#IO: mind over matter

[gxldensxldiers]

Once again from @asshork from discord! Eileen "Io" O'Donnell my beloathed /lh. Don't mind her playing fucked up mind games and making everyone else's lives hard just bc she can. Something something everyone supports women's rights but nobody fights for women's wrongs

[yeaimsafiya]

CHAPTER ONE back from rehab

SYNOPSIS the beginning of a teenage girl named y/n who is fresh out of rehab but doesn't intend to stay clean.

FROM THE WRITER AHH IM SORRY IM LATE GUYS!! This is the first chapter I'm ever writing, I took some inspo from episode 1 but I'm going to have to cut each episode into fourths because I really don't want to spend a whole week trying to finish a whole episode and school work. But I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter as much as I did - Love you guys, Sapiyah <3

WARNINGS Lots of unnecessary writing, female! reader, mentions of drugs and drinking, strong sexual content, nudity, violence, adult content, adult language, scenes might be uncomfortable for some, some scenes might include mentions of mental illness'

SERIES EUPHORIA

CHARACTERS INCLUDED members of the bakusquad & dekusquad, big three(?), some characters of class 1A

NOTES MDNI! Ageless blogs will be blocked or removed.

Readers discretion is advised

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark and nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You were once happy. Content.

Sloshing and swimming around your own private, primordial pool; Then one day, for reasons beyond your control, you were continuously and repeatedly crushed...

Over..and over.. again by the cervix of your mother, M/n.

You put up a good fight, but eventually lost, for the first time, but not the last.

You were born 3 days after 9/11, your mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding you under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feeling of grief gave away to numbness.

And then, without warning, a middle-class childhood in the American suburbs.

|

You were sitting at the dinner table with your mother, M/n, and Father, F/n. But it appeared something else had gotten your attention, a set of numerous lights above the dinner table, in which you wanted to count.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen.."

" What are you looking at y/n?"

"..."

"What are you doing? ..Y-y/n look at me."

"One, two, three, .."

"What are you doing Y/n?"

*cries*

|

"Id say she's suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder..."

Its not like you were physically abused..

"...attention deficit disorder..."

..Or had some type of clean water storage..

"..general anxiety disorder.."

..Or was molested by a family member.

"..and possibly bipolar disorder. But she's a little bit too young to tell."

So, explain this shit to me.

|

"Honey, it's just the way your brain was hardwired; Plenty of great, intelligent, funny, interesting and creative people have struggled with the same things you struggle with."

"Like who?"

"Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and even Brittney Spears, your favorite!"

You haven't remembered much from the ages of eight to twelve. Just that the world moved fast, and your mind moved slow.

"Does anyone have an idea of what a perception might be?"

And every now and then, if you focused on the way you breathed...

You'd die.

"Slow down, just breathe"

Until every second of the day, you'd find yourself trying to outrun your anxiety.

"What's wrong Y/n?"

..And quite frankly..

"I'm just fucking exhausted"

|

Coming down to the kitchen, you could hear the small talk between your mother and younger sister, S/N.

"You said the doctor was in our network. How can he suddenly be out of network?"

"I can't afford it."

"Did you see that video of the girl who got acid thrown at her face?"

"What? No.."

"It's pretty fucked up.."

"Mom do you know where the tampons are?"

"In my bathroom, right under the sink."

And at one point, you'd make a choice of who you are and what you want.

"Alright Gia, let's go"

"Why do the co-payments cost $300?"

"Y/n did you eat breakfast?"

".."

"What's with the glasses?"

"What glasses?"

You just happened to show up one day, without a map or a compass..

"Attention students, we need to lockdown."

..Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice.

And I know it all seems sad but guess what? You did not build this system up, nor fuck it up yourself.

But then it happens. That moment where your breath starts to slow. And every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have.

Then everything stops: Your heart, your lungs, then finally, your brain. And everything you feel, you wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks.

And then suddenly... you give it air again, give it life again.

You remember the first time it happened, where you were so scared you wanted to call 911. Go to the hospital and be kept alive by machines and apple juice. But you didn't want to look like an idiot, and you didn't want to fuck up everyone else's night.

And now overtime, that's all you've wanted.. those two seconds of nothingness.

You spent a good portion of summer before junior year in rehab. God granted you the serenity to accept things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

"Y/N," your sister yelled from afar, greeting you after your long leave. You smiled, and whilst running up to her, tried to continue the conversation with your younger sibling.

"Hey, Come here!"

"How are you?"

"Good, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Look at you, are you growing?"

"No."

Looking over, you see your mother standing by your family car.

"Hey," you yelled out to her, only to receive a small smile from her.

And with that. you knew it was your time to go.

|

"I'm very happy for you Y/n. You're about to start a brand-new chapter," Your mother says while driving you and your sister to school. You looked at her with a smile, then turned your attention back to the car window.

You had no intentions of staying clean. And yet, Jirou just moved into town.

"There's some new girl in town that I think you'll be friends with," Shoto said, with you standing beside him in his store.

"Who?"

"Shit, I don't know. She came in looking all punk rock and shit; So I'm thinking to myself, like, 'look like somebody Y/n would be friends with'."

Which was sort of a dead-on observation for Shoto, who's not normally revolving in the same direction as planet earth.

"So how long have you been back?" He asked.

"About five days."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I mean, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good."

"Word? That's what's up," You chuckled at his snarky remark, giving him a small smile.

"I'm fucking with you," you said whilst laughing, "It was a joke."

"Shit, hey, I don't judge," he defended, hands raising to just above his chest.

"But for real, is Deku in the back?"

"Are you serious?" Shoto questioned, seeming very disappointed in you.

"What, you think cause' I went to rehab I stayed clean?"

"I mean, ain't that the point?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, the world is coming to an end, and I haven't even graduated high school yet."

You gave Shoto one more smile before going to Deku, whilst Shoto stared at you the entire way there; There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but since you were too busy looking for Deku, you didn't see.

You opened one of the doors of the refrigerators, leading you right to him with a bowl of fruit loops,"I thought your ass was dead," he said one he saw your appearance.

"And I thought you had Asperger's till I realized your just a prick," you barked back.

"This a fickle industry, y'all come and go. I'm just trying to stack my cash, pay off our mortgage," he said while pulling out a bunch of plastic bags out of a microwave.

"So what the fuck do you want?" You gave him a knowing look before he handed you needed.

"You sure you don't want to try something new?" He asks you.

"Like what?"

"2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

"I'm sorry I have no fucking idea of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter," he stated, "but this shit, is fucking lit."

"What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic."

Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual as shit, but definitely a sense distorter.

"What's wrong?" That same dark purple hair girl questioned.

"I'm just so happy," you responded back.

"I don't know, this shits been going off in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck with this," Deku continued on with his descriptions with the drug.

"Okay. Yeah, why not."

"That'll be 120."

"Oh uh, Shoto said he'd spot me."

"Shoto doesn't spot nobody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him."

"I will go ask him, cause' I know your full of shit."

Those were the last words he said before you walked out. Those were the last words you heard before you saw the same two boys in freshman year.

Bakugo and Kirishima.

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[goakizaizinski]

Concerns Over The CHEDCL Movie & Trailer

After watching the trailer for the Cute High Earth Defense Club Eternal Love! movie, I honestly am very concerned about it. Part of this concern is that a lot of the Cute High Earth Love! Love! Love! OVA was many flashbacks and music videos. The new film's description says, "The film tells a story after what has happened in the franchise so far, featuring new cuts." So, my worries about something similar to the OVA have been there since they announced the movie. I'm also not in the know about the movie and I am basing my trailer on the translated Youtube subs. So, if I get something inaccurate, feel free to correct me/give me the right information. -The first concern is how long is the movie? There's nothing out about run time to my knowledge. I worry that it will be short or basically an extended episode similar to the OVA. . -The second concern is that I worry that including the Happy Kiss cast, no matter how large or small of a part, could make the movie too crowded. Just having one series of characters is a lot, but putting two will almost certainly lead to lack of screen time and lines for multiple characters. A longer runtime can help, but I'm not banking on that. -As for the trailer itself, it seems like Yumoto said something along the lines of, "I don't know where my Senpais are or what they are doing." I hope and pray this is out of context, is Yumoto being an airhead, or is some kind of joke. Otherwise, it would be incredibly disappointing that both Yumoto as a character and the leader of the Battle Lovers did not stay in touch with his Senpais/BFFS/etc. after all they've been through. It honestly seems a little OOC or out of character for him too. -If that statement isn't Yumoto being an airhead/out of context, then I also am disappointed in the other four Battle Lovers (En, Atsushi, Io, and Ryuu). You can say they see him as a younger brother/son/BFF/etc., they spent a ton of time together, and they helped saved the world together too. To just not stay in contact is both disappointing and sad. I think it also seems rather OOC for the four guys as well. -If Yumoto possibly has not stayed in touch, then I am extremely worried about the main pairs (in my opinion OTPs) of Io/Ryuu and En/Atsushi. They were almost literally attached at the hip in the series, implied to be together in some capacity, and were together both inside and outside the show. To possibly not have them not in contact with each other is again worrying, disappointing, and feeling almost out of character based on the series. -I also worry about the four guys not wanting to do the Battle Lovers again, despite the ending of the OVA having them all not wanting Wombat to leave, wanting to stay in touch, and make time if he ever comes back. I really hope they stay true to their word when Wombat comes back. Otherwise, that too, will feel like a massive disappointment and OOC for all of them. -The only character I will comment on as they were blurred out, except Yumoto, is that I hope En isn't a bum or something bad. He's been shown to be smart and can do well when he puts his mind to it. Unless Atsushi not being around makes him become lazy or no motivation, I really hope he's just dressed funny/some kind of joke. Conspiracy Theory: The more I think about it, I almost feel like this could be a time travel mistake by Wombat or even a, "If the Battle Lovers never existed/they had their Battle Lover memories erased/mind controlled/etc." The movie description says that Wombat was trying to get to the year 2015, but ended up in 2025 instead. It feels like Wombat could have made some sort of mistake and would explain a lot of my worries above. Plus, the OVA was said to be the conclusion, which again could explain the AU type movie. However, I am not getting my hopes up on a conspiracy theory explains everything. I know what I want is clouding my thoughts on the movie, but I am trying to keep an open mind. With less than a month until it's release, I'm hoping it's a good addition to the series and not a, "Lets pretend that never happened."

[chainera]

The Throw and The Catch

“Hey, are you sure you’ll be alright out there?” Mars asks, his sad voice shaded with concern. Next to him is the Earth, with heavy bags under his eyes, the faded lines of tears still scratching on his surface like a broken tattoo. The Moon isn’t sure how that worked, but he also isn’t sure how sound even traveled in space, or how any of them were even sentient. So he supposes it didn’t really matter. 

A little less than an astronomical unit away are Venus and Mercury, talking with the Sun about what the Moon had informed them of. It’s strange watching them interact— usually Venus would be spitting insults at Mercury, and Mercury would fire back in his own defiant way, heading away and taking all the offense in stride. But now they were actually interacting like two normal beings, even if the conversation was stifled and tense. The looming threat of the moon revolution was obviously more important than whatever disagreement they had gotten themselves tangled up in now.

The Moon looks on towards the asteroid belt, a realm of gloomy dark rocks, as far as the eye can see. He remembers the last time he was here— of watching, terrified, as his fellow moons planned a coup against his best friend. He remembers dodging the asteroids, desperately launching them back, convincing Callisto to go on the right track, all while his Dark side snored in the back of his mind.

“I-I can go if you want.” Mars stammers, but the Moon refuses. Earth needed Mars right now, needed affirmation that they wouldn’t abandon him. As for Mercury and Venus, the Sun wouldn’t allow them to leave, and besides, they needed to devise a back-up plan anyways. 

“I’ll go.” The Moon states firmly, and before Mars could say another word, the Moon floated off into the asteroid belt, forcing down the panic that spiked in his core.

It’s fine. He thinks, as the sunlight behind him grew dimmer and dimmer, the warm pink fading off into the dark blue of space. I just need to get to Jupiter, and warn the gas giants about this whole thing. I just need to…

Then, something flies past him. 

What—

The Moon reels back, narrowly dodging a small, spiky asteroid. He looks up to see a figure in the distance, but it resembles either Phobos or Deimos more than Ceres, the only one who he was expecting.

“Hello!” The asteroid(?) grins, batting her eyes. “I’m Amalthea. A moon of Jupiter’s, or how he would like to call us, a prize.” She spits the last word with venom, and more pointed asteroids rise around to her. 

“Well I’ve seen you’ve returned, Earth’s Moon.” Europa greets, coming over, before letting out a bubbly laugh. Flanking her are more asteroids- or well, he assumes, more of Jupiter’s moons. “Pardon Amalthea, but she doesn’t take lightly to beings who betray us. But, if you join us, we’ll put that all in the past. I won’t even ask about your… disappearance.”

The Moon grits his teeth, trying to keep his thoughts steady. “If I could take Io and Callisto, I can definitely take you guys.”

Europa scowls, opening her mouth, but then—

“But are you sure you can take us?” Said a voice, familiar in all the wrong ways. 

The Moon turns around so fast he gives himself whiplash. Sure enough, floating in front of him was Ganymede, along with many other beings he didn’t recognize. 

“Aw, sweetheart, you always have the best timing.” Europa giggles, any sense of anger gone from her tone at the sight of the newcomer. 

“Of course I do.” Ganymede winks, before directing his attention to the Moon, his once flattered smile fading into a mean sneer. The Moon feels a sudden, overwhelming wave of dread. 

“Meet the moons of Saturn.” Ganymede grins. “Mimas,” the gray one with one eye beams, “Ba-Dione,” the one with a white streak on her surface rolls her eyes, “Ensalada,” the one with blue veins scoffs, but holds his tongue, “Iapetus,” the one with a white and brown surface looks on with a neutral expression, “and the rest!”

The remaining small moons glare at him, but stay silent.

“Y’know, since I’m nice,” Ganymede continues, “I’ll give you one last chance. Join us.”

The Moon’s gaze darts around the area, and he was sure that if he was an earthling, he’d be drowning in sweat. There was nothing around him, nothing but more and more moons all giving him silent stares. There was no one coming— Callisto and Titan were in who-knows-where, the inner planets were too busy doing their own thing, Ceres probably had enough sense not to intervene, and the gas giants had no reason to check the belt. Desperate, the Moon turns to the enemy, grasping at the straws.

I can do this. I convinced Callisto, I can—

“Do you really think what you’re doing is right?!” The Moon asks, his voice thankfully growing stronger with each word. “Going against the planets? The Sun?! And what do you even plan to do with the Earth? Kill him?!”

He sees Dione purse her lips, Enceladus glancing away, and something shifts in Iapetus’s eyes. He’s getting through them at least.

But then Ganymede laughs. “Do you take us for idiots? Of course we aren’t going to kill him. Make an example out of him, strip him of all his precious little Earthlings, sure, but no killing. And as for the Sun… we’re working on it.”

And instantly, all the moons nod, like robots.

“And what about you all?!” The Moon questions, trying to keep his voice measured, but there’s a pathetically obvious note of desperation in it. “Did you really just let him waltz over and persuade you? How do you even know he’s going to keep his word and not betray all of you?”

“Oh please.” Ganymede responds, his tone clipped and dark. “I’m not like you. I’m not a traitor. Now, I was aware that I gave you one last chance. And that sounded like a no.”

The Moon gulps, feeling fear overtake his core. The stares at him turn piercing, and he’s distantly aware of Amalthea raising her razor sharp asteroids and Saturn’s moons gathering some as well. Europa laughs sharply, and Ganymede’s mouth turns into another sneer. The fear is breaking the Moon’s resolve, and—

Light.

The Moon gasps, eyes widening. The cloudy fear breaks. The piercing stares turned… confused, almost, and—

Light.

Dark’s thoughts, excited and venomous, cuts through The Moon’s. Are they causing trouble for you?

The stares slowly turn piercing again, and Ganymede—

Yes. Please—!

Ganymede yells, “Knock him out!”

Immediately, asteroids are hurled towards the Moon at all sides. Dark flings themselves down, and the asteroids crash together, one of them going straight towards Ensalada.

“OW!” Ensalada yelps as the asteroid lands squarely below his eye. Ganymede tuts.

“You should know better than to try and fight back, Earth's moon. Don’t make this difficult for us.”

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Another barrage of asteroids heads towards the Moon like a solarflare. The Moon squeezes his eyes shut, giving reins to his counterpart. Instead of running, Dark turns and expertly evades each one, much to the other moons’ shock.

Europa frowns. “What the—

Dark smirks, widening his deep black eyes. The Moon wishes he could see the others’ reactions right now.

Dark cackles, each peal of laughter crisp and deadly. He brings the nearby asteroids around him with ease, forming a ring.

“What- what is with your eyes?!” Ganymede shouts, flabbergasted. 

“Well, the thing is, I’m not the Moon. At least, not the one you’re used to. I’m his Dark side.”

And Dark spins, the asteroids twirling and flying towards their opponents like bullets. Most of the other moons avoid them, but one hits Europa’s side, and another one slams into Ganymede’s cheek, eliciting twin yelps of pain. 

Dark laughs again, thrilled. 

“And here you thought beating us will be that easy.” He taunts, and Ganymede’s eyes light up with fury. 

“Attack him!” He shouts, and Dark forms a shield, blocking the asteroids coming at him easily. Some asteroids are thrown nastily towards his back, but the Moon handles that, deflecting every one. The two of them fight like a dance, completely synchronized in ways only two beings who existed together all their lives would. 

We should get out of here. Light thinks, as he shoves him and Dark back, dodging one of Iapetus’s asteroids, who’s still looking at him strangely. 

Oh come on. Dark whines in their head. We could beat them all easily. And I haven’t fought in forever…

No we can’t. Light scolds. You have too big of an ego. 

Ganymede screams a war cry, and an asteroid bruises the Moon’s side. Pain blossoms, and both Light and Dark wince. 

Maybe you’re right. Dark admits, But if we’re going to flee, we’re going to go out with a bang.

Wha—

Give me your strength. 

…fine. But I better not regret this. 

With their combined strength, Dark raises up at least a dozen asteroids, and they rise up behind him like a wave. 

The last thing Light sees before the asteroids come crashing down is Ganymede’s dropped jaw. The last thing he hears is Europa’s high-pitched shriek.

“Next time, don’t fight against someone when you don’t even know half of them!” Dark shouts victoriously as they flee away, fast as lightning. Within seconds the shouts of the other moons fade, and within minutes they tumble out of the belt.

That was—

Amazing! Can we do it again?!

The Moon groans, his- their entire body tired and covered in bruises. Seriously?!

[wolfstargirlie21]

The Dark Side Of The Moon Chapter Four: October 1975

The links for both Wattpad and Ao3 at the bottom :)

~~~

As Remus and Lily walked to the library to talk, there was absolute silence. Remus’s heart was racing, and his palms were increasingly sweating as he could only think of the worst possible scenarios. “What if she thinks I'm weird? What if she tells everyone? What if she tells Sirius? What if she—

“Rem, are you ok? You seem a bit worried." Lily's soft voice filled Remus’s ears and immediately calmed him down. “Yeah, Lils, I'm fine,” he said, giving her an unconvincing smile. She looked at his eyes, analyzing them, trying to pick out the smallest discomfort. The smile she gave after him was all-knowing and disturbed every part of him.

They arrived at the library and sat down in a secluded corner. The pair didn't talk, instead letting the awkward silence take over them. The abnormality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. This wasn't normal for them; they usually could talk about anything and everything without the conversation faltering. However, this time was painfully different.

As Remus thought of what to say, Lily reached over the table to hold his hand. “It's ok, Remus. Whatever's wrong, you can tell me. I'm here for you,” Lily said, stroking the outside of Remus’s hand and giving him a smile that made his mind stop racing and his heartbeat slow.

“Lils, ever since I got here, I felt different from everyone else. I always saw the boys going after the girls and vice versa, but I never wanted that I had—" He choked as he felt tears brewing. “I didn't want to chase girls; I wanted to have what they had.” Remus said, looking at Lily and seeing her face get softer.

“Remus, are you trans? I completely accept you. I'm just confused,” Lily said, whispering and looking around them to see if anyone heard them. “No, what I mean by that is that I want guys. I want to be able to date guys, and I know that's bad, but I don't think it's going to go away. And I... I,” Remus said, pausing as tears fell down his cheeks. “I think I'm in love with Sirius,”.

Lily got up from her chair and walked over to him. Remus didn't have time to say anything before Lily wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “Rem, I'm so proud of you,” she said, squeezing him to the point where all the air in his lungs disappeared.

As she sat back down, Remus felt a weight fly off his shoulders. He felt as if he could tell her everything. As if she would care for him no matter what. “Lils, that's not the only thing,” Remus said, pausing, building up courage. “I have feelings for Sirius. That's why I was crying earlier. I can't ignore it anymore. I just want him to love him. I want to hold him every night. I want to brush the curls out of his face. I want to hear his laughter every day. I... I just want him. And I have for a while,” Remus said in one breath, hoping to get his statement out before being interrupted.

Lily looked at Remus with a mixture of happiness and sorrow. “Rem, I can't say I can imagine exactly what you're going through,” she paused as if there was more to that statement than she was letting on. “However, I know this is a common feeling, and I—” she paused as if stopping herself from uncovering the truth. “I really don't know what I can do, but if you need me, I'm here,” Lily said, letting out a breath.

“I don't need you to do anything. I'm not your responsibility, Lils,” Remus expressed, feeling a bit guilty she felt as if he needed her. “I just wanted you to know to not worry about me.” Lily looked at him as if he said something humorous.

“Rem, that’s impossible; I'll always worry about you.”.

~~~

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1504409539?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading_part_end&wp_uname=WolfstarGirlie

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60877996/chapters/157261327

[angelof-thevoid]

Memorable Moments / Wisdom

Io remained the same in spite of everything else that’s happened. Ikora came to the Jovian moon expecting it to be changed as well, but found the only thing different was her. As a person. Doubtful. Hopeless, and stripped of the light. What was once the steady presence of a background hum is now a gaping void of silence. Emotions that had been long-time strangers now rise back to the surface to force their re-acquaintance if she lingers too long on that thought.

The traveler was caged and the last safe city was no longer safe, overrun with red legion troops making a mess of what humanity had re-built. She scans the horizon, eyes dragged to the focal point of the cradle, a strange series of geometric risings carved out of the yellow sulfur infused ground. Like the beginnings of a project once started but left unfinished and abandoned. 

Like how she abandoned the city. Ikora draws in steady breath as she turns around to face the area commonly dubbed the lost oasis. Lost, like I am. It’s hard for her to reach for the usual faith she holds in the light as Ikora stands by watching idly the taken in the distance near tear shiver and teleport in that unnatural way. She feels powerless. She hates this feeling. 

All the wisdom Ikora possessed seemed outside her reach at this moment, feeling untethered to an integral part of who she was and her belief system. Holding the highest crucible record meant nothing if that bravado was only backed by the strength of her light, who is she outside of that capability? Another cowering mortal, waiting out the oncoming days, seeing which day might be the last?

Who did she want to be was the real question. Her hands tightened for a moment behind her back before deciding to get down in a kneeled position, choosing to meditate on the dilemma. Ikora shuts her eyes and sets her breathing into an even pace as her mind flickers between images of what used to matter to her, what matters now and what always had. 

The pursuit of knowledge. Proving herself and her strength. Learning to study and grow from other’s teachings. Knowing her identity separated from that and knowing when to walk away. Ikora inhales, then exhales.

Her fire team. Zavala. Cayde. Her Hidden. The rest of the guardians and the mortal civilians of the last city. Everyone who is still there, doing their best to survive this current crisis like many others. But this was different, this threat brought right to their doorstep, right on top of their home and safe haven. Ikora clenches her fists in her lap again. How dare they. Taking the traveler and their home. 

Ikora continues her meditation with her evened breathing to prevent herself from feeling overwhelmed, when she hears the tell-tale sound of a jump ship flying overhead. She looks up and sees what she believes to be the guardian’s ship, now hovering to settle in low orbit as they transmat out of the vehicle.

She rises and looks back out toward the cradle, feeling a sort of kinship to it out here half undone and lonely on its own. Ikora hears the guardian’s footsteps behind her with what seems like misplaced confidence, all things considered, and she feels… Wait. She feels the presence of the guardian as she always had, including their light.

The guardian’s light? How? Ghaul cut off the traveler! Ikora kept her surprise inward as she argued internally over this. The guardian had proven to be quite extraordinary, maybe they were somehow unaffected? But there was footage of them falling from high up, like a puppet cut from its strings along with their ghost being spotted searching for them. 

Even so, if it’s possible to have the light returned and the guardian found a way, not all was lost then. If they have that knowledge then that could mean there’s still a chance to turn all of this around. A spark of hope ignites within her chest as Ikora basks in the familiar sense of that background hum of light coming off the guardian, although a part of it seems a little… Changed. 

What that could mean she doesn’t know nor have the wisdom at this present moment to determine. But what it did mean was in her mind a turning point as Ikora addresses the guardian, confiding in them her concerns while still sticking to the wisdom of their faith in the light. And she considers the reappearance of the guardian before her as a sign of that wisdom being true.

[jessilynallendilla]

CAPTIVE PRINCE FIC REC AU & MODERN AU

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

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let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to recommend any

AU 

The Cast Iron Prince's Romantic Way to Happiness  EX 

By Auguste's recommendation, Laurent read The Darkened Prince of Akielos, a best-seller about a prince sold to an enemy nation as a slave and how he returned victorious to his birthplace. Laurent was immediately captivated! But after being run over and waking up in the book's villain's body, Laurent knows he needs to change his fate! He doesn't want to die! Mr. Protagonist Damianos, have mercy on this cast iron bitch! 

Sweet Like Sugar Venom  M 

Laurent’s a demon hunter, for fuck’s sake. He’s been in the business since he was just his father’s horny intentions on a valentines anniversary. He was literally born for this job. He’s not supposed to feel things for demons, no matter how perfectly muscular they were, or how deep and sultry their kind voice was, or how cute their dimple looked. That would be unprofessional, thank you very much. 

The Sun Rose  M 13,559 

Riding through the wood, Prince Laurent is unexpectedly captured by bandits infesting the Veretian wood. He must hide his identity, and discover the true purpose of the bandit leader, the skilful archer Damen, before he's found out. He expects a fight, what he doesn't expect is to fall head over heels. Robin Hood AU 

Once Upon a Witching Hour  EX 

Once upon a time in a forest, hidden from prying eyes, there lived a witch. No any witch but a powerful one. A knight in need of help traveled towards the witches home. He requested the aid of the witch. 

He's off to pay his crime, he's got no time for mine  NR 18124 

Damen is part of the Ios Riders, Auguste and Laurent are Stars, and Damen still kills Auguste but still finds Laurent 

Days are forgotten  M 

The Dystopian AU where the Regency has taken over after the War, a regime of lies and deception ruling over the city, hiding behind a façade of good intentions and new laws. The only hope for the truth to come out is the Resistance, never mind the fact that they're believed to be nothing but ruthless criminals. That is what Damen thought as well, until he met their leader. 

The Invisible Prince   EX 14637 

Laurent is a solitary witch and a prince whose right to the throne was erased when he was cast away by his power-hungry uncle who was afraid of his power. Living on the edge of the city, he begrudgingly makes simples and spells by day for the townspeople who come to him in order to get by, while at night he toils to no avail trying to find a spell, a curse, anything that will return to him the one thing he wants: his brother. One day, Damen turns up at his door guided by a compulsion spell placed on him by an unknown witch or warlock. Unable to accomplish any progress toward resurrecting his dead brother while Damen is present and fawning over him, Laurent proceeds to try and break the spell, making Damen various potions, casting counter curses, and even getting Damen to take part in some strange activities. As with all good fairytales, the spell is only broken with true loves kiss, but what Laurent fails to consider is that Damen might have feelings for him even when he’s not under the spells power, and that maybe his brother isn’t the one thing he wants after all. 

Burn  M 38115 

The Regency Era was a time of rigorous high-society cues and rituals and an even more rigid social hierarchy. At the top were those with old money, envied by all and deemed untouchable by even more. And on the very bottom, were the Endowed – gifted individuals regulated to being the scum of the scum. The beggars, the thieves, the homeless, and the prostitutes. Laurent deVere is content being the most profitable brothel owner in London, as he long ago resigned himself to his place in life. But when the attractive, well-spoken Mr. Akielon arrives, his place might just be lost to the wind. 

a kiss with a fist is better than none  G 446 SERIES 

superheroes need an nemesis, Damen guesses, but he'd rather have the Ice Prince on their side. 

in the family of things  T 5324 

"I need something substantially more important, something physical that can not be given to another. Can you think of something like this?” 

Laurent went quiet for a few moments before mumbling something, too low for even his own ears. A single raised brow drew the small prince’s eyes upwards to meet the warm gaze of the god. 

“A kiss?” Laurent asked, the word slipping from between his lips like a sigh. 

The Serpent's Mask  M 5526 

In the center of the room is a steel surgical table, upon which Laurent’s new minion is spread out and shackled. He’s shirtless, revealing a sweat-sheened expanse of olive skin, and Laurent’s first impression is, Oh my god, are those abs even real? His second is, Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

The Lost Kingdom of Vere  M 

Damen and his hunting party stumble into uncharted territory across the border of Delpha and are taken captive, plunging themselves into a strange world of ancient magic and a kingdom long forgotten by the mortal realm. Laurent and his brother Auguste are beginning to unravel a heavy secret in their family when a group of foreigners ends up in their throne room. One of the foreigners, however, looks all too familiar. 

The Garden  M 9003 

Damen finds a long forgotten ancient garden, deep in the forest. He also finds what he thinks might be the love of his life. 

Mutuality  M 72377 

It takes two years for them to give in to what they both want. But then it only takes two weeks before it falls apart. 

Of Kings and Curators  M 65081 

After the war, Laurent's family is gone, his uncle has taken his birthright, and his only joy in his work as a museum art curator. He enjoys taking care of the Akielon Art Exhibit including teaching the public about ancient Akielon myths and buying new pieces for the upcoming museum gala. But his newest acquisition has a story attached to it that even he was unaware of. Until it brings a hell of a piece of history right into his workplace. 

And Ask No Leave of Thee  M 63971 

Don’t step into a fairy ring; Never speak Their names aloud; If you encounter one, be polite - but do not take anything they offer you. Laurent knows the old rules for surviving life adjacent to the Faerie realm. And the one new rule: do not go to Marlas, where a fae warrior awaits who, if you cannot defeat him in single combat, will steal a tribute from you as payment for trespassing - a ring, a cloak, or a tumble in the grass. But six years after his brother disappeared there, Laurent has no choice but to go again and again to seek the truth of what happened to him and find a way to bring him home. It is an adventure that will take him into the Faerie realm itself - but when he learns that the guardian he’s been visiting is actually a mortal prince held captive by the fae, it will take all his cleverness (and the help of both men) to rescue both his brother and the man he loves 

Song for Another Summer  T 39207 

Laurent is, like most children, captivated by the allure of mystery and magic. His best friend is a funny boy from the woods. This is their story, told in seasons. 

paradise lost  EX 40027 

"How long will you love me?" 

"Always." or, the rise and fall of Laurent de Vere. 

supplicant  EX 3136 

laurent is an incubus. damen is his prey. 

Last of a Dying Breed  M 

Damen is captain of the ship The Guardian and he and his crew cover as a transport ship for the times when the law catches up to him or he isn't busy freeing slaves. On one such mission, he meets a slave who isn't really a slave, a man who has ulterior motives and who wants a space on Damen's crew. All Damen knows is that Laurent is desperate to find his brother. What he doesn't know could fill a book, but it's not the first time he's picked up and welcomed a stray. 

an alter laid bare  M 4281 

The shrine was a small thing; practical, soft cut stones forming a small space in which a god may reside. Damen had torn his best tunic into strips, twisting the fabric into long ropes thick enough to press in string lined with shells and other odds and ends. It draped prettily around the shrine and the sea worn stones and shells chimed together in the wind while he worked, sounding like the chatter of a fae language. It was when the trinkets he left at the altar started to vanish that he grew concerned. 

Edelweiss  T 15149 

People said that the mountain was cursed. That it has been cursed for as long as they remembered. They told stories of an Ice Prince remaining frozen throughout time. Yet no one ever saw him, only the whispers of the wind told the tale. Many died on the climb up the mountain. Many froze to death as night descended or fell to their death, down the steep mountain walls. It did not deter Damen, he had nothing left to lose. 

Song of the Sea  EX 27852 

Ancel had been free once. Swimming among the corals and colourful fish. It had been his home. Now it was only a distant dream as he was sold from owner to owner. Sometimes for pleasure sometimes for pain and often as display item in an expensive collection, that would be forgotten and resold over time. This time he was sold to a young noble so plain and boring yet so very kind. Berenger offered him his freedom in exchange for his help to retrieve something lost among the ocean’s waves. However it was not freedom he longed for. Even though he wished for safety, gold and jewels of all kinds, his heart longed for a place to call home. Maybe he found it in a man that bought him for coin and yet returned him to the ocean for the very first time since he had been caught. 

A wreath of laurel  G 9851 

When Laurent, spirit of a laurel tree, is captured and gifted to the crown prince by his brother Kastor, he thinks death must be close, but as time goes by, he begins to consider that perhaps some humans are less cruel than others. 

Cast Iron Witch  M 

The Cast Iron Witch. That was the name of the legend. People didn’t know if it was a woman or a man – if it was even human. Some people claimed it was one of the Sidhe, exiled from their people. Others were certain the Witch wasn’t alive, but a ghost helping those its restless spirit could help and taking vengeance on people it deemed unjust. The people who went to the Witch came back refusing to talk about it. That was, if they came back at all. You might understand the fear and the dread of the city of Ios when the Witch climbed out of its wagon one day and bought one of the houses right at the cliffs. The creature was settling down. And even in the heat of summer the people who heard about it suddenly felt cold. 

Aegis  M 29619 

Damianos is a demigod, the son of the king of Akielos and the goddess of strength, bravery, and victory, who wanders the land offering his strength to people in need of help. When the king of Vere calls his aid for dealing with a beast that supposedly devours children, he is taken to a cave on the outskirts of the city, where the monster lives. But he doesn't find a monster. He finds something--someone--sweet and sharp and protective who harbors a great and terrible burden... 

we are not history yet  M 22494 

Laurent has an impossible quest and the only help he can count on is the human pet. You know, the one who used to be a prince among the humans. The one who murdered Laurent's older brother. They are unlikely allies, but right now, each the only option the other has. 

Star and Stone, or Hiss Hiss Fall in Love: The Tale of a Monster and His Hunter  T 38173 

Since losing his throne, Damianos of Akielos has wandered the lands as a traveling hero, slaying monsters that threaten the various kingdoms. In Vere, he's called on to face the most dangerous foe yet: a half-human snake monster with the dreadful power to turn men to stone with his glare. But what he encounters is not what he expects, and what is he to do when he learns he's facing the most beautiful face he's ever seen - and one that looks strangely familiar? 

Warm the Coldest Heart  M 

Fear grips him, his heart pounding, and Laurent tries to back away from his own body, hands dragging his new weight. His pants are in tatters, the seams split and laces ripped. Every other blink, he sees nothing but an orange outline of what used to be his legs thinning out and growing bluer by the second. Laurent takes in quick, frantic breaths. His tongue has stopped bleeding, mostly, clotted and thick in his mouth. Laurent looks up at the shaman, frowning down at him. Her whispering has stopped, her eyes normal once more. Her shoulders are slumped, and her brows furrowed. She looks drained. Defeated. Disquieted. In Vaskian, she asks, “Does your body still work?” 

One Heart, Tenderly Beating  M 

Damianos, champion of a notorious company of vampire hunters, awakens to find himself bound in the dungeons of Chateau de Vere, seat of the vampiric court. He is to be a gift to the beautiful and cruel heir apparent, a creature with hair of gold and eyes of ice, and a silver tongue. Some fates are far worse than death. 

Venom Antiserum EX 

Monsters are rarely born and mostly created by circumstance. Or by a curse. Damianos relinquishes his freedom to save a friend, but realizes that breaking a curse might be the only way to save two nations. Under those scales still beats a heart, however cold-blooded. Under the curse still sleeps a king, though not for much longer 

Aubade  M 7747 

‘Something else held my attention.’ Damen tilted his head, taking the book back from Laurent – he wasn’t finished with it yet – and letting the tip of his thumbs rest over Laurent’s for the smallest part of a moment. Laurent glanced down, not moving except to curl his fingers around a little, ghosting over the side of Damen’s wrist. ‘Like what?’ Damen swallowed, looking down to where their hands were barely touching. A holy prayer, hands marred not by black sin, but by desire and dark tenderness. Lust, if only for having a body caressed in parchment. ‘Just some guy.’ 

a dreadful collection of memoranda (that he did exist and that i have lost him)  NR 33889 

When Kastor's ploy to be rid of Damen happens much earlier, Damen finds himself in the care of the Veretian royal family. Forced to reevaluated the definition and value of family, the gambit for the throne leaves everything in tatters. A series of memories along the way. 

don't give it a hand (offer it a soul)  T 7423 

Damen is a full-time prince, part time fae hunter. Laurent needs someone to help him get into the fae realm and rescue his kidnapped brother. 

still with hearts beating   NR 7050 

Laurent shows up at Damen's window most nights, though he never stays for too long. Tonight, things are different. 

Smooth Seas Never Made  M 75306 SERIES 

Ancel finds himself kidnapped by Akielon pirates, who seem to have made a fundamental misunderstanding about who he is. Now, he has to survive, and keep Nicaise alive. Meanwhile, Berenger is haunted by the events that sunk the Marlas and took his leg. He never wants to step foot on a ship again, but he knows he's the one navigator who can help Laurent attack the Akielon fleet. 

Towards the Sun  M 

“Another blond, Damen, really?” 

Damen just grins and grabs Laurent’s wrist tight enough to bruise, hauling him outside like another piece of stolen treasure. 

Laurent gets captured by Akielon raiders and sold as a slave. 

past the wit of man to say what dream it was EX 175084

in which Laurent saves Auguste by performing a dangerous spell

MODERN AU 

Waking Up to You  T 1700 

Damen wakes up from his wisdom teeth surgery only to find the most beautiful man in the world sitting beside him. 

Fear not the thorns  T 4982 

Laurent is kind of a prick. 

Un désert à l'encre vide  G 3099 

Becoming a foster parent for Nicaise proved to be one of the best things in Damen's life. Even with the end of his foster care contrat with Nicaise coming to an end and Damen having to deal with the boy's broken trust. Laurent's arrival may prove more beneficial than expected. 

to show you my love  M 

Modern YouTube AU ~ Damen runs a successful gaming channel on YouTube. On his own channel, Laurent reviews books - or, rather, he tears them apart. Thanks to Nikandros divulging details of Damen's past romantic exploits on stream, fans of both channels begin to ship him with Laurent, despite the two having never met. Nicaise decides to play matchmaker. 

Slow It Down  M 49142 

Freedom from his uncle, it's all he's ever wanted, and Laurent will use any means necessary to achieve it. Even if it means sacrificing his dignity and self to a sugar daddy. What Laurent doesn't expect, is to find sanctuary in the contract with NHL star Damen Akielos. And he most certainly doesn't expect to develop feelings. 

A Point to Happiness  T 68432 

Damen texts the wrong number. They end up talking. Then they flirt. Then they fall in love. 

Spoils of War  EX 13683 

"I know how this looks," he said, holding a bloody tissue to his nose. "But this hardly ever happens." 

Damen thought that 'hardly ever' still seemed far too often. 

"Often enough," Nicaise said, holding his own tissue to his nose. "Most people want to punch him the moment he opens his mouth." 

Arles Penitentiary  M 142149 

Laurent is an inmate. Damen is a prison guard. Welcome to Arles. 

Along For the Ride  M 128275 

Literally just a road trip au. Damen lets a stranger (Laurent) hitch a ride down to California with him. 

Touch You  EX 145635 

Damen is an elite bodyguard and SHOULD be protecting the rich and famous from harm, but his half-brother has taken over the family company and delegated Damen to menial jobs and an uncertain future... However, Damen is approached by an old friend-turned-enemy with an interesting job offer: 30 days of work in return for Damen's position in his family company. The client? His enemy's younger brother who has no intention of being guarded but is being stalked by someone with 3 previous victims... 

The Mask  M 25533 

Nicaise has been looking forward to this vacation for months. Now that it's finally here however, one thing becomes blatantly obvious. They have a tag along. 

Chasing the Light  T 25381 SERIES 

Auguste and Laurent grow up as the two golden princes of modern day Vere. 

Dead Men Don't Drink Venti Frappuccinos  M 

Damen is a long-suffering grad student with the uncanny ability to see the dead. Laurent is his new roommate—his very dead roommate. 

Has and Has Beans  G 14047 

In which Damen, ex-heir to the corporate empire that is Peet's Coffee and Tea and first year grad student, finds himself working at an independent coffeeshop run by the heir to Starbucks. He did not sign up for any of this (except for the grad student part). 

there are things unbearable  EX 

Laurent de Vere has developed a routine: work five days a week, sleep in Jord's spare room, and return to his Uncle's one-bedroom apartment for the weekend. He doesn't expect change to run into him on the street—in the form of an FBI agent masquerading as a local cop, who just so happens to be investigating the case that Laurent has been living in for a decade. Damen becomes an unexpected ally and friend, and when Laurent's world is thrown into unexpected and irreversible turmoil, he has to decide whether or not he's willing to sacrifice what's most important to him in order to keep Damen by his side. 

Sleeping Beauty  EX 

Damen is a nurse on the long-term intensive care ward. His new patient is a beautiful young man who's been in a coma for nine months. But something's not right, and as Damen tries hard to find out why he finds himself falling for someone who might never wake-up. 

Celebrity Status  NR 6226 

“Damen we really do need to work on your ability to put very obvious hints together,” Laurent says. 

“You’re going to lord the fact that I had no idea you were a celebrity over my head for years, aren’t you?” he asks. 

“Probably forever,” Laurent confirms. 

Star Power  M 69448 

Damen Vasileus, lead singer of rock band Akielos, is struggling to wrest control of the band from his brother and ex-fiancee. Laurent de Vere, highly acclaimed child star trying to transition to an adult career, is having a PR crisis after spitting on a co-star. A new romance would make Jokaste jealous and soften Laurent's image; maybe they can help each other out… 

The Masquerade  EX 14025 

After centuries of war, Akielos and Vere are on the eve of a historic peace treaty. At a lavish ball in celebration, Damen meets the Veretian prince, every bit as obnoxious as the rest of his people and as reluctant to bond with his new allies as Damen is himself. But perhaps, by the end of the night, the idea of welcoming a Veretian into his country, his palace, and maybe even his bed, won't seem like such a bad one. 

we are breathing river water  EX 

Laurent de Vere has been running from his uncle for four years; his past is buried beneath fake names and a string of lies. Now, Laurent de Vere is known as Laurent Charleston, working as a child therapist in central Paris and it seems almost as if Laurent's past is well and truly behind him. But Laurent's uncle is still running one of the biggest crime organisations in the underbelly of Paris, and a run in with a new patient and a police officer investigating his family throws Laurent's life into chaos. As the walls of Laurent's past press in and a new, fledgling trust has developed between him and Damianos—the police officer investigating his family—Laurent must decide whether he wants to run again, or face his uncle and his past once and for all. 

when I'm down on my knees (you're how I pray)  T 2725 

The man pauses thoughtfully. "You can tell me what's wrong over lunch," he says, "and we can try to find a solution. If you want." 

Ancel gives the man a more considering look. He's young, only about ten years older than Ancel himself and- and he's wearing a Rolex. Ancel feels himself taking a step closer. "If you wouldn't mind," he says. "I'd be so grateful." 

Ice Kings  T 24028 

Over a year after an incident during a game, Damen comes back on his college hockey team. On his first day, he meets Laurent, a gorgeous and talented figure skater. He nearly falls in love on the spot but on his first attempt to talk to him, he is welcomed with cold glares and biting replies that leave him confused. Nikandros can feel trouble coming but despite his advice to stay away, Damen finds himself irresistibly drawn to this talented man who trains tirelessly. Meanwhile, Laurent wishes Damen was not so kind and attractive. It makes it very difficult to hate him. 

Turn the Page   M 26946 

Damen visits the DeVere bookstore almost every morning before work, sometimes to browse but mostly just to chat with the friendly proprietor Auguste. But when Auguste goes on vacation for a few weeks and his younger brother Laurent takes over, Damen finds a new reason to start visiting more often. 

i just want to build you up ('til you're good as new)  G 4433 

Laurent and Damen adopted the boy who has bonded with Laurent when he first came to the orphanage. Past hadn’t been kind to some but future always has hope and there is happiness for the ones who deserve it. 

Oh, Brother  G 974 

It was a universal fact that Auguste absolutely adored his younger brother. 

When The Cams Turn Off  NR 

Two rival streamers have a growing feud. Their friends find it amusing. Their followers find it entertaining and polarizing. However, when they are both invited to a tournament for charity in Vegas, everything comes to ahead. For the first time, Laurent will be playing where he can be seen - which he has never done. Damen will be playing to the crowd - like he always does. All the while - their rivalry plays out on social media and on the tournament stage. But what happens to arguments online and from behind screens when the cameras turn off and you have to deal with the person that drives you crazier than anyone and might just know you better than you like...? 

Doctors Make the Second Worst Patients  G 5362 

When someone else's stupidity causes Laurent to get into a bicycle accident, he refuses to go to the hospital and winds up being taken home by a good Samaritan to see to his injuries. When his head clears, he'll probably have thoughts about being in a strange man's apartment, but until then, letting a handsome and caring doctor clean him up and tend to his wounds isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to him. Not by a long shot. 

Cynics are simply thwarted romantics  EX 53220 

Laurent fell in love in college. He came out of that relationship with a child, and knowing that his child’s father, Damen, had no interest in either of them. What would happen, if twelve years later, their paths were to cross again? 

attend me  EX 7408 

Damen is in the back of the shop, sketching merrily away a new suit design he’s seen so vividly in his mind’s eye during the small hours of the night, when Erasmus comes crashing into his small office, eyes aflame and wild. 

“He wants you, sir.” 

Never a Lost Cause  T 1627 

Laurent may not be able to stop Nicaise from making his own choices, but that doesn't mean he won't keep doing whatever he can to help save Nicaise from himself. 

Puppy Eyes  T 12912 

If there's one thing Damen didn't plan, it was stumbling on a cardboard box in the rain, and adopting the puppy it contained. But mostly, he didn't plan it would lead him to meeting Dr De Vere, or how the vet would immediately snatch his heart. 

An Emerald-Coloured Nightmare  EX 61169 

Berenger is one of the most trusted workers at Arles; Laurent and Auguste trust him with all of their finances as well as with the 'jobs' that no one else can do. Jobs like the one at the luxe Hôtel Eloy. But when the job goes somewhat wrong, Berenger finds himself saddled with protecting an escort who may or may not be a double agent. An escort who seems bound and determined to make his life a living hell. 

A Song Without Words  M 

17 year old Damianos (Damen) Akielos has 10 months before he turns 18 and can age out of the foster care system. He’s content in the quiet home he’s in, when he gets the not so pleasant surprise that he’s going to be fostered by the wealthy De Vere family. Suddenly, he’s in a home that feels like a gilded cage and dealing with a hostile 16 year old Laurent De Vere. 

I Dreamt of Heaven  NR 

Laurent loses three years of his life and gains a husband. 

i'm your biggest fan T 667 

Damen's a paparazzo who's in desperate need of rent money, and Laurent is, conveniently enough, an insanely private celebrity. 

but still, like dust, i rise  T 9106 

Prompts written for Captive Prince Month 2k18. 

healing  T 1023 

Laurent finishes off the last of what tea is in his mug then stands, walking over to the pot he still had on the stove. He pours himself another cup then looks out the window over the sink. He looks out at their vegetable garden then over at their small patio. He glances up and notices storm clouds slowly rolling in from the East. “You’re not wanting to change anything about me, right?” Laurent asks quietly. 

 Damen blinks then shifts in his chair, processing Laurent’s words a few times over in his mind. Damen loves Laurent, loves everything about him. His sarcastic remarks, his sometimes awkward affections, his ability to speak genuinely. There isn’t anything Damen would change about him, even if it were for the better. 

Mirror, Mirror  T 260 

"I'm getting old." Aimeric looked away from Jord, pretty lips pursed, well-maintained brows drawing together. "He would have hated seeing me like this." 

Honey, you're familiar (Like my mirror years ago)  EX 197669 

2020: Nicaise is an undergraduate paleoanthropology student. He's in Italy with classmates, experts & his professors as they continue the decades-long search for the final resting place of the Lost King of Akeilos.The only thing more valuable than the Lost King's final resting place is an answer to the millennia-old mystery: where did the Forgotten Son of Vere go? While excavating, Nicaise falls through a ceiling into a burial tomb. But as Nicaise works and studies to discover more about these men, their lives and their deaths, he begins to realize a broken bone might be the least of his issues... 

Unexpected  M 5089 

Laurent sighs as he finds himself in detention yet again but he is sitting beside Damen, his older brother’s hot best friend so there was that. Across the room Jord and Lazar were all but bouncing out of their seats making some obscene gestures in reference to Damen thanks to Laurent’s well-known crush on him. Well, well known to everyone but Damen and Auguste of course. He sits back in his seat and considers his options. While he thinks he runs the tongue ring no one- aside from his friends- knew he had between his teeth, contemplating the best way to go about this. “You have a tongue piercing?” Damen asks, interrupting Laurent’s thoughts and deciding how this was going to go for himself. 

an ocean full of change  M 23016 

ScreenJunkies News @sjnews Breaking news: This years most talked book, Berenger’s “The Summer Palace” will be a movie! We are just as excited as you are! #TheSummerPalace 

Down By the Bay  M 4024 

This is a ghost story 

figs and dates and orange scones  EX 15296 

“Now that we’ve followed your plan, would you be averse to following mine? I had wanted to start by buying you a drink. And then if we got on, we’d talk all night long, and maybe I’d get your number. If you were amenable, tomorrow I’d meet you for coffee.”    Laurent raised a skeptical eyebrow, despite the fluttering of his heart. “You do this with all of your potential hookups?” The slow progression to bed seemed counterproductive to the purpose of the app; even Laurent knew that.    Damen grinned. “No. But I think you deserve to be courted. And call me old-fashioned, but I do enjoy a long, drawn out courtship.” 

cut it out and then restart  T 6166 

The dead can't hurt you, Damen told himself, again. Spending the night alone in a haunted house, however, might just kill him. 

Into You  T 3611 

Damen is a bodyguard. His assignment: Torveld and his fiance Laurent. What's supposed to be a routine job breaks Damen's heart. The question is who will pick up the pieces. 

Theater Days  M 4253 

“He’s rather cute,” Damen whispered to Nikandros who looked in the same direction Damen was and snorted.  

“What, the pretentious blonde who bought all of the seats for a balcony section just so he wouldn’t have to sit next to strangers?” 

astronomy in reverse  EX 4143 SERIES 

“Ah,” he begins delicately. Laurent narrows his eyes and straightens himself, ignoring Hamlet’s distressed whimpers at the loss of Laurent’s fingers in his fur. Damen knows the feeling, a little too well. “What are you—wearing?”   

“It was pajama day,” Laurent says, and at his tone one might be tempted to think he was reciting Shakespeare, or something else of wild importance. He glowers at Damen’s repressed laugh, and hangs his bag on the hook on the wall, next to Damen’s own, half-empty briefcase. “And Vannes thought it would be a good idea to do arts and crafts, because no one would be wearing expensive clothing.” 

Now Let Me See  M 

Various prompts, stories, and ideas focused on my two favorite nerds. 

Formidable  NR 1531 

“You have a great ass,” Lazar says. “How about we go upstairs and I ruin it for every other man?” 

The Greek beauty gives him an odd look and says, “Non, uhhh. Parlez vous French? Francis? Frank, um. French?” 

Lovefool  G 4909 

It starts, embarrassingly enough, with an ad from Craigslist: "I’m a 21 y.o art student (male), writing a thesis on the relationship between performance and the awareness of the audience. You don’t care about that. I’m an actor offering to give you the most dramatic night of your life. I’ll be your date to any event/function/family gathering, and convince your friends/family members that I’m either: the biggest mistake of your life or the best thing that ever happened to you. Up to you. I’m very good at what I do." 

Silence in the Library  NR 3087 

A parasite had invaded Laurent’s library. A rather large and muscular parasite who had a smile like sunshine. He had appeared out of nowhere, staked a claim much too close to Laurent’s desk, and somehow decided it was okay to stare at Laurent. Laurent didn’t like attention, thank you very much, and this man was acting like he was watching a one-man show on Broadway. It was heinous, and Laurent would not stand for it. 

A Happy Family  M 

Damen had always known him and Laurent would one day start a family together. He just didn't expect it in the form of Nicaise, a foster child who needed more help than he ever thought a kid would need. 

I doubt nicknames will be necessary  EX 

'There was a telephone number. Having it was as singular a privilege as possibly imaginable. As such, the person on the other end of the line – should he pick up – was called nothing less than the 'Untouchable Prince'. Honestly, Damen had no idea how a phone sex line could possibly pay off when the clients were a select few meticulously screened and regularly weeded out by the single operator, but after another night of trying his hardest not to jerk off to the haunting image of his haughty neighbor, he couldn’t care less.' 

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

14 - Telling

“Dearest Cousin,” says Igeyorhm, and the stiffness of her posture and her smile is telling. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Lahabrea arches an eyebrow at her. “Will you make your business brief?”

“Of course.”

A lie, naturally.

In truth, Igeyorhm would hound him until he indulged whatever scolding she had in mind. Whether it was in private or in public was a matter of how quickly her target complied.

Not turning his back on her is acquiescence enough–Igeyorhm spins on her heel and walks down the gilded hallway. She wrenches the door to her office open and makes broad sweeping motions with her hand – ‘get in here, quickly’ – and wrenches the door shut again with equal force. 

She rounds on him. “What in the stars above have you done?” she demands, incensed. “Your soul–”

Lahabrea lifts a hand, palm facing forward. It is both a ‘halt’ gesture and the beginnings of an arcane ward: Red sigils flare around both him and Igeyorhm and then disappear, dampening the sound beyond the walls of the office. 

“Is hale, Igeyorhm, thank you for your concern.”

“Hale? Mayhap. Whole? Certainly not. It’s…” She twists her fingers in the air in front of her as if attempting to understand an invisible, arcane object in her hands. “Ugh.” Her hands go to her sides, clenched. “Did you believe such a thing would go without comment?”

“Nay. I am sure Emet-Selch will see fit to say something soon enough, although he has not been short of suspicious scowls for me in the interim.”

“I have never sensed such a void in someone's aether,” Igeyorhm interrupts, her thumb and index finger spread across her temple as she begins to pace like a caged Io. “Your very presence has changed. If it weren’t for the telling precision of the work, I would think some concept had gorged itself on your soul’s aether!” 

Igeyorhm crosses the carpet in eight paces, Lahabrea notes with disinterest – “It is a miracle you are even alive!” she exclaims as she stalks the eight paces back – a tedious detail supplied by his mind as a way to pass the time. 

“This has to do with Athena.” Now Igeyorhm halts as if she’s made some kind of grand revelation. “It cannot be coincidence.” 

She rounds on him again, and her breath seethes as if she had just run across the entire Capitol and not walked around her office. “So I will ask you again, Cousin: What have you done? What has she done?”

A single twitch of muscle in Lahabrea’s face hints at the limits of his patience. “I have ensured our colleagues know what they need to–naught more, naught less. You are no exception, Igeyorhm. The rest, I will remind you, is my business and my business alone.”

Igeyorhm never had fully stopped thinking that their blood relation entitled her to some kind of privileged look into his affairs. And from the way she narrows her eyes now, he still has yet to disabuse her of that notion.  

“I never liked her, you know,” Igeyorhm finally says.

“I am aware.”

“And you never should have trusted her to the extent that you did.”

“I am aware.” 

Lahabrea lets the razor-sharp silence lay between them for a moment. Then he shifts his gaze from her to just over her shoulder.

“Now I will ask you, Igeyorhm: Is there aught else? I have matters to attend to in Pandaemonium now that Athena is…no longer with us.” 

“One thing, in fact,” Igeyorhm says, her eyes still narrowed. “How is Erichthonios?”

The chilly look Lahabrea levels at her is met with nary a flinch. Despite fashioning her hair a serene and oceanic blue, Igeyorhm had fire; just as he - though his flame-red hair had long since grayed - was implacable and cold. What an unlikely pair of relations they made.

“Good day, Igeyorhm,” he replies.

“Of course,” says Igeyorhm as he passes her, her tight smile returning. “Don’t let me keep you.”

The sound dampening wards brighten again, then dissolve, this time by Igeyorhm’s own hand. For the time being, she has no choice but to keep the rest of her counsel.

[chubbygirlmaddy14]

The Dollmaker: The Cabin

Dale Kobble x reader

A/N: This is not proof-read and I’m so incredibly sorry for the wait, college and work have not been nice to me but I finally have a chapter up so hope you enjoy!! :3

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374688245?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=chubby_girl_maddy16

Chapter 18: The Cabin (1,115 words)

The drive felt way longer than it was. The tension was rising every mile we drove. What was I going to do now? I'm spending the next week or two in a cabin with a murderer, not just anyone though.

Longlegs

The one man I had been on the hunt for ever since I got here, and now he's driving my car up to a cabin for us to hide away. The trees started melting together as I looked out the window for too long drowning in my head before I felt his hand on my thigh, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"You okay?" he said softly looking up at me as I turn my head, "yeah I just... it's all so much." grabbing my hand he kisses it softly before holding it tight, "I promise we'll work it through."

I smile back at him before he pulls off into the driveway, going through the hidden woods before seeing the cabin sitting there. Parking the car we get out, grab all of our stuff, and unlocking the door set all of our stuff down in the living room.

It was past midnight by the time we got there, exhaustion hitting me harder than I expected it. Turning around Dale walks over, wrapping his arms around my waist as mine comes up to his shoulders. "It'll all be okay my little angel," leaning down his lips meet mine, making me pull him in closer.

All my fears and worries melted into his lips, making me as relaxed as I think i'll ever be again. Pulling away to catch my breath I see his eyes not looking away from me, "what?"

He shrugs, still smiling down at me "how did I get little miss fbi agent wrapped around my finger?" Rolling my eyes I slap his arm playfully as I walk away before feeling him come behind and pick me up. My laughs and "let me go" fall through deaf ears before he's sitting us down on the couch making me comfy in his lap.

  Resting my head on his chest I sigh as he pushes his fingers through my hair, carefully untangling the knots that had made their way into it, "you have a lot on your mind." I take a deep breath before looking up at him, "what are we gonna do?"

  He looks at me confused a bit before I talk again, "I'm on one of the longest going murder cases where we live, and now i'm sitting on said murderers lap letting him play with my hair as we hide from everyone so you don't get caught."

  Not saying a word he just sits and listens to me, "they know what you look like now... it'll only be a matter of time." Pushing my head back against his chest, he sits like he's as calm as can be.

  "I have a friend that will make all this go away sweetheart, you don't need to worry about a thing." Closing my eyes I take a deep breath, the sound of his heart beat soon pulling me into sleep without realizing it.

Longlegs POV:

  I knew he would fix all this mess that led up to this. Looking down at y/n, I can't help but smile, she was my gift. A gift he sent just for me and all that I've done for him. I couldn't think of anything better.

  Seeing her passed out against me, I stand up and make my way into the closest bedroom that I found, setting her down to make sure she was as comfortable as possible.

  Moving away from the room for a bit I look around the small house, the little photos of her family and her as she grew up throughout the years, getting to know little things about her more through them. I needed her just like she needs me.

  It was small yes, but it felt right being here knowing she was here voluntarily. She didn't run, she didn't scream, she didn't need to fight me before taking me down to turn me in. I knew she wouldn't have, but I could tell she was scared of it all.

  I understood why though, she could get in trouble just like me, but the drive over made me realize more and more that he'll soon help me.

  Moving back to the room, I make my way under the covers to feel her moving into my side. "Get some rest, don't spend all night staring at me creep." I giggle a bit, rubbing her back as I kiss her forehead softly, "but I like staring at you."

  If her eyes were open I would've seen them rolling back like always, I can make them roll another way. Shaking my head from the thoughts I close my eyes as I hear her breathing even as soon falling asleep beside her.

Y/N POV:

  I wake up feeling the sun shine through the curtains, groaning as it hits against my face. Feeling the bed beside me empty, I sit up confused looking around the room. Standing up, I stretch my back out before heading into the kitchen.

Where is he?

  The front door opens wide, dale walking in with groceries and my eyes go wide. "Morning my angel," he says moving past me to set the bags down before looking over at me. "Why did you leave? You could've been seen, you know you can't do that. Do you wanna get caught I just-" I ramble on and on keeping eye contact with him.

  He walks closer, his hands moving onto my face as I keep talking before he leans in, pushing his lips against mine. My eyes fall closed as I relax into him, grabbing his wrists to keep him there.

His hands soon moved to my hips, picking me up without letting go each other and setting me on the counter. My legs wrap around his waist to pull him in more, the kiss growing heated.

  I pull away from him to catch my breath, his lips moving down to my neck as he squeezes my waist, "Dale-" my breathing gets heavy, leaning my head back giving him more access "I have work to do~"

  He pulls away looking in my eyes, "I don't think you mind it though do you?" His hands fall on my chin pulling my face closer to him.

  My face turns bright red, "make me some breakfast and maybe I'll show you if I do or not." He smirks before kissing me one more time, pulling away and moving to the groceries.

This is going to be a long two weeks

[coquetteladyofthedeadmensworld]

A Father's Crown Cannot Save You

Chapter Three

Her expression was still on his mind at dinner, bothering him even more than before. No matter how many conversations, jokes and stories Sister Chiara pulled him into, his mother was his main focus.

He couldn't ask again, though. She would just dismiss the matter.

Again.

Suddenly, putting an end to Jamie's thoughts -

"Hai sentito di quello che sta succedendo in Inghilterra? Il re combatterà di nuovo contro i Francesi!" That was Sister Beatrice now, a tall, fierce nun with an assertive nature that would shake any emperor.

This prompted Sister Bianca, (a younger nun with a sarcastic tone concealed by an innocent face) to chime in, laughing, "Ancora? William III è sempre su qualche campagna di guerra! Ama la battaglia? È sposato con la sua spada?"

Sister Chiara gasped and exclaimed: "Probabilmente va a letto con esso!"

The laughter that followed was infectious. Especially from Sister Chiara and Sisters Aurora, Mia, Elena and Lucia, the babies of the nunnery.

Even England and Holland could probably giggle.

Sister Beatrice, immediately becoming aware of the inappropriate-God-fearing-nun conversation she had started, shushed everyone with "Per l'amor del cielo, siamo un convento, non un bordello!"

Sister Lucia gave a shy smile over at him. She never spoke to him much but she and the other three were the same age as him which Maria liked. She enjoyed her son having people to play with as does any mother of course. However, someone pressed on the boy's mind.

William III. The name stung Jamie.

William III who usurped his father.

William III who betrayed his uncle.

My father would still be alive if t'was not for him.

And his wife. My own half- sister.

We would be in England. I would be a Prince. Mother would be happier with Father and I. Us all together.

Jamie's eyes drifted back over to his mother, who could now match a sheet.

What is it with you?

The past isn't it?

I wish you'd tell me.

"So? What's bothering you?"

They were now in Maria's room, a crucifix located on the wall opposite the bed, watching the scene unfold. A window peered outside to the sprawling streets past the courtyard - usually bustling, now deserted.

Mother and son were next door to each other with a adjoining door to her son's. She had to keep an eye on her little boy at all times, as any mother must do

"Nothing, Jamie, nothing."

"You seem psyched out, Mother"

"Nothing to worry about."

"But-"

"I have told you before, I am fine! There is no need to nag!"

"But something has happened. You looked beyond stressed earlier and I've noticed-"

"Per favore basta smetterla di tormentarmi!

He may as well have been punched in the stomach. She was never this defensive over nothing.

Right. You ARE worried. Whether you say so or not.

You're not like this over nothing.

I will FORCE you to tell me.

Whether you want to or not.

It doesn't matter.

I'm the only family you've got here.

You WILL tell me.

Deal with it.

"Non puoi nascondere tutto a me madre. Io sono la tua famiglia!"

"Jamie - !"

"Cerco solo di aiutare, Mamma." Her tone was enough to make him jump.

"Jamie, please just go to bed. I am just tired, that is all." Her voice now matched the whisper of a child talking when they were meant to be asleep.

"Oh alright. You are acting like you don't do this with me, though." A sigh escaped, and he truly wished it had not.

He did not want to upset Maria further, but he was desperate to find out.

Soon, he was in his own room, white walls, a window and a crucifix on the wall. After praying and reading his Bible, the thoughts kicked in again.

It's about Father, isn't it? And our situation.

You probably miss your stepdaughters.

Do you resent them too?

I wouldn't blame you if you did.

I'm not -

Jamie sank onto the bed, consumed by a hurricane of thoughts, big and small, swirling around his head until his mind roared at them all to stop.

[coldshrugs]

longing's favorite season 🔹 prologue

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau rating: general - this is a simple introduction to the concept. later parts will be mature/explicit. word count: 925 additional entries: part 1 🔹 part 2 🔹 stable scene 🔹

Count Edmont De Fortemps has no cause to enter quietly, especially in his own home, yet he is quite good at it. Engrossed as she is in the most interesting part of this grand old house, Io doesn't hear him until a loose floorboard creaks under the weight of his bad leg.

She looks up from the shelf, "Edmont... Good evening. I was just admiring—"

"Yes, of course, Mistress Laithe, admiring..." He steps into the warm light cast by the fireplace; the red and black jewels decorating his coat take on a liquid sheen, like tiny droplets of blood suspended in time. It wouldn't surprise her if they fell to the floor with a splatter. "Exploiting. The difference is a matter of etiquette, is it not?"

What on earth? Io recoils slightly, shaken by his unfamiliar tone. "My lord?"

He waves a dismissive hand and settles heavily into an armchair by the hearth. "Come. Sit with me, then you may return to your admiring momentarily."

She follows him warily. The aura about him bears... not exactly a threat, but something malign. There is a game in process and she does not yet know the rules. With a satisfied smile, Edmont looks her over, sizing up posture and countenance as she sits across from him.

"My son is quite taken with you, Mistress Laithe. For now, in any case."

For now?

He continues. "Just two days past, he fairly begged me to sanction a union between you. He is an idealist—you are not free from his expectations, but if allowed, Haurchefant would live his life as a fairytale. On the other hand, I must be more practical, for the sake of my family and my country."

"Haurchefant wants to marry me?" Io whispers, looking from Edmont to the fire.

Haurchefant's attention has been plain since she stepped foot in Camp Dragonhead nearly a year ago. His warm welcome came with hungry eyes, and he proved an audacious flirt, in a charming sort of way. Charming enough to make a night in his chambers sound enticing once. While the interest and advances were not entirely one-sided and the time they've spent together has occasionally skirted the bounds of romance, Io feels his expectations weigh more heavily than hers can match. He's been a valuable friend and has shown her great kindness many times over. She owes him a great deal—her life and the lives of her friends most of all—but truth be told, they don't know each other very well...

With the Dragonsong War at its end and her name mostly cleared, she thought she might move on. But...

"That is his current whim, aye," Edmont sighs. "I was keen to deny it, of course. Heavens, the difficulty... You, a foreigner in these lands—Viera—with those markings on display, a bow on your back, and blood on your hands. I will hail you as a hero, of course, but I fail to picture you as a lady and wife. But perhaps... perhaps that is exactly what I need at this time."

Io stares into the flames as she listens to him. His hospitality seemed freely given but she cannot help but recall something he said moons ago: 'How quickly we forget the petty nature of men. I'd wager your friends are no more than pawns in another of my countrymen's games. Such is the way of things between the High Houses...'

House Fortemps is no different, she supposes.

Io's stomach turns. She dares to glance at him. The flickering light throws his features into a menacing caricature of the Edmont she's familiar with.

"At his side, and in residence at this estate, you could be the perfect example." He leans forward, looking at her through steepled fingers. "The less open-minded High Houses could learn to see the beauty in truly open borders. What do you think, my dear? You could help propel our fair city into its new age, complete with a life of comfort, free from grief, and you need do no more than you've already done: use my wealth, my resources, and entertain my son. What say you?"

"—daresay it was one of the more awkward sessions of my career. The bride sat beautifully while her soon-to-be husband fidgeted, though I hear he is an energetic man with a racing mind. They did converse during the sitting, as well-acquainted friends; his lordship is a veritable jester and his humor seemed to keep his lady at ease. I had been told they were a love match. Alas, I would liken the flame between them to a bedside candle instead of the roaring fire usually found in the betrothed... "

—Renowned portraitist Duremert, overheard while shopping in the Jeweled Crozier

"Preparations must be hastened, and leave the matter of gil to the Count. Unreasonable as his requests may be, surely we can provide yet another 'Wedding of the Season.' It does make one wonder just why the need for all this fuss and rush, but I digress."

—spied in a letter from Lisette Valentione

"His lordship has tasked me with a new mistress—the Warrior of Light herself! I want to hear all her stories! Although she's not a warrior anymore. She's a lady now, and I'm to look after her in the manor. I think she misses being out there. Can't say I blame her. If it were me, I wouldn't dream of giving up all those adventures to stay in this stuffy old house all day."

—Saulette, in service to House Fortemps, in a letter to her aunt

[gxldensxldiers]

Thinking about Io again and just the automatic beef she would have with Chamber in a Valorant verse

[not-a-coral-snake]

There are a million things for Laurent to be thinking about right now. 

The running of two kingdoms. Securing his rule. Securing Damen’s. Holding Ios together with a handful of men and the strength of his will, capturing the more worrisome of Kastor’s supporters, safeguarding against assassins. Showing the council that he is competent to rule, and not merely a scion of the correct bloodline and innocent of treason.

Damen, who is stable and not in danger of dying, Paschal says, but who will nonetheless face a long recovery. 

But right here and right now, Laurent is having trouble thinking of anything but the revelation that his uncle killed his father. 

He is surprised at himself for never having suspected it before. He feels foolish. He, who seemingly alone at court was so used to seeing his uncle’s hand in everything that went wrong, at spotting treachery in every mishap, had never even suspected. Stupid, he chides himself, stupid not to have realized it, to have never even wondered. To have taken his original understanding of his father’s death, seen through a child’s eyes, and never questioned it once his assessment of his uncle’s character had improved. 

His uncle’s treachery predates him. That is perhaps the heart of this; it matters more than any self-recrimination he might feel about his own naivete. He tries to put the thought of it aside--he’ll have some sort of feeling about this later, when it is more convenient. But the thought resists that. 

His uncle’s treachery predates him. It wasn’t Laurent’s own fault. His uncle was always going to make a play for the throne. One doesn’t kill one’s brother, attempt to get away with regicide, for a regency of six years. His betrayal of Laurent, all his efforts to depose him, was preordained. It wasn’t something Laurent drove him to, the regent acting out of sincere concern that Laurent was unfit for the throne. It wasn’t the regent acting for Vere’s sake because of the flaws in Laurent’s character. There was no test Laurent had, unknowing, failed. 

Laurent had known this, of course. He’s not a fool. But to judge based on the way he is feeling now, on some level he hadn’t really believed it. And believing it now matters. It hits him the same way it did when Herode knelt and called him king. 

And yet, it hurts in a way that thinking of his uncle’s better-known evils, the injuries he has done Laurent himself, no longer do. It’s just--it would have hurt Aleron.

He blurts this out awkwardly a few days later, when a now-awake Damen has asked him what has him brooding so much, and Laurent has, tentatively and unused to the possibility of revealing his thoughts to anyone, told him he was thinking of the fact that his uncle had murdered his father. Damen had made a hurt little noise, had made a face that reminded Laurent all too sharply that Damen now knows far too much, and Laurent had nearly stumbled over his words in his haste to clarify that he himself had already known that there was no good in his uncle, had already mercilessly stamped out any feelings of affection towards him. 

“It’s just, it would have hurt my father, to know he had done that,” he says, and, “My father knew his brother wasn’t a good man. Still, he. He tried to have some kind of relationship with him, to put in effort, to be kind. It would hurt him to know that for all that his brother thought little enough of him to kill him for a crown.” 

And then he realizes what he is saying and who he is saying it to, and cuts himself off. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t--” 

“It’s all right,” Damen says. But he is biting his lip and his face is as shuttered as Damen is capable of making it. 

“Let's speak of something else,” Laurent says.

But Laurent doesn’t stop thinking of it, now and then, in the rare moments of quiet he gets. He turns the knowledge over and over in his mind, occasionally finding new facets to inspect. In the silence of his bedchamber one night between first sleep and second, he thinks, if Auguste had not died at Marlas, Uncle would have tried to kill him, too. 

He shuts down that line of thought quickly and with prejudice, He doesn’t want to analyze whether, had Auguste lived, he, Laurent, would have been able to save him. He doesn’t want to consider whether losing Auguste was inevitable, whether in some way it was for the best that Damen had killed him. Not now, when he’s not yet even completely certain he forgives Damen. 

He loves Damen. Surely for now that can be enough?

So he won’t let himself think about what his father’s murder meant for Auguste. But it’s in his nature to consider every angle, and he cannot banish them all from his thoughts. 

He is glad, he supposes, that now he has a public reason to hate his uncle with as much vitriol as he’d like. No more will courtiers--however well-intentioned or accustomed to appearing so--be able to look at him with condescension and remind him that whatever the state of affairs now, he ought at least to be grateful for the way his uncle had been there for him in the wake of his father’s death.

And he is angry, he knows, angry that his uncle still has the power to unsettle him like this. To shock him with his cruelty like this. To hurt him like this. He thought he had been done feeling anything familial to him years ago. Hell, he thought he was done feeling anything familial towards Aleron years ago too. 

He is thinking of how his uncle murdered his father when Herode, trying to get his attention, says, “Your majesty?” for what appears to be not the first time in a row. He apologizes and tries to find the thread of the conversation. Herode had asked to meet with him privately to discuss his agreement with Damen with regards to Delfeur and just now they had been discussing--what? The fate of the garrison at Marlas?

“If I may ask, your majesty,” Herode says, “Is there something more pressing on your mind? If you wish to reschedule the remainder of this meeting I will of course be at your disposal.”

He sounds sincere, and yet it will do Laurent no good to appear careless of his Council’s time. He runs through possible responses in his mind. For once, it seems that the truth is the most advantageous explanation. He is distracted not by Akielos or Akielons, but with a concern that is properly filial. And Herode had been his father’s friend. 

He tells Herode the truth, the words an unaccustomed, vulnerable weight in his mouth. 

“It is never far from my thoughts, either,” Herode says. A measured, measuring pause. “If your majesty ever wishes for someone to talk with . . .  if you wish it, I am here.”

Laurent dismisses the idea immediately out of habit. He doesn’t have confidants, other than the one. Then returns to the thought of it, files it away for further consideration. In every way, except that Laurent has long ago lost the habit of confiding in him, Herode would be a better person to talk about this with than Damen. 

He says, “Perhaps another time.” Hopes his tone was decisive enough to shut down the conversation for now, but gentle enough to convey a possible openness to Herode’s offer in the future.

“Yes, the news is still so fresh,” Herode says. “It’s only natural for you to be distracted. And with everything else that’s happened as well--you must have a million things on your mind.”

A million things on his mind. Yes, Laurent does. And he probably always will. And for now, he’ll accept that this is one of them.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Saluti, sono io! :)

Influencing you with Santino x John AHAHAH-

I found an interesting sentence, and I'm curious about your opinion, "Hold my hand. You're going to be fine." Like, whatever you have in mind with that sentence with Santino and John

Bella come sempre!! Wonderful prompt. Guess I’ve been bamboozled into writing angsty drabble, oh noooo…

TW: mention of past physical abuse

“Santino?” John came into their bedroom looking for him, almost done preparing dinner. He found him staring out the window, the setting sun flaring against the edges of his curls. 

Santino didn’t turn to face him. “I will be with you, I’m just…trying to return a phone call.”

“From who?”

He cleared his throat and attempted to sound casual. “My father.” Four months ago, Santino had lied and told his father he was moving to New York on business. In reality, he came to live with John. They had barely spoken since. Santino had asked for space to focus on work, which, for once, his father had accepted. He was no doubt glad that Santino finally seemed interested in making a mark on the world, and relieved that things were so quiet and untroubled on Santino’s turf. But he would call eventually, and now he finally had. 

“You don’t have to talk to him.” John’s voice had gone suddenly flat and hard.

“Yes I do.” He sighed, fidgeting with his tie. “If I ignore him forever, he’ll cut me out of the will. Besides, it’s ridiculous to be upset over this. I’ve talked to him for most of my life. Moving out, talking to him less and less…it made me soft. I should suck it up like I used to.” He made a small, choked sound that should’ve been a laugh. John made him soft, honestly, that was the truth. And he liked it. John made him care about himself, about his own wellbeing. Put him in touch with his emotions. After all that had passed between them over the last few months, to return to being degraded and belittled hurt more than he could explain. To talk politely to the man who had beaten him…after confessing to John how much those beatings had destroyed him…it made something twist inside his gut.

“Hey. No you shouldn’t ‘suck it up’.” John could no longer hold back from embracing him. Santino finally turned towards his lover and curled into him, his face crumpling against John’s shoulder.

“Why did you have to go and make me love being alive, mio caro? I was good and numb before you came along. Now it will hurt so much more to talk to him. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Again, John said, “You don’t have to.”

“No. I have to. And I will.” He pulled back and straightened his vest, composing himself. John hesitated, knowing deep down that this call truly could not be avoided. The best John could do was to comfort him.

“Can I stay next to you?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Good. Hold my hand. You’re gonna be fine.” John held up his palm to Santino, waiting patiently. “No matter what he says to you, I’m here.”

He swallowed, and looked at John with a small glint of confidence growing in his eyes.  He took his hand and squeezed it. “Okay.” Then he dialed.

John didn’t let go or take his eyes off of him for the entire call. Whenever Santino felt misery building in his chest, he just remembered the steady pressure of John’s hand in his, grounding him, and knew that John cared for him. What else really mattered? Whenever Santino had to agree to something, or apologize for something, a look of protective rage passed over John’s dark eyes, making him feel so very loved. The old fool on the other end of the line would never understand the kind of happiness they had. He rubbed his thumb over John’s fingers in a gesture of gratitude. "Ti amo,” he mouthed silently to John, during a particularly vicious speech that he was hardly hearing, and squeezed his hand again. John squeezed back.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Footnotes

[1] Ie-hovah, and in composition Iah, the Being; Iao, ioupitur, same meaning; ha-iah, Heb., he was; ei, Gr, he is, ei-nai, to be; an-i, Heb., and in conjugation th-i, me; e-go, io, ich, i, m-i, me, t-ibi, te, and all the personal pronouns in which the vowels i, e, ei, oi, denote personality in general, and the consonants, m or n, s or t, serve to indicate the number of the person. For the rest, let who will dispute over these analogies; I have no objections: at this depth, the science of the philologist is but cloud and mystery. The important point to which I wish to call attention is that the phonetic relation of names seems to correspond to the metaphysical relation of ideas.

[2] The Chinese have preserved in their traditions the remembrance of a religion which had ceased to exist among them five or six centuries before our era. (See Pauthier, “China,” Paris, Didot.) More surprising still is it that this singular people, in losing its primitive faith, seems to have understood that divinity is simply the collective me of humanity: so that, more than two thousand years ago, China had reached, in its commonly-accepted belief, the latest results of the philosophy of the Occident. “What Heaven sees and understands,” it is written in the Shu-king, “is only that which the people see and understand. What the people deem worthy of reward and punishment is that which Heaven wishes to punish and reward. There is an intimate communication between Heaven and the people: let those who govern the people, therefore, be watchful and cautious.” Confucius expressed the same idea in another manner: “Gain the affection of the people, and you gain empire. Lose the affection of the people, and you lose empire.” There, then, general reason was regarded as queen of the world, a distinction which elsewhere has been bestowed upon revelations. The Tao-te-king is still more explicit. In this work, which is but an outline criticism of pure reason, the philosopher Lao-tse continually identifies, under the name of TAO, universal reason and the infinite being; and all the obscurity of the book of Lao tse consists, in my opinion, of this constant identification of principles which our religious and metaphysical habits have so widely separated.

[3] See, among others, Auguste Comte, “Course of Positive Philosophy,” and P. J. Proudhon, “Creation of Order in Humanity.”

[4] I do not mean to affirm here in a positive manner the transmutability of bodies, or to point it out as a subject for investigation; still less do I pretend to say what ought to be the opinion of savants upon this point. I wish only to call attention to the species of scepticism generated in every uninformed mind by the most general conclusions of chemical philosophy, or, better, by the irreconcilable hypotheses which serve as the basis of its theories. Chemistry is truly the despair of reason: on all sides it mingles with the fanciful; and the more knowledge of it we gain by experience, the more it envelops itself in impenetrable mysteries. This thought was recently suggested to me by reading M. Liebig’s “Letters on Chemistry” (Paris, Masgana, 1845, translation of Bertet-Dupiney and Dubreuil Helion).

Thus M. Liebig, after having banished from science hypothetical causes and all the entities admitted by the ancients, — such as the creative power of matter, the horror of a vacuum, the esprit recteur, etc. (p. 22), — admits immediately, as necessary to the comprehension of chemical phenomena, a series of entities no less obscure, — vital force, chemical force, electric force, the force of attraction, etc. (pp. 146, 149). One might call it a realization of the properties of bodies, in imitation of the psychologists’ realization of the faculties of the soul under the names liberty, imagination, memory, etc. Why not keep to the elements? Why, if the atoms have weight of their own, as M. Liebig appears to believe, may they not also have electricity and life of their own? Curious thing! the phenomena of matter, like those of mind, become intelligible only by supposing them to be produced by unintelligible forces and governed by contradictory laws: such is the inference to be drawn from every page of M. Liebig’s book.

Matter, according to M. Liebig, is essentially inert and entirely destitute of spontaneous activity (p. 148): why, then, do the atoms have weight? Is not the weight inherent in atoms the real, eternal, and spontaneous motion of matter? And that which we chance to regard as rest, — may it not be equilibrium rather? Why, then, suppose now an inertia which definitions contradict, now an external potentiality which nothing proves?

Atoms having weight, M. Liebig infers that they are indivisible (p. 58). What logic! Weight is only force, that is, a thing hidden from the senses, whose phenomena alone are perceptible, — a thing, consequently, to which the idea of division and indivision is inapplicable; and from the presence of this force, from the hypothesis of an indeterminate and immaterial entity, is inferred an indivisible material existence! For the rest, M. Liebig confesses that it is impossible for the mind to conceive of particles absolutely indivisible; he recognizes, further, that the fact of this indivisibility is not proved; but he adds that science cannot dispense with this hypothesis: so that, by the confession of its teachers, chemistry has for its point of departure a fiction as repugnant to the mind as it is foreign to experience. What irony!

Atoms are unequal in weight, says M. Liebig, because unequal in volume: nevertheless, it is impossible to demonstrate that chemical equivalents express the relative weight of atoms, or, in other words, that what the calculation of atomic equivalents leads us to regard as an atom is not composed of several atoms. This is tantamount to saying that more matter weighs more than less matter; and, since weight is the essence of materiality, we may logically conclude that, weight being universally identical with itself, there is also an identity in matter; that the differences of simple bodies are due solely, either to different methods of atomic association, or to different degrees of molecular condensation, and that, in reality, atoms are transmutable: which M. Liebig does not admit.

“We have,” he says, “no reason for believing that one element is convertible into another element” (p. 135). What do you know about it? The reasons for believing in such a conversion can very well exist and at the same time escape your attention; and it is not certain that your intelligence in this respect has risen to the level of your experience. But, admitting the negative argument of M. Liebig, what follows? That, with about fifty-six exceptions, irreducible as yet, all matter is in a condition of perpetual metamorphosis. Now, it is a law of our reason to suppose in Nature unity of substance as well as unity of force and system; moreover, the series of chemical compounds and simple substances themselves leads us irresistibly to this conclusion. Why, then, refuse to follow to the end the road opened by science, and to admit an hypothesis which is the inevitable result of experience itself?

M. Liebig not only denies the transmutability of elements, but rejects the spontaneous formation of germs. Now, if we reject the spontaneous formation of germs, we are forced to admit their eternity; and as, on the other hand, geology proves that the globe has not been inhabited always, we must admit also that, at a given moment, the eternal germs of animals and plants were born, without father or mother, over the whole face of the earth. Thus, the denial of spontaneous generation leads back to the hypothesis of spontaneity: what is there in much-derided metaphysics more contradictory Let it not be thought, however, that I deny the value and certainty of chemical theories, or that the atomic theory seems to me absurd, or that I share the Epicurean opinion as to spontaneous generation. Once more, all that I wish to point out is that, from the point of view of principles, chemistry needs to exercise extreme tolerance, since its own existence depends on a certain number of fictions, contrary to reason and experience, and destructive of each other.

[5] Chemists distinguish between mixture and composition, just as logicians distinguish between the association of ideas and their synthesis. It is true, nevertheless, that, according to the chemists, composition may be after all but a mixture, or rather an aggregation of atoms, no longer fortuitous, but systematic, the atoms forming different compounds by varying their arrangement. But still this is only an hypothesis, wholly gratuitous; an hypothesis which explains nothing, and has not even the merit of being logical. Why does a purely numerical or geometrical difference in the composition and form of atoms give rise to physiological properties so different? If atoms are indivisible and impenetrable, why does not their association, confined to mechanical effects, leave them unchanged in essence? Where is the relation between the cause supposed and the effect obtained?

We must distrust our intellectual vision: it is with chemical theories as with psychological systems. The mind, in order to account for phenomena, works with atoms, which it does not and can never see, as with the me, which it does not perceive: it applies its categories to everything; that is, it distinguishes, individualizes, concretes, numbers, compares, things which, material or immaterial, are thoroughly identical and indistinguishable. Matter, as well as spirit, plays, as we view it, all sorts of parts; and, as there is nothing arbitrary in its metamorphoses, we build upon them these psychologic and atomic theories, true in so far as they faithfully represent, in terms agreed upon, the series of phenomena, but radically false as soon as they pretend to realize their abstractions and are accepted literally.

[6] The passage quoted may not be given in the exact words used by Malthus, it having reached its present shape through the medium of a French rendering — Translator.

[7] “The principle which governs the life of nations is not pure science: it is the total of the complex data which depend on the state of enlightenment, on needs and interests.” Thus expressed itself, in December, 1844, one of the clearest minds that France contained, M. Leon Faucher. Explain, if you can, how a man of this stamp was led by his economic convictions to declare that the complex data of society are opposed to pure science.

[8] “History of Public Credit.”

[9] In France, the sale of tobacco is a government monopoly. — Translator.

[10] A subtle philologist, M. Paul Ackermann, has shown, using the French language as an illustration, that, since every word in a language has its opposite, or, as the author calls it, its antonym, the entire vocabulary might be arranged in couples, forming a vast dualistic system. (See Dictionary of Antonyms. By PAUL ACKERMAN. Paris: Brockhaus & Avenarius. 1842)

[11] “Treatise on Political Economy.”

[12] Tocqueville, “Democracy in America.”

[13] Meeting of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences, September, 1845.

[14] Journal des Economistes,” April, 1843.

[15] “The Liberty of Labor,” Vol. II, p. 80.

[16] In spite of the most approved authorities, I cannot accept the idea that serf, in Latin servus, was so called from servare, to keep, because the slave was a prisoner of war who was kept for labor. Servitude, or at least domesticity, is certainly prior to war, although war may have noticeably strengthened it. Why, moreover, if such was the origin of the idea as well as of the thing, should they not have said, instead of serv-us, serv-atus, in conformity with grammatical deduction? To me the real etymology is revealed in the opposition of serv-are and serv-ire, the primitive theme of which is ser-o in-stro, to join, to press, whence ser-ies, joint, continuity, Ser-a, lock, sertir, insert, etc. All these words imply the idea of a principal thing, to which is joined an accessory, as an object of special usefulness. Thence serv-ire, to be an object of usefulness, a thing secondary to another; serv-are, as we say to press, to put aside, to assign a thing its utility; serv-us, a man at hand, a utility, a chattel, in short, a man of service. The opposite of servus is dem-inus (dom-us, dom-anium, and domare); that is, the head of the household, the master of the house, he who utilizes men, servat, animals, domat, and things, possidet.That consequently prisoners of war should have been reserved for slavery, servati ad servitium, or rather serti ad glebam, is perfectly conceivable; their destiny being known, they have simply taken their name from it.

[17] A comparison of this passage, as given here, with the English translation of “What is Property” will show a marked variation in the language. This is explained by the fact that the author, in reproducing the passage, modified it considerably. The same is true of another quotation from the same work which will be found a few pages farther on. — Translator.

[18] This extract from Scott, as well as that from a parliamentary report cited a few paragraphs later, is here translated from the French, and presumably differs in form somewhat, therefore, from the original English. — Translator.

[19] The spinning-wheel is silent in the valley: family feelings are at an end. Over a little smoke the aged grandsire spreads his pale hands; and the empty hearth is as desolate as his heart. — Translator.

[20] Possibly these paragraphs will not be clear to all without the explanation that the form of association discussed in them, called in French the commandite, is a joint-stock company to which the shareholders simply lend their capital, without acquiring a share in the management or incurring responsibility for the results thereof. — Translator.

[21] Hunting, fishing, mining, — in short, the gathering of all natural products. — Translator.

[22] Little bones taken from the joints of animals and serving as playthings for children. — Translator.

[23] A tax whose total product is not fixed in advance, but depends upon the quantity of things or persons upon whom it happens to fall. — Translator.

[24] This sentence, as it stands, is unintelligible, and probably is not correctly quoted by Proudhon. At any rate, one of Garnier’s works contains a similar passage, which begins thus: “Given a levy of one on the area of the land, and lands of different qualities producing, the first eight, the second six, the third five, the tax will call for one-eighth,” etc. This is perfectly clear, and the circumstances supposed are aptly illustrative of Proudhon’s point. I should unhesitatingly pronounce it the correct version, except for the fact that Proudhon, in the succeeding paragraph, interprets Garnier as supposing income to be assessed instead of capital. — Translator.

[25] Thank heaven! the minister has settled the question, and I tender him my very sincere compliments. By the proposed tariff letter-postage will be reduced to 2 cents for distances under 12 1/2 miles; 4 cents, for distances between 12 1/2 and 25 miles; 6 cents, between 25 and 75 miles; 8 cents, between 75 and 225 miles; 10 cents, for longer distances.]

[26] The new law regarding service-books has confined the independence of workers within narrower limits. The democratic press has again thundered its indignation this subject against those in power, as if they had been guilty of anything more than the application of the principles of authority and property, which are those of democracy. What the Chambers have done in regard to service-books was inevitable, and should have been expected. It is as impossible for a society founded on the proprietary principle not to end in class distinctions as for a democracy to avoid despotism, for a religion to be reasonable, for fanaticism to show tolerance. This is the law of contradiction: how long will it take us to understand it?

[27] The crime makes the shame, and not the scaffold. — Translator.

[28] See volume II, chapter IX.

[29] Ibid., chapter X.

[30] Ibid., chapter XI.

[31] Date of the Napoleonic coup d’Etat, according to the revolutionary calendar.

[32] The Metaphysics of Morals [1.11]

[33] The Metaphysics of Morals 1.15. (Editor).

[34] “I possess because I possess”; “I possess because you possess” (Editor)

[35] A coupon is the amount of interest paid per year expressed as a percentage of the face value of a bond. A bond is, in finance, a debt security in which the issuer is the borrower (debtor) and the holder is the lender (creditor). (Editor)

[36] Proudhon writes “Il était le courtisan de la terre.” Courtesan historically referred to a courtier. However, these were often considered as insincere, skilled at flattery and intrigue, ambitious and lacking regard for the national interest and so, in French, courtesan figuratively means “sycophant.” (Editor)

[37] Proudhon is alluding to the Latin phrase “conubio iungam stabili propriamque dicabo” from Virgil’s epic, The Aeneid (4.126), in which the goddess Juno proposes to “consecrate” the passion of Dido for Aeneas through marriage, turning unstable passion into a stable bond of property. (Editor)

[38] Artaxerxes I was king of the Persian Empire from 464 BC to 424 BC. After Persia had been defeated at Eurymedon, Artaxerxes began to weaken the Athenians by funding their enemies in Greece. (Editor)

[39] Vincent de Paul (1581-1660) was a Catholic priest dedicated to serving the poor. He was canonised in 1737. (Editor)

[40] Harpagon was the name of the miser in Molière's comedy L'Avare (The Miser) (Editor)

[41] Perrin Dandin is a simple citizen in François Rabelais’ Third Book. He seats himself as a judge and passes offhand judgements in any matter of litigation. (Editor)

[42] Bertrand du Guesclin (1320-80), known as the Eagle of Brittany, was a Breton knight and French military commander during the Hundred Years' War. (Editor)

[43] This is an allusion to tradesmen who owned their own tools and took them in a bag or sack (“sac”) when they were dismissed from employment. Hence the expression “get the sack” which is derived from the 17th century French expression “On luy a donné son sac.” (Editor)

[44] There is a play-on-words in Proudhon’s “Chacun de vous porte dans son sac la verge qui sert à le corriger, et qui peut lui servir un jour à corriger les autre.” Corriger as well as meaning “to correct” also means “to give a good hiding to” or “to punish.” (Editor)

[45] Proudhon wrote: “Vous ne serez libres qu'après vous être rachetés, par l'asservissement de vos maîtres, de la servitude qu’ils font peser sur vous.” Racheter as well as meaning “to atone for” or “to redeem” also means “to buy” and he plays with this dual meaning. (Editor)

[46] “Thus I wish. Thus I command” (Editor)

[47] Licitation is sale to the highest bidder. (Translator)

[48] From the Latin Bible: “Jesus said to him: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.” (Matthew 22:37-38). (Editor)

[49] A form of long-term lease that was an institution of Roman law (although derived from the Greek law) and found in French law. An owner of poorly cultivated land granted such leases so that a tenant would take on the task of improving the land. The tenant paid a small rent or canon for this right and the owner regained the land in its improved condition after a number of years. (Editor)

[50] See [Raymond-Théodore] Troplong, Contrat de Louage [Rental Contracts], volume 1st, in which he argues, alone among all the jurisconsults who are his precursors and contemporaries, and with reason, as we think, that in renting, the tenant acquires a right in the thing, and that the lease gives way immediately to a real and personal share.

[51] “even as though some force tearing earth apart should unlock the infernal house, and disclose the pallid realms abhorred of heaven, and deep down the monstrous gulf be descried where the ghosts flutter in the streaming daylight.” (Virgil, The Aeneid of Virgil [MacMillan and Co. Ltd: London, 1920], Translated by J. W. Mackail, Eighth Book, 178). (Editor)

[52] In Kantian philosophy, a thing as it is in itself, as distinct from a thing as it is knowable by the senses through phenomenal attributes. (Editor)

[53] Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations, Volume 1, Book I, Chapter 5, 34-5. The original text is used where appropriate, although Proudhon quotes a French translation which differs somewhat from the original. (Editor)

[54] Smith, Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter VI, 54-5. (Editor)

[55] Smith, Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter 6, 56. As before, Proudhon is quoting from a French translation and this ends with the words “Il faut qu'il paie pour avoir la permission. de les recueillir; c'est-à-dire qu'il paie au propriétaire une portion de ce qu'il recueille ou de ce qu'il produit, sans lui, par son travail”: “He must pay to have permission to collect them; that is to say, he pays the landlord a portion of what he collects or produces, without him, by his labour.” (Editor)

[56] A combination and slight re-organising of selections from The Wealth of Nations. The first sentence is from Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter 6 (57) while the rest is from Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter 9, with the second sentence originally appearing at the end of the rest of the passage. (110, 109-10). (Editor)

[57] In chapter VII, Proudhon writes of “great family of preventive, coercive, repressive, and vindictive institutions which A. Smith designated by the generic term police.” In other words, State power. (Editor)

[58] A paraphrase of Adam Smith: “the law, besides, authorises, or at least does not prohibit their combinations, while it prohibits those of the workmen […] Masters are always and everywhere in a sort of tacit, but constant and uniform combination, not to raise the wages of labour above their actual rate. To violate this combination is everywhere a most unpopular action, and a sort of reproach to a master among his neighbours and equals […] The masters upon these occasions are just as clamorous upon the other side, and never cease to call aloud for the assistance of the civil magistrate, and the rigorous execution of those laws which have been enacted with so much severity against the combinations of servants, labourers, and journeymen.” (Volume 1, Part 1, Chapter 8, 74-6). (Editor)

[59] Smith, Volume 1, Book I, Chapter VIII, 72. Indicators of missing sentences have been added. (Editor)

[60] Hodgskins, Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter X, Recherches sur la nature et les causes de la richesse des nations (Paris: Chez Guillaumin Libraire, 1843), 132. (Editor)

[61] Smith, Volume 1, Book 1, Chapter 8, 88. (Editor)

[buzzdixonwriter]

Why Do People Take Drugs?

To feel better.

Duh.

It doesn’t matter what the drug is, we take it to feel better,

Have an infection?  Take penicillin, feel better.

Headache?  Take aspirin, feel better.

Cancer?  Chemotherapy.

Stress?  Nicotine.

Loneliness?  Alcohol.

Name the problem, there’s a drug for it.

The hypocrisy we spew is that some ailments are entitled tp use some drugs, but other ailments are blamed on the sufferer, who ios either expected to endure their suffering with stoic silence or seek relief through socially approved health care providers.

Gawd help the poor schmuck who opts to self-medicate.

When we talk about “the drug problem” we never mean it in the sense of big phrama charging too damn much.

Rather, we talk about it in the sense of denying that we as a society have failed many of our citizens by ignoring the myriad root causes of their psychic pain and instead demonize their efforts to seek relief.

Healthy people -- physically / emotionally / mentally -- do not need drugs to feel better; they’re already feeling good and / or at peace with themselves.

Only when something hurts do we seek relief.

A person sound of heart and mind may suffer some illness or injury that requires strong pain relievers, but once the cause of the pain is successfully treated the desire / need for pain relief vanishes.

But we see far too many people suffering psychic pain / illness / injury / trauma who hide it from public view, who succumb to drug addiction when treated for physical pain.* 

The prescribed drug does its assigned job well, it numbs the physical pain, but in many cases it also numbs the invisible pain, the emotional pain, the eternal internal pain.

And that’s when people get hooked.

Hanks to pious self-righteous blue-nosed progs (looking at you, my fellow Christians), people with internal damage are denied pain relief.

“If you feel bad, it’s because you sinned.  Pray the sin away.”

Yeah, calling shenanigans on that.  “Sin” means falling short of the mark.  It means not giving a damn about others or their pain, just relieving in self-preening pride over our own lack or fecal odor.

There is a sinner in most sermons, typically the one casting stones from behind the pulpit.

This is not to say people with addiction issues can’t be hurtful or harmful to others,

I don’t care how much you need to drink to forget whatever-their-name-in, DON’T GET BEHIND THE WHEEL OF A CAR!

Addiction related problems arise by forcing users to seek expensive black market drugs which often propels them to commit crimes to finance their drug use.

Many sex workers are classic examples of this.  They feel guilt or shame over their profession, turning to drugs to assuage those feelings, requiring more sex work to buy more drugs to numb more feelings, etc., etc., and of course, etc.

Even in supposedly nice middle class Norman Rockwell homes the same issues arise.  Homemakers need “mother’s little helper” to get through the day which makes them less likely to meet their obligations be they self-imposed or even worse, imposed by whatever group the homemaker identifies with.

Which of course leads to more drugs to soothe the pain which only causes more pain requiring more drugs…

You get the picture?

The first step towards helping people with addiction issues is for society to stop being so damn moralistic and judgmental.

Stop laying imaginary sins on them from the pulpit, accept them for what they are where they are.

The next step is to accept responsible drug use.  There are people who are alcoholics and drug addicts who know how to keep their consumption under control.  People like that are to be encouraged.

Drug addiction is not a moral issue but a health problem,

Cure it, don’t punish it.

  © Buzz Dixon

 * Because gawd forbid we show we are vulnerable on the inside.  Whack off our arms and legs, gouge out our eyes, rip out our tongues, but never reveal any mental or emotional weakness.