career paths and decided being a model was truly what he wanted to do. He had the looks, and the height, he just needed the connections. He had one job for a local clothing shoppe that you made sure Bev sent you pictures of.

The bakery was even better. Nan and Pap had got so many people to come in (they know it was because of you) that they had to hire people to help around. They still did most if not all the baking but they definitely had help and you were thankful. They were only in their late 40s, (47) after having your mom when they were 16, and then your mom having you when she was 16. They were around the same age as the other mothers in the band, but to you it felt like they had lived two lives. 

Being able to go out and see everyones old lives was a special moment for all of you. You were glad something was arranged for Niall after the weather prevented from you all heading to Ireland. Louis' old school definitely was the biggest surprise. He had you stay by his side the whole time claiming ‘ I need my best friend by my side’. And you were more than happy to be there with him and the rest of the boys.

Seeing where Harry grew up was so special. Over the course of the past two months you had definitely gained feelings for him and Niall and it seemed to you that they were in the same boat, but you knew it wouldn't go anywhere for a long time. Harry made sure you and Niall were holding onto him as the mass of people around his front drive were mad. You and Niall found a picture of baby Harry and asked the fan if you could steal it, to which they screamed and showed the paper into your hands. You knew how much Harry missed his mum and Robyn and it was so special watching him reunite with them.

Next was your home town of Hazel Grove. You knew you wanted your first stop to be the bakery. Swarms of people - more than the other boys- were waiting outside of the bakery and as you and the boys stepped out the cheers could have made you go deaf. They were chanting your name and had signs of all different things, even baby pictures that you knew all the boys would try to sneak pictures of. 

Seeing Beverly, Bentely, Nan, and Pap all together again was too much for you to handle. You knew that after this that there would be a ton more people waiting to get to this bakery. “A free pastry on me!” you yelled standing on a chair by the front doors to everyone who was standing around. “But only if you promise to come back!” They all screamed and laughed and the boys helped pass out pastries to everyone in line. 

You finally made it to your cottage a little while away from the bakery and the boys marvelled at how perfect the cottage reminded them of you. The Williams parents had moved to Australia and had lost connection with the three of you, but Beverly and Bentely were unbothered as they knew your grandparents treated them like their own. After Beverly and Bentely helped show all of your baby pictures to the boys -especially Niall and Harry- you went and stayed in your room for the night before you were off to Bradford. 

“Oh my god.” Zayn muttered next to you holding onto your hand tightly. You giggled at his reaction to all the people. Zayn’s outcome was so special knowing he was really a quiet kid and that seeing all these people where he used to go for fun was such a shock for him. 

Last but not least, Wolverhampton. We had a gig there and Simon joined you guys for the last leg. The performance felt so real and it made you all really want to win this. 

The next big thing after that was your birthday and the boys made sure to cause havoc on your birthday, starting by waking you up super early. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUTY!” they all screamed pulling back the privacy protector. You knew they were going to pull something so you decided to get them back. “Except today isn't my birthday.” Your voice was scratchy and you saw all but two faces drop. “No today 9 December you were born, Bear.” Harry now whispering informed you. “Yeah Petal, today's your birthday. You’ve got a picture of you and Beverly with balloons and cake that say ‘9 Dec’.” 

You couldn't help but smile and open your eyes to see all them smiling at you with party hats. “Thank you lads, but it's still dark outside.” you whispered with a shaky laugh at the end. They joined you laughing quietly. “I will ask you where you managed to find those party hats later. But right now i'm going back to sleep.” they all laughed and Liam, Zayn, and Louis kissed your head before getting back in their own beds. “Wait Petal.” Niall and Harry were now sitting at the edge of your bed. “We want you to open your gift now.” Harry handed you the small -decently- wrapped gift. You opened it sluggishly and smiled widely when you saw what it was.

“We remembered you saying you needed a new one. So we put our money together and got you one. Do you like it, Bear?” You looked at it in its full glory. A new bonnet for your hair… with Niall and Harry’s faces on it. “Where did you manage to get this?” you chuckled while switching it with the one you had on. “We’ll tell you later. Go back to sleep Petal.” They were getting ready to get up but you stopped them. “No, stay with me.” You slid into the middle of your small bed and patted either side of you. They each chose a side and you snuggled into them both while Harry pulled your blanket over you all. 

A few hours later Liam and Louis woke Zayn up, and when they went to wake you up (you had to wake up Niall and Harry. They only ever woke up if it was you) they saw you with both boys heads snuggled into your neck and chest. “I'm calling it now. Those three are getting married.” Zayn pointed out and the L’s agreed. “Let them sleep a little longer.” Louis spoke softer than he would ever admit looking at the tiniest hint of smile on his best friend's face as her boys snuggled further into her. “Bunny, do we have a lot to catch up on.” he spoke to himself getting back in this bunk on top of you.

Then it was the Finals. The first performance was so exhilarating. Seeing the winter wonderland come together and hear all the harmonies under the solos. It was perfect. The second performance was even more magical, being able to do a duet with Robby Williams was even better. You all sounded so good and looked even better in your best dressed.

But, besides everything joyful outside of X-Factor, inside was getting more serious. 

It was the morning of 12  December and you were all sitting between you and louis bunk, and Harry and Nialls. “We’ve come so far… what happens to us if we don’t win?”

The topic had never been discussed yet and by the way everyone's face turned, you knew it was one that needed to be held. 

“I guess because we made it so far I didnt think about what happens after.” Liam offered up as everyone was sitting in silence. “So what do we do if we don't win?”

“We stay together.” Harry spoke up with no hesitation. You looked up at him to see the desperation in his eyes and softly pulled his head into your shoulder, you knew he needed comfort in this situation. “We stay together.” you confirmed and you felt Niall's head nod against your lap while looking at Liam and Louis also nodding their heads. 

“Then we have a final performance to get ready for.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We are so so happy to be in the final. It’s unreal. We can't believe we're here.” You all sat around Liam as he spoke.  “It's kinda crazy to believe we all came in as soloists. So much time has passed.” You added on. 

“I think if we won our lives would change forever and we’re ready for our lives to change.”

You and Liam had the first Solos

I thought I saw a girl brought to life

She was warm, she came around like he was dignified

She showed me what it was to cry

Well you couldn't be that man that I adored

You don't seem to know, or seem to care what your heart is for

I don't know him anymore

Then you all sang together for the last chorus

I'm all out of faith

This is how I feel

I'm cold and I am shamed

Lying naked on the floor

Illusion never changed

Into something real

I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn

You're a little late

I'm already torn

Torn

You walked down the stairs and when you all got down you couldn't help but hug each other like it was the last time. As the judges talked the audience cheered the band's name and you couldn’t help but smile. “Only formed a few months ago, you know, pretty much put together for this show, and knowing now you're all best mates. How does it feel to be here on Finals night, Louis.”

You looked at your best friend from across the group as he answered. “You know it's an absolute honour to be here and that song that we did, it was the first song we ever did together. It was- it was just great. Perfect.”

Dermot had watched the live stream from Louis' hometown of Doncaster and everyone was screaming to vote for One Direction. 

````````

“Please lets welcome back the finalists and the judges.” You walked out when Dermot called you guys and the anxiety in your chest made you want to run back to the dressing rooms. You stood next to Niall and Zayn and could feel them both fidgeting while Dermot talked. “I will now tell you the two acts with the most votes and will compete head to head for the X-factor title. The act who has received the fewest votes, finishing third, will be leaving the competition tonight. Good luck to everyone.”

You could feel everyone holding their breath around you. “The first act going through to the next stage of the final is…”

You were happy that Matt got through, but that meant you were only one spot away from staying or going. 

“So, One direction and Rebbeca. One of you has made it into the top two. And one of you has received the fewest votes from the public and is out of the competition.” You held your face in your hands anxiously and Louis reached over to comfort you the best he could. 

“The second act who will be in the final is… Rebbeca.”

You didn’t know what to do. You all just stood there before the cheers around told you that Rebbeca had won, and she was a friend. You all walked over to her to congratulate her before Dermot was calling you back. “We're gonna talk to you in a second but first let's watch your time on the X-factor.”

You could barely watch through the tears. The blurry images of all you coming in as soloist to when you were put into the band flashed first. You guys getting through the judges round and your first Live performance, followed by all of your excursions and meeting Emma Watson and your final performances. Louis and Zayn hugged you a little harder when they saw you wipe your tears. 

“I can tell by all of your faces you're absolutely gutted, but how has this experience been for you?” Since Louis was closest he answered first. “It's been absolutely incredible. For me the highlight was when we first sang together at the Judge’s House. It was incredible and unbelievable and you know we’ve done our best, we worked hard." Everyone cheered at Louis' answer and Dermot moved onto you.

“Autumn, the only girl in a boy band.” that gave you a laugh and Zayn shook you softly as a tease. “What's gonna happen to One Direction now?”

You looked at all the boys before answering.

“We’re definitely gonna stay together, and this isn’t the last of One Direction.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you have any ideas for what you want to write in future my inbox is open!!!! i would love to hear what you guys want to see happen in the trios future

tags:

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner

@luxiorchive  

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day twenty

"I saw your eyes light up."

fandom: not another d&d podcast (bahumia/ba2mia)

word count: 1254

It was rare that things calmed down on the Astral Plane enough to take a break. But on the occasion they did, a vacation was in order. 

“A few days in the Feywild? Aw, we haven’t been there in, uh…” Moonshine trailed off, looking up from her packing. “Shit. It’s really been a minute.” 

“Well, yeah. I figured we could take a stop there before going by Shadowfell to see Mom,” Hardwon said. 

“Bev? You down for that?” Moonshine asked. 

Beverly looked up from his journal. “Oh. Yeah.” The Feywild still held some rocky memories for him - but then again, so did half the Material Plane. 

Hardwon grinned. “Callie and Sol have been helping Oberon, you know, un-tame it. We can say hi. You’ve really gotta meet these two. And their friend. They’re good people.”

“More wild in the Feywild? I’m down for that,” Moonshine said. “It’ll be a blast.” 

In their actual itinerary, the Feywild was near the latter end of their vacation. Bahumia had changed a lot since he was last there; the Dragon Elves had installed a new High Princess, the Crick had faced an attempted overthrow, the Irondeep dwarves and the fire giants were in a tenuous alliance, and the Ezry bubble had fallen for the first time in over two centuries. Somehow, Frostwind was the least changed since they last visited. 

Going through the rift to the Feywild, though, was a much different change. 

The plane had always been more magical than the Material Plane, but now it seemed to brim. Instead of the permanent morning that the Spring Court had stayed in, the sun seemed to move in the sky as Hardwon led them to his friend’s place. 

“This is where Callie says they’re set up now, at least. Just look for a duck-themed camper,” he told them. 

“Duck-themed?” Beverly muttered under his breath. 

“That’s what they go by. Duck Team.” 

“Right.” 

The grass came up so high that he felt like he was wading through it. Maybe that was just an issue at his height, but it made the journey difficult. Finally, though, the setting sun glinted off the metal of a camper. 

Hardwon was grinning as he pointed. “There they are.” 

“Just in time.” Moonshine sighed. “Oh, Melora, I should have brought something. I mean, I did grab some Crick water before we left.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Bev said. 

They followed Hardwon to the door. He barely had a chance to knock before the door swung open. 

“Hardwon!” A spring eladrin pulled him into a hug. “I was worried you’d gotten lost out there.” 

“Trust me, I know the Feywild like the back of my hand.” 

“Eh, it’s gotten more tricky than it used to be. And that’s saying something.” She peeked past him. Flowers floated in her watery hair like lilypads on the surface of a pond. “Hello there! I’m Calliope Petrichor, but you can just call me Callie.” 

Moonshine bounded up the steps. “Ah, so you’re the infamous Callie. Hardwon talks about you all the time.” 

Callie grinned. “Really?” She chuckled. “Then that must make you Bev.” 

“Guilty,” he said, coming up to greet her. 

“Well, come on in. Plenty of room.” Callie ducked her head inside. “Calder? Grab some more Molsons.” 

Hardwon hadn’t been lying about the duck theme, but there was something cozy in its kitschiness. They’d spent so long in airships that the change of pace was nice. The inside was much larger than it looked on the inside - not as large as Moonshine’s Marvelous Stump, but certainly not cramped. 

The sitting area was already occupied. A bullywug in a sweater and a scarf, covered in mushrooms, stopped his game of cards with a dwarven teenager as they came in. So too did the halfling knights talking across from them. 

They were Green Knights, still clad in their armor. It was still strange seeing the familiar green plate so far from home, but there was something stranger still. The older one, he looked just like-

“Balnor,” Moonshine muttered under her breath.

Hardwon laughed, somewhat stilted, before he started across the room. “Hey, Sol, buddy. And Kenna, hey. Who are your buddies?” 

“Oh, yeah, this is Robert and Balnor,” the bullywug said. “Sorry, I guess Callie didn’t tell you we had other guests.” 

The younger halfling stood and bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Nice to meet you…” Balnor trailed off. 

“Hardwon.” The word sounded like it got caught in his throat. “Hardwon Surefoot.” 

Beverly couldn’t blame him. At least he wasn’t the only one still glued to the spot. 

“We’ve got Molsons!” Callie broke the tensions, emerging from the kitchen with a frosty half-giant who had to duck under the door frame. “They’re nice and cold. I’m sure you could use a drink after walking all day.” 

Moonshine took a bottle from her hand. “Thanks. Yeah…” She twisted the top off and took a slow sip.

As Beverly let Callie hand him a bottle, his eyes drifted back to Hardwon and Balnor. 

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Make yourself at home.” 

He followed Callie and her friend to the sitting area. Moonshine, it seemed, was taking it slightly better than he was. But that was mostly because she’d started making conversation with Sol instead of addressing Balnor directly. 

Two hundred years. That was when Alanis had told them that she’d plucked out Balnor to be their companion. None of them had been keeping track of the years like that, on the off-chance that they’d see him again. 

The timeline had changed. This Balnor still had his son, had become a Green Knight. He was still Balnor the Brave, just not… their Balnor the Brave. 

Seeing him happy, content, someone’s father was a pleasant sight. Yet it felt like it stabbed him through the chest. He was distracted watching Balnor pick up cards with Kenna that he hardly noticed Robert - Bobby - coming up to him. 

“Must be nice to see a fellow Green Knight, huh?” he asked Beverly. 

“Huh?” 

“I saw your eyes light up when you saw us.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” He took in Robert’s armor. The design on the plate had changed over the years - much more ornamental, the sun sigil of Pelor morphed into the Summer Court’s banner. He didn’t even know if he considered himself much of a Green Knight anymore. Not since he’d lost Erlin. Maybe even before then. 

“I’ve heard the stories about the first Green Knights. Including your father, Beverly the Fourth. I never imagined I’d meet his son,” Robert said. 

What his dad had done to protect him, the deal he’d made, he imagined they didn’t teach that in the accolades of prior Green Knights that served the Seelie Court. But there was something ironic in that. The son of the man who’d been his father when he had lost his, telling him that he looked up to his. 

“I’m sure I must be embarrassing myself,” he told Beverly. “I apologize.” 

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just strange, you know? Not that, but… seeing echoes of the past now, so long after.”

“I imagine it must be.” Robert smiled. “If you ever want some really exciting stories about the Green Knights, you should ask my father. He got into some trouble before I was sworn in, and even then, he won’t retire.” 

Beverly laughed. “That sounds like Ba-” He stopped himself. “Yeah. That sounds like my own dad.” 

Robert patted his armor. “It is nice to meet you, Beverly.” 

“Yeah. You too.”

[purplelupins]

Unholy Piety

|Midnight Mass|

Dark!Father Paul Hill X werewolf!fem!reader

Summery: You hated him. He had taken you as a pet, and you hated every moment with him. So what happens when you go into heat and he’s the one person to help you?

FOR ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THIS WORLD MINORS DO NOT READ THIS.

Warnings: established relationship, Father Paul is mean, owner/pet(prisoner) relationship, SMUT, BREEDING, reader is in heat and needs help, priest kink, innocence kink, abuse, unhealthy relationship, fingering, multiple orgasms, semi-forced, cockwarming(vaginal) mentions of past blowjobs, orgasms, lots of cum, light pain kink.

Notes: this is a commission for @mandowifey

This is filthy.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There was only one word that could describe Crockett Island. That minuscule pin-prick of an island off the coast of Maine.

Slow.

It was very, very slow. The people, the life, the storms, the animals.

After only being on the island for a matter of weeks, you knew that your opinion would never change, even if the big rock did happen to grow on you.

“You take care now.”

Father Paul cast one more small, friendly wave to Sarah Gunning as he stepped down onto the road from the house. Your head perked up from its relaxed positions between your paws as you had been waiting idle for the Monsignor to finish his rounds on the island. As he came to your side, and you stood to your full height, his hand fell absentmindedly to your head; a comfortable gesture he had taken to doing after having you fall into step beside him each time he left the rectory.

That day was just like many others. One where rain hung in the air, and another day where you walked obediently beside Father Paul Hill. You knew people stared at the two of you more often than not, and while you didn’t blame them one bit, you would have thought they had gotten used to the two of you and the strange image you presented. However, there were perks to the unease you created- namely the things you heard them whisper about you.

Hound dog.

Devil dog.

Monster.

Beast.

Hell hound.

Though you had to blame most of those on Beverly. She had a true talent for her imagination. And while you detested the leech…those names made you laugh.

“You must be hungry, hm?” You heard Father Paul beside you, then felt his large hand stroke your ear, and you reflexively shook him off, earning you a deep chuckle, “Someone’s in a mood…guess you’re not that hungry then. Too bad…I think I-“ he paused to wave at someone passing by, a forced smile making its way onto his handsome face like you had seen so many times…the same one you had fallen for mistakenly, “-I still have some of that casserole from Annie…I know how much you liked it.” He spoke so softly to you, glancing down at your massive form, stroking a bothersome finger down your thick fur as he taunted you.

Assho-

“Father! Father Paul!”

As if in practised synchronicity, both you and the priest turned your heads to the female voice that called out to him. You saw the apprehension in Dolly Scarborough’s face when she took inventory of your ever-present form beside Father Paul since his arrival.

Whether you wanted it to or not, a low growl formed in the back of your throat as she got closer and closer until she was within arms reach of the Father. If you had been able to take your eyes off the woman, you would have seen the traitorous, knowing smirk that pinched at the falsely holy man’s perfect Cupid’s bow. But you weren’t listening as Dolly prattled on about something to do with a town meeting and how Leeza was doing- if you weren’t in this form, you probably would have given anything to go with Dolly to have a cup of tea…anything to get away from Father Paul and his iron grip on you. But as your situation would have it, your primal instinct to protect what your canine brain staked as your territory was stronger than you could manage.

And your territory happened to be the 6’5 priest with kind brown eyes that stood beside you.

Her arm was too close to him, practically brushing against his grey cardigan; your sharp eyes were fixated on that point where they nearly joined. Your massive jaws were starting to ache from the need to snap at her arm.

Frighten her.

Put her in her place.

Make her go away.

This was your area.

Your territory.

Yours.

Yours.

Yours.

The control you had began to slip, and you could feel your muscles tense as you prepared to pounce. Then, just as you were about to give in, Father Paul laughed at something she said, and put a hand on your head again, and it all stopped. Normally, you hated him touching you…breathing near you, existing in general, but in that moment you needed that connection to reassure you.

Calm you.

You loathed that you needed it.

Needed him.

As you found solace in his touch, Dolly said her goodbyes, including one to you, and walked down the dirt road away from the two of you.

“It’s alright…I’m not going anywhere.” He cooed to you, turning on his heel to continue the path home.

He must have heard the low rumble that vibrated in your chest when you had been staring at Dolly’s arm, and didn’t feel like cleaning up a mess. Your eye twitched and you ‘accidentally’ almost stepped one of your huge paws on the father’s foot.

Stupid…puppy looking self-righteous prick.

Perfect hearing ass-hat.

It wasn’t as if you wanted to be where you were; the personal pet for Father Paul… or whatever his name was. You would have gone to hell and back if you had had the choice to be anywhere but there- but nothing could have prepared you for being carted away to a remote island like an artefact. How could you have known that the strange man with the soothing voice and careful smile would turn out to be a devil incarnation? That when he had cooed to you about your condition when he found you, that he had had a hand behind his back with a silver knife to trap you.

You hated that you couldn’t snap at him in your current form…what you wouldn’t give to sink your huge teeth into his arm as it swung beside you…but you knew it would only do more bad than good once he healed.

You sighed and shook your heavy head.

He breathed out a laugh as if he could read your mind as you came up the hill to the Rectory. Then he cast a look around to ensure that you were both alone and leaned down to your soft ear and growled out, “You’d better behave.” Before he gave your fur an unnecessarily hard tug to pull you towards his small home…and your cell.

Inside, it was admittedly a very cozy home. Comfortable and modest. And you were certain that in any other situation, you might have looked forward to seeing it everyday, but given the fact that as soon as the door shut, the house was more akin to a prison than anything else. Once you transformed back into your far less furry form, the ‘nice’ Father was already buckling your collar around your neck; his eyes passive and bored when the chain attached to it clinked.

“Feeling a little precarious today with our emotions?” Came that purr of a voice as you kept your eyes closed to pretend you were anywhere else.

Your face twitched. “Didn’t know we shared emotions…are you going to braid my hair and sing Kumbaya too?” Your sharp reply earned you an equally sharp tug on the leather collar.

“So ill-tempered for such a pretty little thing…” he hummed to himself from behind you, “Now are you going to be a good puppy for me or are you going to insist on fasting again?” He murmured, warm breath fanning down your bare neck; he loved his thinly veiled threats.

Your eye twitched and you bit your tongue to keep in a shiver, “Its cold in here.”

The Monsignor sighed and nodded, making no show of hiding the fact that he was staring down at your bare body, “It is…I suppose a good puppy should live by divine example from their owner…here.” He grabbed a sweater and a pair of your panties that had been thrown off you the night previous.

Just as you went to take them, he held them out of your grasp, and you cursed how small you were in this form.

“Say “Please, Father Paul.”…you know better.” He murmured with a tsk as he turned you to face him.

Your eye twitched again. “Eat shit father P-“

Smack

His hand left a red mark on your cheek, but his expression remained steady as ever.

“Manners.” He said flatly.

You swore you would break your own jaw by how tightly you were grinding your molars.

“Please Father Paul can I please have some clothes please?” You managed to get out all sickly sweet, staring up into his dead eyes.

It seemed that while your sarcastic reply was blatant, he basked in the fact that you did as he said. Paul grinned and handed you the clothes like he was handing you a gift from God, “You see? Good comes to good people, sweet thing.” His black eyes were trained on you as you dressed yourself so fast you swore you’d have rashes later.

Having a barrier between you and him was more than welcomed. It was needed. On more than one occasion he had made you sit there on the floor with nothing but your skin and the collar chained to the wall…especially in the early days.

Just another routine.

Another routine in your life was one you particularly hated. Feared, almost. Not that it happened regularly…but when it did, it made a pit of dread fill your stomach, especially now that you were confined to a small island.

You knew the signs. Your smell changed, your temperature skyrocketed, you had a desperate need to form a nest, and worst but strongest of all was of course your unquenchable need to mate. To be bred.

You hadn’t experienced your heat since he took you…and while it used to be horrible, now you knew it would be even worse with him there.

How you loathed it. You were so weak. Your own body and mind betrayed you, making you so docile and feeble.

You hated it.

You were sat in the bedroom of the rectory, a mass of blankets and pillows gathered around you as you rode out another extreme wave of arousing pain that set your skin on fire and left your clit pulsing desperately. If there was a hell, this would be hell on earth. It was as if any extreme emotion that the human body was capable of had been dialled up to 100 and injected into you.

Pathetic.

It was just after midnight when you heard voices from the church as mass ended. You were surprised more people didn’t question this change…you knew a few people had come by after Father Paul’s “disappearance”…but aside from that you hadn’t noticed anyone making much of a fuss.

With his new pointy disposition, you were affectively stuck inside with him all day. He loved it -being in your company-but now he smelled more unappetizing than those dead cats that had “washed” up month ago.

You put a pillow to your face you as let out a scream of frustration. This was true torture.

An inferno on earth. How poetic.

You wanted to vomit.

Heat made your hearing so sensitive- every little creak and shuffle inside and outside put you on edge. Your head began to pound as you listened to the few people leaving the white building after they had gobbled up that priest’s bullshit. You wondered how they couldn’t see his god-complex; though you supposed they just wanted something to believe it.

Desperation pushed people to do desperate things after all.

This was a statement that ring all too true to you in that moment; when the door to the humble home opened, and you heard the gentle voice of Father Paul call out for you, your body screamed at you in exactly that: desperation.

The Monsignor called your name again.

God you hated how you wanted to run to him. Be held by him. You could feel your legs twitching to get you up- to bend you over to be bred.

Paul slowly walked into the bedroom, and leaned against the door frame that was too small for his height; tilting his head to the side as he tsked at your form.

All curled up on his bed.

Sweating.

Needy.

He could see the clear stains on the sheets from your slick cunt making a mess.

“How’s my little puppy?” He murmured, rolling up his sleeves. The fact that he took a long inhale did not escape you; it wasn’t his fault that you smelled so tantalising.

“Fuck off.” Came your muffled reply as you held onto the blankets for dear life.

Father Paul exhaled sharply. You knew he hated your fowl mouth. He had reminded you on numerous occasions with his legs spread wide as he read biblical verses to you as your throat ached from his cock being forced down it. Though it was better than when he made you sit there for hours impaled on him with that silver knife in his free hand in case you tried to move.

“In another mood, are we? You know you don’t look well, little thing. Feeling…warm?” He cooed, making a point to stroke down your bare leg that stuck out from your spot. That man knew damn well what was going on. He might have been a sadistic monster, but he was intelligent.

He knew you were in heat.

He could smell you from the pulpit during his service. Could practically taste you…he had never been so thankful for the Chasuble to hide his erection.

“Go away Paul.” You said his name venomously, raising your head slightly.

He chuckled again.

“Is that what you really want, puppy?” He purred, leaning over your form, taunting you with his presence. It was like having a drug you craved put in front of you just out of reach.

You whined, and he hummed- a low rumble in his chest that made your insides pulse with need.

Different species or not, he was another predator in his own nature and your body craved him; needed to be dominated.

“The righteous hate what is false, but the wicked make themselves a stench and bring shame on themselves…” he quoted that god forsaken book, and you made a gagging sound, “The more you lie, the more sin will attach to you…surround you…engulf your soul.” He ran his hand through your messy hair.

Heat be damned, there was a little bit of fight left in you; the Monsignor gave you such a perfect opportunity being so close and vulnerable, and you took it. Your teeth were in his forearm faster than you usually could move, and his blood was swimming into your mouth. Another gag formed at the back of your throat at the fowl liquid, but it felt so good to release your anger.

Paul sighed pitifully, and grabbed a fist full of your hair at the base of your scull and pulled.

Hard.

You hated how much it hurt.

That he knew it hurt you.

The hold you had on him loosened, and your teeth came away from his arm; mouth covered in crimson.

“Now look at what you did…” he tsked you and shook his head as he still held you firm and inspected his wound that was already stitching itself together.

You spat out the blood, and felt each of your senses go into overdrive. “Just back off.” You ground out, another surge of need coursing through you- it took everything in your power to keep him from seeing how much pain you were in. “Can’t stand your fucking smell you musty old bible.”

One of his brows rose at the statement, not that it was anything new. He was well aware that you smelled far more divine to him than he did to you.

“Suit yourself.” Paul hummed, and the sound vibrated through your bones like a massage; just his voice made you feel weak.

You glared at him as he stood, towering over you like your were but a small child. It was written all over his face that he saw you as something akin to exactly that- something tiny and in need of guidance.

Once his tall frame finally disappeared from the room, you wished you could find it in yourself to sigh out of relief, but if anything the horrid anguish that wrecked every atom in your poor body was only aggravated. A scream built inside your throat, anything to get that humanoid priest to come back into the room and end your suffering.

So you bit a pillow.

Shredded it really.

Feathers floated down around you in some sort of sick imitation of a halo, and you swatted them away. As fate would have it, Father Paul strode past the door just as you did so, his gaze catching you and the onslaught of white fluff. He chuckled again, and shook his head as he continued his path to the small couch, a cup of tea in hand; not that he cared for the taste any more. It was just a soothing routine.

Another hour passed by in dead silence…save for your moans of agony echoing through the rectory every so often.

Father Paul was sat still on the couch, a book in hand and cup lazily left beside him. At each of your little whines and groans, he would smile secretly to himself; he knew it was only a matter of time. Not that he had been with you through a heat, but he knew the sound of despair.

And he was right.

First came the sound of the chain that kept you confined to the far half of the home, then came the soft sound of your bare feet on the cold, old floor. Then your heavy panting that you tried so pathetically to mask. He heard your breath catch in your sweet throat when your urges pounded at your insides, and your bitten whimpers when you almost gave in.

There was a soft thud from behind him, where you had fallen to your knees from a particularly harsh surge inside you.

“Is my pup having a difficult time?” He called, barely raising his eyes from his page.

“Peachy.” You forced out.

The Monsignor breathed out a short, soundless laugh to himself. You were always one for short and smart retorts; not that they were always particularly of high intelligence or wit, but he found you amusing when you do blatantly refused your own nature. When you were hungry and he offered you food, when you were tired and he offered you a bed, when he offered you care and you turned up your nose.

You would be shown the way, Paul was certain of it. It would just take time, and in that time he would be tested by his lord; a true testament of his faith.

It was only a few minutes that had passed when Father Paul was brought out of his thoughts by you; the sound of you pulling at your collar and chain. Finally, he turned around, folding his book neatly in his lap, and watched as you sunk even further to the floor by the door frame; clutching at your torso like it might fly away, and toes curling; chain completely strained.

You were the complete image of human suffering.

Beautiful.

If the holy man could only imagine wings sheltering you, you would have resembled an angel fallen down to God’s green earth.

He slowly stood, and your ears caught every movement from his body; his shirt scratching against itself, his pants adjusting, his socks slipping down slightly. A long shadow cast over you from his exceedingly tall fame, and while you refused to give him the satisfaction of having you gaze up at him like his followers did at Mass…his affect on you remained the same.

You felt small.

And pathetic.

And hopeless.

Not that you’d tell that monster any of that. Hell would freeze over and those bullshit pearly gates would go rusty before he heard a full confession of how tight his grip on you was.

“What did I tell you about lying, hmm?”

A cold hand slipped along your back, and you could feel your scorching body heat grow cool as he absorbed it. You hated that a small whimper escaped you- having some of the feverish heat relieved was simply divine.

You bet having the rest of him touch you would-

Shut the fuck up you piece of shit horny ass brain. This is an undead monster playing the part of a holy man for fucksake.

“Let me help you, little one…”

That hand on you slid into your hair, and petted your scalp. Again, you felt your shoulders relax, but then your wits came back to you so fast you almost got whiplash from how fast you tried to lunge at the man before you. However, just as you should have expected by then, the icy touch of metal against your neck froze every muscle in your body.

While your body would not move, your eyes did; they were wide and held a fear there that wasn’t shown often. The satisfaction it gave Father Paul to see you staring up at him as such was so strong he felt a sense of regret; sinful was how it felt. Addictive.

“Didn’t I tell you to mind your manners?” He murmured- the light behind him made the shadows on his handsome face darken until he resembled something closer to what he really was- a monster.

A predator.

A demon.

A devil.

In fact he was exactly that: a devil. He had become what he most feared as a man of god. His cheeks looked hollow and his eyes held no light- the bags under them only adding weight to his features like he might drag you down with him into the fiery bowels where his soul now lay.

While you knew you would hate yourself for it by the time the sun rose, in that moment you could not contain the whimper that spilled from your bitten lips. He held you there in that position for as long as he liked, tilting his head every once and a while as he regarded your immobilized form.

Death was not something that you had to worry about unless something silver was being pointed at you; at that moment, however, you had exactly that being held against the column of your throat- a perfectly sharpened silver knife. You still counted that cursed thing as a particularly nasty “Fuck you” from whatever god or gods there were. The fact that the Monsignor had just so happened to have purchased one on his travels, and had it in his possession when he encountered you that first time beyond coincidence; ever since then that blade had become a thorn in your side. The ever-present reminder that you now belonged to Father Paul Hill, and of the circumstances that would befall you should you disobey him.

You watched as his chest deflated- a long sigh from him fanning across your skin.

“I thought you were past this level of hostility, y/n…” his deep tenor vibrated in your ears, and curled your toes. Hypnotic. “…was I wrong?” He added so quietly you thought he might be talking to himself, but then you felt the knife press harder against you and you fought to not squirm, “I said- Was. I. Wrong?” Father Paul spoke dangerously. An edge to his tone made you flinch, and your eyes darted around the room frantically as you wondered if he might actually snap. Slit your throat and be done with you…

“…tell me I wasn’t wrong…”

The voice that you now heard was akin to a punch to your diaphragm. Your lungs felt tight as you tried to breathe. His words- his plea made you look up at his crouched form. He wasn’t even looking at you, his gaze instead on where the silver blade was sat against your jugular.

You could feel your normal mind far back in the dark reaches of your brain screaming at you to fight him- tell him to shove the knife where the sun don’t shine…but that part of your psyche was very small in that moment. The rest was begging you to roll onto your back and beg for forgiveness, tell him you’d never leave him that you needed him…so you opted for something in the middle while you still could.

“No…you weren’t wrong.” The words were heavy on your tongue, and tasted as horrible as he smelled. But you weren’t ready to have the life fade from you just yet, and so in favour of living through the night, and perhaps with some reprieve from the awful disposition you had at that moment…you submitted to him. Your shoulders sank, and your face went lax, save for the odd flinch and wince from the pain and extreme arousal that punished you.

“Will you let me help you?” Father Paul repeated his statement from what felt like hours ago.

A tear broke away from your glassy eyes. Traitor.

You didn’t nod, or give any indication that you would let him do anything, but your lack of resistance was more than enough for him to move forward. Father Paul slowly let the blade slip away from your throat, and he placed it on the counter; there was a light threat to having it remain there.

Large hands encircled your arms, and lifted you up easily to stand on already shaky legs.

“Up, up, up…there you go.” He muttered out so gently you almost laughed; the speed at which that man could go from being an otherworldly predator with a lust for blood to being a soft spoken man who only wanted the best was unmatched. Father Paul lifted you into his arms, and carried you back into the comfort of the bedroom where he laid you down on the makeshift nest you had created hours before.

As soon as you were back in your haven, your hands acted on their own; reaching out to the Monsignor who gazed at you with those deep, rich brown eyes you usually would detest…but something about their soulfulness then made your mind go soft. He watched as you grasped his hand, and almost chuckled at how you could only hold a few of his fingers. Such a little thing you were to him.

You didn’t know if you wanted to pull him closer like your mind begged you to or to toss him from the room like your common sense knew you should; you stared up at him, your hips rocking of their own volition against the blanket there. In the darkness, Father Paul’s eyes flashed from the little light, and your mind remembered that you were indeed dealing with a nocturnal predator…not that the pain under your skin paid that fact any mind.

The rate at which you felt yourself submitting to his supremacy was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it any longer. “P-please…” you whimpered, brows scrunched in despair.

“Tell me what you need, little one.” He shifted closer to you, those soft eyes of his replaced with onyx. But his face was so sincere that you nearly wept.

Sweat had begun to gather at the nape of your neck, and your hands felt too warm, and your head was dizzy and heavy.

“I ne-need you…” you panted, trying to pull him closer.

Father Paul nodded, and brought your forehead to his lips so as to press a kiss there. You might have slapped him for that if this was any other time, but you could only mewl and try to coax him closer.

“Lay down for me, princess…” he murmured, rolling up his sleeves after they had fallen- like a gentleman.

And while you did as he said, you shook your head, “No…I need-“ you gasped, clutching at your stomach like someone had stomped their full weight onto it.

“Shh…deep breaths, sweetheart. Alright? Focus on my voice…can you take a deep breath for me?” He cooed, stroking the skin of your legs and he tried to soothe you.

You did focus on his voice, but your body only screamed with more need…not that you were shocked- that man could charm the panties off a nun with just a few words…the bastard.

You felt his hands on your thighs, and you knew what he thought you needed. And while this might have excited anyone else, you felt tears in your eyes. “No…not…no-“ you breathed out.

Paul looked up at you then, halting his path, “What do you mean?” He asked, then added cheekily, “You’ve never complained about my hands before.”

A lie.

…a half lie.

You rolled your eyes, and sat up; his little smile deepened like he thought he was right.

“I need you to cum inside me.” You said bluntly, and evidently it was blunt enough as you were given the gift of seeing Father Paul Hill, or whatever his name was, look taken aback. It was only fair though, this was a senior citizen given a chance at life again- and a man of the cloth. You were fairly certain no one had told him he had to cum in them for…well…ever.

“You need…” he started, the smile he had been dawning dropped into a pensive line; eyes flickering from where his hands were up to where your sweater barely covered your panties then to his own hardening cock as he beat your statement through his own brain.

You cried out again; bringing your knees up to your chest as your body did anything to alleviate this cursed time that you were forced through. Your back hit the bed, and any care you had about him having a full view of your throbbing cunt went straight out the old window beside you.

“I- please! Just- I can’t…” you begged, forcing your eyes open, “Don’t- fuck…don’t think I would ask this if I didn’t need to.” You gritted out, still determined for him to know that this wasn’t you metaphorically rolling over for him from here on out.

The sounds of your pleas were music to his ears; a small smile tugged at his beautiful but shocked mouth for a moment before he seemed to collect himself. Father Paul blinked a few times before he let his gaze drop down to your thighs once more, now receiving a full view of what an absolute mess you were. Your panties were saturated, as were your thighs and the bed under you. He could smell the sickly sweetness of your heat…intoxicating.

“Tell me again.” He said, a little more command to his tone now that he knew exactly what you needed…and just how pathetically desperate you were in need for it.

Your eyes went wide at his audacity, but the closer he was, and the longer he didn’t touch you, the more violent the spasms became. “I ne- fuck… I need you to c-cum in me-“ you managed to get out, “Please…” tears fell from your eyes, “It’s the- the only thing that’ll make it stop.”

The Monsignor leaned over to where your legs were bent up to your stomach, and let his fingers graze your calve, “You need me?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive but your mouth was still faithful. “I need someone to fucking cum in me! If you don’t do it then I’ll- fuck…I’ll be more than h-happy to go find that nice Sheriff down the r-road!”

Your statement gave Paul pause. His gaze went from soaking up your condition and words to holding your stare like he might hurt you. Father Paul’s hands clenched and unclenched as he let your words sink in.

No.

No you were going to need him.

Not just someone.

Him.

And he was going to make sure you knew it.

“I’d like to see you attempt that journey, little one.” He sighed, but while his tone was still as infuriatingly even and calm as it settled in your sensitive ears, those predatory eyes of his were locked on your every minute detail. His feather-light stroking turned into his huge hands wrapping around your calve and gently pulling it down and away from your torso so that your feet lay flat but your knees were still bent; repeating the action for the other leg, “I’ll even remove that collar around your neck if you wish to leave and find your pleasure in another man besides myself.”

You watched his every movement, scared that if you breathed too hard he would snap…and whatever that might entail. His skin against yours continued to make every nerve in you throb, you didn’t care that he was barely alive and stank of musty wood.

When you didn’t speak, Father Paul tilted his head to the side, and reached up to where the leather was fastened around your neck. The buckle came undone easily enough for him; his dark eyes held yours as he did so, silently daring you to go.

The collar landed with a thud on the floor, and with nothing keeping you there, you suddenly felt very small.

The Monsignor sucked in a breath, “I could be wrong, but I think you were lying…weren’t you?” He murmured, easing a hand down your thigh as they remained spread for him, “I have no doubt that you might be able to find what you require in another male, but I don’t think you want to…do you?”

Your eye twitched as they flicked between his slowly descending hand and his heavy gaze. Your core was positively throbbing, and you couldn’t deny now painfully excited your body was as his hand crept closer and closer to where it needed attention.

Pathetic.

You felt completely and utterly pathetic.

And you knew you looked it too because there was that god damned pitiful look in those big puppy dog eyes of his…you wondered if he had worked on that wet-dog look for his whole life.

Not that you had any time to dwell on the idiotic thought as he kissed your knee gently; his hand was at the elastic of your saturated panties, just stroking the edge. Coaxing an answer out of you.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” His low voice became a purr that vibrated inside you. Father Paul gripped your panties and dragged them down your legs before laying them neatly on the mattress.

With the cold air against you now, you shivered, and unconsciously rolled your hips against nothing. Your mind began to go hazy again, but you were snapped back to the room around you when there was a harsh smack to your thigh.

“Manners, little one.” He said, staring at you expectantly.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so you pursed your lips and stared back.

He sighed and shook his head before stuffing two of his long fingers inside you without warning, and you gasped loudly. “I asked you if you really wanted to go. I expect an-“ he curled them just right the hit the spongy patch inside you,”- answer.” But the only thing he received was a scream from you as you arched your back and tears streamed down your cheeks at the stimulation.

Knowing he would get nowhere with giving you what you needed until you answered him, he withdrew his hand and sucked your slick from his fingers, and he sat back patiently.

Your hips bucked and tried to follow him, desperate to have something inside you, but he folded his hands carefully in his lap and stared at you passively.

It felt like your blood and every possible emotion inside you welled up from your toes all the way to your mouth, and your eyes; hot, fresh tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks.

“No- no I don’t- plea-please I just need…I’ll stay!” You babbled, mind completely snapped.

Father Paul tilted his head like he might to a child not having its way. A tantrum if you will.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me then? We don’t want you misbehaving do we?” He chided you.

You shook your head, though it looked more akin to thrashing. “I’ll be g-good!” You cried.

The Monsignor grinned and patted your leg.

“That wasn’t so hard now was it? Spread those legs for me.” He purred, shifting closer to kneel by your feet. His eyes were trained on you once again, as he slowly and deliberately unbuckled his belt. You did as he asked, and spread your legs even further to accommodate his size, but his calculated movements to open his pants were so slow that you started to cry even harder.

This truly was pure torture.

Without thinking, you sat up and looked up at the Monsignor for permission to finish the job. He gazed down at you fondly, and nodded encouragingly to you like you had seen him do to newcomers at the church when they first took communion. Not that any of that mattered. Your hands shook, but you still managed to pull the zipper down and go to reach for him before his hand was wrapped around your wrist with a startling speed.

“Lay back, Little one.” Father Paul muttered, nodding to the pillows behind you.

You fell back with a thud and rubbed your knees together as he drew himself out and held your stare. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock as it sat heavy in his hand.

Father Paul held himself back for a few moments, just basking in the heavy scent of your need, your shining face, glassy eyes and swollen lips…you truly were a work of art in every way down to your soft curves. He knew you were begging him, he heard you, but that moment was something he would remember for a very, very long time, and he wasn’t about to let it be ruined by anything so trivial as impatience and greed. The man stroked himself to the sight of you.

“Please- ah…please Father…”

His trance was snipped away when he heard those words from you. You. You had just said that.

It seemed you were both a little lost from your plea, but he was quick to hold that moment; Father Paul blinked, then before you could beg him further, his weight was holding you down. His free hand was around your throat, and his hips were heavy against yours. “Again.” He purred, running his nose down your cheek.

A hot blush warmed your cheeks.

“Please father…” you whispered out, legs trying to lock around him. There was something addictive about the way your vision was marked with stars from the little air he was allowing you to have.

“Louder.” He said, more commanding.

“Please father.” You cried out, “Please please please!”

“There she is…that’s it little one…beg for your father.” Father Paul grinned and ran the head of his cock through the thick layer of slick that coated your needy pussy; you nearly screamed with need at the feeling. He took one last look at you, catching your eyes with his before he stuffed the swollen tip of his long cock inside you.

A silent scream opened your mouth as he fucked himself into you; he cooed to you, telling you how well you were doing when he paused for a moment. You were tightening around him and pulsing and twitching and…you were coming. He wasn’t even fully inside you, let alone thrusting into you, and your tight, little pussy was coming on his cock like a virgin.

“That’s it…it just felt too good didn’t it?” He murmured, kissing down your shoulder until your sweater didn’t allow him to. It seemed you read his mind, as you were struggling to get the fabric off of your body the next second, needing to feel more of him. Father Paul chuckled, still rolling his hips into you until he was flush with your body.

At his words, you nodded unabashedly as you rode out your high. Your entire body was shaking under him, and Father Paul found it strangely addictive. He stored each detail in the back of his clear mind for another time, savouring it; he almost teased you right there about coming so fast for him…but he’d rather not taint such a special time. Having you completely at his mercy, and begging him for his attention was all he wanted…carnally.

Having your tight heat envelope him all at once was nearly too much for him to handle. Father Paul felt as if his restraint might completely snap in two if he didn’t reel himself in; focus on the famous self control that he so loathed but admired in himself.

Your hands were digging into his shoulders as you tried to pull him even closer, his chest weighing down on you and hips barely pulling away from you as he thrust into you so evenly. So patient.

But it wasn’t enough.

Having him inside you wasn’t enough.

Having his skin against yours wasn’t enough.

Having his cock jutting against your cervix wasn’t enough.

You needed more, so much more.

“Har-harder-“ you squeaked out, humping your hips against him as he rocked into you like a lover might.

Paul pulled away from your chest where he had been kissing gently, and bumped your nose with his- his breath fanning across your face. “What was that?” He said.

“I need-need it harder…please- I can’t…i need you to - anything I’ll do anything just-“ your words lost their coherency as his cock stretched you and stroked you so perfectly…you hated how perfect it felt. If nature allowed it you would have him just do that all day- at least that was what your in-heat mind told you.

“You need it harder, little one?” He cooed, the condescension not lost on you but you were too far gone to care, so you nodded. He breathed out through his nose like you had just confirmed something he had been waiting for, and he took a moment before he nodded with you.

He waited until you almost asked him again before he snapped his hips against yours harshly, and your scream was intoxicating. Father Paul continued his brutal pace, and as he felt you grow tighter again, he felt his restraint slip. He pulled away from leaning over you to grasp your thighs that had locks around his waist and bring them to meet your chest, bending you in half; he shifted to lock them in place, moving his legs on either side of your hips, making sure you stayed open for him whether you liked it or not.

The Monsignor could feel himself getting closer as he gazed down at your dazed face- a silent moan on your lips. He watched the bulge in your navel each time he thrust into you, his cock threatening to burst through your cervix. You needed him to breed you? He was going to breed you.

He picked up his pace, only the sound of his skin on yours and panting in the air around you. God he could practically taste you on his tongue-

You reached up at grabbed his shoulder again before pressing your lips against his, kissing him so sloppily but desperately. Teeth clanking against eachother and lips bruising but fuck you needed it.

More

More.

More.

As he rutted into you, you humped his cock back, seeking out any friction as your second orgasm mounted even harder than the first.

You felt his cock pulse strongly inside you, and he pushed inside you as hard as he could as he fucked himself inside your dripping cunt; the tip of his cock pressed painfully against your cervix until you swore if might go inside, then you felt it. A tiny wave of relief. Father Paul shuttered and moaned almost as desperately as you; his cock flooding your insides with his cum. Hot spurts of warmth filled your womb, and you felt all tingly.

Finally, he slowed, but when he went to pull from you, you mewled and broke your filthy kiss to shake your head, “No! No-nonono please don’t it- it still h-hurts…need more…please.” You babbled.

The Monsignor panted, but did as you asked and stayed inside you. He leaned down to your lips again, taking full advantage of your need for him; he slipped his tongue inside, and moaned when he felt yours caress his until you were licking his canines. A low groan escaped him then, the feeling of you touching those sensitive teeth sent shockwaves down his spine to his groin.

Never would he have thought that he could get erect again so fast, but there he was already feeling himself swell inside your tight little cum-soaked pussy.

“Yes! Yes please again, pleasepleaseplease!” You whimpered, already rocking your hips greedily like you were trying to jerk him to full erection with your cunt.

At this point you didn’t care if you came- you just needed him to. You needed to feel your womb swell with his sticky cum so badly you cried.

Father Paul absentmindedly began to roll his hips again as he took your hands in his and pinned them against the bed to completely immobilize you- and you let him.

“How’s my little patient doing, hm?” He hummed, kissing down your cheek to your neck. Anywhere he could reach to feel your blood pumping through your veins under his lips.

“I need m-more…still hu-hur -hurts. Please…” You tilted your head to give him better access to your skin.

He hummed again, now feeling his cock growing painfully hard from the slow thrusts inside you.

“Father Paul please…” you whimpered so pathetically, “Breed me- need your cum…ple- ah! Please!”

“Such a greedy thing aren’t you?”

You didn’t care. You nodded and met his thrusts as they grew harsher until the bed was being shoved into the wall.

“Whatever shall I do with you? Hm? I don’t think being bred is going to do anything is it? You’ll come crawling back to me begging for more…” he grinned devilishly at the thought.

You just nodded, aching your back up into him. You could barely even make out words anymore- it was all just an seductive, low hum that make your brain dizzy with need. You had wondered idly before if you could come from the man’s voice alone…and you were about halfway there already in your weakened state.

You were about to murmur out so more nonsense, but the air was knocked out of your lungs when he thrust in you particularly hard. If it weren’t for your heat, you would have screamed in pain, but in that moment it was euphoric.

“More!” You cried, turning your head to the side.

Seeing your throat so exposed made something stir in Father Paul. He could sense your warm blood, like it was teasing him. He ran his tongue along your jugular, and heeded your pleas; driving the tip of his cock as deep inside you as he could over and over.

It all became too much, and Father Paul pulled out, flipped you over and stuffed himself back inside you before you could even gasp. The intrusion made your back arch as you came without warning as soon as he was inside you again. You sobbed as your walls constricted around him, making it even harder for him to thrust into your vice-like pussy. The overstimulation was too much, but the pain was worse, so you bit into another pillow and let him continue to do exactly as you had asked.

The Monsignor lifted your hips high to match his and pushed your upper body further into the pillows, leaving you to grasp at whatever material you could like a lifeline. The Monsignor’s massive hand gripped your hips so tightly as he abused your insides harder and harder, that you could feel bruises already forming.

In this position, your eyes rolled back as he had his way with you, and you knew you were drooling; taking everything he gave you as your mind was completely fucked out. Every nerve in your body was on fire, but now with so much agonizing pleasure that you thought you would black out.

Father Paul let go of one of your hips momentarily to reach into the pocket of his ruined jeans; a slight smirk on his face as he produced his rosary.

“That’s it, little one…that’s my good girl.” He panted- dark curls falling completely down onto his forehead, and clothes tight with sweat as he smoothed his rosary-wrapped hand down your bare back until his fingers were curling around your throat. The beads of the holy item cut into your skin as his palm tightened around your neck- the metal surly leaving deep marks and light cuts that you would later curse him for. But in that moment you might have begged him to wrap you in a bed of thorns.

The Monsignor’s cock was overwhelmingly stroking your sensitive spots as he filled you so well, and you knew you were going to cum again whether you liked it or not. You babbled incoherently to try and tell him, but nothing understandable came out between your lose tongue and his grip on your throat. Paul breathed out a laugh, and grinned at you; a fucked-out mess or not, you were beautiful. Your face twisted in pleasure, and soft body on display for him-

“F-fuuuck- I’m…Father I’m g-go-onna I’m cu-“ you cried out into the pillow below your cheek with what little breath you could get.

Seeing you fall apart from such a submissive position did not prepare the Father for how much pleasure it would bring him- as you gripped his cock again, he couldn’t help but fuck into you even harder- forcing you to take him no matter how tight you were.

But as you clenched and drenched him with your slickness again, he felt himself come undone faster than he could comprehend. It seemed you could feel every pulse of his cock as soon as he did, because you were thrusting your hips to meet his, albeit feebly, and you began your incomprehensible speech again.

Not that Father Paul needed you to tell him what to do. He couldn’t stand to pull out more than an inch as he chased after his high until he was emptying himself inside you again. He leaned fully over you, removing his hand from your neck and placing both palms over yours as your belly swelled further, greedily swallowing everything he gave you.

“Such a good girl…my good girl…you-you’re doing so well.” He murmured into your back, and you whined at the praise as it only added to your need to please him and preen in his adoration, “Glory be…glory be, sweet girl.”

As you both came down from your highs, the air was thick. Both of you panted, and groaned and your bodies still shook from pleasure; your fingers ached from gripping the bedsheets so tightly, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as the agony under your skin had begun to diminish. Father Paul slowly released your hands, and sat up before gently pulling himself from you and helping you to lay on the bed.

“N-no I need y…you to st-ay inside…” you murmured, not able to put up any kind of fight.

“Shh…I know…just rest for a moment princess.” He cooed to you as he placed a pillow under your hips to keep you sufficiently full of his cum.

You nodded lazily and laid there, limp

Father Paul watched you- your heavy breathing, the roll of a bead of sweat on your stomach, your relaxed muscles, the beat of your heart that made your body pulse.

Beautiful.

If only you weren’t so complacent and volatile everyday, and instead opted for more…domestication.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He purred, laying down beside you. He kissed your shoulder, and petted your sweaty hair out of your face; his touch was beyond welcome, and you couldn’t help nuzzling into his palm excitedly.

A content sigh was the only noise you could make for a moment, then your tried your hoarse throat, “Mmm….b…bet-tter…s-still sore…but nice..’n full.” You breathed out.

Father Paul smiled briefly, and nodded, then traced the marks his rosary had left on your neck- little red dots that were quickly darkening. He sighed and let his fingers wander down to your breasts, to your stomach, back up along your ribs which made you twitch. The scent you emitted was still so delicious to him, especially now with the smell of both of your pleasure heavy in the air. He could practically taste it.

Taste.

While the Monsignor was not one to take without permission usually, the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck as you lay limp was all too strong.

He was hungry…painfully hungry. While his lust was sated, the itch in the back of his throat made him thirst.

The more he thought of it, the further he felt his control slip away, deeper and deeper into his mind. His breathing grew heavier until he was panting to smell you, and his hands wandered across your bruised skin greedily. But when he expected you to push him away and call him a self-righteous fraud or something similar, you only mewled and moved closer into his grasp.

“My…I need…” he panted, losing his thoughts to his need.

You nodded and rolled your hips as his fingers dipped inside the mess between your thighs. Not that you knew what he was really talking about, but so long as he was the one making your pain go away and touching you, you would do anything to make sure he didn’t stop.

“Will…will you let m-me-….please…” Father Paul ran his mouth along your shoulder, and curled his fingers inside you, stroking you so carefully.

“A-anyth-ing.” You replied, just as desperate as your weak thighs began to shake and your pussy tightened around his fingers.

He breathed out a sigh of relief- a sudden rush of air against your skin that made you shiver- your nipples painfully pert and goosebumps popping up all across your body.

“Such a…good girl…my good girl..”his rich voice dipped into a low rumble in his chest as he neared your neck- his hearing going quiet bit by bit until all he could hear was the pulsing of your blood. That sweetness he so craved…had craved since he first laid eyes on you. His free hand came up to stroke your jaw and turn your face away from him so he could run his nose along your artery, thumb caressing your chin.

“F-father P-“

His sharp canines entered your neck like a knife through butter.

If it had been possible for your to scream, you would have, but the simple fact was that he had brought you to another climax just as he bit into you…and your exhausted body could not summon more than a breathy moan.

Evidently the noise you made was echoed by the Monsignor as he stroked you through your orgasm, and drank from you greedily. You were the best vessel he had had…the weight and taste of your blood was like no other. Sweet and pungent that make his mind so clear.

He groaned and hummed against your skin as he slowed, and drew his canines from you; gently lapping at the skin there. Then came the kisses, and the soft murmurs that you couldn’t make sense of in your daze but you knew were sweet by the way he wildre his fingers from you and stroked your stomach.

Everything felt so disorienting and off kilter but in a way that might have made you giggle if you weren’t so tired.

Then you felt movement beside you and you managed to turn your head to watch Father Paul almost carelessly remove his white collar and unbutton his shirt. Your fingers itched to rip the garment off of him and burn it, but you opted instead to whistle weakly. It earned you a low chuckle and shake of his head.

You watched him remove piece by piece of his clothes until he was just as bare as you. Then, he gently picked you up like a doll and sat with you in his lap- you hadn’t even registered that he get gotten hard until he eased you down onto him. This time, your mouth released a long, very audible moan; having him back inside you was pure bliss. Father Paul brought your arms up to his shoulders for you, knowing you would likely lull onto his torso if you had nothing to brace yourself with. And then when you stared up at him, you didn’t stop yourself from kissing him when your brain told you to.

He sighed gently against your lips, and took your hips in hand to guide you up and down his length. He could feel your cum-drenched thighs as some began to leak out of you; so perfectly bred.

You mewled into the kiss as you stretched around him, and let him use you. Your little pussy sufficiently abused.

“That feels good doesn’t it? Right there…I’ve got you…” he cooed to you, kissing tears that fell.

When his lips came back to yours, you captured them, kissing him greedily. It was a mess, but you couldn’t get enough. Your tongues lapped at each other, and his teeth caught your lips as you rocked your hips in a desperate need to feel him inside you. His thrusts were so much more gentle, and while you had been sobbing for as much brutality as possible earlier…the tenderness made tears fall from your eyes for different reasons. It was a gentleness you hadn’t felt before in your life…having not had anyone to come to your aid during your heat before, and no one to warm your bed at all…having Paul hold you and kiss you like he needed you as much as you needed him, if only for that moment, was euphoric.

“Please- ah…please father-“ You gasped against his lips as you felt him already twitching inside you. His entire body was pulsing, and you knew he was close. The Monsignor was just as overstimulated as you, and now with your wrapped around him like he always wanted, he couldn’t fight his desires. He had been fighting his orgasm off, but hearing you pant out his title so sweetly sounded more like a lullaby from an angel rather than the sinful need of a young woman.

She didn’t care if she came this last time, she could barely tell if she was or wasn’t anymore with such ecstasy washing through her. But once she uttered those words, and she felt his thrusts stutter again, she found whatever strength she had in her to help him through it; rolling and grinding against him desperately.

“T-thats it…that’s it- Christ that’s it…my perfect girl…” he groaned unabashedly now, holding you to him as he came inside you. With one last thrust, he pushed his cock deep against your cervix just has he had each time, and you sighed as the final bits of pain washed away, and left you feeling full, warm, and more tired that you ever had been.

You slumped against him, completely boneless.

Exhausted.

Your heart beat aggressively against his chest as you nestled into his embrace and placed your face in the crook of his neck. He panted softly, and wrapped his arms around you to keep you there.

“Are you alright, my sweet?” He murmured into your ear. The low rumble of it warmed you.

“Mhmm…” you mumbled; vision going blurry and dark as sleep began to set in.

“Rest.” He said, kissing your head, and lifting one of your wrists to his lips as well.

You disliked listening to Father Paul, but your fight had left hours ago. And as he cradled you, and wrapped you in safety, you couldn’t protest.

Sleep took you seconds later, and Paul grinned to himself. He knew you would go back to hating him in the morning when you awoke; it wouldn’t matter that he took you and laid you on the couch as he cleaned and re-made the bed with fresh sheets and new pillows.

Or that he washed you as best as he could without waking you.

Or that he placed you in said bed all wrapped in a blanket with a towel under you.

It wouldn’t matter.

And he was alright with that.

[colonel-kira-nerys]

After having had some time to ruminate about the first episode of Picard season 3 having all our favorite TNG characters be isolated from each other and not close anymore, I’m even more frustrated, because here’s the thing about making it canon that all of these characters barely spoke to each other again after Nemesis…

It makes no sense, not only within the universe of the show, but outside of it as well! Why would all of the characters come together for Will and Deanna’s wedding in Nemesis, only to hardly ever see or speak to each other again…? Picard asks after Deanna as if he hasn’t spoken to her himself for a while, and he clearly doesn’t know that Will and Deanna’s marriage is strained. He also didn’t seem to be close to Kestra, since she didn't recognize him immediately and he has to remind her why it's silly to aim an arrow at his heart, followed by him forgetting that the first time he met Thad was as a baby, only for Deanna to remind him with a photo as evidence, and then Ensign La Forge is introduced as if Picard has only kept track of her Starfleet Academy career, but has never actually met her…? Like, there’s a professional distance there, that I wouldn’t expect Picard to have with the grown child of someone who had been one of his closest friends? And don’t get me started on Beverly cutting everyone off 20 years ago! Even as the driving force of the conflict of the plot, I hate that writing choice. You’re telling me Picard or Deanna wouldn’t track Beverly down the minute something seemed fishy?? Deanna wouldn’t let her best friend just disappear, without at least trying to find her at some point in those twenty years, would she?

After all, the cast of TNG are all friends in real life! They’ve stayed friends for over twenty years after they stopped working regularly together. They went to each other’s weddings, or rather, they were in each other’s weddings, and Brent Spiner is the godfather of Gates McFadden’s son. They frequently spend birthdays and special occasions together, and when Marina Sirtis’ husband died unexpectedly, they all rushed to her side immediately for support. Then, when her birthday came around, the first without her husband, they all came together to have a socially-distanced and masked party, in the height of Covid, just so Marina wouldn’t be sad and alone on her birthday.

These people are close in real life. These people check up on each other and would never let one of their number go through something difficult alone. Why couldn’t that be true of their characters, as well?Why wouldn’t Picard keep up with his former colleagues and friends? I don’t mind that they all went their separate ways after Nemesis; I mind that now they seem like strangers in each other’s lives!

In the age of technology where you can project holograms of yourself and do the equivalent of FaceTime and Zoom across galaxies, why on earth would they be so unaware of what’s going on in each other’s lives…? Why were children born (and died) without Picard or the others knowing about it? It’s unthinkable to me that these characters would lose touch so completely.

A better story would’ve been that they make a point to come together every year for a reunion, regardless of how busy they are, and everything is all happy and joyful until Beverly Crusher doesn’t show up. Then, all of our favorite characters would already be together when the action of the show starts, and the fact that this is out of character for her to not show up to a reunion after twenty years of attending would drive the urgency of the plot.

I’m available to write for you, Paramount+, if you’re looking for a writer who actually likes these characters and wants them to be happy 🥺

[chaotic-starlight24]

Can we hear any details you have about Rosemary? She seems like a really cool person, I would honestly want to be her friend

Yes, ofc!!! I love rambling about all my ocs :)

She doesn't have as many details as Cynthia does and everything but I'll give you what I have for her at this moment!

Her mother was sister to Cynthia and Joey’s dad

She always dreamed of being a hairstylist and is glad she gets to follow that dream

Her father was always drunk and abusive but the thing with Rosemary was that she wasn’t afraid to fight back for herself and her mother, she never really saw him as her dad

Mother was a very shy and quiet person and just not mentally ok enough to take care of them all after father walked out

She ended up in Tulsa with Tessa when she was invited by Cynthia and Joey since there was an old building up for sale perfect for her salon

Another older woman (Beverly) noticed Rosemary was the only one running her salon and offered to join without the need for getting paid till Rosemary had the money to do so.

She is pretty average height, 5’4-5’5

When she first met Darry she was 16 (so he was 15) and she liked his personality and just his vibe in general, they met at the soda fountain whenever she visited for the first time

Whenever she visited they would chat whenever the gang was hanging out and slowly became better friends, not besties but just good friends

Joey, her, and Cynthia were the first people who heard about the Curtis parents death along with the gang

Even though she didn’t really have a good mother, she still is a very motherly person. She may be independent but that doesn’t mean she lets go of her feminine qualities.

She started helping Darry out when (she gets out of work an hour or so earlier than him) she came by the house to drop some stuff of Soda’s off that he left at the soda fountain. She saw that the house was a mess and the boys weren’t doing much to help out so she started washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Soda and Pony came home to her doing this and were just like “huh?”. She left after the kitchen was clean enough to her and handed Soda his jacket, then left. Darry came home happy to Soda cooking, and the house relatively clean. But when he found out Rosemary cleaned he nearly choked on his food. He insists on leaving little gifts at her door whenever she cleans up. (Bouquet of flowers, chocolate cake, things that are free)

Her salon offers just about everything you could want for hair as well as manicures and pedicures.

She is a naturally titan ginger with rather curly hair. She has dyed streaks of blonde in it though.

She crochets and knits in her freetime, and she has made a lot. Tessa probably has an entire wardrobe of knitted clothing.

She is rather smart but she honestly wasn’t the most interested in school, I mean she is now a hair stylist so she didn’t really need it.

She isn’t the best singer but she really enjoys music and everything so she can be found washing dishes, humming along to Elvis or musical stuff

She will make fun of Cynthia and Dally occasionally whenever they do couple stuff, which means she is in for it whenever her and Darry sit together. You know Cynthia and Soda are just gagging behind them.

Two-Bit is one of her good friends in the gang, they both just enjoy laughing together and Rosemary probably uses dad jokes

Her family is from Lousiana

[backpackingspace]

the sacrificial lamb

A heartbeat of stillness, the horrific realization of just who was who. And who they were all trapped in a room with. Motion on all sides. Alana sliding back off to the side there was nothing she could do. Jack standing to his full height a roar on lips, the others drawing their guns. Hannibal nearly bouncing on the balls of his toes preparing.

And Will …Will through fever and sweat and hallucinations badly conscious and shaking, will let the pendulum fall. It would be a bloodbath, nobody would escape here alive. This strange room was converted into their tomb. 

Will threw himself up, hardly knowing what he was going to do. Hardly able to stand but he moved fast. Alana was here, Beverly was here. He could not let Hannibal have his way which meant he could not let those bullets fly he he 

Will wrapped his arms tight around Hannibal, moving fast enough that the biggest hunter could not kill him on the spot. And burrowed Into Hannibal's space. Embracing him, holding him close. Will buried his face in Hannibal's chest. He didn't want to see. 

"Please" he whispered "Hanniabl don't" 

Here were the facts: 

Hannibal was the ripper 

Hannibal was the copycat 

Hannibal the cannibal had fed them all the evidence there would be nothing left (see. See) 

Hannibal was undeniably in love with Will Graham. 

There were 4 guns trained on Hannibal and Will was sure Hannibal would still win. 

The Whole room froze on a pinnacle. Teetering one way rather than the other. Will could see Jack contemplating shooting Hannibal through will. Could feel the others horrifiedbaffledconfusion. Could feel how tense Hannibal was in his grip. An almost careful hand snaked its way into Will's hair. The hand clamped down and steadily pulled his head back and up, forcing eye contact. 

Will did not shudder. He had already been shaking and how devastating was that realization that he felt steadier against Hannibal than he had in weeks, even with all that had happened. The heartbreak was plain on the good (hilarious) doctor's face. 

"Even as you turn from me" Hannibal murmured , not taking his eyes off Will "you entreat me" 

Will swallowed. Tried to think through the haze of the fever. He had to be careful here but he couldn't lie either. And only partially because Hannibal was sure to spot it. He forced himself to keep making eye contact even though it hurthurthurt. He licked his lips. And said 

"Is this turning from you? I'm literally in your arms" 

The other hand came up to trace Will's cheek. Eventually it cupped his face. Distantly Will heard everybody suck in a breath. He knew that Hannibal was in the perfect position to snap his neck. Will could barely feel it. Just as he had moments before on the screen still playing behind him. The irony was not lost on Will. 

"You did that from them, not because you chose me" 

"And if I did choose you?" Will bargained 

There was a long pause. Will watched as Hannibal visibly came to a decision. 

"Very well. Ask me properly" 

Will fought back a grimace. This fucking bastard.

"Please" he sarcastically said, unable to help it. He batted his eyelashes and everything "don't kill them" 

Hannibal looked amused of all things. That was probably good. Actually it was surprising Will hadn't ended up on Hannibal's table much earlier. He didn't know how not to be rude. 

"I suppose I should have expected such behavior. We are all what we are. " 

"I see what you are" 

"Do you truly?" 

"Most of it" Will admitted "I did as soon as they showed you. There's still prices missing" 

"Clever boy" Hannibal praised. 

The hand shifted from his face to his throat. He nudged Will, turning him to face the room. Will closed his eyes. Hannibal would want him to watch but not yet. Please not yet. He just need a few more seconds to pretend that none of this was happening. Hannibal tightened his grip around Will's throat. Will remembers the doctor's firm grasp as he moved his hands cupping Abigail's throat in much the same way, saving her life. and pulled him closer still, nestling Will Into himself. There was no room between them, they became one, they're boundaries fluid and Will had already been leaking. 

"Now" Hannibal said. Will opened his eyes. 

Hurtbafflemntcunfusionbetralanger hit Will all at once, washing through him. Satisfactionheartbreakanger sinking Into his skin like hooks from behind. Will knew he would pay dearly for this favor but if he could just keep everyone else alive. 

Jack looked enraged. Will could barely look at Alana, the hurt oozing off her. The others a mix between seriously what the fuck and I fucking knew he was creep. Only Beverly looked steadily back. She had kept her gun raised. She looked Will in the eyes and gave him a little nod. She knew what he was doing. And that hurt more than anything. 

"Ms. Katz" Hannibal directed "I would hate to waste good Will's manipulations. Put down the gun" 

She hesitated , looked at Will again, and lowered the gun. And just like that the tension in the air deflated and Will knew Hannibal had won. Nobody would try anything. Will could see it clear as day. Clearer, given everything. Will had (potentially) saved their lives at the cost of a murder walking free and they could all see it. Deal with the devil indeed. But there was no going back now. 

"No going back now dear Will" Hannibal breathed In his ear, echoing Will's thoughts. "Do not make the mistake that I will ever be content to let you go" 

The hand tightened on Will's throat. He could breathe but only just. Everybody could see it. 

"No more climbing walls" Will replied echoing Hannibal’s and Abigail's agreement from earlier. He felt hannibal's sharp smile against his face. 

Hannibal took a step back, so Will took a step back. There would be no separating them now. 

"I believe you are all familiar with this idea. Will will remain right here. And he will die quite painfully if any one tries to undo our lovely deal. " 

The hand tightened again, and Will made a pained choked off sound, his face turning blue. Eventually he eased off seconds before Will passed out. 

"Now I believe we will be trapped here for some time. Will will remain with me. And as a result the rest of you are alive. When we leave you may remain so, so long as you do not look for me. Shall we continue?" 

The screen buzzed back to life. Everybody reluctantly turned towards it. Hannibal took another step backwards dragging Will with him. Carefully he slid down so that he was sitting against the door. Positioning Will so that he was draped in his lap. Only Beverly continued to keep her eyes trained on them, ignoring the screen completely. 

"If your friend tries anything. Then I will kill her" Hannibal mouthed the words against Will's ear, they were for him alone. 

"She won't" Will retorted 

"And uncle Jack will have to go. He will never stop looking for us" 

Will froze. His fingers twitched like he wanted to grasp onto Hannibal and never let go. 

"If you kill him, I promise I will never lay a finger on the others, even if they come after me" 

Will's laugh was a strangled broken thing 

"meaning you'll just send others to do it in your steed" 

Will felt Hannibal smile again, slow and slick and sharp. 

"Clever boy" he practically purred "nonetheless those are your options. Let the others take their chances and kill Jack or I will take care of the inconvenience now" 

"You promised." 

"I did not, dear will. But I will promise now if you so like "

[stassiemontgomery]

" Oh, I'm sorry, sorry that you love me (ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha) Change my mind up like it's origami "

leaving   lipstick   stains   on   collars,   popping   champagne   over   conversations   in  foreign   languages,   and   early   sunday   mornings   sneaking   out   of   stranger’s   beds   to   get   to   get   barre   class ...

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Anastasia Victorie Montgomery NICKNAME(S): Ana, Stassie LABEL: The Ice Princess AGE: 25 DATE OF BIRTH: July 10, 1999 ZODIAC: Cancer Sun, Virgo Rising, Leo Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: English, Russian SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English, French, Russian OCCUPATION: Olympic Figure Skater / Professional Dancer SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic { female preference }

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Jessica Alexander HEIGHT: 5'6" WEIGHT: 121 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Right HAIR COLOR: Strawberry Blonde EYE COLOR: Blue SCARS: None. TATTOOS: None.

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Adroit, Romantic, Loyal, Brave, Compassionate, Passionate, Ambitious, Benevolent, Athletic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Enigmatic, Guarded, Sensitive, Stubborn, Easily Bored, Perfectionistic, Detached. LIKES: Cafes, the sound of records playing, the smell of a new book and the smell of rain, astronomy, nature, cable-knit sweaters, the city lights, messy buns, old drive-ins, traveling, art museums, Shakespeare, Van Gogh, deep conversations, road trips, poetry, midnight runs. DISLIKES: Being told what to do, being the first to show up, being the last to show up, not being taken seriously, someone underestimating her, the cold, feeling rushed, the sensation of being crowded, being called ‘selfish’ or 'ungrateful', restriction of freedom, close-minded people, being talked over, people who sell out, those without passion.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: Atychiphobia DISORDERS: OCD ALLERGIES: Seasonal (Pollen)

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Manhattan, NYC CURRENT RESIDENCE: Beverly Park, Los Angeles, CA EDUCATION LEVEL: BA in Mass Communications FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: -Aurelia Montgomery - 54, Mother -Victor Montgomery - 50, Father

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Chocolate-covered strawberries DRINK: London Fog MOVIE: Black Swan / Marie Antoinette TV SHOW: The L Word, Sex Lives of College Girls, Bridgerton ARTIST/BAND: Tate McRae, The 1975, FLETCHER, Renee Rapp SONG: exes - Tate McRae

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: ENFP ENNEAGRAM: The Pathfinder (7w6) TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good SIN: Pride VIRTUE: Diligence ELEMENT: Fire CHARACTER PLAYLIST

"I'm a wild ride that never stops. I'm a hard case they can't unlock."

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; family dysfunction

When Anastasia was born, her name was given as a path of life. Her mother having had been one of the most famous ballerinas for the Russian Ballet, it only made sense to give her daughter the name of one of the most sought-after roles for dancers. At the time, her parents had no idea just how big of a force she was going to be in the ballet realm. As others took steps, Anastasia took leaps. She was quickly the favorite in every studio she walked into, and she also managed to be the top of her class in academics as well. Even when making the switch from a public school to a prestigious performing arts school when she was in middle school, Anastasia never faltered in the changes in her life. From Clara in The Nutcracker, to Odette and Odile in Swan Lake, her talent well proceeded her and her mother gracefully handed on the baton of the ballet legacy when she retired. Though, Anastasia loved ballet; the discipline and well as the freedom, she also began to struggle when her mother retired. It was then, that she wasn't dancing for herself anymore, but living a life her mother could live vicariously through. At least she still had figure skating. Figure skating was something that was fully Anastasia's. Even when she was first competing, she loved the adrenaline rush that came from being on the ice. After the induction into the NYC Ballet, after touring headlining shows and juggling a social life and her figure skating, Anastasia told her mother that she wanted to pursue a higher education in mass communications. She received a full-ride scholarship (though she didn't need it) for an accelerated program in journalism and mass communications because of her GPA and outstanding SAT scores to NYU. Her father was the one who wouldn't let her pass it up. Suddenly, Anastasia's name is plastered all over the papers when her competition broke their ankle. Now having to compete in a placement that was given to her on a technicality, Anastasia is battling the negative headlines whilst trying to clean her family name. Ana is currently residing in Beverly Park try to get some of the pressure from the press off of her.

► DEEP DIVE

Anastasia is a force to be reckoned with; She's not afraid to speak her mind, and competition runs in her veins. If she wants something, she goes and gets it, and may no one get stuck in her path. Though she can be intense in these ways, she also has a warmth to her that draws people in. Elegant, soft, and almost whimsical - Anastasia can never truly fit in anywhere. If anything, she sticks out like a sore thumb. This aspect about her either makes her well-loved or disliked (some may write her off as pretentious or snobby), depending on the person. She loves art history due to her father being an art historian and growing up listening to all sorts of foreign fairytales and mythology. She's a hopeless romantic, but tends to self sabotage relationships. She enjoys dancing in the rain and making life cinematic at any and every opportunity. She's genuinely kind, and at the end of the day she'll make anyone laugh without knowing she's being funny. She's just drawn as a villian but has such a soft girl vibe.She's just guarded to a default due to coming from old money on her father's side and experiencing people trying to use her/them to get to the fortune.

[thegeminisage]

oh boy it IS. tng update time. tonight, just under an hour ago, we finished watching "chain of command" parts i & ii. i'm not differentiating between them even though one had. WWWWAY more nudity than the other. hey did you guys know tng can occasionally pop the FUCK off

to me this episode felt like a backdoor pilot to ds9 which we will be doing tomorrow because it had cardassians in it and basically the only thing i know about ds9 is that gay cardassian that wants to fuck the doctor. and he's like the definition of the predatory gays/predatory gaze joke from what i have seen from gifs. so i was expecting like, some minor cardassian shenanigans and mild flirtiness

holy shit.

like girl when i tell you my tits got blown clean off

normally i complain there's too much downtime and technobabble in tng. there was not an OUNCE of fat on this episode. from start to finish we went at 500mph

like, we open with the guy taking away picard's command. and you're like oh no a demotion! but then it's COVERT OPS and also a suicide mission???

and the guy who takes over is a war-mongering bastard with a dubya accent idk how they predicted that in 1992 but GREAT job. i really loved to hate him, and one of my only nitpicks with this episode is that he didn't get more of what should have been coming to him

we acted this episode. will riker grinding his teeth every time he spoke to this guy. deanna's worried looks. beverly feeling guilty for leaving picard behind. i was actually complaining about patrick stewart not emoting when she was stuck in that little hole but now i understand. he had to save it for the FUCKING payload

ROLE REVERSAL FOR THE WOMEN. deanna got to wear a real uniform and beverly got to flirt her way out of a Situation. i love deanna's uniform, even if it is too tight around the chest. i think that's preferable to it being too tight around her crotch and leading to the horrific c*melt*e situation (sorry to say it like that). her hair also looked great this ep. so did bev's weirdly??? women's rights.

data didn't have much to do in this episode except accidentally give geordi more work which made me sad but it WAS wild to see him in a red shirt. i'll miss him until it's time to watch tng again

the little infiltration was charming. worf and beverly teasing each other about heights and bats. even the cave-in. picard getting left behind because worf tried to hold the door open like that guy in narnia and got SHOT.

i loved the guy who was doing the peace talks. he had the most unsettling horrific smile i've ever seen in my life. STAN a legend.

truly though even though i enjoyed the first half of the episode and thought it was solidly watchable the second half is what elevated it into mind blowing territory.

and like first of all it must be said: picard buck ass naked. computer show me image

i want you to imagine that you are 1. profoundly sleep deprived 2. have been complaining about the lack of sex in this show for six and a half seasons 3. do not find this man remotely physically attractive 4. AND the only thing you know about cardassians is gifsets of the guy from ds9 wanting to fuck the little doctor guy 5. you are PROFOUNDLY sleep deprived. only then can you imagine a fraction of the depths of my hysteria

i actually laughed so shrilly and loudly discord MUTED me cathy was like youve been silent for like 30 seconds are you still THERE. i laughed so hard i quite literally cried. we had to pause it for ten entire minutes. not even because it was funny i was just like. SHOCKED.

THEY REALLY WENT ALL IN ON THIS. it was like something out of a fanfic. a BAD fanfic. like those whump fics where guys get captured and made into sex slaves. EXCEPT PATRICK STEWART WAS ACTING!!!!! like it got SO SERIOUS so QUICK

i just now skimmed an article that said patrick stewart himself did research on torture and also went all in ie filming nude fr. the dedication came through in the work i wish tng could be like this always

bro like. the part where he could have walked out but thought bev was still captive. the part where he was was like YOU'RE SIX YEARS OLD AND YOU CAN'T HURT ME. when he got the torturer to call him by his real name. when he ate the live worms or whatever they were i couldn't look. when they got to talking about that guy's daughter. like we literally got the best of both worlds. picard reverse uno'd him at every turn and kept his wits about him and then in the end he BROKE ANYWAY

THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS, BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!

i was like. oh my god.

listen to me when he said it i was a little disappointed. i could see in his face given another 30 seconds he would have said five. i said OUT LOUD to catherine they should have showed us a shot of five lights and then had him say four anyway. but him saying four defiantly was still so so so good

BUT THEN. AT THE END. when he was like. deanna. i said four, but i saw five

THAT'S THE THESIS STATEMENT OF THE EPISODE. THAT TORTURE DOESNT GIVE YOU INFORMATION JUST WHAT THE TORTURER WANTS YOU TO SAY

AND THEN THEY JUST ROLLED CREDITS.

AND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's so wonderful-awful that that guy KNEW picard was getting release and STILL he felt the need to finish the conditioning, which i assume was meant to get picard to fake-confess to killing 55 men women and children like that one guy said. like, he didn't have time to record that confession. he JUST wanted to break him, and that was all. i bet he thinks about it all the fucking time. the one that got away.

again, i wish dubya knockoff hadn't been responsible for his release. i REALLY wanted riker to do a mutiny. but there just wasn't time. i am still glad riker got to give him shit but like we deserved more comeuppance truly bc he SUCKED SO BAD. also like lmaoooo at ANYONE saying starfleet is a science peaceful organization now. they're warmongers! they're no different from mirrorverse not really

aside from that though it was absolutely flawless. one of the best tng episodes possibly THE best tng episode. i feel so completely satisfied and also grateful that we will be watching ds9 next because going from this to another fucking barclay episode (the next tng one) would ruin me. i need TIME!!!

TOMORROW: ds9's "emissary," parts 1 & 2 !!!

we're going in release order, so now our watch schedule will look something like...

two at a time. that's gonna mess us up for "birthright" but we'll cope somehow

[terrence-silver]

What do you think Terry’s bedroom would look like? I’d love to know how you think they’d look throughout the different eras <3

---

― What do we know about Terry as a kid? Born somewhere in the 50's, stemming from old money, possibly from multigenerational (very traditional?) dynastic wealth, I think his bedroom reflects that. Could've been a bit way too large for a young boy. Think colossal. A colossal Persian carpet. Colossal velvet draped windows. Ornate furniture. A bit way too lavish. Intimidating even for adults, least of all a child. Could've had all the airs of a rented Astoria suit for all we know. Like it was stuck in time, style-wise. Maybe a bit devoid of personal belongings, and while he might've had all the books, all the vetted, chosen and approved toys, all the trinkets, a spacious wardrobe full of tailored suits intended for a kid purely because his parents wanted to him to broadcast and image worthy of a Silver and always be presentable, I feel his room was empty for the mos part. Empty in a sense that it felt more like a lavish, extremely high-end, regal midcentury catalogue of a '''children's room''' rather than an actual children's room someone lived in; always tidy, perfect, admirable, awe-inspiring, controlled and immaculate and I think Terry was to discard of all childlike sentiments like toys very early on life because it was seen as unbecoming, possibly by his despotic father. Which in turn, made the room even more of a museum. A beautiful, extremely opulent museum, but a museum nonetheless. Of course, young Terry, or rather Twig, who came home from Vietnam to this, never lacked a thing, but I feel he wasn't really allowed to be a kid like any other kid, and he grew up in a bedroom like this:

― Of course, he carried on the taste for the finer things in life he was raised on right into the 80's and legitimately bought out a 20's brutalist Mayan-temple looking structure that was the root for a great many urban legends about it being haunted over the decades --- which might've been the selling point for Terry, to be honest, as I see him with someone with a very dark and morbid sense of humor. A haunted mansion atop of Beverly Hills which now, he in turn, can haunt? Sold! Of course, the very interiors of Ennis House which he presided in mainly, undoubtedly one of dozen places he owned, were extremely concrete made. Harsh. All bricks. All blocks. Shapes. All precise, measured, controlled and geometrical in pattern; which is, symbolically, a perfect fit for Terry, who is all corporate, calculated and a shrewd, Machiavellian Yuppie businessman in this time in his life, at the height of his game. His bedroom is just like that too, possibly even emptier than when he was a child, possibly Spartan, one would say. Minimalist and brutalist. Nothing much in there, except a huge, opulent bed, a fireplace and majestic square windows overlooking the skyline of LA. Everything is there for a reason. If Terry comes in there, he comes in there to sleep, which is a physical necessity, or to fuck, which is also a physical necessity, and practically meticulous and micromanaging as he is, he doesn't feel the need to put anything in there that might distract from the perfect order of things he designed in his mind. The result: a womb-like dungeon.

― Terry post-therapy? Reinvented Terry? Repressed Terry? Terry who neutered himself strategically? Terry who de-fanged himself to hide in plain sight? Dietary Terry? Green mindful Terry? Terry for a new, socially conscious age? Terry the Good Billionaire Silver? Friendly neighborhood business mogul retiree Terry? I think he understands the power of fashion, aesthetics, environment, suggestion, and he always has, which is why Terry in this period of time opts to make his Malibu sea-side home and by extension, his bedroom, look and feel safe. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. His estate is like a million other upper class estates you've ever seen anywhere else in all it's sleek Air Bnb glory. Nothing stands out. There is almost nothing unusual about it. He has artwork. He has a piano. He has balconies. And a wine cellar. A nice view. Wow. All the markers of wealth are there, minus the eccentricity and the sense of self, necessarily, which has elements of tragedy to it; everything is only slightly downplayed. There's a disconnect between house and owner. Even the piano he plays is only slightly too small for his size. His breakfast slightly too depressive. His connections slightly too fake. His dates have him going down to the wine basement to kick bottles into the wall in frustration. It's all beautiful and lovely and...expected? Industrial beige. Pastel. A scary type of clean and hygienic that is almost impossible to achieve. Terry is the male answer to a Stepford Wife. A Stepford man. His bedroom is that of a modern Stepford man too; minimalist, pale, white and cool. If Terry's individuality was nowhere to be seen it would've been in this period in his life specifically.

― Terry after he resumed along his old ways and habits? Turns out, Terry has been maintaining a full-blown separate mansion outside of the Malibu one entirely decked out with cobra decanters, Japanese historical Samurai swords, daggers, historic antiques and artwork, blades, armors, Kendo equipment, and hoo, boy, he has an actual lair he kept untouched for goodness knows how long. Maybe for decades even. Suffice to say, the aesthetic differences between the manor where he entertains the trite Tofu crowd and the manor where he invites Chozen over for dinner are starkly different and by the looks of it, the manor where Chozen is invited to seems like it fits infinitely closer to Terry's sensibilities as a whole and is just riddled with individuality to a staggering degree; a copious amount. Shamelessly displaying Terry's interests. All of them. Like has been using this house to collect everything he ever cared about, everything that fascinates him, almost like an overly eager kid stashing all those toys he was forced to give up way too early, doing so away from scrutiny and public eye and judgement, which is why it could've been so anger-inducing when it was broken into due to the fact it served as something of a safe-space for Terry; tucked away at what seemed like a forested patch of somewhere, all black wood and tiles, black marble hypermodern fountains, doorless walls, earthlier tones, veneers and barriers separating rooms from one another, this estate is avantgarde retreat and I figure the bedroom is just like that too. Finally, just as dark as Terry likes it:

[scotianostra]

Bay City Roller Alan Longmuir was born at Simpson Memorial Maternity Pavilion Hospital Edinburgh on June 20th 1948.

Alan Longmuir was born in Edinburgh, one of four children of Duncan and Georgina Longmuir, who encouraged their interest in music. His father was an undertaker who allowed Alan to wear his top hat and long frock coat when performing for guests at the family home.

Alan and his younger brother, Derek – the Rollers’ future drummer – went to Tynecastle high school, which Alan left at 15. After a year of office work he was apprenticed as a plumber, but the job was secondary to his yearning to be a musician, he eventuallyt hit the big time as the bassist and founding member of the Bay City Rollers, the band that hit the heights of pop fame in the 1970s, of his fame he said he was “Just a plumber from Edinburgh who got lucky” .

The group he started in 1964 dominated mid-70s pop both in Britain and internationally, selling around 100m records – the precise total, and royalties owed the band, have never been established, spawning a long-running dispute with their former record label and their late manager Tam Paton.

In their peak year, 1975, they had two UK No 1 singles, including the signature hit Bye Bye Baby; the end of that year saw them top the American chart with the stomping Saturday Night – a foundational influence on the Ramones. When they played live, fans showed their appreciation by breaking seats; consequently, many venues refused to book them. They were the biggest pop sensation since the Beatles, and of the pop idols who have followed, only One Direction have inspired quite the same frenzy.

Like the rest of the Rollers, Longmuir, the band’s bassist, felt trapped by fame and the concomitant erosion of their privacy. Unlike the others, he refused to observe their manager’s edict against drinking alcohol and having girlfriends. In 1976, he was sacked because he was “too old and too hard to control”, according to Simon Spence’s 2016 biography The Dark History of the Bay City Rollers. Longmuir himself said: “I had a fallout with [manager Tam Paton] because I wanted to get a life.”

The public were told that he had chosen to go; in his first photo session as an ex-Roller, he wore a three-piece business suit – tantamount to sticking two fingers up at the band, who were forced to wear matching tartan outfits during all public sightings.

After his departure from the group in 1976, he released a solo single, I’m Confessing, but spent much of his time fishing and looking after his horses on his farm in Dollar, Clackmannanshire.

He viewed the 70s with wry humour, saying in 2008: “I remember sitting at the bar of the Beverly Hills hotel – there was Patrick Magee, Barbra Streisand, David Soul – and Alan Longmuir, the plumber from Edinburgh.”

In 1978, Paton asked him to rejoin, thinking that Longmuir, then nearly 30, would exert a stabilising influence. He left again in 1983, and repeated the process several times, he returned to working as a plumber and from 2000 until retirement was a bylaws inspector. His fringe show debuted in 2014 and came back to the festival every year since .

The band again reunited for a successful 2016 reunion tour.

Alan Longmuir passed away two years later on July 2nd 2018, in Mexico where he was on holiday with his wife Eileen.

At the time of his death, the band were again inactive, and he was working on the latest version of his successful Edinburgh fringe show, a music-and-memories production called I Ran With the Gang. He was also preparing an autobiography for release later that year.

[honeytoast]

『 ROBERT SHEEHAN, CIS MALE, HE/HIM 』wait a second! isn’t that ( ISAAC MCCORMICK ) who just walked into jack’s bar? rumor around town is that the local is approaching their (  EIGHTEENTH ) year in virgin river. in the meantime, you can find the ( THIRTY-THREE ) year old working as an ( ENGLISH TEACHER & AUTHOR ) at ( VR HIGH SCHOOL ). rumor around town is that ( HE ) has a reputation for being a little ( LOQUACIOUS ), but they make up for it by being ( ALTRUISTIC ). 』

Hi, I'm Effie! It's been a bit since I've written in a group setting or at all so I'm very excited to be here writing with you all. I do want to share that I do suffer from pretty severe social anxiety so if I do take a while to respond to a message, please don't think I'm ignoring you. I assure you I'm probably just working up the courage to respond. Enough about me though. If you would love to learn more about this loquacious little shit please click that read-more link below ⤵

Basics:

full name: Isaac McCormick nickname: Is pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man sexuality: pansexual birth date: January 7, 1990 birthplace: Beverly Hills, California occupation: High School English Teacher at VR High School & author family: Violet Fern McCormick (daughter), Alexander McCormick (father, somewhat estranged), Fern McCormick (mother, deceased), Marianne O'Connell (maternal grandmother, deceased), Arthur O'Connell (maternal grandfather, deceased), Iggy Pawzalea (dog) height: 6’0” weight: 154 lbs hair color: Brown eye color: Green

Biography:

Trigger Warnings: death tw, mental health tw, suicide attempt tw (mentioned vaguely), hospital tw (mentioned briefly), parental death tw, teenage pregnancy tw, car accident tw

The first, and ultimately only, child of an affluent young couple, Isaac was born and raised primarily in Beverly Hills, California. Being their only child, his parents doted on him, giving him just about anything and everything he could possibly want. This didn't mean, however, that he grew up spoiled. Unlike his father, his mother wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth so it was important to her that their son knew not only the worth of a dollar but the meaning of hard work.

Growing up, the home they shared was full of love and laughter, and for the first fourteen years of his life, everything was perfect. The day everything changed began as any other. Isaac had been feeling sick for about a week, barely eating or leaving his bed so when he was finally feeling better, his mother was more than happy to fulfill any breakfast request he had that morning. He had decided to ask for his favorite thing; chocolate chip pancakes, but after realizing they were out of chocolate chips, his mom decided to take a quick trip to the store with Isaac along for the ride. It was on the way there that everything changed. Their car was struck by a truck that blew through the light. While Isaac was injured but came out alive, his mother wasn't so lucky.

Following the passing of his mother, Isaac fell into a deep depression. He blamed himself for her death and though his father did not, he withdrew, burying himself in work to distract from the loss of his wife. In an instant, the warm and loving home he once knew was replaced by the shell of what once was. For months, Isaac struggled with the all-encompassing grief and guilt he felt over the death of his mother, and just a month or so shy of his fifteenth birthday, he decided he couldn't take it anymore.

It was a member of the staff that found him and after a short stay in the hospital followed by a stay in a psychiatric program, Isaac was sent to live with his grandparents from his mother's side in Virgin River per his grandmother's request. At first, Isaac was angry. he thought it was bullshit that his father would ship him off to the middle of nowhere, but with time, he realized it was the best decision for him. Though it took time and a lot of therapy, things started to get better for Isaac. While the guilt and pain he felt over his mother's passing never truly subsided, he made room for it, and in time, he slowly began to find joy in life again. He made friends and even grew to like Virgin River. Sure, it was boring as shit for a teenager, but he soon found that there was a sort of peace that could be found in the surrounding nature. That, and he met a girl.

The two of them began as nothing more than friends, but with time they developed feelings for one another. Before long, they were positively inseparable and nauseatingly in love. So, it really shouldn't have been all that surprising when the two sixteen-year-olds discovered that they were going to be parents. For two weeks, they grappled with what to do in secret before deciding that they would keep their baby and raise her together. Naturally, their families were less than thrilled. It didn't take long after that before everyone in town knew, because if there was one thing the people of Virgin River were incapable of doing, it was keeping a secret. For weeks, it was all people could talk about, but with time it faded. Sure, there was still the occasional resident that gave a judgmental look or passing remark, but after a couple more “scandals”, the excitement seemed to die down.

Before Isaac knew it, nine months had passed, and the two became the terrified parents of a healthy baby girl whom they named Violet Fern after his late mother. Then two weeks later, Isaac found himself a single parent after Violet's mother took off with nothing but a letter to say goodbye. He was heartbroken and angry, but in time he understood. After all, taking care of a baby was a lot for anyone, much less someone who was still a child themselves. With the help of his grandparents and a little help from the residents of Virgin River, Isaac raised his daughter as a single parent. Though it was hard, he managed to graduate high school and even went on to college all while balancing parenthood.

After graduating college, he began working as an English teacher at the local high school. Though he originally got into teaching because it was what his mother did for a living and it helped him keep a similar schedule to his daughter when she started school, he found that he loved the job. He enjoyed not only teaching but also helping students discover and explore their love of reading and writing. The years passed quickly and before he knew it his baby girl was a sixteen-year-old teenager.

During that time, not all that much changed. He was still working as a teacher at the high school and also began a prolific career as an author. Despite doing well for himself, he and Violet stayed living with his grandparents. At first, it was because he was still young and struggling to find that balance between work and parenthood, but by the time he felt confident enough to move to a place of his own, his grandfather passed. Not wanting to leave his elderly grandmother alone, he chose to stay living with her to help her when needed. Following her passing a year ago, Isaac had the choice to sell the house and move elsewhere but chose to not only keep their home but continue living there. A choice he occasionally questions when his late grandmother’s friend sends him on blind dates after she made them promise to help him find someone nice to settle down with. While he hates those dates, he continues to go on them for fear that his grandmother may haunt him if he doesn’t.

Additional tidbits:

As a child, Isaac dreamed of becoming a professional chef. His mother loved to cook and passed that love on to him. While he didn’t end up pursuing a career as a chef, he still loves to cook and bake for those he cares for. He’s very much a stress baker. Usually, those baked goods end up in his class for his students to enjoy, but if you’re friends with him, you’re guaranteed to be gifted baked goods as well.

While Isaac escaped the car wreck that took his mother’s life relatively unscathed, he did suffer severe hearing loss in his right ear. Because of this, he often wears a hearing aid to help, but even that doesn’t allow him to hear everything. Due to his hearing loss, he occasionally drifts to the right when he walks. He has improved this with time, but if he’s distracted while going somewhere, he will still drift slightly. It’s best to keep to his left when walking with him to avoid being bumped into.

Isaac was and continues to be an avid reader. More often than not he can be seen tucked away with a book, reading and scribbling notes in the margins during his free time.

As a teacher, Isaac cares deeply for his students. He does his best to make sure every student’s needs are being cared for. Whether that is something as simple as ensuring that they understand what they are being taught or being there to listen to whatever problems they have in or outside of school. In his class, he has everything from snacks or drinks to personal care items in case any of his students may not have access to those things at home.

Isaac is an incredibly compassionate and giving person. He often anonymously donates to charity and loves to volunteer whenever needed. He even goes as far as to force his father to donate to charities and organizations often, wanting nothing more than to do some good and make the world a better place. His therapist thinks this may have to do with the guilt he still feels over his mother's death, but he insists it doesn't. He just wants to make the world a better place for when he eventually does leave.

Despite essentially being a trust fund baby, Isaac doesn’t live his life lavishly. He still lives in his grandparents’ old home with his daughter and prefers to live a quiet and simple life.

Personality:

+ compassionate, loyal, creative, and intelligent

-headstrong, loquacious, flirtatious, and pathologically altruistic

Isaac is a deeply passionate and selfless person. He goes all in for those he cares for, whether they are family, a friend, or even just a student of his. While he is normally as laid back as they get, he never hesitates to stand up for the things he believes in and hopes to instill that same passion in his daughter. A hopeless romantic at heart, he loves love, and hopes to one day find someone to share his life with, but is also afraid to open his heart up again. Especially since becoming a father, knowing that he can't bring just anyone around his daughter. That being said, the boy is a shameless flirt but he has somewhat gotten that under control as he's gotten older. He dislikes cops, believes in equal rights for all, and very much advocates for the reading of banned books. Especially those written by marginalized communities. In his free time, he loves spending as much time with his daughter as he can and hopes with everything in him that he's raising a strong independent woman who is not afraid to use the voice her mother gave her. All in all, Isaac is easy to get along with and does his very best to make the world a better place. Even if it's something as small and simple as donating to charities or helping the students in his class with whatever they need.

Potential Connections:

The best friend(s): (0/2?) Someone he is ride or die with. Could be someone he has known since high school or someone he has known for only a little while. Platonic soulmates who are always over each other’s houses. Perks include copious amounts of baked goods, a shoulder to cry on, & one good ear to listen to your problems.

Ex’s: (0/?) Admittedly he doesn’t have many of these. Aside from Violet’s mother, he hasn’t dated all that much, but these two dated for a while. Could be a few months to a couple years. They could have ended up as friends or enemies. Either is fun.

Ex blind dates: (0/?) He’s been on many. The possibilities are endless. Did they hit it off but not work out? Was it super awkward and now they avoid each other when possible? Did they hook up and then go their separate ways?

Enemies: (0/?) Not sure he would have many of these, but always love a little tension. This could have stemmed from something as small as a “stolen” parking spot to a long-simmering feud between the two. Maybe a blind date that went horribly awry. Idk. Flirtation or the start of something: (0/1) It’s no secret that Isaac flirts with just about anything with a heartbeat, that’s just how he is, but while most of it is just friendly flirtation this might be different. Could develop into more or just remain his favorite person to flirt with.

Violet’s mother: (0/1) I might put this out as a wanted connection. The two dated in high school and after having Violet, she left town with only a letter to say goodbye. He has mixed feelings about her. On one hand, he is still a little angry, but for the most part, he understands. Raising a kid is a lot of work and they were just kids after all. They haven’t seen each other in years and while he thinks about her often, he decided to not try and find her. Deep down, he may still have feelings for her after all this time.

Anything and everything. I know there is plenty I’m forgetting but it is late so I’m open to anything!

Aesthetics:

Big bear hugs, notes crammed in the margins of worn paperbacks, heart-shaped lollipops, messy beds, warm chocolate chip cookies, scars faded with time, twinkling fairy lights, a worn leather jacket with patches hand-sewn on with dental floss, chipped nail polish, cheerful laughter, and the ache of loss.

Pinterest | Playlist (to be added)

[winderlylandchime]

1/2 Finally 4x01!!! The new intro started playing and he got up so fucking fast as if he was watching a game ‘WAIT WHAT?! THIS IS DIFFERENT! OH MY GOD THIS IS COOL AS FUCK! I like this more!! *tries to sing along while not knowing the song* ..cue…BEGIN…pulse..YEAH i fuck with this. And of course the intro ends on Brian walking away. He is the moment!’ ‘Ohhhh Drag Queen moment! I fuck with this. Hi BRIAN! Look at them just hanging out in THEIR loft, damn he is broke as fuck, huh? *said in an affectionate aww type of voice* THEY ARE PARTNERS! He really hates accepting any type of help, huh? Brian maybe you should listen to your own advice from two seasons ago about a man knowing when to accept help. Wait shit, i just remembered the nothing noble about being poor thing. Well fuck Brian’ It briefly showed Mel and Linds and he was so disappointed until Britin popped up again ‘this is what I want every episode, Brian and Justin. And that’s it’ ‘I am genuinely surprised that Hunter and Mike haven’t killed each other. Proud of them’ ‘Brian having lunch with Ben and Linds AND mel? Is he okay? Aw Brian and Justin being sarcastic is one of my favorite things in the world. (Deb says Mikey and her talk 3x a day) Okay, three times a day is…yeah. I mean even I don’t..actually never mind. OH HE IS GONNA KILL EVERYONE IF THEY DONT STOP PITYING HIM. But Bri Bri you are broke as a jok- HA he is gonna steal Bald dudes clients’ ‘i like this drag queen singing in between moments. Its been a while since I went to a drag show. I wonder if they miss me back home..i mean i did tell them I was leaving but still, i hope they miss me- oh ted. I was trying to forget that horrible party-BLAKEY! I’m so happy that he’s good now. EMMETT! Im glad he came to visit but I rea- Ted what the hell is wrong with you? He didn’t do shit wrong to you, why are you being bitchy? No Emy no, blakey didnt do anything wrong. But damn it i get Emy is hurt but fucking hell this isnt it. GIVE ME BRIAN BACK’ brian shows up on screen with Vance ‘HA WHAT DID I SAY? I CAN FEEL WHEN MY BOY IS UP! Wait that..sounds..weird. Of course he looks great, he always does. Oh so now you love him, fuck you baldy, Brian youre better than this. I like his hair. *does jazz hands* spikey. Oh baldy knows that Brian could destroy him if he pulls a Justin Timberlake and goes solo. DO IT BRI BRI! I didnt plan on him having his own company but DO IT!!!!’ ‘How did Mike already lose Hunte- HES HUSTLING AGAIN? *randomly starts laughing* It’s really funny hearing Mike call him little asshole when they’re the same height.’ Ted and Blake are on right now where he’s cleaning the floor ‘ohhhh i think this is gonna be bad. I hope im wrong because i like Blakey but this is looking like you know that thing where you get a crush on your savior or your therapist or something like that? I know my shit..i think’ ‘OH MY GOD WHAT DID THEY DO TO BRIANS CAR? Id rip their head off? I mean the car sucks but damn. Wait i forgot to focus on the important stuff: Brian looks good as fuck! CAN HE STOP KISSING HIM?’ ‘ITS BRIAN AGAIN!(Brian says ‘because no ones close friendship means more to me than yours’) aww Bri Bri, i feel the same way. Im glad you can agree that we have a deep connectio- OH HE IS GONNA GO SOLO! HES PULLING A BEYONCÉ! YOU GO GIRL! I really like the drag queen moments.. i miss my girls back home, i gotta call them.’ ‘AW JUSTIN CAME UP WITH THE COMPANY NAME!! KINNETIK! I fuck with that. I think i need a new shirt (i said No at this point) *looks at me and does jazz hands* merch. Of course Blondie is the one to help him come up with the name. LOOK AT THEM ALL HAPPY AND IN LOVE! Aw they wanna hang out with Emy! I NEEDED THIS TRIO! Make them hang out like when they danced together. The new dream team!’

The new intro! It really reminds me of the OG intro to the OG Beverly Hills 90210 (not to date myself).

It is so hard to watch Emmett and Ted during this arc.

Brian looks sooooooo good in S4.

OH HE IS GONNA GO SOLO! HES PULLING A BEYONCÉ! Truly, I looked it up and she went solo in 2003 right as this was being filmed (if I've got my timelines correct).

AND YES JUSTIN CAME UP WITH KINNETIK. He's named both Gus and Kinnetik (swoon).

The new dream team - I wish!

[thirtecnth]

(Sarah Gadon) THE BIBLIOPHILE. Please welcome BEVERLY TORRANCE  (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 32-year-old VISITOR who lives in TOWN. You may see them around working as a ENGLISH/HISTORY TEACHER AT HUNTSVILLE HIGH. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

( *tw - religious trauma, parental abuse, emotional/physical abuse mention )

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Beverly Elise Torrance NICKNAMES: Bev, Bevy, Bevs, Miss Beverly, Eve, Evs AGE: 32 years old DATE OF BIRTH: September 13th SEXUALITY: Straight(?) Bisexual STATUS: Gatherer

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5′ 4″ HAIR: Blonde EYE COLOR: Blue

BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Saint George, Utah INCOME STATUS: Upper Class (previous) FATHER: John Torrance MOTHER: Judith Torrance SIBLINGS: Gideon Torrance ( younger ), Arthur Torrance ( younger ), Elizabeth Torrance ( younger ) SIGNIFICANT OTHER: N/A HOBBIES: Reading, writing, collecting antique novels, fashion, hiking, bird watching

TRAITS

[+] Affable, Imaginative, Sociable [-] Weak-willed, Worrisome, Hesitant

STORY POINTS

Bev grew up in a small town outside Saint George. She’s a small-town girl at heart but her dreams were always larger than that. 

She wanted to explore and see the world -- be in the same places that her favorite authors always wrote. Because of this, she frequently found herself exploring her town and neighboring for new secret spots.

Her family was well off, she was always taken care of and so were her siblings. The only thing was that they were also highly religious and frequently took them all to church.

They were strict on her when it came to any relationship. It got to the point of detriment when she began to find any interest in boys. She was never a very shy girl and loved to spend time with people, but her parents always assumed the worst.

It grew to a head when they forced her to date an older boy from their church rather than anyone else she had taken an interest in. He had proposed after about 5 months and they stayed that way for quite some time. It was in this relationship that she was emotionally / physically abused.

The final straw came when she caught him cheating on her. The second it happened, she left everything and went to a college far, far, away from Saint George. She would often write to her siblings, but she never spoke to her parents again. They tried to call, but only ever filled up her inbox.

Her passion for writing and reading only grew. She found herself double majoring in Education and English with a passion for becoming a teacher. Her parents were no longer supporting her, so it was a long and difficult route, but when she found herself finally at graduation, it was a beautiful experience. She didn’t need anyone else. She had herself.

However, she frequently overly criticized herself. She didn’t think anything she did was any better than anything anyone else could do. It was hard. It took the help of a friend in college for her to realize how good she actually was when it came to writing and possibly teaching English.

When it was all finished and she had finally become what she always dreamed of, she searched for something familiar and eventually stumbled upon Huntsville in 2017. By then, she had a passion for teaching and experience-- so she had a great feeling about starting here... Now, she's just constantly searching for ways to keep her students safe.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

1. Siblings: Perhaps they also wanted a chance at getting away from their parents and wanted to find Beverly. She wrote and called them frequently, so their relationship would've been close before the contact suddenly stopped, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t feel abandoned by her and didn’t know why she left in the first place. 

2. Childhood Friend / Old Classmate: Someone who, by coincidence, found themselves in the same town. Beverly had been the Prom Queen her senior year, so she was rather well-known in town. It must have been a wonder as to why she would have left. Maybe they lost touch!

3. Students / Past Students: I’m sure she would be rather close with all of her students -- study sessions and discussing things with them would come naturally. She also is a huge fan of helping them if they’re having trouble in real life rather than student life. (Think the teacher who always let you eat in their classroom and had peanut butter, bread, and jelly if you were hungry.)

4. Coworkers: She loves to get in touch with them for collaborations or even for drinks at night. It’s a way for her to relax and get to know the people she’s around. Honestly, just a bubble of happy mom-friend energy. Love it.

5. Exs: She would have had a kind of boyfriend that she dated before him and was probably forced to break up with him... Maybe it's time to rekindle that kindness. Easily could have boyfriends from college that showed up too.

…More to come, I’m sure!

[shannendoherty-fans]

Shannen Doherty Tears Up as She Receives a Standing Ovation During the 'Beverly Hills, 90210' Panel at 90s Con

The 'BH, 90210' cast came together once again at 90s Con, this time in Tampa, Florida, with Doherty giving fans an update on her cancer journey

By Nikki Dobrin andAlexia Fernández

Published on September 17, 2023 05:29PM EDT

Shannen Doherty had an emotional reunion with her Beverly Hills, 90210 castmates this weekend.

Original cast members from the popular '90s teen drama — including Doherty, Tori Spelling, Jason Priestley, Jennie Garth, Ian Ziering, Brian Austin Green and Gabrielle Carteris — came together on stage Sunday to discuss the series and take questions from fans during a 90s Con panel hosted by PEOPLE Senior Editor Breanne L. Heldman in Tampa, Florida.

Toward the end of the panel, Doherty, who has stage 4 breast cancer, received a standing ovation from the audience, causing her to tear up.

"Thank you so much," an emotional Doherty, 52, said to the crowd. "You guys know how much I love crying constantly. And I do, it seems. So, thank you."

In June, Doherty shared that the cancer had spread to her brain and posted a video on Instagram of her undergoing radiation therapy. She had a tumor removed from her head after a CT scan determined that the cancer cells spread from their original site to the brain. "I have a fight for my life, that I deal with every day," Doherty said on Sunday. "I think I am really great."

Doherty joked about something else she thinks she's great at. "My other profession is getting engaged, married and divorced, and I'm doing that very well," said the star, who split in April from her third husband, photographer Kurt Iswarienko after 11 years of marriage.

Next up, Doherty — best known for starring as Brenda Walsh on Beverly Hills, 90210 andPrue Halliwell on Charmed — will launch a podcast in November.

"It’s going to be called Let’s Be Clear, and it’s a live interactive memoir," Doherty shared on Sunday. "So you get to hear everything that I’ve refused to say before. I’m spilling the tea, but nicely!"

She also talked up 50-year-old Green's podcast, Old-ish. "It’s amazing," Doherty said. "So make sure you’re listening to it. Thank you for your love."

Doherty has been open about her cancer journey for years. She was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015, which went into remission in 2017. She then announced in 2020 that her cancer had returned.

“Our life doesn’t end the minute we get that diagnosis," she told Good Morning America in February 2020. "We still have some living to do.”

During the Charmed panel at 90s Con in Connecticut in March, also moderated by Heldman, Doherty gave a positive update on her health.

In June, Doherty offered another update about the surgery she underwent in January. "January 12, the first round of radiation took place," Doherty explained, alongside an Instagram video of her receiving radiation therapy. "My fear is obvious. I am extremely claustrophobic, and there was a lot going on in my life."

Doherty admitted she felt scared before the surgery. "The fear was overwhelming to me. Scared of all possible bad outcomes, worried about leaving my mom and how that would impact her," she said on Instagram. "Worried that I would come out of surgery not me anymore. This is what cancer can look like.”

In August, as she continued undergoing treatment for breast cancer, Doherty was photographed vacationing on Italy's Amalfi Coast in the fishing village of Nerano, diningal fresco with friends.

Beverly Hills, 90210 aired on Fox from 1990 to 2000 for 10 seasons. There were several spin-offs, including Melrose Place and The Heights, and also a 90210 reboot series featuring some original cast members that aired on The CW between 2008 and 2013. Additionally, the short-lived revival BH90210 aired in 2019.

Over the years, the BH90210 castmates stayed friendly and have been seen together at various events, including last March for the second 90s Con, held at the Connecticut Convention Center.

90s Con Florida began Friday at the Tampa Convention Center and wrapped Sunday. Event organizer That's 4 Entertainment also held a number of other major cast reunions during the convention, including Full House, Saved by the Bell and Charmed.

PHOTOS:  Thats4Entertainment/ADRIAN RUIZ

[kissedbruises]

~ * 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔦𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 | ABOUT EMERSYN  

NAME: Emersyn Barnes

AGE: Twenty-Five

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Victoria Pedretti

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5'3"

DATE OF BIRTH: May 5th, 1995

ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus  

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelors / Business at UCLA

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: None

OCCUPATION: Socialite / Drug Dealer

HOMETOWN: Beverly Hills, California.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming and meticulous.  

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Callous and cruel.

~ * 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔨𝔫𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔭𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔥 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 / BIO

Manipulative. That was always the word that the child psychiatrist had told socialite and actress couple, Thomas and Melanie Barnes from the beginning when they took little five year old, Emersyn, for an appointment. Off the bat, the couple noticed that Emersyn wasn’t like every other five year old girl - she was meticulous in the way she kept her toys, and perhaps more precocious than they have ever seen. A bossiness was obvious, and an almost snobbish manner, always thinking that she knew best, that her way of thinking was always the correct way and in her defense, it usually was. Emersyn had a way about her, a way of feeding into people’s view of her, drawing them in and making them do what she wanted. She liked playing games with people, using her money and her popularity, her charm to draw people in, to get more gullible, kinder people to do her bidding for her. Even at five years old, at seven years old, at twelve years old, she had a sophistication about her that made others notice her, that made her charming, sweet to the outside eye, but on the inside, she could be a callous and cruel as one could get. From the beginning, Emersyn adored the strings she could place on people, and effortlessly move them just for fun. Her intelligence was unmatched, although in school, she did just fine, merely finding it boring more often than not. Growing up the way she did, in a big mansion with a socialite father and an actress mother, she rather liked the notierty that came with it - but her mother, a true narcissist to the end, was always wary of Emersyn and her tricks, even as a child. Part of this was her mother’s postpartum depression, her bipolar mania, that Emersyn viewed as simply weak - but as she grew up into a teenager - those little pills her mother had served more good than not - for Emersyn.

Private school was something she could conquer in two snaps of her perfectly manicured fingers, but it was more than that. Other little queen bees thought they were so much better, so much wealthier and it was always the rat race in the little city of Beverly Hills. Emersyn knew she had to have the edge, the popularity, the charm amongst everyone else, but that wasn’t quite enough, until she hatched an idea to keep herself supremely on top. Her favorite past time of them all became drug dealing: to dole out her mother’s drugs, the blue, white, pink and yellow little pills that had every letter of the alphabet on them and everyone’s approval of Emersyn written in stone. It was just that simple - little blue pills swimming in a party bowl, up for the taking every night like it was Halloween. She herself didn’t take them, but to watch the other obscenely wealthy, clearly idiotic rich children of socialites take them was more fun than taking any kind of drug. It felt like an ultimate sense of control and that high never could get old. It seemed silly to ever quit such a profession that gave her such a rush, such a sense of power and so her talents became known in the little elite world of Beverly Hills. If some bored housewife or some rich asshole celebrity wanted a fix? They need only call one girl: Emersyn Barnes.

Always in the socialite life, including the arts and leisure world, just as her father, Thomas, always was - Emersyn found her strengths in the business side of things. She did, after all, graduate with her degree in business from UCLA, but that was just for looks. What she craved was power, true power and her father let her take over the finances of their family, simply being that she was the only one who could seem to make heads and tails of it. In Thomas Barnes’s  mind, Emersyn was being placated as a woman in their family, but little did he know, she found traces of money being led back to the Ukraine. She knew her father was into the arts and leisure of the world, including the ballet scene in Ukraine, but never did she imagine to find her own father to have cheated on her mother - and then through her own investigation - had a son. It seemed to all make sense - the fact her mother couldn’t get pregnant before having Emersyn, a surprise birth - the money being sent there. It all clicked in her mind and instead of the normal feeling of betrayal hitting and betraying her - Emersyn saw a game of it. Did she care that her father cheated on her mother? No, her mother was a weak willed bitch, in her mind - but a son? An older half brother? That could be interesting for her. Sending money his way anonymously, knowing his own mother couldn’t afford ballet classes - she told him to meet her in the heart of Beverly Hills. When he wrote back telling her that it had to be New York City, she was shocked - he was raising the stakes.

It didn’t take long for her to realize she had met her match.

When Emersyn flew to see her brother, who claimed he barely spoke Ukrainian, there was a slight connection to him - but still, the game had to be played. He feigned that he barely spoke English, but among sneaking in and seeing his audition for his spot - she knew that was mostly a lie. There was a power in knowing her own money had aided him here and there was now a power she had over her father - on both of them, because she held the power to destroy his very successful, public marriage to her beautiful actress mother and she had the power to take away the money from her brother. It was all what she wanted, and what Emersyn Barnes is all about - power. She just didn’t expect for her brother to fight back, but perhaps that is why they are siblings after all. Still, living in the public as a very generous, caring and charming woman is all that Emersyn craves - the power of persona, while underneath being a callous, cut throat, sociopath that values the game in her favor.

And what better place to play that game than in beautiful Los Angeles where all the world is stage?

[artisticopy]

I hate everything in the shade on the other side of the light.

hey, isn’t that kasper bradley ( nickname: laslow )? i think that the twenty six year old from Beverly Hills, California works as a receptionist for joker’s casino, private fashion designer for his own e-commerce store, and former art forger for the grim fox, but outside of that people describe them as the leather jacket with custom paint, the runaway rich, the transformed soul, and the constant smell of markers, paint and pencils. i hear they are short fused & incredulous, but they are also known to be confident & articulate. consider giving them a visit at their home in the marionette and get to know why they’re called the copy cat.

✱ LAYER ONE ... the basics.

full name: + kasper conrad bradley. preferred name: + kasper. date of birth & age: + july 21st &. twenty five. place of birth: + beverly hills, california. zodiac sign: + cancer. gender & pronouns: + trans man &. he/they. orientation: + bisexual &. biromantic spoken languages: + english, chinese, and learning french. occupation: + receptionist - joker's casino, ecommerce fashion store owner, and former art forger.

✱ LAYER TWO... the appearance.

hair color: + jet black and lilac hidden underneath. eye color: + brown. height: + 5'11" (180 cm) scars: + upper chest scars, and quite a few amongst his sides and back. tattoos: + only posesses a small infinity symbol behind right ear. piercings: + multiple ear piercings, hips, and tongue.

✱ LAYER THREE ... the connections.

parents: + estranged. children: + none. pets: + a siberian husky named loki, and a russian blue cat named luna. relationship: + single.

✱ LAYER FOUR ... the observations.

emotional control: + very much controlled, but if he gets overwhelmed it becomes very much a bottle waiting to explode.

alcohol usage: + can usually be found with wine.

✱ LAYER FIVE... the past. ( TW: vague mentions of death, car accidents. will be vague/will jump around ! )

Born of a higher class family and the eldest of their set of triplets, kasper lived a comfortable life... well.. not at first. You see, he was originally known as kassidy. The eldest daughter of the newfound rich who found their calling inside the inner hollywood circles as part of the jewelry, lingerie and overall fashion business around.

The triplets always lived a much more spoiled life than most. Getting all the toys, the clothing, private schooling to ensure their futures were set... however, kasper never did find that comfort in any of the sort once he turned the age of fifteen. He was used as different forms of modeling for his parents work, and it only became worse as time progressed. He stole and borrowed his brother's clothing, looked into his different potential support systems, and knew to keep it as hidden as he could whether it be binders or even the wrapping of his chest to help cope with the faint waves of dysphoria he held.

He became rebellious. His parents despised the behavior and knew to try to pry, but luckily his siblings managed to keep their minds distracted from his true issues at hand when it came to the concept of kasper finally... well.. becoming kasper. He found himself diving into things he didn't know, hiding away money as if his parents would dare to notice the spare change of thousands escaping their accounts and into a private one of his own once he turned eighteen.

The final time he avoided his parents was the last time he truly held a source of contact with them. They wanted him to appear for a rather .. exposing shoot regarding a new line of clothing. Which he refused. At first it was simple no's, turning into more harsh attitudes, till it finally became an explosive argument of kasper truly explaining who he was. Of course it was a screaming match and he heard words no child would ever wish to hear from his parents, and as soon as he walked out the studio? He made sure he wouldn't hear it again.

NEW START.

He would end up packed up and filling the back of his car before simply driving off for miles.. however, it was a rather harsh storm and he wasn't having the best state with his emotions. No one fully could comprehend what happened when his car swerved and soon enough rolled over a gaurd rail into the sea below. The area being known to be a death valley not many are able to be recovered from due to how harsh the currents were and the constant shifting of the tides. Most would be happy to say that truly was the end of his harsh start... wasn't entirely true.

Laslow appeared fine in the upper edges of california with the smallest sense of annoyance when it came to the constant phone calls from his two siblings who he had to pretend to reassure on his current condition. The access of funds he never knew he could reach was truly a time of pure joy for kasper. He continued his small fun of painting, humming along as his clothes began being stained with different shades, the smell of different elixirs being formed... and the casual copy of identical brush stroke counts soon making his bank account and fun fly higher than ever before. He found fun in the small bits of assignments he was able to keep close, but once his jobs began to decline.. so did his sanity.

He dived deep into the fashion scene in order to keep his hands busy, going through a few years of college in order to progress his stances further. He became rather successful as he experimented with his style alongside the newfound rememberance of his jewlery making. At first it began as a small hobby, but it soon progressed into the full points of a career once he saw the amount of orders he began to recieve. He had stayed in california the entire time, but soon felt the need to let himself loose and began his progression into moving to Alaska.

Now, why would a boy who grew up in the heat want to be in the bitter cold? Purely, if be truthful, was to begin a new start with a new name and his truest identity. Plus he also craved the comfort of the silence and nature around him, and it showed when he arrived and found himself a condo for himself with the perfect comfort of the cold, but held the continous stances of luxury in the middle of nature.

His assignments began once more, but it wasn't hard to realize it became scarce. At first it was once every three months, to once every six.. to now none after two years.

His time in town did offer him a chance to keep the sanity going, especially with the concept of the job of being a receptionist for a casino. He loved the idea of seeing people so happy winning and begging for money to continue to play. The idea of being able to tell someone no if they get too much, the potential flings he got in order to slip some a little bonus at the beginning.

He has thrived in town for almost four years since he moved over. His business began to flourish even more and he found himself in the best place: On his porch with a cat in his lap and a bottle of wine practically being drank like water.