#'in defiance of god (extremely positive)'

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Post-canon post-reunion post-reuinion-sex. Dean takes Cas out in the Impala for a drive for the first time since he got back a year after he was taken. Before Dean starts the engine he hesitates and gets a little shy and defensively says "don't laugh at me, okay? I need them." and he pulls a pair of plastic framed glasses out of his jacket front pocket and puts them on.

Cas does not stop staring at him, which Dean can only handle up to the first stop light. There's an heated blush on his face when he barks:

"Quit the surveillance Big Brother. Something wrong with my face?"

"You've aged."

"Jesus."

"It's a compliment. Your resourcefulness and resilience have allowed you to live past the time you were intended to by fate."

"You need to go back to charm school, Thermopolis. 'You've aged' is never a friggin compliment."

"It is. You've aged, and you're taking care of yourself."

There's a touch, light, to the side of Dean's face, tracing gently up under the gap of his glasses to caress his crows feet.

"Cas!" Dean complains, "I'm driving!" But he doesn't push his hand away.

"You're growing," Cas continues, sliding a long finger over Dean's eyebag, "You've lived." He taps the leg of Dean's glasses as he withdraws, adding, "You have defied God."

Dean tries very hard to follow the logic, feeling his face screw up as he does, but he's got nothing. "Huh?"

"Chuck's design for humans was faulty, amateur. There was much he did not account for. In creating the means to live, and live well, with the body you have been given, humanity has proven its superiority to God himself."

Dean scoffs, feeling a little shy again, "It's just glasses, Cas."

"The product of thousands of years of innovation. The work of thousands of people across millenia." Cas pauses for a moment, then asks, a touch breathless, "Can I tell you what I like to imagine?"

"Uh, sure?"

"I like to imagine, when I think of the work of other humans across all of time, that they were doing it all in service of you."

Considering this, Dean lets a Jeep turn onto the road in front of him. "Is it like a sex thing?"

"It's not a sex thing. It is the placement of my desire for you over the will of thousands. My love supercedes their true intentions, their ambitions, their circumstances. I am reappropriating their care to act as a vessel for the depth of my feelings for you."

"Hm. Sounds like a sex thing."

"It is not a sex thing."

"Okay, tell me this, then," Dean says, turning to face Cas at the next red light, "Do you or do you not want me to wear the glasses next time I suck you off?"

"...yes, I do want that."

"I rest my case. And hey - just a tip, from one flirt to another. Next time you want to bring up your hot librarian fantasy, or whatever, don't start by calling the other person old."

"It's not a librarian fantasy, it's a you fantasy."

"Yeah, yeah. Not like I haven't got you-fantasies of my own. How about this: I'll wear just the glasses if you wear just the trench coat."

"I think I could be persuaded," Cas says, and he's smiling, and Dean's smiling, and when he catches a glimpse of his own smile-lines in the rear-view mirror magnified through his glasses, he thinks maybe he gets it. They made it. They're alive. There's proof of it.

[shellxrls]

smut related and ik u get so many but more fluff and silly ?? idk 😭 but jj n reader in the spare bedroom yk being horny teens but theyre high asf and keep being so clumsy and giggly 🩷 like imagine almost fall off and falling on ur ass -💫

THIS IS SO CUTE I'M FREAKING !! this is actually all i want with jj frl just one night where we can roll around on his bed high :((. made jj's first name jesse here bcuz i thought it was funny.

─── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ───

"shhh," he shoves a weed-dirtied fingertip against your face, fighting the urge to smush it even further against your lips when you try to pry your mouth open in protest, "they can hear us."

you lick his finger in defiance, to which he drops it and shakes his hand, eyeing you down with no real malice, "who can hear us jayj?"

"the cannibals, the ones in the sewers," he explains, cocking his head at you like he was having trouble understanding why you'd even need an explanation.

"you're so stupid oh my god," you laugh and push at his chest from your position seated above him, watching the way his lips crinkle upwards into a small smile, "bet you just wanted an excuse to stick your gross fingers into my mouth."

"mmh, i dunno, i got somethin' else you could stick in your mouth though.." he trails off as you scoff, dramatically attempting to untangle yourself and clamber away from him for his continuous perverted comments. "hey, 'm joking, c'mere," he tries to pull you back towards him, hooking his fingers underneath whatever extremities he could hold onto and pulling you closer.

"j-jj 'm gonna fall," you yelp, sliding off the bed as his grabby hands force the balance out of you and have you landing straight on the hard wood.

"should've just stayed on my lap," he shrugs.

"jesse james maybank — i swear to god," you lunge for his abdomen, digging your fingers into the muscled flesh until he's wheezing from laughter and slapping your hands away.

─── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ───

[ochrearia]

This is an old idea i had that i still think its really cute djdhhdgd

The 3 dumb queers cuddling while theyre watching a movie or something..

-> Gf is really comfortable and accidentally falls asleep and the other 2 only notice that due to her human form phasing out a bit and her horns poking the chin of however shes cuddled against.. insert Pico and Bf trying to not wake her up

These are all going to be in PoPr universe so GF -> Cherry and BF -> Keith

The movie was, arguably, boring. It was serving better as background noise than actual entertainment for the three. Checking the time would show some god awful hour, and yet here they were, all cuddled on the couch and barely hanging onto consciousness. Pico, of course, was the most awake of all of them, but even he was still zoning out with half-lidded and heavy eyes. In the back of his head he considered trying to convince his lovers that they needed to head to bed before completely passing out, but his bones felt like jelly and his mind was even more melted. Not quiet, but more of a low static noise that chased every other thought away.

Keith wasn't fairing any better. The rapper's eyes could barely stay open, hunched over slightly and head swaying as he lost his balance to sleepiness. A large and long yawn escaped his lips, tears budding at his eyes that prompted his free hand to come up and rub them away. Between them, though, Cherry had already fallen completely asleep. Her head was leaned on Pico's shoulder, and he could hear her soft and even breaths as they puffed gently against his neck. Though that was quickly becoming the least of his troubles.

It was rare, even in sleep, for Cherry to lose her grip on masking her demonic features. She'd always been adamant at keeping them at bay, but sometimes she fell so deeply into sleep that her will gave out and some of them slipped past. Tonight it seemed to be her horns, and an extremely rare sight- her lavender skin. Both of which still managed to take the boys' breath away despite how tired they also were. But now the horns were poking against Pico's face, making him grumble unintelligently and try to rearrange their positions without waking her up. He glared at Keith deliriously giggling at his predicament. Some help he was.

Fine then. Pico stuck out his tongue at the other man in defiance, gathering their girlfriend slowly up in his arms and completely taking her into his lap, gatekeeping her body heat from Keith as punishment. Her head was tucked more snuggly under his chin, and while her horns were still pressing, it wasn't as bad now. And as far as the 'punishment' went, Pico really only lasted about a minute before he found Keith crowding up to them again, succumbing to sleep himself. The hitman sighed, lowering them all down into a better sleeping position, knowing he couldn't carry both of them. He'd sooner die than wake them up.

[templeofthescarletstar]

The Corruption of the All-Father Archetype: From Creator to Demiurge

Across cultures and mythologies, the image of the All-Father emerges as a dominant archetype—a powerful sky god who rules from above, often associated with storms, thunder, and divine authority. Zeus, Odin, Yahweh, Ba’al, and other deities share strikingly similar characteristics, embodying creation, kingship, and law. However, over time, this archetype has been twisted, shifting from a benevolent father figure into an oppressive force of control. In its most extreme form, this authoritarian version of the divine becomes the Demiurge—the false god of Gnostic tradition, a being more aligned with Satan than with the true source of divinity.

1. The Storm God Archetype

The All-Father is typically depicted as a sky god who wields power over storms and the forces of nature. His role as a ruler over both gods and humanity reflects his position as the lawgiver and judge.

Zeus reigns over Olympus, wielding thunderbolts as symbols of divine justice.

Odin is the all-seeing patriarch of the Norse pantheon, associated with wisdom but also with war and control.

Ba’al Hadad was the Canaanite storm god, honored as both a fertility and warrior deity.

Yahweh, in early biblical texts, mirrors Ba’al as a storm-wielding deity who commands obedience and punishes defiance.

Despite their differences, these gods share a common foundation: they represent order, power, and the intermediary between humanity and the ultimate divine source.(1)

 However, as religious structures centralized power, this archetype was altered to serve an authoritarian agenda.

2. The Transformation into the Demiurge

In Gnostic thought, the creator god of the material world is not the true, benevolent source of divinity but rather a corrupt and jealous entity known as Yaldabaoth (or Ialdabaoth). This false god, believing itself to be supreme, traps human souls in the physical realm, enforcing blind obedience and ignorance.

Yaldabaoth’s defining traits—pride, wrath, and an obsession with dominance—mirror the characteristics of the jealous, punishing Yahweh of the Old Testament.

The Gnostic Apocryphon of John describes Yaldabaoth as a "lion-faced serpent" who declares, “I am a jealous god, and there is none besides me,” not realizing he is only a fragment of a greater reality.

This echoes Exodus 20:5, where Yahweh proclaims, “I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God.”

Rather than being the ultimate divine force, this figure represents the imprisonment of humanity within a false reality—a corrupted version of the All-Father archetype, designed to maintain control rather than grant enlightenment.

3. The True Satan: A Deception of Authority

If the Demiurge is a god who demands blind obedience, punishes knowledge, and seeks to keep humanity subjugated, then the very figure many worship as the ultimate deity may, in truth, be the adversary of spiritual awakening. This would mean that what mainstream religion calls “God” may actually be the true Satan—not in the sense of the Christian devil, but as the great deceiver who keeps humanity in spiritual bondage.

The biblical serpent in Eden, often demonized as Satan, is the one who offers knowledge (gnosis), while Yahweh is the one who forbids it, reflecting a reversal of roles.

In Gnostic tradition, Sophia, the divine wisdom,(2). seeks to free humanity from the Demiurge’s control, much like Prometheus stealing fire from the gods to grant humanity knowledge.

Figures like Lucifer, originally a bearer of light, may represent the impulse toward self-awareness and liberation rather than evil.(3)

This inversion of divine roles exposes how institutional religion has used the corrupted All-Father archetype to justify control, suppress mystical truth, and prevent individuals from realizing their own divine potential.

Conclusion: Reclaiming the True Divine

The All-Father, in his original form,(4) represents wisdom, creation, and the flow of divine energy into the world. But through manipulation, this figure was twisted into the Demiurge—a being who demands servitude rather than enlightenment. The true divine force is not an external ruler but exists within every individual. The suppressed mystical traditions, from Kabbalah to Hermeticism, provide the keys to breaking free from the Demiurge’s illusion and reclaiming our role as co-creators of reality.

The weapons we need. Because the church is using archetype magick too. 

Footnotes 

1.The masculine or better said Active principle of manifestation. The Sepheroth of Chokhmah. 

2.The feminine or better said Creative principle of manifestation. The Sepheroth of Binah 

3.The Lucifer Archtype serves as a primary Archetype in the TSS system of magick. The Sepheroth of Tiphereth. 

4.By refusing the wisdom of Sophia and denying the feminine principle the chance of creation the vital first energy of thought is wasted and stagnates. No longer linked to the higher mind it becomes Ego instead. This begins the corruption process that creates the shadows of each Sepheroth  known as the Qliphoth. We will discuss this in further detail during chapter five. 

As always special thanks to my newest Patreons Dimmy Love and Joselyne Galaviz and of course anyone who has or is supporting my work. I love you all. If you would like to be mentioned in the comments just follow the link below and become a Patreon. Even if you can only pledge one dallar. It all really helps to keep the content coming.

Patreon.com/themadwitch 

[tavtiers]

Have you done an analysis on a Mage of Hope? Because I'm considering Geno from Super Mario RPG to be one. What playlist would go best for a Mage of Hope?

The Mage of Hope [symbols: brain, angel wings]

The Mage class has its basis in the classic court magician. An example would be Merlin from Arthurian Legend.

The Hope aspect’s main theme is assurance. You can find its official description here.

A Mage of Hope is among those who explore faith in possibility. This is the “classpect group” they belong to. Members include: the Mage, Seer, Heir, and Witch of Hope/Rage. These classes are all opposites or inverses of each other that explore the Hope/Rage dichotomy (faith in possibility). A description of classpect groupings can be found here.

The Mage of Hope actively knows the Hope aspect. Active classes tell themselves what to do and do so for their own benefit. They are more likely to stand up for themselves, but more likely to be cruel. Mages and Seers possess great knowledge of their aspect and everything it symbolizes. Simplified, the Mage of Hope is motivated by themselves to know assurance.

In personality, the Mage of Hope has trouble forgiving their own mistakes and has big dreams. Personality descriptions can be found here.

Their archetype is the Genius Believer, defined by introspection and assurance. Archetypes are explained here.

Their opposite is the Seer of Rage, who passively knows defiance.

Their inverse is the Heir of Rage, who passively manipulates defiance.

A classpect or “god tier” is an individual’s best self. All classpects go through a journey from unrealized, to struggle, to realized. When a character is unrealized, they neutrally exist as their inverse. On their struggle, they will wildly flip back and forth between their inverse and true classpect. In their worst moments they will act as their inverse, in their best their true classpect. When realized, they will stabilize as their true classpect. They will still have room to grow, but will become happier, more successful people.

This means that the Mage of Hope begins life motivated by others to manipulate defiance. When their struggle arrives and they are at their worst, they will continue this behavior in negative extremes. However, when at their best, they will find purpose in instead knowing assurance for themselves. When realized, they will stabilize and continue to know the Hope aspect actively, in a positive way.

They share their archetype with the Page of Mind, the Believer Genius.

The Mage of Hope would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Thought [Mage] and Hope [Aspect]. An example would be the Land of Memory and Spirits. An explanation of planet naming conventions can be found here.

Two possible gods, or denizens, to reign over their planet would be Dionysus (God of Revelry) or Abraxas (the Great Archon). Other Hope aspect denizens can be found here.

When the Mage of Hope completes their planet quests and dies on their quest bed, they would rise to ascension on the wings of doves (symbols of peace). A list of soul animals can be found here.

The characters that I have currently classpected as Mages of Hope are: Solas from Dragon Age, Twilight Sparkle from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, and Angel from X-Men.

If any of the links not connected to my blog break, the content can be found on my Google Drive.

Official Aspect Descriptions Personality Descriptions Aspect Denizens

Songs for a Mage of Hope:

Thirteen (13.ogg) by C418

Sugilite Returns by aivi and surasshu

Sublime Weakness by AK, Mapps, & October Child

Nothing But The Water by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Blue by Troye Sivan ft. Alex Hope

Pompeii by Bastille

Wings by HAERTS

[mskowronskat2]

Summative assessment: Antigone by Sophocles

Introduction

Antigone by Sophocles is a timeless Greek tragedy that explores themes of divine law versus human law, loyalty, and the consequences of pride. The play focuses on the conflict between Antigone and Creon as they represent opposing values—family loyalty and state authority. Through its tragic characters and dramatic events, the play examines the destructive impact of unyielding decisions and moral dilemmas.

Team Analysis

The central conflict in Antigone is the tension between two metaphorical “teams”—Team Family and Team Authority. These teams represent the opposing values of loyalty to family and obedience to the laws of the state. This clash is symbolized by the actions and beliefs of Antigone and Creon, the play’s two main characters.

- Team Family:

Antigone represents loyalty to family and divine law. She believes it is her sacred duty to bury her brother Polynices, regardless of Creon’s decree. To Antigone, the laws of the gods are more important than any human law. By defying Creon’s order, she demonstrates her commitment to honoring her brother and upholding religious traditions. Antigone is willing to die for this cause, showing her courage and dedication to what she believes is morally right.

- Team Authority:

Creon represents loyalty to the state and its laws. As the king of Thebes, he believes that maintaining order requires strict obedience to his decrees. He refuses to allow Polynices to be buried because Polynices rebelled against the city. For Creon, enforcing his law is essential to protecting Thebes from chaos. He views Antigone’s defiance as a direct challenge to his authority and an act of rebellion that cannot go unpunished.

- The Conflict Between the Teams:

The clash between Antigone and Creon grows more intense as both refuse to compromise:

• Antigone’s Perspective: She sees Creon’s law as unjust and believes she must follow the higher, divine laws of the gods.

• Creon’s Perspective: He views Antigone’s actions as dangerous and believes that if she is not punished, others will also disobey his authority.

This conflict highlights deeper themes in the play, such as:

• Divine Law vs. Human Law: Antigone’s actions show her belief that the gods’ laws are eternal and should always take precedence over human laws. Creon, on the other hand, believes in the supremacy of state laws, even when they conflict with religious principles.

• Family vs. Civic Duty: Antigone’s loyalty to her brother contrasts with Creon’s dedication to the stability of Thebes. This conflict also affects other characters, such as Haemon, Creon’s son, who is torn between supporting his father and defending Antigone.

- The Consequences of the Conflict:

The unyielding stances of both Antigone and Creon lead to devastating outcomes. Antigone’s death becomes a symbol of her unwavering moral convictions, while Creon’s stubbornness results in the loss of his son Haemon and his wife Eurydice, leaving him completely broken.

Dramatic structure

This metaphorical “team battle” in Antigone ultimately shows the dangers of extreme positions. Both Antigone and Creon’s refusal to compromise leads to their downfall, demonstrating the importance of balance, humility, and understanding when faced with moral dilemmas.

Exposition:

The play opens in Thebes, shortly after a civil war in which Antigone's brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, have killed each other while fighting for the throne. Creon, the new king, decrees that Eteocles will be given an honorable burial, while Polynices, considered a traitor, is to be left unburied as punishment. Antigone, horrified by this order, decides to defy Creon and bury her brother, setting the stage for the central conflict of the play.

Rising Action:

Antigone secretly buries Polynices, defying Creon's edict. When Creon learns of the burial, he is enraged and orders an investigation to find the culprit. Antigone is soon discovered and brought before Creon. In a tense confrontation, she openly admits her actions and defends her decision, citing her loyalty to divine law over human law. Creon's anger intensifies, and despite warnings from the Chorus and others, he resolves to punish Antigone to assert his authority.

Climax:

The climax occurs when Creon sentences Antigone to death, ordering her to be sealed in a tomb alive. This decision creates irreversible tension as it alienates Creon's son, Haemon, who is engaged to Antigone. Haemon confronts Creon, pleading for him to show mercy, but Creon refuses.

The emotional intensity peaks as the audience realizes the tragic consequences of Creon's pride and Antigone's unwavering defiance.

Falling Action:

The prophet Tiresias warns Creon that his actions anger the gods and will lead to disaster. Initially dismissive, Creon eventually realizes the gravity of his mistakes and decides to free Antigone and bury Polynices. However, his change of heart comes too late. By the time Creon reaches the tomb, Antigone has hanged herself. Haemon, devastated by her death, attempts to kill Creon but ends his own life instead.

Resolution:

Creon returns to the palace, broken and filled with regret, only to learn that his wife, Eurydice, has also killed herself after hearing about Haemon's death. Left completely alone and overwhelmed by the consequences of his actions, Creon's downfall is complete.

Conclusion

In Antigone, Sophocles portrays the tragic consequences of rigid beliefs and the inability to compromise. The play explores themes such as the conflict between divine law and human law, familial loyalty versus civic duty, and the destructive nature of pride. Both Antigone and Creon remain steadfast in their convictions, and their unwillingness to yield drives the tragedy to its devastating conclusion. Antigone’s moral courage and loyalty to her family highlight the value of standing up for one’s beliefs, but her defiance also underscores the cost of unrelenting determination. Similarly, Creon’s strict adherence to authority and law reveals the dangers of pride and inflexibility. His eventual recognition of his mistakes comes too late, leaving him to suffer the devastating consequences of his actions. Sophocles uses their conflict to deliver a timeless lesson: the importance of humility, empathy, and balance when faced with moral dilemmas. Through the characters’ suffering, the play warns of the dangers of extreme positions and the need to consider different perspectives. Antigone remains a powerful exploration of justice, loyalty, and the complexities of human values, inviting reflection on how to navigate conflicting principles in our own lives.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lisa Needham at Public Notice:

Tina Peters is going to the slammer. The former clerk of Mesa County, Colorado, is the latest right-wing Trump supporter to suffer criminal consequences for acting on the Big Lie.

“You are no hero,” Colorado Judge Matthew Barrett told her while sentencing her to nine years in prison last Thursday. “You abused your position, and you’re a charlatan who used and is still using, your prior position in office to peddle a snake oil that’s been proven to be junk time and time again.” Trump, of course, has faced no consequences and even got the conservatives on the Supreme Court to create a new form of immunity for him. But Tina Peters is more than just a casualty of Trump’s efforts to overturn the 2020 election. She’s part of a larger trend of right-wingers in government positions who are there not to serve the people, but to destroy the systems and institutions our democracy depends on. In August, a Colorado jury found Peters guilty of conspiracy to commit criminal impersonation, first-degree official misconduct, failing to comply with the secretary of state, violation of duty, and three counts of attempting to influence a public servant. Those criminal charges stemmed from Peters, who was the official responsible for elections in the county, giving right-wing conspiracy theorists access to the county’s Dominion Voting Systems machines to help prove their baseless claims about machines flipping votes. 

Peters falsified employment credentials to let Conan Hayes, a former pro surfer turned self-styled data expert who also illegally accessed voting machines in Georgia, copy the hard drive of a Dominion machine. Eventually, the material Hayes copied, including county passwords and data about Dominion’s software, appeared at an event hosted by MyPillow CEO Mike Lindell, one of the people most committed to the Big Lie. The data also showed up on right-wing websites, presented as proof that Dominion altered voting results.  Needless to say, this is extremely illegal. It also proved to be extremely expensive, as Mesa County had to pay for a substitute clerk while Peters made the rounds of right-wing events and officials did a hand count in a subsequent election to show it was fair. The state decertified Mesa County’s voting machines after the breach, forcing it to spend nearly $100,000 thus far on getting new machines. The county estimated that Peters’s actions have cost it $1.4 million thus far.

[...]

A modern day Kim Davis

Peters’s saga — defiance of the law followed by becoming a right-wing hero followed by legal consequences — is similar to that of Kim Davis. In 2015, after same-sex marriage became legal in every state, Davis, then the clerk in Rowan County, Kentucky, refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples, saying she was acting “under God’s authority.” She defied a federal court order to issue licenses, briefly spending time in jail for contempt. Davis contended that she could not issue a marriage license to a same-sex couple because it “conflicts with God’s definition of marriage,” and having her name on the certificate would violate her conscience. 

Of course, Davis could have obeyed her conscience by letting someone else in the office issue those licenses, or she could have resigned her post, given that she would not perform a core function of the job. Instead, she argued that if the deputy clerk issued licenses to same-sex couples, those licenses were invalid without her signature. She refused to step down from her elected position, even running again in 2018. Thankfully, she lost. She was eventually ordered to pay $260,104 in fees and expenses to lawyers who represented one of the same-sex couples refused a license, on top of the $100,000 she was ordered to pay the couple. Instead of paying, she filed an appeal with the Sixth Circuit, and in her brief, argued that Obergefell v. Hodges, the case that declared a constitutional right to same-sex marriage, should be overturned.

Election denier Tina Peters has a lot in common with anti-LGBTQ+ extremist Kim Davis: They are right-wing chaos agents who seek to destroy systems.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Livia Blithe Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Waitress at the Codfather / Pharmacy Student Age: 24 Years Old Played By: Edon Face Claim: Taylor Russell

"Oh my God… you're a rat!"

TW: Eating disorder

By all accounts, Livia was blessed with an easy life. Youngest of five, by the time Livia was born her parents were far too fatigued with the four before her to implement any strict measures. They were seasoned parents, having successfully raised for alchemists, and instead treated Livia like something of the family pet. She was always going to be their last, and not yet ready to say good-bye to having a baby forever, Livia was coddled all the way up to her teenage years. She was doted on by her father, constantly praised by her mother, anything she wanted was handed to her, no questions asked. Livia had never had to work hard for the approval of her parents. They were usually happy with anything and everything she did, even if most the time all she ever did, was nothing.

Her siblings, aware of this obvious favouritism, found humour in making Livia the butt of their jokes. She was often excluded from inside jokes, not invited to any of their hangouts, and when the eldest ones had gotten their licenses, would usually refuse to drive her anywhere. Despite this light bullying, Livia had no issues making her own friends, seamlessly becoming one of the most popular and well-liked girls at her school. Things seemed to be going so well for Livia, that her life appeared picture perfect to just about anybody. For a long time, Livia had begun to think that too, protected in her own little bubble of privilege, floating high amongst the masses below. Things were almost too perfect, that when Livia began failing almost all of her grades, and the idyllic treatment from her parents slowly began to turn stern and sour, Livia's bubble popped, and she was soon met with the reality of what was expected of her.

With the sudden reality check came a flood of difficult emotions Livia was nowhere near equipped to manage. She could not accept failing, for all her life she was told she was told she was a winner. She could not manage her responsibilities, as she had never had to be responsible for anything in her life, ever. Unintentionally, her parents had created a lazy, indolent individual, completely devoid of any action and intention. She had spent so much time floating and coasting through her life, that she became easily overwhelmed by her responsibilities and turned inwards to things she could control; what she consumed. Livia had quickly developed an obsession with the foods she would consume, cycling from extreme binging to rigid restricting. She felt powerless, unable to control the direction of her own life, and this powerlessness is what lead her to over exerting control in the food she would or would not consume. 

Having completely flunked at school, Livia was unable to enroll into college and was unable to carry on the family tradition of pharmacology. Unlike her parents and four older siblings, all successful and reasonably skilled alchemists, Livia soon went from the family's darling to the family's failure. She felt as if she was taking up excess space living at home, and ultimately was only able to get a position as a pharmacy assistant at her parents community pharmacy. This in itself became a source of shame. Sick of feeling like a failure, and easily influenced by social media, Livia packed her bags and told her parents she was going on a solo trip. A solo trip around the coast of Maine. Her one shot at 'finding herself'.

For a while, her trip was going relatively well. Her parents had provided her with multiple charms and talismans imbued with a variety of luck, protection and financial success spells. It seemed as if, once again, she was riding on the coat tails of her parents, and while she appreciated their help, it was beginning to make her efforts at self-discovery feel cheap. In an act of defiance, Livia rid herself of the talismans, throwing them off the edge of a cliff and watching them plummet into the crashing waves below. As she rid herself of these talismans, Livia's trip slowly began to take a turn for the worst. Bystanders were not as keen to help her find her way, her phone ran out of battery at the worst of times and her gas seemed to last a fraction of what it used to. It had reached rock bottom, however, when she had reached a small coastal town named Wicked's Rest. Driving down a long, spindly road in the dead of the night, her tire popped, and she skid across the road, crashing into a tree. Fortunately, Livia had not sustained any serious injuries, and had managed to self-excavate out of her car. Attempting to call for assistance was futile, as her phone was unable to find any service and even if it did, nobody she could have called would have been able to protect her from the ghost stalking her path. As if from a scene straight out of Bodysnatchers, Livia was targeted by an abnormally aggressive ghost attempting to posses her. If it wasn't for the intervention of an older alchemist, Livia would have been puppet to a mischievous apparition. The man, a total recluse living on the outskirts of the town, and fortunately a lover of night walks, offered Livia a place to rest and regain her strength, promising to take her back to her car the next day. Impressed by his skill, and aware of his reputation through her parents, Livia enthusiastically agreed.

Saving Livia was supposed to be a singular act made out of good faith, though Livia soon found herself acting apprentice to only one of the most skilled, renowned and respected spellcasters in the world. All Livia could think of was how proud her parents would be of her. Training under such a well-loved sorcerer, being able to return as a skilled and respected alchemist, Livia was unable to refuse. With the help of her mentor, she was able to find work at The Codfather and enroll into her pharmacology studies. Her alchemy improved, somewhat, and she had managed to find her own routine, making a life for herself at Wicked's Rest. The story of how she almost got possessed by a ghost became one she brought up to impress others and life for Livia melted into one of normalcy, despite it being everything but.

Character Facts:

Personality: Charming, humorous, sentimental, introspective, idealistic, sensitive, clingy, absent-minded, neurotic, cowardly

Livia is a spellcaster and mainly practises Alchemy. She comes from a long line of pharmacists, and is currently studying pharmacology. Despite this, Livia's skills as an alchemist aren't anything to boast about. She is practising well below her expected skill level and prior to transforming her mentor into a guinea pig, was actually making considerable progress with her craft.

Livia has a Cactus-Cat as a familiar she has named 'Bubbles'. Bubbles has the look of a white rag-doll with silvery spines that Livia trims, though does not remove entirely. Bubbles is a recent addition to Livia's life, having being summoned not long after turning her mentor into a guinea pig. Despite the two being strangers, they're off to a good start.

Her mentor, though now a guinea pig, always felt connected to Livia as she reminded him of his daughter whom unfortunately passed from a rare, terminal illness. It was why he stopped to save her from the ghost attempting to possess her and why he decided to keep her under his wing, training her as he once trained his own daughter.

[pyramidscience]

On Modern Christianity

The persecution faced by true Christians today stands in stark contrast to the claims of persecution by powerful, legally-sanctioned, and wealthy "Christian" organizations. The New Testament paints a very different picture, where the disenfranchised—the homeless, the orphan, the widow, the thief, and the sex worker—are the ones who will inherit the kingdom on Earth. These individuals are the ones Jesus identifies as his true followers. It was, after all, a convicted murderer whom Jesus saved as the Roman Empire carried out its death penalty .

Following Jesus's crucifixion and subsequent resurrection, early Christians faced death and imprisonment. The crime? Practicing their faith in defiance of Roman law. While the option to pay a tax existed, the teachings and the lived example of Jesus Christ suggest that such a financial compromise would have been beyond their means.

hundreds of years later, as Christianity became intertwined with political power, it began to echo the Roman Empire's earlier transgressions, endorsing slavery, murder, and a pervasive preoccupation with wealth—this was a far cry from its humble and compassionate origins.

This departure from the essence of Christ's teachings is evident. Jesus never condoned praising any man who held a position of authority that sanctioned murder and unlawful detention. Jesus's message was clear: He is God, and He came to liberate prisoners and to save the forsaken. This is the abiding truth of the Christian faith.

In contemporary times, there is a troubling trend where some Christians have equated sin with criminality, effectively sentencing it to the extreme consequence of death, thereby forsaking the core message of Christ's grace. This inclination is not only disheartening but also directly contradicts the pleasure of God. The Divine promise warns that humanity will orchestrate its own downfall through stringent adherence to the law — for Christ's purpose was not to enforce legalism but to offer grace and to serve as a cornerstone, albeit one that causes some to stumble, particularly among the gentiles.

Particularly in America, certain "Christian" factions have sought to manipulate the legal system to sanction actions that result in the murder and detention of individuals — actions that stand in stark opposition to Christ's teachings. Such endeavors invite condemnation, as they stray far from the path of righteousness laid out in the Bible. The scripture advocates for a transformative love for Jesus, one so profound that it catalyzes a complete overhaul of one’s life, inspiring believers to emulate Christ's example in every facet of their existence.

[psychic-oasis]

I’m searching for an answer. I have no questions. I ask everything. I need no answer. This oasis welcomes curiosity and befuddles despair.

Suffering is my home and each pleasure that comes my way is only a peek into the heaven that I believe in.

Navigating through the darkness I seek to discover new stars that will illuminate the human path.

I am seeking for an answer. Not for me, but for my dear friend. In his words:

“My biggest opp is myself not allowing myself to understand the concept of joy to the full extent making me wonder if I'll ever achieve it and putting me in a position where I'm so used to the lack of it that the most natural the most comfortable feeling is the emptiness and the downfall to such extent that when I feel happiness come scratching to the surface it scares me because it means that I'll no longer be in the comfort of what I have known for so long to be my "normal" inevitably meaning that I attempt to reject that happiness and perpetuating a cycle or self sabotage in order to return to the normalcy that is sadness.”

And he taught me how to finally step out of my comfort zone. It’s only right to help him answer the question of joy.

I only wonder, how a man like himself could struggle with the same thing I do. A god among men he is. And yet he is burdened with this? I am assured, by Kierkegaard, that what we call the interesting parts of my dear friend’s life are the result of some the deepest suffering. I only wish that him, being a knight of faith, will come to accept the joys that come his way. Kierkegaard did not assure us of joy, he assured of us despair and anxiety. Funnily, I think he made it possible to experience both extremes, as long as we can accept the most pressing of the two.

Happy and sad. Two categories. Good and bad. They can be used to describe most of our lives.

My dear friend breaks these categories and discovers the secrets of the universe and he has shared them with his friends and family along the way. I only hope that in breaking these categories, he has not left himself to forever live in the uncanny. The uncanny which, after enough disillusioning, leaves you at the very same place you entered this world—in suffering. Perhaps suffering is not to fall in one or the other category, good and bad, happy and sad. Perhaps that is why it is so difficult to comprehend or to cope with.

Why should we benefit from his insights and wisdom, if we can put them into categories that improve our lives, while he does the work figuring this all out?

I suppose I should take it at a face value.

My dear friend does what we all ought to do, what we all need to do, what we all might find is an answer to the question we never wanted to ask. But will improve our lives indefinitely.

Self-responsibility.

Sartre says it’s the basic condition of existence, to be responsible for yourself.

But I think my dear friend has much more to say about that. But he won’t tell you in all the painstaking detail that he required in order to discover these secrets.

He speaks like a poet. You gain what you may from his wisdom. But if you really listen to what he’s saying. He’s saying that there is, indeed, a way.

There is a way.

When I sat at this waterfall, I just wanted to look cool. I was blind. And for a moment, I was just capturing the moment. Maybe that’s okay sometimes. To just want to set the scene.

Now I look back and I see myself walking confidently that day. On that day I had my dear friend walking with me.

He’s not gone. However long the distance. Never gone.

I can’t help but be thankful that he feels so close no matter how far.

Hopefully he has someone to walk by his side, no matter where he is.

But something tells me the reason he’s achieved so much is that he walks alone in stride. In defiance to the quiet universe.

His voice alone, echoes throughout the cosmos.

I listen.

[2ammotivation]

Story: Copied Defiance

It sure was a morning outside. Birds were tweeting, flowers stayed the same as usual. And by usual, it means all the flowers within a fifty-mile radius were dead. Not just the flowers, as any plant life nearby was either plucked, wilted, or ready to be blown away by the next breeze. All surrounding a dainty hut no bigger than a bedroom. 

One would not expect such a cute little shack to have such a decrepit wasteland around it, but not all know of the true nature of its inhabitant. 

BAM!

Speak of the devil, here she is now

A foot costumed with an extremely worn running shoe burst the door open, with its owner wasting no time sprinting to the nearby town of Teufort. Her hands were stained, her wrinkled clothes were thrown on haphazardly along with a white lab coat, and her head looked like the mane of a lion who decided to try hibernation for the first time. All who glanced at her looked curiously at her face, completely manic with glee as she crashed through the Teufort Hospital doors. 

“FRONT DESK,” the madwoman screeched, voice crackling out the peeling skin of her lips, “GET ME YOUR MOST INJURED PATIENT STAT.” 

The clerk didn’t even budge, as she just smiled cheerily and said, “You got it! One near-death experience coming right up!”

As if on cue, two paramedics entered through the nearby door, waving kindly at their visitor. They wheeled in a stretcher, atop it a man that will forever go unnamed because we could hardly spare a thought to him. 

Despite no thoughts whatsoever, this man sure was in bad shape. With open stab wounds and infections all over his torso, he was wheezing from the effort of existing. The paramedics seemed to take no issue with the man’s concerning state, as one of them gently pet him on the head as if he were a dog. He looked at the new face in pure horror, as if trying to tell her to help him escape these psychos with his eyes. 

This random patient shall now be named the most unfortunate man to ever walk this planet, as the lady did nothing but grin excitedly as she practically ripped the patient's scrubs off of him. The inadequate man yelped in surprise, gasping more in pain as he tried to struggle away from her. 

This lady seemed to be having none of it, as she firmly grasped his shoulder with one hand as the other rummaged through the satchel slung over her shoulder, causing all sorts of weird sounds to produce. What was in that bag? 

The thing she was looking for was successfully acquired, as she extracted a bottle of emerald green from the bag. The man’s first assumption was that it was a green water bottle. Good, as he hasn’t had water in two days and nobody would do anything about it. His hopes diminished as she opened the bottle, pouring green liquid out of a weirdly clear bottle. 

Pouring it right onto his torso. 

“Enough is enough”, the man was probably thinking, as he flailed wildly and grabbed the crazy lady by the collar, enraged at the disrespect by this random stranger who barged into his already very bad day. 

“What is wrong with you?!” he bellowed in her face, “Can’t you see this sorry state! I’m cut, bruised, and god knows what else!” the unknown guy started shaking the lady violently. 

She showed no fear as she heard his enraged spiel. In fact, she was positively glowing. The lady looked like she was about to burst, more than she was at the start. 

“But you aren’t cut and bruised anymore, are you?” She said with suppressed glee

The rando gave her a weird look, ready to further call her an idiot for that wild assumption. Until he realised he was standing, active and painless, as if it wasn’t there at all. He looked down at his torso and lo and behold, no wounds. All was said and done, save for remnants of the strange green liquid over his stomach. 

The mad lady couldn’t hold it in any longer. “YES!” she screamed, jumping up and down with joy as her voice shattered the eardrums of everyone in her vicinity. She ran out of the hospital screaming, leaving the man with the cheery paramedics and front desk as he contemplated his entire existence. 

“IT WORKED, IT ACTUALLY WORKED. I HAVE REPLICATED THE FUTURE OF MEDICINE.” 

The mad lady ran across the entire length of the town, hollering back to her shed without a care in the world. 

“Cooper’s dog acting up again?”

“Seems about right.”

Teufort was far too insane to notice. 

She whooped into the night, laughing maniacally and bouncing around without a care in the world because of her success. 

The idiot then proceeded to faint and lie on the ground for a good ten minutes because she was anemic.

The End. 

[vinceleemiller]

Aging Spiritual Leadership | 1 Samuel 2:31-35

You never age out of spiritual leadership.

Welcome to the Daily Devo. I am Vince Miller.

This week, we are immersing ourselves in 1 Samuel 2. Chapter 2 contrasts two families—one who stands with God and one in defiance. Today I am reading verses 18-21:

Now Eli was very old, and he kept hearing all that his sons were doing to all Israel, and how they lay with the women who were serving at the entrance to the tent of meeting. And he said to them, “Why do you do such things? For I hear of your evil dealings from all these people. No, my sons; it is no good report that I hear the people of the Lord spreading abroad. If someone sins against a man, God will mediate for him, but if someone sins against the Lord, who can intercede for him?” But they would not listen to the voice of their father, for it was the will of the Lord to put them to death. Now the boy Samuel continued to grow both in stature and in favor with the Lord and also with man. — 1 Samuel 2:22-26

Then, jumping down to verses 31-35, a man of God comes to Eli and delivers a message from God.

Behold, the days are coming when I will cut off your strength and the strength of your father's house, so that there will not be an old man in your house. Then in distress you will look with envious eye on all the prosperity that shall be bestowed on Israel, and there shall not be an old man in your house forever. The only one of you whom I shall not cut off from my altar shall be spared to weep his eyes out to grieve his heart, and all the descendants of your house shall die by the sword of men. And this that shall come upon your two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, shall be the sign to you: both of them shall die on the same day. And I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind. And I will build him a sure house, and he shall go in and out before my anointed forever. — 1 Samuel 2:31-35

An Old Spiritual Leader

There are some interesting details in both of these texts.

Eli was very old. In fact, according to 1 Samuel 4:15, he was 98 years old. This suggests that he may have been out of touch with what was happening with his sons and their spiritual leadership. However, he eventually learned about their involvement in two forms of serious corruption.

Using their power and position for personal gain.

Using their power and position for sexual exploits.

What you have are two boys who feel entitled and have become especially egregious in their behavior. But what makes these sins egregious is that they interfere with God's sacrifices and in his house, and the boys just simply don't care. Then Eli's "why" is as close as he gets to calling them to repentance. He approaches them like a helpless old man and father who has washed his hands of them. In addition, we know the boys are going to dismiss his extremely soft interrogation.

An Indictment

The most startling part of this text and chapter is the indictment by God in verse 25:

"for it was the will of the Lord to put them to death."

The boys had gone too far. Most of us reading this text don't like to hear this. But it's a serious mistake to assume that these boys and their stubborn, entitled, sacrilegious, and hard hearts should be blamed on God. The hardness of their hearts was their choice, and thus, we see God's judgment for that choice. And given what I read here, Eli should have been a little more engaged in guiding them to repentance.

However, what is particularly interesting about this whole situation is that we never get the impression that Eli was a wicked priest. On the surface, he seems to be presented as a fairly "good" guy, but the way he deals with his sons and stewards the house of the Lord at the end of his life is not good. He is simply too old and lacks the fortitude to deal with his son's wicked conduct, which is not good.

But when one father fails to do his job, another takes over. God, the Father of his nation, inserts himself where Eli fails to lead.

An Ageless Responsibility

This is an important message for fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers. The spiritual leadership of your family never ends. There is no time in your life when you age out or retire from giving your family spiritual correction and guidance. You cannot simply wash your hands of giving needed spiritual correction and direction. Sometimes, you need to muster some fortitude and call your family to repentance because you love them. It's not loving as a father to let them face judgment from the Heavenly Father.

So, what sins do you need to address in your family, and how are you going to do it?

#SpiritualLeadership #FamilyFaith #LegacyofFaith

Ask This:

How can you emulate Eli's initial concern and engagement with your family's spiritual well-being, despite any challenges or discomfort it may entail?

Reflecting on the consequences of Eli's passive approach, how can you actively cultivate a culture of repentance and spiritual growth within your family, fostering open dialogue and accountability?

Do This:

Never stop leading.

Pray This:

Heavenly Father, grant me the wisdom and courage to lead my family in the paths of righteousness, never shrinking from the responsibility to guide them closer to You. Help me to embody Your steadfast love and discipline, nurturing a home filled with grace, repentance, and growth in faith. Amen.

Play This:

Confidence.

Check out this episode!

[tavtiers]

could i get an analysis for a maid of rage?

The Maid of Rage [symbols: flower, tragedy mask]

The Maid class has its basis in the handmaiden or lady-in-waiting. An example would be Joan of Arc.

The Rage aspect’s main theme is defiance. You can find its official description here.

A Maid of Rage is among those who alter faith in possibility. This is the “classpect group” they belong to. Members include: the Sylph, Maid, Bard, and Prince of Rage/Hope. These classes are all opposites or inverses of each other that alter the Rage/Hope dichotomy (faith in possibility). A description of classpect groupings can be found here.

The Maid of Rage actively assists the Rage aspect. Active classes tell themselves what to do and do so for their own benefit. They are more likely to stand up for themselves, but more likely to be cruel. Sylphs and Maids aid their aspect and everything it symbolizes or use it as a form of aid. Simplified, the Maid of Rage is motivated by themselves to assist defiance.

In personality, the Maid of Rage feels like something is holding them back and hates complacency. Personality descriptions can be found here.

Their archetype is the Escapee Revolutionary, defined by freedom and defiance. Archetypes are explained here.

Their opposite is the Sylph of Hope, who passively assists assurance.

Their inverse is the Bard of Hope, who passively destroys assurance.

A classpect or “god tier” is an individual’s best self. All classpects go through a journey from unrealized, to struggle, to realized. When a character is unrealized, they neutrally exist as their inverse. On their struggle, they will wildly flip back and forth between their inverse and true classpect. In their worst moments they will act as their inverse, in their best their true classpect. When realized, they will stabilize as their true classpect. They will still have room to grow, but will become happier, more successful people.

This means that the Maid of Rage begins life motivated by others to destroy assurance. When their struggle arrives and they are at their worst, they will continue this behavior in negative extremes. However, when at their best, they will find purpose in instead assisting defiance for themselves. When realized, they will stabilize and continue to assist the Rage aspect actively, in a positive way.

They share their archetype with the Bard of Breath, the Revolutionary Escapee.

The Maid of Rage would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Underground [Maid] and Rage [Aspect]. An example would be the Land of Shrines and Curses. An explanation of planet naming conventions can be found here.

A possible god, or denizen, to reign over their planet would be Ares (God of War). Other Rage aspect denizens can be found here.

When the Maid of Rage completes their planet quests and dies on their quest bed, they would rise to ascension on the wings of imps (symbols of the devil). A list of soul animals can be found here.

The characters that I have currently classpected as Maids of Rage are: Calpernia from Dragon Age, Harley Quinn from Batman, Negasonic Teenage Warhead from X-Men, and Lady Macbeth from Macbeth.

If any of the links not connected to my blog break, the content can be found on my Google Drive.

Official Aspect Descriptions Personality Descriptions Aspect Denizens

[clanborn]

More about Alaska clans?? 👀👀

Currently trying to make little infographic posts/comics about them but progress has slowed since school started. I’ll give an overview about them for now though thats hopefully not too long winded lol.

The clans are located in a fictionalized version of the area around Seward, AK and Resurrection Bay.

This map is a bit of an unpolished rough draft, but gives a general idea of the area. I believe the distance between the Iceclan and Oceanclan camps (via traveling around the mountains) is around 13 miles, might have to double check.

Unlike the book clans, the cats in these clans aren’t really in a battle cult and refer to themselves as “denizens” rather than “warriors”, and infighting amongst themselves is rare. The existence of separate groups mainly serves to prevent resource draining and diversify the food sources available to the cats, along with religious reasons (I’m still refining the details of their religion so I’ll probably elaborate on it in a later post). Though separate physically, the four groups essentially function as one large “clan” and coordinate resources and cats accordingly. Cats are able to change between clans with ease if they find their talents are suited elsewhere, and this usually is not a source of drama or conflict. However, though the clans do work as one unit, they do differ slightly in culture, and some clans are more accepting and flexible than others. For example, Oceanclan sees the lowest retention rate in denizens, and few cats switch to this clan, due to their specialized hunting methods and a sort of “hazing” culture for cats who seek to live there. The largest clan is Brookclan, followed closely by Stoneclan, since these clans live in less extreme environments with more opportunities for cats of differing skillsets. Iceclan is the smallest clan, but is the most tight-knit—very few cats born there choose to leave it.

The roles in these clans differ from their book counterparts. Medicine cats are simply referred to as doctors, and their sole job is to heal. Instead, leaders serve as both political and religious leaders, and are responsible for reading signs and attending half-moon meetings. Deputies perform similar duties as in the books, but are chosen differently. I’ll go over these positions later on in more detail.

Communication between the groups is important for the well-being of the clans, in order to be aware of threats and transport food and medicine, and is also important to individuals who may wish to have contact with friends and family in different clans. To facilitate this communication, there exists a Courier role. Clans will have at least two couriers (often more), usually the fastest cats in the clan with the endurance to travel long distances over rough terrain. These cats duties include reporting weather and animal sightings, delivering herbs from other clans, and transporting news and messages between various parties.

Though the clans’ culture doesn’t revolve around battle and aggressive defense of territory like those in the books, they still possess their own set of flawed beliefs. Generally, these clans see survival as a game, a challenge from nature and from their gods. They feel called to prove their worth by thriving in the harshest conditions possible, even when it isn’t necessary. Death is common, and though these cats grieve for those they’ve lost, it is viewed less as a tragedy and more of an unfortunate gamble. Living is a game of chance, and some cats—inevitably—are unable to beat the odds. To live as long as possible, to take whatever hardships the stars throw next, is the ability to gaze at them in defiance and ask: “Is that all you’ve got?”

Some cats can’t handle living this way, and choose to live the risk-defying, danger-seeking life of a clan cat. Cats who leave are sent off with honor, but are unable to return as a denizen. They forfeited the game—and there are no rematches. Some clans are respectful of those who leave (such as Stoneclan), but some tend to look upon them with permanent disdain (such as Oceanclan).

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 5.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

A/N: Shout out to my squad @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @underthejoon for always spitballing ideas with me and reading over what I have written. I’m seriously so lucky to have my girls and my heart is so full with them around <3

Also the beautiful banner is by @xjoonchildx so now we have two gorgeous banners to alternate every other chapter! I’m so happyyyyyy!! Enjoy guys!

It's usually relaxed Sundays at the Yu penthouse like God intended them to be but instead this Sunday was filled with raucous screaming and over dramatic whining which you aren't exactly used to.

"Leena." Jin warns, almost as if he's speaking to a child. 

You watch as your best friend takes the stuffed animal you won at the Fall Festival out of it's cardboard box before chucking it back onto your unmade bed. It's her act of defiance and it warms your heart slightly to know how much she loves you.

"Relax, would you?" Jin asks, wrapping a painting of yours in bubble wrap.

"No." She huffs out as she folds her arms. 

You find yourself smirking as you wrap your arms around her. She stiffens slightly before melting into the hug and rocking you from side to side.

"I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!" She chants bitterly as Jin sets the painting against the wall.

"Why don't you tell us about your date with Taehyung?" Jin offers, trying to take her mind off of it.

"No." She replies childishly as she hugs you tighter.

Jin sighs gently as he picks up the contract. It's a thick packet with words and legal jargon you find yourself unable to understand.

"I'm going to go read this in the living room. Leena, come with me." Jin commands and she pouts at you as she pulls away.

"At least he bought her pretty things." She grumbles to your other best friend as she follows him out of your bedroom.

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in the almost empty room. Your heart feels heavy in this moment. It's been almost six years since you moved into this apartment with Leena. 

This new journey will be the start to something extremely different from your norm. This will be the first time that you won't be seeing your best friend everyday, or when you wake up in the morning. It's jarring and more importantly frightening.

You had already quit your managerial position at the hospital, you've already packed up all of the things deemed "acceptable" for Yoongi's home. It really is a new path for your life.

Your parents loved you so very dearly from when you were quite young. They always knew what to say and what to do, always pushed for you to do the right things quite like them. They worked so hard for you to have a better life than they did when they were young. 

You can only hope to be as good of a parent as they were. 

Telling them you were pregnant was terrifying at first. You expected them to be disappointed with you. But, surprisingly, they were supportive. It was incredibly comforting, because no matter what happens you could count on them.

Looking down at your flat stomach, although you don't look different, you feel different. With a sigh, you close your eyes for a fraction of a second before taking in a deep breath.

Everyone keeps telling you to be strong, to have strength and everything will work out but unfortunately it isn't that easy. 

"Hey Y/N." Jin whispers as he leans against the door frame.

Opening your eyes, you give him a smile to try and tell him you're alright.

"The contract looks good. Namjoon did right by you." He tells you, holding up the packet and a pen.

You hold your hands out and he enters the room.

You can hear Leena's feet stomping down the long hallway as you put the packet on your lap. 

She arrives in the doorway with a martini in hand and you tilt your head to her as she scowls. 

"You can't have sex? Is he serious?" She scoffs.

You give a smirk as you sign the contract, "Seems like it. I asked him if I could have sex with him because he's the father and he sat there and literally told me he doesn't understand why I would have sex if I'm pregnant. He seemed repulsed." 

"I'll punch him in the dick." Leena murmurs into her martini glass.

"Yu Leena." Jin scolds as you set the pen down on your lap. 

"What?! He's a huge fucking dick suck." She says waving him off with her hand.

Both you and Jin snort loudly and he lays his head on your shoulder before hugging you tightly. 

"I'm gonna miss you, princess." He whispers.

"Me too." You mumble as you wrap your arms around his.

"Shouldn't you let the madam buy the child's furniture?" Yoongi hears Maya ask over his shoulder as he scours through the furniture website.

"If her ability to pick out furniture is as bad as her clothing or her shoes, my heir will end up sleeping in a rickety old basket made out of straw and hair." He retorts as she hands him his Irish coffee.

He hears her gentle sigh and he knows it's because somehow, something he said had disappointed her.

"What's wrong, Maya?" He asks as he locks the iPad, throwing it on the other side of the couch to look up at her.

She hums undecidedly before looking down at him as he sips his coffee, "Maybe try to be nice to her. She's going to have a hard time being pregnant in this household with your wife here." 

Her suggestion makes a shiver run up his spine. Just hearing the word pregnant sends him into some deep spiral.

Maya always has been kind hearted. She's always been understanding of others. Even if they don't deserve it.

Like with Sera, Maya will bust her ass to try to make the leech smile even if she gets sneers and snarky remarks in turn. 

She's too pure for this world. Too amazing for this cheap lifestyle.

"I am being nice to her. She gets to move in here." He responds as he sets the coffee cup down on his marble table.

“Min Yoongi.” Maya breathes out above a whisper before closing her eyes.

He watches her brow furrow with shame and he clears his throat uncomfortably before looking around the open gallery of the mansion to try and find any reason for her to leave.

“I didn’t raise you this way. You know that.” The older woman chides as she dusts off some of the priceless paintings that line the walls beside where he sits. 

He lets out a gentle snort as he leans back into the chaise lounge. 

“At least someone raised me, right?” He quips to her as he looks out the bay windows.

The garden seems well tended as of late, after the last fiasco with the uneven hedges he appreciates how much work his new gardeners have put into it.

He begins to wonder what you enjoy, what your hobbies are besides getting pounded in the back of your best friends club. Do you enjoy the finer things? Like yachting or horse racing? Do you even know what they are? Just how sheltered are you?

“What do poor people like? Swap meets?” Yoongi asks as he watches the rose bushes sway in the wind. 

“Yoongi.” Maya whispers dejectedly and he turns his head to her before shrugging. 

“Just asking.” He murmurs as a sparrow lands on the marble bird bath beside the window. 

“Why don’t you just try to get to know her? Ask her things like that without being rude.” Maya replies as she turns to him.

With a grimace, he finishes his coffee before handing the cup to her, “Why do I have to get to know her?”

“Oh my goodness.” Maya mumbles as she leaves the gallery. 

The billionaire watches her leave before slowly turning back to the window to stare aimlessly for a little while longer.

He's always been so jaded, always been so absolutely fucking ruthless because if he didn't protect himself from the outside world who would?

And even if it causes rifts, he just has to be this way. Because you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

The sounds of construction break him out of his thoughts. The contract must have gone through to Namjoon, if your room was already being renovated. Kira must have called and set up everything like she was supposed to.

It's a good thing she isn't just good for her tight snatch. 

Standing up with a groan, he stretches high up to the ceiling. He can hear and feel his bones popping and groaning to welcome a new day in front of him.

As he steps onto the heated marble flooring of the second floor, he knows he should be getting ready for work yet instead his curiosity begins to eat at him. 

What is your room starting to look like? How about the kids room? 

Walking past his walk-in closet, he can see dust and wood shavings on the floor in the hallway. His first thought is to curse out the constructors and threaten them if even a single wooden shard enters his room. But, before he can even open his mouth the shrill voice of his wife enters his ears.

"MIN YOONGI!" He can feel his brain rattling around in his skull, like a cry for help. He sighs loudly, it's really not a surprise that she can be even louder than the construction right in front of him.

Turning to her, he takes in her half asleep look. Her sleeping mask is stuck to her forehead, her black hair jutting out on all sides as she narrows her big, doll-like eyes at him.

"Some people are trying to sleep!" She screeches from the entrance of her wing in the mansion.

He chuckles to himself at her disheveled state and proceeds into his closet to get ready for work.

It probably won't end at that. And, he is absolutely correct.

Peeling off his sleep shirt, his eyes meet his wife's through the mirror as she storms into the room.

"I need beauty sleep, asshole!" She yells at him and he stares at her for a fraction of a second before clicking his teeth and tilting his head.

"You don't need beauty sleep, I paid for that face, leech." He deadpans.

His body is quick to duck out of the way as she takes the nearest object to the door before lobbing it at his head. 

"Did you do as I told you?" She asks, watching him grab his crisp white work shirt.

He doesn't reply, which in turn makes her repeat the same question louder with a high shrill added to her tone.

She's always been impatient and bratty. Once which was endearing to him is now like nails on a chalkboard.

"Hello?! I'm speaking to you! Answer me, asshole!" She yells as she snaps her fingers in his face.

Pressing his tongue to his cheek, he lets out a gentle snort before taking a deep inhale through his nose.

"When do I ever just do as you tell me to, Sera? When has that ever been a goal of mine?" He asks as he grabs his pinstriped tailored pants to match his shirt.

"What? So you didn't?" She asks, clearly shocked.

"Of course I didn't, what are you? Insane? Stupid? I'm a dick but I'm not heartless." He retorts.

"No! Just heartless to me!" She cries out angrily and he chuckles to himself as he grabs a tie.

"I'm sure you'll survive." He mumbles as he pulls the drawer full of his watches open. He watches them spin on their platforms before picking a black Rolex that would go nicely with his pants.

"The plan was for you to make her say that she's my surrogate! Since I'm so beautiful and so famous, she would be carrying my child instead!" Just hearing her ridiculous plan again makes him almost as uncomfortable as the first time he heard it.

In all honesty, as soon as those words left her mouth he didn't even entertain the idea. It seemed so wholly horrible and so absolutely fucking selfish. But, this is Sera we're talking about.

"That was your plan. You think I would ever force her or anyone to have to go in front of people and say their kid isn't their own? Jesus Christ. You really are a fucking leech." He spits out.

"But! But, she's going to use you for your money! She's going to ruin everything!" She screams above the incessant construction.

The sentence sends something akin to fire flaming throughout his gut.

"Well, leech, it's not like I'm not used to being used for my money. If anything you can teach her first hand what it's like to milk me like a money cow." Her mouth opens slightly, as if she's appalled by the notion.

It's then that his patience snaps like a thin twig beneath weight.

"Do you want to see my dick?" He asks briskly.

"Ew! What? No, of course not!" She yells at him as he gathers his clothes onto one arm.

"Then get the fuck out. I have to get ready for work." She stomps her foot loudly as if in protest but he brushes by her without a word back to his bedroom.

"Fucking money grubbing leech." He whispers to himself as he slams his bedroom door closed behind him.

Thursday nights were appointed for one thing in Min Yoongi's eyes. Poker.

The library which he barely ever entered as well as his wife that couldn't read more than ten words without having a seizure was always occupied on Thursdays. 

Usually, the other five members of his social circle were always present but today he only had the pleasure of four of them.

"I love that Maya deals." Taehyung chuckles as he pulls the pile of poker chips in the middle of the table towards him.

Yoongi snorts gently, clamping the cigar between his teeth tighter as he stacks his chips with one hand.

"Maya, can I please have some more ice?" Namjoon asks softly as he holds up the bucket.

"Oh of course!" She says quickly as she takes the bucket from him.

Taehyung and Jimin watch her leave before slyly smirking to Yoongi as he leans back in his chair with a groan. The way they look at him makes him feel like prey in a baron forest.

"What?" He murmurs as he pulls the cigar from his mouth.

The tips of Taehyung's fingers slide over the green felt table as he lifts his glass of whisky.

"I heard something interesting about you." He replies to his older friend.

Namjoon clears his throat uncomfortably as he crosses his legs beneath the lip of the table. 

"Oh yeah? What's that? Something about my board of trustees?" Yoongi asks with a laugh as he picks up his own glass.

"Not so much." Jimin murmurs as he ashes his cigar.

"Heard you got a girl pregnant." Yoongi chokes on his whisky as he hears Taehyung's smooth voice. His eyes widen and he spins his chair around to dab at his mouth. 

His blood runs cold as the hotel CEO chuckles behind him. It scares the ever living shit out of him and he hates that.

"Where'd you hear that?" He asks gently, his voice audibly shaking as he turns back around.

"A little after I pulled my dick out of Yu Leena's tight ass." Jimin snickers at the admission and Yoongi closes his eyes in defeat.

"You won't say anything, right?" Namjoon asks quietly as he looks over at his best friend.

Hoseok, Yoongi's other best friend since childhood had only recently found out about you and his heir. While he was surprised, he was always loyal to the CEO and Yoongi knew he could count on his silence.

"I definitely won't. I like it when Leena comes over and if I say anything she won't let me take her to France in two weeks." The Kisung Connected CEO sighs in relief at the younger man's admission.

Maya returns with the ice and it gets quiet for a bit, just the gentle sounds of ice clinking against glass and poker chips smacking into each other resound throughout the large library.

"Leena loves her, y'know. She never shuts up about her. I feel like I know her with how much Leena tells me." Taehyung says as he rubs two poker chips together between his fingers.

This peaks his curiosity as he begins to relax into the chair once more.

"What does she say?" Yoongi asks softly and he watches as Maya smirks gently. Her motions are soft and smooth as she deals the cards. 

"About Y/N? That she's really sweet and kind. She works really hard and enjoys simple things like most poor people." Humming inquisitively, he lifts his whisky glass to his lips to ponder that thought.

"Simple things? Like?" Taehyung rolls his eyes at Yoongi's question.

"Yeah. Simple things. She likes to paint and to watch romantic movies. She enjoys cooking and other poor people shit." 

He begins to wonder how well you can paint. If you were any good at it.

"She's really sweet." Namjoon adds and Yoongi grimaces in his direction.

Noticing his grimace, the lawyer shrugs with a smirk.

"Is she the girl that was with Leena on her birthday?" Jimin asks and both Yoongi and Taehyung nod at the same time.

"Oh dude! She's so fucking hot! I can't believe you got to her before me!" Hearing those words roll off of his friend's tongue sets him in an uncomfortable state.

His body leans away from Jimin's as he clutches the cigar tighter between his index and middle finger.

"So she's moving in here?" Jimin asks happily.

"In two days. Yes. We have to go to the doctor and then she'll be in the mansion." 

Hoseok nudges Namjoon as they watch their best friend move uncomfortably. 

Yoongi loosens his tie around his neck, his face and chest begin to feel incredibly hot and flush. He can feel the sweat building on his hairline as he uncuffs his cufflinks. 

"Maya." He whispers as he holds them out over the table. 

Swallowing thickly, he stares down into his glass as the ice clinks against the crystal sides.

"You're lucky she's moving in. Now you'll have constant pussy." Jimin says as he scrolls through Leena's Instagram. 

The concept is completely foreign to Yoongi, "She's pregnant. Why would I fuck her?" 

Namjoon chuckles to himself gently as he looks at his cards, he tosses a few chips into the center of the table before looking pointedly at his best friend.

"Because man, pregnant pussy feels so much better than regular pussy. Plus, she's carrying your baby. That's fucking hot." Yoongi sneers at Jimin, the corner of his upper lip flicking upward at the notion.

"You're a fucking short little weirdo, Park Jimin." Yoongi's sentence comes out just a bit more acidic than he means it to but he doesn't apologize.

If anything the small flames of anger seem to burnish brighter as Jimin chuckles to himself. Park has always been so sure of himself, so absolutely ruthless in getting what he wants. But, you weren't his to have.

"If you aren't going to fuck her right, can I?" He asks as he tosses chips into the middle of the table. 

Yoongi's hand grips into a fist, the edges of the chips he holds make uncomfortable indents into his skin as he focuses on Maya's face to calm himself down.

"Whoa. Jimin." Hoseok mumbles as Jimin laughs.

"Calm down hyung. I'm just playing with you. I'll just ask her out on a date and we'll see where it goes." Yoongi chuckles to himself.

He can't begin to understand why it bothers him so much to hear those words. Maybe it's because you're being treated flippantly or maybe it's because you were his. Or, should be his anyway. You were having his child. Doesn't that make you off limits?

But he was better than this. He was better than letting small, simple things beneath his skin.

"She won't say yes. She's pregnant with my baby." He says as he chucks his chips into the center of the table roughly.

"We'll see. If she does say yes, just know I'll treat your baby mama with a lot of respect...as I rearrange her guts with the head of my cock." Jimin and Taehyung chortle loudly as they knock their shoulders into one another. 

Scoffing gently, he downs the rest of his whisky before wiping the back of his hand over his lips.

It takes all of his restraint to not get out of his chair and punch the shorter man in the face. It takes every single ounce of strength to just stay seated and look as if he's calm while on the inside he's burning bright with red hot rage.

"You watch your fucking mouth, Jimin. She's the mother of my child." He says as he points his finger over the lip of his glass at the younger man.

The laughs die down as they notice just how deadly serious he is. 

"Oh, now you care about her? Seemed like she was going to be just another leech ten minutes ago." Jimin chuckles as he speaks his words and Namjoon's eyes flutter shut in defeat.

"Yeah well, if she was to be a leech. She would be my leech. Not yours. You watch your fucking mouth when you talk about the mother of my baby in this fucking house, do you understand me?" He doesn't even understand where this rage is coming from. He can't begin to process it, but he doesn't miss the smile that creeps onto Maya's face as he defends your honor.

Jimin holds his hands up with a laugh as he clenches his cigar between his teeth. 

"Calm down Yoongi. I'm just fucking with you. I don't want to fuck your poor baby mama, alright?" 

Namjoon sits up fast as Yoongi goes to stand up, "Let's just all relax. Calm down." He tells his best friend as he puts his hand on his shoulder.

"Get out." He says aloud as he brushes Namjoon's hand off his shoulder.

Jimin looks up at Yoongi as Maya gently sets the cards down on the felt table. 

"Oh Yoongi. Come on, I was fucking around." He says half heartedly.

"I'm done for the night. Get the fuck out." He burns his cigar out before opening up the library doors.

Everyone stands and thanks Maya softly before heading out one by one. Yoongi catches Jimin by the shoulder as he leaves last.

His hand clasps roughly around his skin and Jimin cringes at the sharp pain, "You keep her fucking name out of your goddamn mouth. Do you understand me? Don't you dare ever disrespect her in this household again. Or, I'll release those pictures of you at your bachelor party to Dispatch. You keep your dick away from where it doesn't belong in this house."

The threat sends Jimin's eyes widening a fraction before he collects his composure, "I got it. Relax." He says before pulling his shoulder away and patting the older man's arm.

Taking a deep breath, he looks around the library before meeting Maya's gaze as she clears the cards off of the poker table.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that nasty stuff." He apologizes and her nose wrinkles sweetly as she smiles.

"Now that, that is how I raised you." He smirks gently at her praise before pocketing his hands and looking down at the floor.

"Can you order some paint brushes and canvas?" He asks softly.

"Oh of course! For you? You don't paint." Maya asks, her voice is riddled with confusion as she stacks the poker chips back in the oak box.

"No, I don't but Y/N does." He mumbles and Maya smiles widely before nodding. 

"Of course I'll order her some painting materials! That's a great idea, Yoongs!" Seeing her, the woman who has raised him, get so excited about it makes him feel almost drunk off of delight.

But, then he gets brought down to Earth once more as he hears his wife giggle from the kitchen. 

"Thanks, Maya." He mumbles as he sets off to his wing of the mansion. He eyes Hoseok chatting up his wife as they both lean against the bar and he snorts to himself in disbelief. At least someone would be getting laid tonight.

The problem with having a wife that sees other people is just how loud sex can get when you're not involved. 

At one point Yoongi craved to be in Hoseok's position. He was dying to get in between Sera's legs albeit she was annoying and bratty since they were kids. He had a genuinely real crush on her that dissolved into distaste and pure hatred in a matter of moments.

Even across the whole mansion, he can hear her getting fucked like there's no tomorrow and he grimaces while turning to the window as he lays in bed. 

"Music up to ninety percent." He calls out in the room and the volume of the classical piano piece rises quickly to drown out the feral noises of sex from the other wing in the mansion.

Pulling out his phone, he begins to scroll through Instagram before finding Leena's page. There were so many posts with just you and her or you, her and Seokjin. Your smile was pretty. He takes into account that you haven't really smiled around him all that much but he can understand why. 

He can remember your giggle too, when you were in Namjoon's office. It was soft and gentle, like hummingbird wings. The noise instantly made him relax and he can remember how his eyes fluttered shut just upon hearing it.

You weren't a bad person. You weren't trying to trap him-- he could see it on your face when you had lunch. You were genuinely mortified. So fucking frightened. And, even though he doesn't know you, you don't deserve that.

You don't deserve to be terrified of him or anyone. 

He can see in most of these pictures, you're wearing borrowed things. The Chanel, the Balenciaga, the Gucci-- it was all Leenas and none of it was your own. 

How fucking depressing must that be? Did Leena make you wear her clothes or did you ask her to borrow some in order to not feel poor and unworthy around others? 

Sighing gently, he presses his face deeper into the pillow as he continues to scroll.

Maybe he shouldn't treat you like another Sera. But, he doesn't trust a single person. He's learned to lock his heart away in an iron cage after Sera so brutally stepped on him.

He's not sure if he could ever truly open up to someone else that isn't the woman who raised him.

Next Chapter --->

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