#There are many mental illnesses running through my family but the one I inherited is bipolar disorder lol

[ryan-sometimes]

Recently I’ve been getting anons and comments doubting the validity of some of the stories I tell on here. There’s nothing I can do to convince you that the stories I tell on here are completely genuine. All I can say is that they really are. I only post the wackiest, most interesting or funny stories of my life on here. You don’t get much of the boring day to day stuff.

Truth is, I come from a very long line of crazy people. When my dad was in med school he and some friends planted a small homemade bomb in an abandoned bathroom at their university. His roommate stole a pancreas from the corpse lab and put it in a girl’s backpack. The entire med school was suspended because no one owned up to it. My uncle would sneak out at night with my grandma’s car and she’d find out because she’d check the mileage and see it’d gone up, so my uncle started driving her car backwards since that didn’t increase the mileage. He got arrested driving her car backwards on the highway to another town. My uncle would steal my grandpa’s shotgun, tell his friends to jump in the pool, and start firing it randomly at the backyard. My cousin genuinely had two weed smoking girlfriends who were also girlfriends with each other. My great uncle had an affair exposed by having his intimate photos and videos with his mistress sent to the family groupchat by people who stole his phone, all because they were salty that my aunt told them to go fuck themselves when they messaged her asking for money. My aunt took out all her life savings and moved to another state to build a bunker because she believes the apocalypse is coming, and she didn’t even take any of her children. I don’t know how to tell you this, but life is just stranger than fiction sometimes. The sample size of life stories you get on my blog are just the instances in which that’s true.

[saarasabaku]

DMC OC Week Day 3

Day 3

Saara’s past is a tragic one so this is gonna get a bit angsty TW/CW: Murder, Killing, Death, Violence, War, Experimentation, and more glimpses into Saara's Mental Illness and PTSD

Past:

Saara was born an extremely powerful child, bursting at the seams with Chaos. A power in which she inherited from her Father. Unfortunately her tiny baby body could not adequately contain such overwhelming strength, due to the fact that she was not a full blooded Primordial. And so in a bid to save his child, Saara’s Father placed a magical seal upon her power, thus preventing it from destroying her. Incidentally, this action also created the first ever DT. However, this also limited Saara’s ability to properly control her Chaos for quite a long time but as time goes on, the weaker the seal gets…

Saara’s childhood was fairly normal, well, as normal as a Demon’s life can be.

She would train in different disciplines with her Father and spend a lot of time learning the histories and wonders of the Demon World with him. With her Mother Saara would learn to garden and how to wield her lightning with deadly precision.

At least until… The war.

It was a long and bloody affair, practically erased from all but the oldest Demons memory. The Dark Prince, Mundus, a rowdy upstart at the time, decided he was far more fit to rule the Primordials. To him they were weak, soft, because they cared rather than commanded with fear. And for this he condemned them, to Mundus there was only one kind of strength and that was through control.

“The War of the Fallen…”

“One by one the Primordials fell till only two remained. My Father, Belial the First Demon and his sister.”

“Space and Chaos. Time and Creation. The first in the universe became the last of their kind…”

“Through trickery, deceit, and a love lost, so were they…”  “Broken children, abandoned and forgotten was all they left behind…”  

“But I refuse to be just a memory…” 

Saara was the one to bear witness to the near end of her race. Mundus slaughtered her Mother to weaken her Father, dealing the killing blow even before Sparda’s sword reached Belial’s neck. 

“I love you, my child. Be strong and live well. Remember always you are The Chaos… Make them all fear your name…” 

“His last word to me… Just another thing to haunt me with…”

After The War:

When the battles were long over, Saara was left alone, hiding in her home. 

A loyal friend of the family came searching for any sign of where the little Primordial had gone. Fortunately, Saara had listened to her Mother when she had told her to stay put. This made finding and taking her somewhere safer much easier. Unfortunately, after quite a lot of running it seemed such a place could never exist so long as Saara could be easily discovered as one of the Fallen (Mundus’ name for the Primordials after the war.)

To remedy this she was taken to a place, an experimentation facility, where they specialized in giving weaker Demons an extra power boost through alchemy. 

The friend of the family figured this as the only solution to protect the child left behind by the ones they held so dear. For months Saara endured many torturous rituals and experiments, all to try and hide her true lineage from those who would wish her harm. 

The blood of the young Primordial was far too strong for any other Demonic essence to take hold, making the process take far longer and far more arduous than it should have been. In the end Saara had finally been weakened enough for the blood of a Demon to take hold, successfully muddying her genes enough to hide them. This lowly Demon would also be the same one to take Saara in and raise her. 

That Demon was Berial, Conqueror of the Fire Hell. 

Long before he was the ruler, he was weak, so much so that the Prince of Darkness would not take notice of him. The perfect place for little Saara to hide, right under Mundus’ nose. The facility managed to acquire Berial’s blood to use as a component in the experimentation for this very reason. 

Once Saara was recovered enough she was moved to the Fire Hell and given to Berial, he was looking for a protege and felt bonded to Saara once he saw her at the facility. 

Just as planned.

While with him she was raised to be the perfect successor and was taught everything that would entail.

A Never-ending Void: 

Saara’s teenage years were spent mostly learning, growing in power. 

She honed her skills to a deadly point, training constantly to be the best, to feel worthy of the Birthright she inherited the day her kind was slaughtered.

The Primordials would rise again through her but first she would get her vengeance.  

However, none of this made the void in her soul grow any smaller.

Saara didn’t feel worthy, deadly or anything else, all she could feel was the nothingness of her failure. Mundus had taken everything from the young Primordial, leaving only guilt and regret.

“I lost them all…” “I am alone…” “Bondless…” “I could not protect them…” “I should have been able…” You are weak. A failure. No one could ever want a broken little thing like you. But you’ll seek them out anyway, won't you? Who are- The truth you hide

Saara’s young adult years are not really something she likes to remember although her mind will never let her forget them…

“This… Is a point in my life that… was not… great…” “I… did things… to myself and to others that were not…” “Nothing I did filled the void that gnaws away at me constantly…” “I can no longer feel much physical pain but the mental toll is still… There.” “I cannot escape the screams, the monsters that haunt my dreams…” “I wake up every night wishing the pain would just… disappear.” “Knowing full well it never will…” 

Eventually Saara leaves the Demon World to finally exact her revenge, but ends up making a bit of a name for herself as a Devil Hunter whilst doing so. 

None of this gets the Primordial the vengeance she so craves but she does end up finding a decent of Sparda instead. They fight, speaking in the only way either knows how. 

The Exchange of Blades:

Vergil Sparda, the eldest son of the Legendary Dark King Sparda.

One of Two but the other was unimportant for now.

Saara had finally tracked down Sparda, but all her leads went nowhere, until one didn’t.

She followed this one as if her life depended on it and eventually it bore fruit. 

The Primordial had found the son of the being she so despised and without much of a word they fought. Blade meeting blade, a conversation where no words need be said.

They made their intentions known to each other, their emotions on full display.

The battle ended in a draw, Saara was still very young and the seal on her power had not yet loosened enough for her to overpower the young Sparda.

But all that needed to be said was.

“Where is he?!”

“Who?”

“Your Father!”

“My… Dead.”

“... Dead…”

“I… Am a failure once again it seems…”

Saara’s anger dissipated upon hearing those words, only despair was left.

“What… Did my Father do?”

“Ha as if you do not know…”

“I do not.”

“You do not lie… But you cannot help me now.”

“Your Father murdered mine, him and that createn Mundus.”

“I despise them both but their sins are not yours… I have no quarrel with you, Son of Sparda.”

“Vergil.”

“Vergil…”

“I cannot make right the sins of my Father but it seems to me we have a similar enemy…”

The young Sparda felt it best to tell the truth of it, no need to hide.

“I see… Mundus has wronged you as well… Killed someone important to you and threatens the life of someone else you care for… Do I have the right of it?”

Vergil was taken aback at Saara’s ability to read him so well but he did not feel threatened by it.

“Correct…”

“Hmm it seems we are much too similar, Son- Vergil.”

“You may call Saara, I will lend you my aid.”

[tallmantall]

James Donaldson on Mental Health - Can Kids Get Depressed?

Many people wonder if kids and teens can really get depressed. In the case of teens, adults may attribute symptoms of depression to normal teen emotional swings. But experts and pediatricians point out that children and teens really can get depressed, and may be afflicted with the true illness of depression. What Causes Kids to Succumb to Depression? As in adults, depression may have multiple causes or one cause that varies among individuals. There are some factors that are unique to certain stages of life, however. * Children Children may become depressed because of genetics (like adults). They may have inherited a tendency toward depression, and perhaps there was a trigger that caused it to surface. Children may become depressed due to divorce, as they are uniquely affected by their immediate family's dynamic. Bullying at school is also something children may have to face that is not a factor for adults. A child with a tendency toward perfectionism may be more prone to depression as well, sources say. Children with this tendency may "beat themselves up" unnecessarily over failures or perceived failures. * Teens This age group is considered particularly prone to depression. This may be due in part to the hormonal upheavals that occur during the teen years. But be careful - it's easy for adults to take this information and think "it's just hormones" and therefore think the depression does not need to be addressed. Experts agree that depression, regardless of its cause, is something that should be addressed and treated. Teens may also be dealing with bullying at school, or even just "harmless" teasing. They may be experiencing their first crush, or rejection from the opposite sex. Other causes may be purely physiological; maybe nothing is particularly wrong in the teen's life, but his or her brain just seems to run in a depressed mode. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy Link for 40 Habits Signupbit.ly/40HabitsofMentalHealth www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com What Are the Signs? Here are some warning signs of depression in kids. * Children Parents should be vigilant for any talk about suicide or morbid fascination with death. Other sources point out that television and movies should be carefully monitored, both for potentially depressing subject matter and for the psychological effects of TV viewing in general (studies show that children who watch six or more hours of TV a day are more prone to depression). - Sleep disturbances or changes in sleep habits - Sudden increase or decrease in appetite - Angry outbursts and/or irritability - Lack of interest in social activities or friends - "Touchy" about perceived rejection * Teens Some of the signs of depression in teens are like those in children; some are different. As with children, parents of teens should be keenly aware of any indications of suicidal thoughts. Music, movies, and television are also sources of potentially depressing images and subject matter. - Weight loss or gain - Over-exercise and/or obsessive dieting - Binge eating - Angry outbursts/yelling at parents - Withdrawal from social activities and family Read the full article

[sleeplessinpnw]

Still Job Hunting....

I'm in a decent mood at the moment (key words, at the moment). I am feeling still pretty low bout where I am in life, however I am happy and patiently job hunting. I have A LOT of nerves that revolve around getting back into the working world. I have been pretty healthy the past few months, but I still am haunted by how bad everything got in the end. I still feel weird putting a foot back into the rest of society.

I had so many delusions. And I acted out with them so many times that a lot of attention was drawn to myself and my health. It's embarrassing to say the least. But I was in a VERY different mind set then. That's why it's so scary to think about re immersing myself. My mom is helping take care of me at the moment, so I am fine but.... it feels weird and I am extremely insecure about myself now. I use to exude so much confidence. I loved dressing up weird and wearing lots of make up and dancing. Today, however, just being alone and in my living room is comforting. I look forward to when I am my goofy and outgoing self again. It's going to take some time.

I wonder what my first job coming out of this will be other than helping out my aunt and working for my brothers dad. The good news is that I have family looking out for me who are willing to help. :)

THANK GOD.

Dont even get me started about my dying grandma. Oh my god, it's ALL OF US!! We aren't greedy but.... what she leaves us in her will is definitely going to help every one of us tremendously. Anyway.... That is if we even are in her will. This conversation is a disease that spreads through us all. Me, being mentally ill and having a hard time coming out of my shell again, really would be pleased to inherit something right now. It would relieve so much stress. BUT!!! That is greedy (a little bit) and I want to be a kind hearted person so realistically I hope my grandma lives to the fullest of her potential. WHich is pretty impressive because she's definitely getting there.... if you know what I mean. She turns like.... 92 or something this year. Her memory is getting worse but she seems content and has 24/7 help by her side in her home. Anyway.... enough of that.

I hope that I find a job that stands out to me that seems like a good fit where I wont run into too many people. You would be surprised how small this city feels after growing up in it. I want a job that's laid back, part time and somewhere comforting enough to where I wont be overwhelmed along with balancing my life on my meds and my appointments. Here's to new beginnings!

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

@loosingdreams@sayosdreams@audreycressworth@cyra04@that-golden-lyre@nessiantrashh@misswonderflower@dontgetsalmonella@caram267@bickbickbarnes@sabrinasam-blog

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

Thornfield Hall in Jane Eyre (hyper-simplified)

Random thoughts here on this symbol (also could serve as essay help). Feel free to correct me if anything's wrong, maybe add on stuff in fancier language because I'm too tired to do a detailed literary analysis here.

1. Thornfield as a Gothic literary element:

It's a spooky house that looks medieval and is mysterious! Therefore it's definitely gothic!

The significance of houses in Gothic literature: "the past never really goes away;" after all the history of the houses (hundreds of years old) makes them links to the past. The persistence of the houses over many generations is a reminder of the insignificance of human endeavors in the face of time/nature/the universe.

When the houses fall apart & deteriorate it's a representation of the consequences of sin (moral decay). Thornfield getting burned can be seen as punishment for Rochester's sin of locking up his wife and also for his everyday action of lying and deceiving people so he can run away from his dirty secrets.

Houses are representations of the soul; the outside is like the facade one puts on in polite society, while the inside contains the true person (the secrets!) that is hidden from society.

2. Thornfield as a representation of Rochester's character:

The source of Rochester's power and wealth (Rochester owns the house and all the money earned from the estate comes to him and he's an eligible bachelor because he's rich).

Forbidding on the outside but pretty cozy inside (unless you are the madwoman imprisoned in the attic). Mirrors how Rochester is mean but has a heart.

"'I like Thornfield, its antiquity, its retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey facade, and lines of dark windows...how long have I abhorred the very thought of it, shunned it like a great plague-house?'"

Rochester has a love-hate relationship with the house: he gains comfort from its long history (which is a source of pride as it ensures his position as a gentleman with a treasured family home to maintain) but also hates it because it keeps all his secrets (the madwoman in the attic who "haunts" the house; her escapes and "hauntings" challenge his power over his surroundings).

3. Thornfield as a representation of British society:

Again, the house is the source of Rochester's power and wealth. Thus there's a hierarchy in the house to preserve his power:

The hierarchy (from top to bottom): Rochester, the housekeeper, the servants, and Jane, who exists in between the hierarchy (doesn't have a definite "place" because she's got the education of an aristocrat but is pretty much an employee who depends on Rochester paying her and of course Rochester can fire her easily).

Mrs. Fairfax the housekeeper enforces the social hierarchy when showing concern/disapproving of Rochester flirting with Jane (because masters usually use the governesses for sexual gratification; they don't defy social norms by marrying the governess). But of course we love that she shows some genuine concern for Jane when telling her to be careful because men can be abusive (unfortunately so true).

Every day she resides in the house Jane is reminded of her low social position as a servant to a master. After all, the room and board could be taken away from her at any time.

Bertha's imprisonment in the house is like the status of colonies in the British Empire: exploited for raw resources to enrich the mother country and then left to languish in poverty. After all, Rochester married Bertha for her wealth (to preserve Thornfield and keep the money in the family) and when she became insane he locked her up in his home. That's the marriage in highly simplified terms: from Rochester's side, he was deceived into marrying Bertha for her money and because he was sexually infatuated with her good looks he married her without question and regretted it because Bertha immediately cheated on him, emotionally abused everyone, and also had inherited mental illness from her mother. After trying to live with her for 5 years, he locked her in Thornfield because she was violent and would certainly have died in a mental asylum (because the mentally ill were treated very badly back then). One can argue it was necessary to lock Bertha up because she was violent and posed a threat to Rochester's life (and he thought he was nice to her because he didn't let her die even though he could have; how perverted are those morals) but all the same hiding her existence from the world (while having a human being locked up) is highly unethical.

But all the same, social boundaries are defied at Thornfield. Jane gets shocked when Rochester treats her as a friend from the beginning of their relationship by letting her speak to him (after she's been told all her life to remain silent by those in authority). Because this is Rochester's home he can break social norms (flirt with the governess) without facing the consequences.

4. Thornfield as a home:

"Wherever you are is my home--my only home."

Thornfield becomes home for Jane because she finds kindness there. Specifically, she finds a "family" there, since the people she serves under care for her (ex. she gets larger meals than the starvation diet she received at Lowood boarding school, Mrs. Fairfax gives Jane wise advice after Rochester's proposal). From the beginning, Rochester seems to treat Jane as his friend because he comes close to telling her his secrets and lets her talk to him. When she falls in love with Rochester she develops an attachment to Thornfield as part of her attachment to him.

"Heart-weary and soul-withered, you come home after years of voluntary banishment: you make a new acquaintance...you find in this stranger much of the good and bright qualities which you have sought for twenty years, and never before encountered; and they are all fresh, healthy, without soil and without taint. Such society revives, regenerates: you feel better days come back—higher wishes, purer feelings..."

Rochester has to return to Thornfield (home) to rest and recharge from the ravages of his hedonistic lifestyle. And when he discovers his One True Love there he definitely doesn't want to leave....

Home is a starting point for Rochester to redeem his morals. By returning to the place of his birth he wants to start a second life where he can forget about his degraded past and be revived (and saved) through the love of his "angel" Jane (who refuses to play that role). Kinda reminds me of Virginia Woolf's "Angel of the House" -- women as portrayed by men (they are morally pure, take care of the home and are passive beings whose main purpose is to raise good children and redeem the souls of men through their goodness).

5. Thornfield as a prison:

Remember how houses are links to the past? Rochester has to run away from Thornfield often because first he locked up his wife there and it reminds him of his selfish father and brother who deceived him into marrying Bertha! Plus the house is a reminder of his responsibility as a landowner to maintain it and he doesn't like responsibility (as shown by his hedonism).

Jane is trapped there because she can't leave without Rochester's permission (see the money scene where she literally has to ask him to leave to see her dying aunt and he demonstrates his power over her by showing her his cash while she reveals how little money she has). After all, her governess position as another form of servitude.

@appleinducedsleep @thatvermilionflycatcher

[tenthgrove]

500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 1 (La Squadra Backstories)

Hey! Thank you so much for 500 amazing followers! Every single one of you mean so much to me!

Part 1 of this celebration is, as the title suggests, my headcanon backstory for each of La Squadra. As some of you know I was at some point in the process of writing a full multi-chapter fic on this, but since that unfortunately never came to fruition beyond the first couple chapters, here is a shortened version of the stories that were originally planned.

Part 2 is going to be a little something I wrote a while back but never felt brave enough to send to more than a few people. That will be seeing the light of day soon. ;)

Risotto

Risotto Dante Nero was born in a small, poor farming village in Sicily, somewhere in the vicinity of Catania. His parents were a young, dysfunctional couple who weren't ready for a kid in the first place. Seeing their newborn son had 'evil' eyes was the last nail in the coffin for them, and they gave the baby up to his paternal grandmother when he was only days old.

Despite being shunned by his family over the aesthetic defect, Risotto was able to form a close bond with his older cousin, Domenico, who would eventually move in with him and his grandmother after being disowned by the family himself. Domenico helped Risotto find friends, and was the main reason why the next few years were the happiest in the young boys life.

Unfortunately, Domenico was struck and killed at age just 19 by a drunk driver, a millionaire from Milan who on top of his intoxication, was driving incredibly fast. Risotto never recovered from the grief; his personality was altered drastically and he eventually dropped out of school. His grandmother indulged him in his revenge fantasies, believing that he would never seriously carry them out. This proved the biggest mistake of her life.

At age 18 Risotto left home to hunt down Domenico's killer. Despite the years of preparation he was in way over his head and was eventually forced to make a deal with Passione for the resources he would need to break into the mansion and not get caught. But the newly initiated mafioso found that revenge did nothing for his grief. Now, he simply had nothing to work for.

Risotto fell into a deep depression for the next two years, doing his duties as a low-ranking soldato for Passione but feeling utterly empty inside. It became so dire that after becoming injured in a fight with a stand user, he welcomed what looked to be his impending death.

But Risotto did not die that day, being saved by an associate of the gang and rushed to hospital. After hearing word that Risotto had defeated a stand user, Prosciutto became interested and approached Risotto for help with a hit he had been assigned to. Risotto agreed and Prosciutto developed a liking for the young man. A few months later, when Prosciutto was tasked with forming a specialised squad for assassination, he remembered Risotto and requested he become the team’s captain. Risotto was put through at once for receiving a stand, and was seated at the head of the brand new La Squadra di Esecuzione.

Prosciutto

Maiale Crepuscolo was born the daughter of a powerful Don in Naples, and his much neglected wife. Raised in luxury, he came to resent his callous father, especially when the man continued to behave adulterously despite his wife’s failing health. The death of Mrs Crepuscolo was a huge blow to her 16 year old son. It was around this time that Maiale discovered his male identity and chose a new name for himself: Prosciutto.

Mere months after the death of his wife, Don Crepuscolo married his pregnant mistress, a young woman by the name of Loreta. Despite the circumstances, Prosciutto and Loreta got on very well together, and the young man confided in her about his transgender identity, to be met with her full support. Any faith that Prosciutto may have had in his father before was immediately lost when Loreta was thrown out onto the streets by her new husband, along with their infant son Pesci. His sole reason for doing this was that he had become tired of her, and the baby's crying.

Without his father’s knowing, Prosciutto continued to wire Loreta and Pesci money through his hefty allowance, and counted down the days until he could graduate highschool and become eligible for his mother’s inheritance. The very day he gained access to it, he cut his father off for good.

The next few years of Prosciutto’s life were the best. He went to a prestigious university to study politics and afterwards found work as a journalist. With his father no longer an issue, he medically transitioned and upped the money he was giving to his half-brother and former step-mother. Everything was going perfectly.

At age 24, Prosciutto received a visit by members of Passione, who informed him they had annexed his father’s gang and killed him. As much as Prosciutto insisted they had been estranged for years, the men maintained that Prosciutto was still considered a threat, and could only be allowed to live if he joined the gang. Worse, they threatened him with Pesci’s life. Prosciutto knew he had no choice.

Over the next few years, Prosciutto worked his way up. By age 27 he was granted the privilege to develop a stand, and was quickly pushed into the assassination business as a result of its deadly power. At that time, Passione had no designated assassination team, and individuals ordered to carry out hits had to go running around for volunteers if they needed help on a mission. This is why Prosciutto had sought out Risotto.

When the order to form a hitman squad was given, Prosciutto was initially primed to become the captain. However, he was strongly against taking this role, as Loreta was starting to show signs of chronic illness and Prosciutto wanted to make sure he could still take care of Pesci if it became necessary. Tasked with finding an alternative, Prosciutto initially approached his old friends Sorbet and Gelato, who had been part of the squad sent to confront him after the death of his father and had kept in touch out of pity. The pair were cleared to join the team, but were not trusted by the team’s superiors to become captain. And so, Prosciutto turned once more to Risotto.

Sorbet and Gelato

Sorbet and Gelato could not have been born in more different circumstances, the former in absolute poverty, and the latter in comparative privilege.

Sorbet’s mother was by no means a bad woman. It was just the case that through her crippling addictions and mental illnesses, she was in no means equipped to care for her 6 children, forcing Sorbet, the eldest, to pick up the slack. Though he loved his siblings the young Sorbet resented this role and was easily tempted by a street gang at age 12, who offered him escape from his miserable life through drug peddling. Sorbet began to drift from his family more and more. He soon disappeared from school, and became completely estranged from his mother and siblings.

By age 17 Sorbet had developed a reputation in the gang for ruthlessness, and was approached by its leader to carry out a number of assassinations. He soon became the group’s designated hitman, and was paid generously for the role. He was still however, functionally homeless.

Gelato was born to an upper-middle class family in Minsk, Russia. The youngest of four boys, his parents had been hoping for a girl, and their resentment only grew when it became clear the young Gelato was both autistic and ADHD. He suffered from extreme emotional neglect.

When Gelato was 13, the family moved back to Italy where his mother was from. Though he preferred it here, the problems with his family continued and Gelato was eventually kicked out at just 17 years old.

Following the word of a friend, Gelato made his way to Naples and found work running an illegal bar for a street gang in exchange for a room to sleep in. The same gang, incidentally, that Sorbet was working for. The two first exchanged words when Gelato found Sorbet beating up a patron who had been abusive to him, and decided to join in. Within weeks, they were lovers.

One night, while Sorbet and Gelato were asleep upstairs, the police raided the bar. In a panic, Gelato shot two, and Sorbet took out a third. The fourth got away. Knowing they would be hunted, the pair begged refuge from their gang but were denied. They were not a powerful enough syndicate to deal with something of this size. And so, with only each other, Sorbet and Gelato fled Italy.

They were on the run for two years, passing through just about every country in Europe at least once. As a means of surviving, they took on assassination contracts from local gangs and became very skilled, but of course this only turned up the heat to catch them. Eventually, it got too much, and in a final desperate bid to avoid capture, the pair went back to Italy to plead their gang to reconsider.

What they found now in charge of Naples was not their gang, but Passione. A capo by the name of Pericolo listened to their story, and agreed eagerly to dissuade the police from pursuing them in exchange for their loyalty to the new gang. Sorbet and Gelato agreed at once, and developed stands soon after.

Formaggio

A Naples Boy through and through, Formaggio was born in the central city to a large, loving family. Owing to their poverty, all the aunts, grandparents and cousins lived in one house. Although many were part of the mafia, it was always stressed to the children they were under no obligation to choose such a life. Nonetheless, many of them still did.

One night, Formaggio’s eldest brother Miguel sneaked off from the house, telling nobody but Formaggio. His goal was to seek initiation into Passione. The young Formaggio pleaded to come as well, but was told he was not ready yet. Miguel returned a couple of hours later, carrying a metal arrowhead. He told his brother that something unexpected had happened, and he needed to go now, but it was vital Formaggio told nobody of this meeting. He promised it would all be worth it in the end.

Years passed, and Miguel did not return. Then one day- a hastily-written letter, addressed solely to Formaggio. In his final message, Miguel apologised for the absence and announced that he did not expect to survive the next few hours. However, if Formaggio wanted the answers to all that had transpired, all he needed to do was recover the arrowhead that he had last seen Miguel with all those years ago. Most likely, it would have been returned to where he found it, address enclosed. Saddened and eager to understand what had happened to his brother, Formaggio followed the instructions and broke into a heavily guarded warehouse. He found the arrow, just as Miguel had said, but failed to understand how this could solve his problems.

Formaggio looked for a way out of the warehouse, and was suddenly set upon by the guards. He ran for the exit and tripped, impaling himself on the arrow. Little Feet came forth at once, stunning the guards. Not wanting to deal with whatever that was, they called in Risotto and his newly built execution squad, based nearby, to deal with it.

Fortunately, the assassins’ skills were not needed. In spite of the circumstances Formaggio met the assassins with charm and cooperation. Risotto phoned his superiors to see if killing the man was really necessary, and they agreed it wasn’t, provided Formaggio became Risotto’s business. An agreement was reached, and Formaggio was inducted into the hitman squad. It would take two more members for Formaggio to piece together what had happened to his brother.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio was dealt an awful hand in life. Poor, and with parents that hated him, he had little respite as a child. He was autistic, but never diagnosed, and had visual impairments that were never addressed. His fondest memory was of a bizarre couple he met as a child, a dark-haired, dour man and his blond lover, who kept him company after his mother walked away from him in anger at a shopping mall. She came back, unfortunately.

When Ghiaccio was 15, a frantic knock sounded at his door while his parents were out. Answering it nervously, an equally frantic man stood on the other side brandishing an arrow-head. He introduced himself exhaustedly as Miguel and begged for shelter- he was being chased.

Before Ghiaccio could answer a squad of men burst onto the porch and attacked Miguel, dragging him out of view. Ghiaccio was thrown to the ground and told in no uncertain terms to speak of none of this to anyone. It wasn’t until later he realised the arrow had accidentally slashed him.

At that time, Ghiaccio’s soul was not fit to manifest a stand, but it was close. And so, Ghiaccio began to suffer the slow, agonising fate that some in his position fall victim to, his half-manifested stand slowly sucking the life from him. His parents didn’t even have the heart to call a doctor.

Two months into this agony, Ghiaccio heard something outside his room. His parents. They were talking about what to do if he died. He’d had enough. He snapped.

And so, Ghiaccio’s soul reached the point where it was strong enough to bare a stand fully, after having already partially manifested one. This unheard of situation created a stand with no physical form, but unspeakable power. A surge of ice broke out around the house without Ghiaccio even meaning it to, killing his parents at once. His sickness gone, Ghiaccio got up from the bed. What the hell had just happened?

Convinced he had lost his mind, Ghiaccio fled, but left a trail of unexplainable events behind him. Realising they were dealing with an unaccounted stand user, Passione had Ghiaccio hunted down and propositioned to join them. Terrified and with no other idea of what to do, he agreed. With a stand like this, there were only 2 options: La Squadra and La Unita. La Unita had no interest in an impulsive teenager, so Ghiaccio was sent at once to La Squadra.

The group was reluctant to house a teenage boy as an assassin, but took him in nonetheless. Formaggio was grateful for the crumbs of information Ghiaccio could give about the fate of his brother. Sorbet and Gelato couldn’t shake the feeling they’d seen the boy before somewhere.

Illuso

He was an only child. There was nothing particularly wrong with his relationship with his parents, but nothing particularly right either. There just… wasn’t a connection. They were a middle class family, well to do but nothing special. An arrogant boy, Illuso struggled to make friends, though he did become somewhat close with a boy in the year below him named Formaggio, for a short time.

When Illuso was 15, his parents came to him with a proposition. A distant relative of theirs was in possession of a large castle, but could not pay for its upkeep any more. The man had asked if Illuso would be interested in becoming a live-in caretaker, to be paid less than industry standards but still a lot by the standards of a 15 year old boy. Illuso agreed at once, and moved out of his parents home in a matter of days.

At the castle, his loneliness only grew. The place was closed to visitors and had no inhabitants apart from his new employer, who even then only lived in the castle 4 days a week. Illuso thought he was okay with this life, but the effect on his psyche was indisputable.

Then one day, the castle had a break-in. Illuso was accosted by a young man named Miguel, who had been squatting in the cellar for days and believed the castle was abandoned. The pair came to an understanding, and Miguel proposed that in exchange for his silence, he would give Illuso something amazing. He pricked him with the arrow.

Thrilled with his new power, Illuso agreed to keep Miguel’s existence a secret and the pair co-existed for many years. Illuso learned that Miguel had stolen the arrow from a gang named Passione, after discovering its power and making the decision to take it on impulse. Passione is still hunting him, hence the need to hide.

But eventually, they found him nonetheless. Illuso and Miguel tried their best to fight but it was an uneven battle. Miguel fled with the arrow, chased by one half of the attacking squad, leaving Illuso to deal with the other half.

But against all odds, Illuso survived, using his stand to eliminate the attackers one by one. Eventually the last attackers gave in and fled, The next people sent to confront Illuso came with a deal: join Passione, and all will be forgiven.

Despite his stand’s power, Illuso’s superiors disliked his attitude. After a few months of being thrown between teams, he was saddled with La Squadra.

Melone

The middle of three children, Melone was born to an upper-working class family in Florence. His parents were eccentric-academic sorts, who encouraged Melone and his sisters to act without regard for social convention. Though intelligent, Melone was never quite top of the class due to his inability to stay on task. Still, he got into a decent university and had plans to become a gynaecologist.

In his second year, Melone was approached by a poor couple seeking antenatal care for their pregnancy. As they explained, they were in a gang and could not go into public care for fear of their identities as criminals being discovered. They pleaded Melone for whatever rudimentary checks he could provide, just so they could have some assurance their baby was okay. Melone agreed, and met with the couple several times.

Over the course of the next year, Melone gave similar services to a couple more women who were recommended to go to him by the first patient. It was only a matter of time before the university discovered what he was doing, especially once he started stealing equipment to improve the quality of his examinations. Melone was expelled and referred to the police, but one of his patients got Passione to bribe away his charges. Unfortunately, this put him in their debt. Melone told his family he was simply going away for a while.

Melone languished around in Passione for a while. Though he did receive a stand, its lethal capabilities weren’t immediately clear, and so he remained in the lower ranks. His main respite was the bar scene, in which he got to mingle with many of Passione’s members from different squads. It was through here that he met Illuso, Formaggio and Ghiaccio of the execution team, and formed a friendship. Through them he even formed links with the group’s leader, Risotto.

The team were eager to help Melone advance to a better position, and aided him in exploring his stand. Eventually, he discovered how lethal baby face could truly be, outshining everyone’s expectations. Risotto was pleased to welcome him into the team.

Pesci

By the time Pesci was 13, it was clear his mother’s illness was terminal. Initially reluctant to involve him around the team, Prosciutto increasingly allowed Pesci to stay with them while his mother was at the hospital, since there was nowhere else for the young boy to go. As much as everyone tried to comfort him, he was terrified.

Two years later, it was clear Loreta was in her final weeks. Pesci dedicated as much time as he could to being with her, sleeping at her bedside more often than not. It was here that he first felt the strange occurrences begin. It would be subtle at first, the peculiar feeling of his mother’s heartbeat in his hands as he drifted off to sleep. It was comforting, then. It assured him his mother was still alive. Then, it got weirder, a long string extending from his fingers and into his mother’s chest. He thought he was just sleep deprived.

When the fateful day came and Loreta’s heart monitor stopped, Pesci felt a surge of panic. Desperate to find some proof this wasn’t really happening, his stand burst forth from his body and shot its hook into Loreta’s chest. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing. Loreta was dead.

As Pesci held the rod in his hands he realised this was far too real to be a hallucination. He could sense everything, the fading metabolism of his mother’s body and the vibrations in the floor. As the nurses confirmed the death, they could not see it. Why couldn’t they see it?

Prosciutto came into the room. With one look, Pesci knew that his brother could see the rod as well. He panicked and ran.

Prosciutto tried desperately over the next couple days to get in touch with Pesci. He knew exactly what had happened- clearly the boy had summoned a stand from the anguish of his mother’s death and had freaked out in confusion. That’s all completely understandable, but if Pesci isn’t informed of what his new power means soon, he could get himself into serious trouble. Especially if Passione found out.

And so, Prosciutto set off with Risotto to hunt Pesci down, eventually finding him at a run down park near his childhood home. Prosciutto comforted him and explained he knew what was happening, but if everything was going to be okay, he had to go with them.

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 9 - Obligation

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow​ @miingxuxi​ ​​

“It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body. ”

Hesitation stops Kim Jo-Pil for a few seconds. He parts his quivering lips and takes a deep breath, then says, just loud enough for Juyeon to hear, “I made a mistake. One too big for me to dig a hole and throw it in.”

Juyeon’s frown deepens, and he hears the sheets shuffling in the bedroom. He reaches forward, pulling Jang Won’s door shut.

It is only in Kim Jo-Pil’s home-made office (also known as Jang Won’s second guest room) that Juyeon is surprised by the number of mini and portrait-sized canvasses painted by his wife. Just for a split second, Juyeon buys it. Maybe Kim Jo-Pil isn’t as horrid of a person Kim Jang Won thinks he is.

But it’s the picture of their family sitting on his desk that ironically turns Juyeon’s head around.

“What is all this? For show? For when Jang Won storms in and you’ll think she’ll go soft, seeing all this?”

Kim Jo-Pil lands himself in the sofa seat next to the bed, piled with files and documents and boxes, leaving Juyeon to stand awkwardly by the end of the bed, eyes scanning the mess in the room.

“You sound like her... after her mother passed and before I did.”

Juyeon’s nostrils flare. “If you don’t want to tell me why you decided to come back and ruin her life, so be it. I don’t need to stand here and listen to all your-”

“Younghoon wasn’t Se Kyung’s first child.”

Silence.

Juyeon’s heart halts in his chest. 

Kim Jo-Pil looks out the window, eyes looking in the distance where the city’s skyscrapers were kissing the sun. “Se Kyung had a child born out of wedlock before she married me. But they made her choose. The child’s life or her freedom.”

“Back then, The Board already had administrations favouring arranged marriages between families under the conglomerate. It was an easy system to keep the number of royalties under control. The cycle repeats itself. Two families become one, and a new family joins. Superpowers are reduced from two to one overnight, and The Board would never have to be worried about being overthrown because the supers would simply be too busy outdoing each other and seeking validation from the administration.”

“Did you know?” Juyeon whispers. “That she already had a child?”

“I knew... not because I was meant to, but because I wanted to. It was The Board’s annual Christmas Charity Event in the early 1990s and Se Kyung had gone with her parents, and I had gone with mine. She was sweeter than a daisy in a meadow full of flowers. She was polite, kind, and had a reputation for being the most stubborn creature on the planet, even then. It was one of the many things that Jang Won had inherited from her.”

“She spent her early twenties away from home, supposedly in another country working her way through foreign industries and making a name for herself. I didn’t know she had returned until my father told me that the Yoo family had chosen to merge with another - mine - I couldn’t be happier. One night, I decided to sneak to into their property and propose to her formally, way before the arrangements were to be made public. And... I heard it. The crying. Fighting.”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes fall. “She had returned with a child in hopes to bond her to the Yoo family. The father was a coward and ran once he had heard she was from a reputable family. Too much politics, too much money.”

“But the baby. Oh, the baby. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My poor, poor Se Kyung... She was given the options: Marry into the Kim family and give the baby away, or her parents will have it dispensed like it had never been born.”

By now, Kim Jo-Pil has tears in his eyes.

“After we had Younghoon, something in Se Kyung clicked back to life. I remember the night she delivered him. The sparkle in her eyes that I fell in love with the day I met her had returned... but I knew for a fact that I needed to find her first-born, no matter the implications. It was the least I could do for her. By then, the child had to be a few years older than Younghoon and so, I spent the time that I should’ve spent with Se Kyung and my own children looking for her - the baby.”

“Se Kyung lost her parents in an accident the night Jang Won was born. She lost the worst nightmares of her life in exchange for a beautiful baby girl... so, what more could she ask for?”

Kim Jo-Pil sucks a deep breath. “I couldn’t find the child. I went to all the orphanages and the foster homes and by then Se Kyung had already fallen ill. Brain cancer - inherited. All I wanted was to return Se Kyung was her first-born and yet I did not deliver. When Jang Won was 16, Se Kyung passed. The last foster home that had taken care of the child said that she had reached a legal age to take care of herself. She could’ve gone under the radar if she wanted, changed her name if she wanted, and I’ll never be able to find her. Little did I know that she had grown to become much more of a person than I ever expected her to be, and she had been practicing advanced medicine throughout her college life.”

Juyeon is giddy from the influx of information, and so he braces himself when his own neurons piece the puzzle together.

“She was the one who revived you. The child.”

The elder shuts his eyes and lets the tears dribble over his lids.

It felt like a dream. The ache in his chest. The rough texture of gravel under his cheek when he collapsed. But Kim Jo-Pil opens his eyes, in thorough shock, when he realises he’s not in the hospital, but in some worn-down warehouse with a bunch of illegal medication that shouldn’t even be legally available outside of the hospital.

He had remembered the lights in the operating theatre, and even the sound of his slowing heartbeat in the drums of his ears.

So how is it possible that he’s-

“Ah, you’re awake! I was starting to worry that it didn’t work, Goddamn Narcan.”

Kim Jo-Pil tries to move, but he can’t. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body besides his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lights above him had been preventing him from seeing her face, and when he did, he swore he could’ve been snapped into two when he recognised her eyes.

She pushes away the lights and turns to remove her surgical equipment, the sound of latex snapping away from her fingers echo through the dismay of the room. She returns her attention to Kim Jo-Pil.

It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body.

“I’m Yoo Hye In, and I heard you’ve been searching for me.”

Exasperated and in disbelief, Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, turning to make sure the door of the room was shut. 

“Why are you even telling me this? How do I know I can trust you to tell me the truth?”

“Yes, because I have all the damn time in the world to be cooking up this story!” He gets up and pulls up his shirt, revealing a stitched scar right over where his heart was. “I trust you because you have no reason to backstab her.” 

He releases his shirt. 

“Other than Younghoon, I don’t know if anybody else in this system can offer her any kind of security.”

“How do you know I’m not gonna run off after getting half of HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Because if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk to her over your wedding.”

Juyeon presses his fingers over his closed lids. His vision is blurred when he opens them. 

“Why don’t you just tell Jang Won about this? She can protect you. She can sieve out this... Yoo Hye In, give her what she wants-”

“Jang Won will never give Hye In what she wants.”

Juyeon can feel the edges of his lips curl downwards and his lids getting heavier from mental exhaustion. “...Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS?”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes can’t seem to leave the floor. He can’t help the dreaded feeling of failure drowning his conscience as a father, as someone who was rightfully supposed to protect her. 

“So, what’s your plan? Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS, and you know for a fact that Jang Won won’t give that up... like, ever. What happens if Hye In doesn’t get HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Hye In will go to the press. Her existence being Yoo Se Kyung’s first-born out of wedlock will destroy everything this family has built. Hera’s Manor, HERA & ARTEMIS, Artemis...” He shakes his head. “Either gone or hers. She’s playing saint by not doing that directly.”

“But what does Yoo Se Kyung’s mistake have anything to do with Jang Won?” Juyeon seethes, inhaling such a deep breath that his chest hurt. “This is unfair. She should not have to go through this-”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Kim Jo-Pil’s lower lip trembles, a hardening gaze plastered to Juyeon. 

Heaviness blankets the room. Juyeon’s frown feels cemented into his forehead as he sits at the edge of the crowded bed, fingers on his temple. 

“Juyeon.”

The younger side-eyes the elder, cautious. 

“Once you’ve acquired Apple-Korea, I want you to buy all of HERA & ARTEMIS, then acquire Artemis Entertainment as well.”

“You know Jang Won won’t allow that.”

“Try. You’ll have the power to and she can’t exactly stop you,” He huffs, chest rising. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I will tell her the truth when it blows over.”

“’Blows over’? How is this going to ‘blow over’? You just said Hye In won’t give in until she gets HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“But she can’t fight for ownership if it’s the owner is not of Yoo’s descent. Which means once you acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS-”

“Then she’s no longer a threat.”

Kim Jo-Pil nods. “But you will need Jang Won’s trust to acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS, and she cannot know about Hye In before that happens. Once the order is out of place, Jang Won will stop at nothing to fight for HERA & ARTEMIS, not knowing that she’ll be fighting a lost war.”

“Jang Won doesn’t even trust Younghoon. How do you expect her to trust me?”

“Look at where you’re standing,” Her father turns, but doesn’t look at Juyeon directly. The sun kisses a single side of his face as his eyes scan the room. “You’re standing in Hera’s Manor, and you’re her first overnight guest in five years. I’d say you have a pretty good chance at earning the rest of her trust.”

Juyeon winces slightly, shutting his lids to process the information. There’s a grave sense of responsibility perched on his shoulders now, and the dread that lingers in the back of his skull when he thinks of Yoo Hye In strutting around in public makes him uneasy. 

Juyeon finds himself mindlessly heading for the dining hall, where Mr Ro was finishing up the preparation of the wide array of food on the side table. The butler bows, but it goes unnoticed. He pulls the chair back for Juyeon to sit, and eventually calls him a cup of coffee when he notices Juyeon’s lack of attention. 

“Mr Ro.”

“Hmm?” The chocolate-brown shade of coffee glitters under the light from outside. 

“How long do you think it’ll take Jang Won to trust me?”

Mr Ro pulls away, handing the pot of coffee to another staff. “Well, Mr Lee... that depends on what circumstance we’re envisioning.”

“Her life. Maybe something she loves, something she can’t live without.”

“So, a prized possession.”

“Mm.”

Mr Ro pauses for a thought. 

“Long, but play your cards right, and she will eventually trust you.”

Juyeon offers a strained curve of his lips when Mr Ro bows and returns to the kitchen, leaving him with a bunch of pastries that should be sold in some five-star hotel instead.

Jang Won strolls into the dining hall dawned in a gorgeous full-fitted set, make-up and hair done like she was going for her own press conference. Juyeon remains quiet at the table, only looking up once when she first enters, then he returns to spreading Nutella on his croissant.

“Jesus, do we not have anything from Younghoon or my father to let him wear besides those pajamas?”

“You lent me these pajamas, don’t make it sound like it was my bad choice to make. Besides, they are comfortable and cute,” Juyeon looks down at himself.

Jang Won gruffly scoffs. “Of course it’s comfortable. It’s made from Supima cotton. What do you think we are, savages?”

“Mrs Lee, I-”

“Call me that again and I will fire you,” She abruptly instructs, glaring at her butler.

“Ms Kim,” He corrects himself. “We have already called Younghoon’s fitters to bring by some wardrobe for Mr Lee before he joins you for the itinerary meeting.”

“Itinerary meeting?” She whips her head from Mr Ro to Juyeon, who was busy licking the Nutella off the knife he was using. “Don’t you have to be in the office or something?”

“And do what? Put myself in a situation where my parents can come to kidnap me home? No thanks.”

Jang Won leans back in her seat as the staff places a cup of tea in front of her, surprised at Juyeon’s enthusiasm with something that he didn’t need to worry about.

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment after, so, you can come back home after unless you want to hang around old, dying people.”

“What?” Juyeon sneers. “What for? You look perfectly fine to me.”

“That’s because I have been going for these medical checkups, dumbass. I’m not gonna stand around and then what if I magically die of a heart attack- then what? Give you all of HERA & ARTEMIS and Artemis Entertainment? Pshht!”

Juyeon purses his lips - a terrible attempt at hiding his smile. 

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: Your father just dropped by this morning. He knows you’re at Hera’s Manor. 

Young Jin Seol [12.14pm]: He’s requesting for a meal, for him and Mrs Lee as well as you and Kim Jang Won after you return from your honeymoon.

He quietly locks the device, attention drifting from the messages to Jang Won, who was busy strolling about the office. The ride here had been quiet, for Juyeon had chosen to drive and Jang Won sent two guards to Kim Sunwoo’s residence to get her Mercedes back. 

Heavy and thoughtful, Juyeon thought. The atmosphere in the car was strange, and he can’t help but to wonder of Jang Won was even aware she had a nightmare (or a trauma relapse, or whatever you called one of those) earlier in the morning. Maybe it was the accustomed sight of Jang Won being as cold and rigid as a statue that makes it harder to bear. Juyeon fails, when he tries to restrain the ache that devours his chest, unable to remove the image of her crying and holding on to that mini canvas like it were her life. 

The door of the office clicks open and it steals both his and her attention, the tour agency officer bowing to the two tycoons with files in her arms. Juyeon stands, patting down his pants. 

“Mr Lee!” She holds out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Mrs Lee didn’t make your attendance known.”

Juyeon smiles politely at her, shaking her hand whilst admiring the distasteful grimace on Jang Won’s face at the address. 

“Please, just call me Juyeon, and my wife, Jang Won. We’re still not used to the new... salutations.”

The officer offers a low chuckle, turning to Jang Won and raising a cheeky brow. Juyeon’s left brow twitches when Jang Won’s grimace remains cemented into her lips, and yet the officer was still grinning like an idiot. 

“Do you two know each other?”

“Call me ‘Mrs Lee’ one more time, and I will murder you,” Jang Won seethes, opening her arms and pulling her into a tight hug. An exhale gets punched out of Juyeon, feeling somewhat at ease with the change in atmosphere. 

“I knew that would totally get you on edge,” The officer laughs, patting Jang Won on her back between her shoulder blades. Pulling away, she turns to Juyeon and bows, this time more candidly. “I’m Ki Hae Ri, your tour officer for your honeymoon next week.”

Watching Jang Won talk to Hae Ri was almost like watching her get possessed by a 13-year-old teenager. More than amused, Juyeon wasn’t even paying attention to the actual content Hae Ri was talking about regarding the itinerary - all he could see was the bright smile on Jang Won’s face. 

And for once, since the day he first met her, this smile was genuine. Her eyes are folded into crescents when she laughs and chortles and berates Hae Ri for every little detail she puts in the conversation to tease Jang Won. 

“And for you, Mr Lee,” Hae Ri’s voice snaps him out of his mindless admiration. “Jang Won here has told me that you like diving and so I must tell you that she suggested of doing Belize.”

The folder slides across the table, and Jang Won shoots Hae Ri a look of betrayal. Automatically darting his attention to Jang Won, Juyeon’s fingers trail the edges of the folder, a picture of the Belize Blue Hole printed on the cover page.

Clearing her throat, Jang Won looks afar, refusing to even face him. “So it’s an 8-hour drive, or a 1.5 hour flight from Guatemala to Belize. It was a suggestion in one of the itinerary sets anyway.”

Juyeon looks up from the 3-day Belize stay itinerary, noticing Hae Ri’s prideful, cheeky grin stretched up her lips. 

Back in the car, Juyeon’s hands are on the steering wheel, engine already churning and the air-conditioner blasting the coolness into their faces. Jang Won waits for some moments, before realising the amount of movement in the car - or rather, the lack thereof.

“Hello? Doctor’s appointment?” The edge in her voice is back and Juyeon can’t help but wonder just how she does it - being so cold and caring at the same time. “If you’re not interested, then you can just get the fuck out and I’ll call Mr Ro to come pick you up.”

Juyeon pauses for a moment, collecting the vocabulary in his head.

“My parents want to meet us for a meal after we return from our honeymoon.”

The whir of the air-conditioner suddenly sounds a little louder. 

“What for?” Jang Won snorts. “Is your mom planning on baking cupcakes and apologising for making this the worst decision of your life, even though it wasn’t even yours to make?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll have to go. They are still my parents.”

“What?” She criticises, her upper lip hooked upwards. “You ran away! From home! And now you want to just... bring a basket of fruits to a picnic with them just ‘cause they’re your parents? Ha!”

“Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t do this then they’ll just be bugging me forever and if that happens then I can’t do what you want me to do with HERA & ARTEMIS peacefully. If anything, they might just fuck shit up if they don’t have this meal with us.”

“‘Fuck shit up’? I’ll fuck them up-”

“We’ll go, and that’ll be the end of it, okay? Trust me, you don’t want them dipping their noses into our shit once we start with all the ownership administration.”

“’Dipping their noses’? Just who the Hell do your parents think they are? They don’t even own any of the companies related to the-”

“I know, God damn it,” Juyeon finally rebuts, patience running thin. “But they have power. According to The Board’s conglomerate, my family is on the same tier as yours.”

Jang Won huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. 

“Just... just this once, and they’ll go easy. It’s not worth picking a fight with them, I promise you. Okay?”

Jang Won struggles to remove the frown off her forehead. She knows it’s not his fault. She knows his parents are shitty people.

And yet, for some reason, she’s jealous that Juyeon even has parents to feel obligated towards. 

Destiny, prophecy, fate. You name it. Just what is it that makes things so complicated in life? Circumstances can be created, changed, altered. Jang Won can question God about how she ended up right in this very spot every day, but she won’t get an answer, ever. Juyeon can wonder why she had to be the one responsible for her mother’s mistake, and he’ll never know why either. 

Juyeon trails carefully behind Jang Won, slightly surprised that she wasn’t visiting the area’s best hospital for her medical checkups. Not that this was one was bad, but it was... affordable. Taking in the sights and sounds as he enters the main hall, Jang Won advances towards the registration counter and pulls off her sunglasses.

“Here,” She slides a clipboard to the side. “Fill this visitor registration form up.” 

Juyeon picks up the pen, watching her pull out her wallet and hand it over to the administration staff. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Ms Yoo Hye In.”

Juyeon’s eyes dart upwards from the visitor registration sheet, pupils flitting between the administrator and Jang Won, who was calmly signing into some check in registry. He can feel his breath grow shaky and unstable and all of a sudden, Jang Won’s looking at him like he was the crazy person in the room.

“What? Are you okay?” 

He parts his lips to deny the question, wishing to brush it off and simultaneously, maybe convince himself that it was just someone with the same name. 

“Jang Won! I was wondering if you were going MIA today again.”

Ironically, his heart stops. Jang Won puts on her service smile and provides her doctor a subtle wave as the two close the distance between them. 

“Of course not. Gotta make my check-up down-payment worth it. I can’t run around the city working my work if I’m unwell, can I?” 

“Well, I see you brought the future director of Apple-Korea with you,” Yoo Hye In turns to Juyeon, eyes bright and her smile convincingly kind. Her hair was short, well trimmed, and Juyeon was almost in shock that he could see the similarities between her and Jang Won. 

The tycoon whips her head upon the silence, almost shifting to nudge him. “Juyeon.”

“No, no, it’s okay! No need to rush him,” Yoo Hye In grins widely, offering a hand to him. “I’m Jang Won’s personal doctor, Yoo Hye In. You can call me Hye In.”

[shofics]

question 12, 5: modern university au !!!

Oh man, oh man. I actually had some ideas for a uni AU ages ago that never really became anything, and I’ve cannibalised it for parts for other fics since then (This is the outline I stole the ‘Wilde likes french vanilla coffee’, ‘Sasha has EDS and also possibly POTS’, and ‘Barnes, Carter, Cel, and Wilde all live together’ ideas from for Hope & Smith), but I do have the main ideas left over! It was a modern university AU + magic, so that’s what I’ve put down here. Another one that got frighteningly long, more under the cut <3

Hamid originally studies Pure Maths (this is… a real thing. As opposed to applied mathematics, I believe) because he wants to have a Fancy, High-Thinker Degree that his parents will approve of because it’s very intelligent but won’t necessarily understand.

His first year he takes what is basically the Magic 101 class, because he’s obviously got a natural proclivity for it so why not? It’s that format of ‘this is a generic overview of magic in general, let's take a week or two to go over some specifics for different things you might like to study so that you’ll be prepared.’ They spend a bit on magical history, bardic magic, would you like to study wizardry, or maybe the specifics of genetically inherited magics...

Hm. Yes, Hamid would actually like to study the specifics of genetically inherited magics, because everything they’ve gone over vis a vis wizardry is sounding fairly different to his lived experience and Oh Dear

He starts taking more magical history classes on the sly. His parents don’t need to know.

They eventually do find out, and there is what might be described as An Almighty Row. Hamid goes ballistic, his father goes cold, and Hamid declares then and there that he’s changing his major, screw all of this, he’s got one life and he’s going to live it how he wants, damn it.

His family will continue to pay for his school, of course. They don’t want the disgrace of him having to drop out. But his father makes it very clear that if he does decide to study magic instead, he’s not coming home.

Hamid studies magic. Hamid’s not coming home.

Wilde and Hamid met in that introductory class, and continued to be friends even as they never actually managed to take another class together.

Wilde studies bardic performance as a subset of the magic department, is trying really hard to fit in the requirements to get a degree in journalism as well, and also writes for almost every publication on campus, and works with the student theatre groups; they’ve performed some of his plays, and he has also been known to step in as a stage manager or a head of costumes or an assistant director (or even, on one memorable occasion, an actor) when necessary (when does this guy sleep).

Wilde is able to pull strings and charm people in specific ways enough to get Hamid a job as a stitcher in the costume shop with the theatre department, putting costumes together. He also manages to find Hamid a place to stay over winter break while the campus buildings are closed, after it becomes evident that Hamid’s parents won’t be paying for non-university housing anymore.

Hamid ends up staying with Azu, who has her own flat and has been dithering for ages between wanting to become a family practitioner and wanting to become some sort of social worker. Hamid is inconsolable, and Wilde is not good at consoling anyway, but it turns out that Azu is. Hamid helps her reorganise her entire schedule to allow for both eventualities, she listens in rapt attention as he takes her through his designs for the next show the theatre department is putting on, they bond over the fact that they’re both so far from home and far from their families, and by the time everyone else comes back to school and classes start again they’re practically attached at the hip. Hamid spends almost as much time at Azu’s as he does at his own dorm.

Wilde’s like, alright, that worked ridiculously well! Nice job me

Sasha starts out as an engineering student due to a scholarship that Bi-Ming Gusset helped her get, and she is instantly the darling of every engineering professor that has her in their classes; nobody knows anything about her other than that she’s wickedly good at what she does.

Cel, who studies engineering and theoretical physics and takes biology classes wherever they can fit them in, is their TA at one point. Cel is able to find out more about Sasha as a person than anyone else has ever managed- paradoxically, as anyone who watches them interact will note that Sasha never seems to talk and Cel never seems to stop, but, just like the designs they create together, it doesn’t look like it should work, but it does and it’s very hard to explain why.

At some point, to satisfy some general requirement, Sasha takes an education class. Sasha… really enjoys the education class? Sasha might want to study education? Sasha freaks out a bit. Sasha is having a really rough time of it recently, a lot of chronic pain and worrying physical problems with no clear cause, and really doesn’t need to stress about her future plans on top of everything else. 

Grizzop is a pre-med and, unlike Azu, 10000% sure of it. He wants to be an EMT, and is part of the emergency response team at the university. When Sasha knocks on Zolf’s door at three in the morning, because he just so happened to be the one who was closest, and tells him that she just fainted for the first time and doesn’t know what to do and feels like she might again, and Zolf panics and calls the first response team, Grizzop is the first one to show up. Which is good, for Sasha, because she’s pretty thoroughly freaked out and desperately in need of friends at her sides.

Zolf is also a pre-med, not really because of any active desire to go into the medical field but just kind of because he needed something to believe in that was an easy ticket away from his family, and if anyone asks it has absolutely nothing to do with his brother’s death, shut up.

Zolf becomes Sasha’s designated Please Come With Me For Moral Support person as she begins a diagnostic process that lasts months and comes up with absolutely nothing. As a result, he’s there to watch as doctor after doctor basically throw up their hands and declare her either a medical oddity or a liar. She and Grizzop are both certain she’s got some sort of chronic illness, some autoimmune disease or something, but no one seems willing to diagnose her.

Zolf loses faith in the institution of medicine as a whole, starts to spiral a bit- and then spirals a lot. He ends up having to take a year off to sort out his life and his brain and his own mental health problems.

He moves out of campus housing and applies for as many jobs as he can- he’s not going home and he’s not asking for money, good grief, he’d rather stick his hands in an air fryer- and ends up with a couple odd jobs he bounces between every week, including constructing sets and running lights for the theatre department. This is how he meets Hamid, who he clashes with instantly, and Wilde, who is stage managing, who he also clashes with instantly but who really does his best to mitigate between them. 

Do shenanigans ensue? Yes. Yes, absolutely. Sasha takes great amusement in winding Zolf and Hamid up and pointing them at each other, and Wilde gets caught between finding it equally as hilarious and also Sasha please, it’s literally my job to make sure the people working on this show don’t murder each other, help me out here

[nestable]

BRING IT ON HOME NESSIAN ONESHOT

Bring it on Home to me by Sam Cooke is on of my favorite songs in the word and I highly recommend you go have a listen if you havent heard it, I promise you wont regret it. I was listening to it the other day and instantly thought of how these lyrics resonated with nessian, cassian more especially and couldn't resist writing this fic. Just a little soft, SFW, domestic Nessian. 🥺😭

"Nes." Cassian groaned as he rolled closer to her side of the bed. "Nesta?"

After being met with stark silence, Cassian outstretched his hand only for it to collapse onto cold sheets.

No Nesta, he realized with a start.

Though he and his Nesta have been mated for some months now, all of which have been without an incident, he can't help but worry.

Each night he reassures himself with the knowledge of their bond, the heat of her body pressed against his own, the words of love and loyalty she ensures he hears everyday, that she is safe and finally happy.

Not miserable and balancing on the cusp of oblivion where he found her last year. Juggling between drowning her sorrows and indulging in sub-par sex just to feel something, just to deny the connection they share because she felt that she wasnt worthy of him. No, that was all over now, but he can't help when the memories resurface.

The memory of Nesta writhing and arched in her bed as silver flames wreathed her body like a shroud. The screams of pain and anguish that left her lips only to be swallowed by starless night and Deaths flames. How the very mountain trembled beneath their feet, bracing itself for the potential explotion that Cassian could sense building up. Somehow he knew that Velaris would've been crumpled to dust that night and become a fond memory. He felt it in his gut. Just the same way he felt her night terrors take hold of her for her powers to bask in centre stage. And in the same breath, he also felt that he could stop it. Whether that was pure male arrogance or the suspicion of the bond that lay between them, that was yet to be found. And it was...the moment her powers seized in intensity when he said her name. Once, twice, just enough for Rhys to gain control and save them all.

No, he would never forget that and he'd be damned if it were to happen again and catch him in a helpless position as the first time he witnessed the extent of her power. A power that mostly returned back to the Cauldron, only to be replaced by 3 Dread troves and the Mothers favour. A different sort of threat perhaps. One sweeter, kinder, even benign from what he's witnessed.

Nesta barely speaks about the power the same way she did with her Cauldron gifts. She reassures him that these were different, these she understands and smiled every time he enquired about her connection with the Mother. He wishes to know more, his body yearns for it, but his mate has always loved surprises.

Cassian threw on a pair of his undershorts before leaving his and Nestas new room. Though the House of Wind has become their shared abode, its ill advised to walk around naked with the possibility of Azriel becoming an unwilling spectator with his prowling around the halls in the dead of night like he's been doing for the past year.

Cassian loves his brother, sometimes more than kin normally do, he believes sometimes, but he'll never forgive him for that night he ruined his birthday night when he walked in on Nesta modelling her new negligee in the library. He's never jumped from one intense emotion to another so quickly. Blinded by the red lace of her silk garments only to see red of a different kind when the blue of Azriels siphon opened the door.

The territorial male part of him nearly took over that night and he was inclined to let it ride him had Nesta not winnowed them to their room and pushed him onto the bed. The anger, the curiosity he had as to how Nesta was able to winnow around the House when no one else could were obscured then turned insignificant by the view of Nesta sitting astride on his thighs.

Cassian followed the music swimming through the hall which brought him to a new lounge area that didn't present itself in the centuries that he's been living here until Nesta inherited the place.

Many new things have made their presence known and sprung to life since Nestas made the House her home. Hidden rooms have materialized, troves have opened and a gorgeous garden has flourished on the top of the mountain. As if in preparation of someone, or little someone's who might need it.

Cassian isn't blind to the fact that the House makes things available according to Nestas hopes, dreams and wishes. All of which make Cassian excited for the future and a forever with his mate even more.

Nesta was leaning against the cream white wall that she and Cassian painted just last night, holding an A2 canvas painting in both hands. He couldn't decipher her facial expression or read some of the wild thoughts that were evidently bouncing around her head as Nesta was inclined to raising her mental walls to him when she was stressed. He'd once asked why and she told him that she didnt want to plague him with her problems. Didnt want to bother him. Little did she know that Cassian was built for her, problems and all. Nothing about Nesta could bother him. Not even the parts that bothered her.

"Hi." He whispered which startled Nesta before she composed herself. For her to be so drawn into her thoughts that she didnt notice him approaching, instantly put him on edge him.

"Hi." She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her face.

Cassian took that as an invitation to enter. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the organized clutter. From the closed boxes filling the lounge, the half hung snow white gossamer curtains blowing in from the open balcony, to the slightly dusty white marble tiles that were installed just last week.

Cassian was a bit skeptical when Nesta told him of her plans to decorate this room in all white. White cushions, white couches, white walls, white flower arrangements, white chandeliers and white fur carpets felt like a fever dream to Cassian, but now that it's all coming to life, he can see the vision of beauty that Nesta had in mind. A vision not only limited to this lounge but the entire House of Wind that Nesta will decorate herself with the input of the House itself to revitalize the place. All of which will be paid for by Rhys.

How the Cauldron matched him to such a female, not mere female but god, he'll never know. All he can do is be grateful and work to be worthy and deserve the gift to draw breath in her presence.

Now that Nestas accepted her Human emissary role and is the courts newly appointed courtier, she's recieving the same fat salary like the rest of the IC, but Cassian doubts that Rhysand will ever let Nesta access her funds because he insists on paying for everything for her. Which goes to show that Rhys' gratitude for Nesta runs very far. Or guilt, or both.

What Nesta did for Feyre, Nyx and Rhys was something that couldnt be described with words. She saved their lives and in doing so the entire court. Rhys failed to tell his family about him and Feyres decision and never left a plan of action to follow after his death. Had he died, the role of High Lord could've fallen to anyone. Probably Keir or one of Mors detestable brothers because they are Rhys closest male blood relatives. What they would've done to Velaris, done to the entire court....Cassian seldom contemplates that. Nestas sacrifice and mercy saved them all and in doing so, opened herself to a higher form of being that is yet to be seen.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a lot on my mind. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come and get this room in order." She explained, flipping her golden brown hair over her shoulder.

"What's been on your mind?" Cassian asked casually, taking a step closer.

He'd have embraced her and held her against his chest if it weren't for the massive painting in her hands. A painting that he can feel is the source of all her trepidation.

Nesta bit her lip before turning the canvas toward him and placing it in his hands. "Feyre finally finished that and it was delivered yesterday afternoon. I was too afraid to open it then- but I figured that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I saw it."

At first glance, anyone would assume that the muse was Nesta. From the steel eyes to the clear skin and poise in the pose. But upon further inspection, the age of the woman, the beauty spot beneath her right eye and slight darker tresses reveals the truth.

"This is your mother..." Cassian said lowly. The weight of the image, not the canvas itself but the obvious memories, pain and loss the painting held settled on him.

"Was." She uttered a bit sharply. Her throat bobbing up and down.

Cassians eyes darted between Nesta and the painting. Surprise and admiration pouring into him in droves. Her sisters did mention more than once that Nesta is their mothers spitting image, but this...it was as though the same person had been born twice.

"You stole her whole face." He chuckled, bringing a sweet curve to Nestas lip.

"I know...I know." She shrugged.

Cassian lay the painting carefully against the wall then wrapped his arms around his mates shoulders. Her own found their home around his waist as she rested her chin atop his chest so that their eyes could meet.

If it were a few months ago, a year, she would've furiously blinked away the tears that have settled in her eyes, or rejected their proximity entirely. Only to retain a semblance of control that shes strived so hard to maintain. But now shes opened herself to him entirely. Made him a part of both her happiness and pain, loss and gain, victories and failure. Just as their mating vows ordered.

"Talk to me." He whispered, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"I- I just...I know that my mother was not the best of mothers, nor did she love us in the ways that a mother should but....but that doesn't make me love her any less. She might've trained me instead of raised me, saw me as a ticket to wealth and leisure or lived vicariously through me but she was still my mother." Her tears fell down her cheeks as if a damn had been broken. "There were good moments as well as bad and I'm not going to pretend that she was never loving or good to me. Elain and Feyre might've forgotten her, but I can't... I wont."

Cassian lowered his head to press soft kisses to her cheeks where her tears left stains. "I know." He murmured. "You dont share the same memories as Elain and Feyre, it's only natural that you saw her much differently and remember her in a better light than they do." He rubbed feather light circles on the back of her neck in an attempt to assuage her from her pain.

"It broke my heart when I walked through Feyres house that day and didn't see a piece of myself or her. It felt like I was being erased, forgotten. Now I've found my place in that hall but she hasn't. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't let her be erased just like that."

"And she wont be, not if you will it. I'll remember her with you." Cassians lips found Nestas and before they knew it, the couple found themselves descending into a deep kiss that only a mating bond could conjure.

"You know that's one of the reasons I love you?" He stated, to which Nesta replied with a raised brow. "Your compassion, your massive heart, your loyalty... these are all qualities that you motivate me to pursue everyday. You've kept your soft side hidden for a long time and now we're starting to see it." She smiled. By far the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "That sweet love. Just bring it on home to me."

A giggle was shared between them as soon as the words left his mouth. The lyrics of a song, their song, that came on the day of their mating ceremony that they had on repeat for 2 hours straight. Cassian had never heard a song that spoke to him and his experience with love the way that one did. One that Nesta knew would speak to his very marrow and chose not to warn him in advance, only to see his reaction.

"You're insufferable." She said, only to hug him tighter and lay her head on his chest.

"Well then you're going to have to get used to it, Nes. We only have forever left together."

Just when Cassian expected Nesta to respond, the soft melody of a piano begun in the corner of the room from Nesta symphoniam, followed by the ever true lyrics that might've been written for them, that might as well have been their wedding and mating vows.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Nesta begun the dance. Cassian followed with no hesitation. Though it was a far cry from the pulsating waltz they'd done in Hewn city or other court events thereafter. It was far more intimate, passionate. Just a sway of the hips and foot movements that reforged and strengthened the golden bond that surged through them on Winter Solstice and polished it to a shimmer. Their bond was not a mere tether, not a chain. It was a rainbow. Shimmering through storms and sunny days. It didnt only make its presence known or surge when they were in the throes of passion, it became more sentient when they were upset with each other. It was the musical and colourful road that led mate back to mate. Self back to self.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

His heart cracked at the words and the truth they carry. The memories when they were so at odds with each other that they could barely be in the same room longer than necessary. The nights when he thought the immense sadness and grief at the prospect of losing her entirely would drown him and suffocate him. When he wished that he could rip his heart out of his chest only to get a reprieve from his anguish. Anguish he attempted to expunge with throwing himself into work and training only to realize that the further they moved from one another, the further they moved from themselves.

As if Nesta could hear and feel those memories, she held onto him tighter. This female, his tether to reality, his anchor, the tree that was able to weather a thunderstorm that left the land decimated only to come back and continue to grow with fruits and flowers on display for all to see.

I'll give you jewellery and money, too

That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you

Oh, if you bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian knew that from the moment he met Nesta, there was nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for her. Nothing too out of reach that if she should request, he would give. He was already hers in mind, body and soul. Their bond might've snapped into being after she emerged from the cauldeon, but the draw he felt toward her was infinite. Like their souls were made from the same essence but placed on earth in different time periods so that they know life without the other, to appreciate being together more.

You know I'll always be your slave

'Til I'm buried, buried in my grave

Oh honey, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian held up Nestas hand so that he may look upon the wedding and mating band. She requested that she have both and went to the best jeweler in Velaris to fuse both choices so that they sit as one on her finger. Both were made of rose gold, the slimmer wedding ring was imbued with three tanzanite diamonds and the larger mating band sports just one giant diamond that would need it's own security team. Cassian knew his mate loved nice things and made him pay a pretty penny to get it. He'd do again if only to see the stars that twinkled in her eyes when they chose the bands at the jeweler.

He looked at his own jeweled finger. A simple silver band that stood out more than he expected it to. He wanted to get black carbon fiber but Nesta threatened not to speak to him again if he had. Now he can't stop looking at it. He loves how it makes an appearance even though he's bedecked in full illyrian armour. He'll never forget the swell of pride he felt when his soldiers eyes zoned in on the piece of metal that could've easily been obscured by the red siphon that rests atop his hand, but chose to stand out and make its presence known. A symbol of his immature bachelorhood dead and gone, giving life to a new stage in his life. A stage he's waited for longer than he cares to admit.

He remembers using the word 'shackled' when describing his mating bond with Nesta when he was upset with her, but now that word seems appropriate. If the pieces of metal sitting on their matching fingers are the shackles of which he spoke, then he'd wear his shackles with pride.

One more thing

I tried to treat you right

But you stayed out, stayed out at night

But I forgive you, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian rarely thinks about the time they spent apart. When resentment, self punishment and grief pulled them apart only because those memories are nothing in comparison to the centuries he spent without her.

Living life believing the words of the ignorant and seeing oneself as a inferior and undeserving of the love that he relishes in now. The love that has somehow wiped away centuries of self hate and lack of self awareness. He figures that the reason why he used to be the first to throw himself into deadly missions were all desperate plea to prove himself, to put it into stone that he isn't a mere worthless bastard but is someone worthy of respect. But now his outlook has completely shifted. He is no longer living only for himself, but for another. He remembers the blind terror he felt when he thought that Nesta was swallowed by the black water in the Bog, or how she screamed when she thought that she lost him on Mount Ramiel.

He doesnt want either of them to go through that again. To be without the other. To feel that their very heart was ripped out of their chest, when both had taken permanent residence in the other.

He saw how Feyre reacted when Rhys died, and heard when Rhys screamed when Feyre was on deaths doorstop. The mere thought of Nesta experiencing that pain or him has softened his daring heart.

He will live, he will love and he will do it with Nesta in his arms.

As the song drew to a close, Nesta shifted from her position on his chest, too look upon him again. She brought her slim fingers to his cheeks and smiled. "Forever."

He could offer nothing but the same. A truth that had been both a promise and a prayer from the moment they met, "Forever."

Tag: @bakingandbooks3 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @arinbelle @silvernesta @darklobe @haepaw @carlieg20 @illyrianshadowhunter

[stormbornbastard]

The Potential In Philoise

gif credit: @vakariaan​

tw/ sexual assault, abuse, depression, suicide, julia quinn’s writing 

AN: Okay, so I said awhile ago I would explain why Phillip and Eloise are my favorite couple in the series so get ready...it’s a bit of a long one. 

I read four Bridgerton books immediately after the show ended. Skipping over The Duke and I because I wasn’t comfortable with the assault scene between Simon and Daphne and also because I had already seen the romance play out onscreen. I fell in love with each romance I encountered, mainly because I didn’t read them as they were but as the show would make them out to be. I romanticized a romance series as weird as that sounds. Yet, none of the romances struck me the way To Sir Phillip, With Love did.

It’s not a perfect book. In fact, it's incredibly problematic. Phillip rapes his depressed wife, Marina (although given Julia’s history with crossing the lines of consent I doubt this is the way she wanted us to interpret the scene. Actually, the way it was written made it seem like we were meant to sympathize with Phillip and his loveless marriage. Hence the way he immediately grows ill afterward.) Marina attempts suicide and dies due to disease later on. Given her storyline in the show and the fact that a young biracial woman is playing her was disheartening, to say the least.

(AN: I don’t consider the character to be Black representation, she’s biracial. As a black woman who enjoyed her character and arc, no part of me felt seen and represented through her because she was half black. She's Biracial rep, not Black rep and that’s okay. Just putting that out there. )

Phillip seeks a woman to take care of his children, fuck and do the shit he doesn’t want to do. His mental illness is handled in such a shitty way. The independent nature Eloise once has is almost stifled by Phillip and what he wants for some reason. He’s neglectful, erratic and he does dismiss potential negative feelings Eloise could have in their relationship because of his past relationship.

It's fucked up. The entire book.

And yet, imagining how this problematic romance would play out on screen once properly adapted for modern audiences makes me fucking giddy. All because of one, simple thing that remains the reason I am so fucking excited to see this pairing onscreen.

The unrealized potential the pairing and Phillip as a character have in the novel.

Let me explain.

Their romance is unique. Phillip and Eloise are not strangers when they meet. They’ve been writing to each other for months, picking each other’s brains every week or so. Getting to know each other in a way that other couples in the series don’t at first. Intellectually. They’re able to keep such a steady, enthralling dialogue through letters, and it's a friendship that they both enjoy. Phillip stimulates Eloise’s mind, something the show has emphasized her wanting, for months. He’s her intellectual equal, or at least...he has the potential to be. Of course, he slaves over the letters (which is cute as fuck because he really just wants her to like him) but it's still his words. It’s his voice. It is Phillip, at his best.

I hope the show can play this up. Phillip is a botanist and a scholar before he inherits his family’s estate. Eloise has a desire to learn and further her knowledge of the world around her. Bonding over their shared love of education, fun banter based around teasing the other and their individual studies, taking an interest in what the other desires to learn.  Reading books together in the greenhouse, etc. The show could easily play up the fact that Phillip was not only a gardener but a literal man of science, something Julia neglects in their book despite it having the possibility of playing a major factor in their love story.

The possibilities of it just...makes me swoon.

Moving on, Eloise choosing to pursue a possible future with this man is a big fucking deal. Running away from home to go after a future for herself IS her displaying her OWN agency. Sure, Phillip poses the question of it but she’s the one who chooses it. Phillip doesn’t demand her to come to him, he simply suggests it and she’s the one who acts. The one who pursues. And if they hadn’t been bombarded by her brothers, it would’ve remained her choice of whether or she wanted to be a part of this man’s life permanently.

Phillip wouldn’t have forced her, he could’ve easily tried to. By going to the Bridgerton house and discussing with Anthony the possibility of marrying her but no, he asks her. HE ASKS HER AND SHE CHOOSES. I fucking love that. It's like the bare minimum but given the time period and the number of couples where the man has the final say on the marriage, this just makes me giddy. The show could change this and give Eloise more time with Phillip to the point where she chooses him and isn’t forced into the marriage which I hope they do.

Also, their first meeting where neither one of them is what the other expects sounds amazing ngl. The initial confusion, shock, unease, and undeniable attraction, it's gonna serve why lie?

Despite how much it affects him, the subject of Phillip’s abuse is handled so...wrong. As someone who shares an experience with abusive parents, I understand the fear of becoming like them. Of hurting the ones you love and being angry and feeling guilty. Yet, Phillip never confronts these fears. Not really. Sure, we get the scene in the nursery but thinking of how the show could handle it and his relationship with his children makes me excited. Having him being neglectful of his children was the wrong move, especially if his fear is hurting them in an attempt to discipline them. It's clear he loves them and ultimately wants the best for them which is why he’s searching for someone to better take care of them despite the shitty bitch he already has hired. I hope the show capitalizes on that.

Have Phillip be involved but not a disciplinary figure. Yeah, I get that he’s the man or whatever but it's clear that Phillip finds no enjoyment in the act or even pondering it. But he does love his kids. Have him be overwhelmed but still involved. It just felt weird that Phillip didn’t want anything to do with his kids despite one of his main reasons to look for a wife was so that they could be properly taken care of. Have him try but struggle. A lot.

It’d be funny to see Oliver and Amanda running the house and Phillip struggling to keep up. They’re supposed to be mischievous, they should play that up in the show. Having the kids be little gremlins but instead of him ignoring them completely, he could just give in to their whims. And when his anger does get the best of him, then he could run. Be distant, wrestle with his internal struggle with abuse but also knowing he can’t let his kids run his household like this and go about as reckless as they do.

Speaking of abuse, I hope they scrap the nursery lady altogether. I know it’s supposed to show him stepping into dad mode but it just felt like unnecessary and triggering of his own child abuse. He could easily step into this role by learning to deal with his anger, learning to control it. Eloise could suggest journaling the way she does (another bonding moment that could be less cute and more intimate if done right.) Having him put his anger into gardening, I interpreted it as it being a safe place and coping mechanism for him in the book and that would be nice to see.

Having to finally put an end to his kids' tirade once he learns to trust himself and realize that he’s nothing like his father. Actual healing from childhood trauma and Eloise helping him do so. She could also suggest boxing with her brothers like...it just makes sense. As someone with a temper, boxing helped me sort through that and the opportunity to see Phillip and Simon bonding, while boxing, over their shitty dads, sounds pretty fucking cathartic (and hot).

I would just like the show to truly show that just because you’ve dealt with abuse doesn’t mean you have to be defined and like your abuser. Phillip is a pretty great candidate for it because the guy is...scarred, to say the least.

I love the physical side of Phillip and Eloise’s relationship. Like really love, it's said that they try different things and are comfortable in that regard with each other and it just...yeah, that makes me happy. Besides that, I hope they play up the intellectual side of their relationship. Two nerds in love are adorable and imagining Phillip ranting about plants and Eloise just being completely enthralled at this man and his passion sounds like the cutest fucking shit.

Speaking of intellectual, it's implied Phillip cares little about high society. Meaning, wouldn’t he care even less about societal expectations and norms? Meaning Eloise would literally find freedom with this man to just...do her. Despite the book showing how Phillip wants a wife, it never really says that he cares exactly how that wife maintains herself or their household. Eloise wants to fuck around and wear trousers? He doesn’t care. Eloise wants a private tutor and a study for herself? Cool. Eloise wants to take Amanda riding in the forest and then teach her how to shoot? All good. The man was literally proud to watch her beat her brothers in a traditionally masculine sport. He wants his wife to run his house and his entire life how she sees fit.

Julia really neglected how much agency and power that could give Eloise. She could be his equal, like really be his equal. Of course, Phillip becoming more involved in his and his children’s lives is a part of his arc but nothing leads me to believe he would want to control Eloise. The two of them being more than just lovers, but partners who allow the other their freedoms when needed sounds epic as shit.

Now some things that could easily be left out, the rape scene. It’s there to showcase that Phillip has lost his wife and there is no chance of reigniting whatever they may have had in the past. Yet, there are so many other ways to show that. Phillip could try and speak with her with no response. Hold her hand and she pulls away? He’s a smart man, it doesn’t take much to get the hint so that could’ve easily been written out and replaced with something else.

Second of all, I like the possibility of Marina and Phillip finding happiness at first. Of them trying to love each other after George and succeeding. The way Marina is written in the show, I doubt she’s quick to give up. So to see the two of them having an agreeable marriage and getting along would be nice. They could showcase her mental illness in a different form, it's clear she suffers from postpartum depression. She withdraws into herself, distances herself from her children. She’s depressed but it's not as stereotypical and easily spotted as Julia makes it out to be. Marina just gives up on her children and life without any fight? Absolutely not.

As someone who suffers from depression, the way Julia wrote it is so...??? The truth is, I would like Phillip and their family to not even realize she’s suicidal. To not see it coming when she jumps in the lake and attempts to end her own life because that's exactly how suicide impacts so many people and their loved ones. They don’t see it coming. Phillip struggling with the guilt of that rather than the anger of being trapped in a loveless marriage sounds...a lot more interesting to me. Me, personally. Considering how much buzz the show has, it would spark up a dialogue and a good one if handled properly. I’ve thought a lot about Marina but this is just how I would prefer to see it handled if they go through with her canon death (which I am not actively rooting for by the way.)

Another reason I like the potential of Philloise is Oliver and Amanda, they just add some extra spice. If fully realized characters, watching them grow closer to their dad and form a relationship with Eloise would be so rewarding for two kids who have lost a lot. Also, the amount of comedic gold in their pranks with Eloise and dynamic with each other would give the season even more humor on top of Eloise herself.

And as much as I love the line, “this-us-is heaven.” They could easily modify the love speech. Like very easily.

My point is, I think their potential outweighs the problematic factors in their story and I doubt the show will fail on realizing it and ridding itself of the problematic aspects. One could even say they already started, I mean look at the way the show made a point to show Eloise’s disgust with fathers and husbands who abandon their family, and then comes Phillip, doing the absolute most to protect his remaining family. I mean, Bridgerton did turn the weakest romance in the series into a whole pop culture phenomenon. My hopes are high. Okay, that’s all.

[justmarvelwriting]

The Defender

So uh, hi. My names Sinead and I was completly enthralled by @shiningloki 's fic Get on Your Knees and Pray for Me (Please read it, it's a work of art. Warning; Heavy NSFW.) Annnnd I wanted to see this little family again so. Here we go. A fan fic of a fan fic.

CHAPTER 1

Stefan smiled as he peered from the top of his book to watch his parents on their balcony above him secretly. He’d long since grown from his childishness of gagging every time his parents so much as chastely pecked each other on the lips. Now his heart warmed as he watched them both laughing above him. They both deserved the happiness they had that the thought of anything tearing them apart broke Stefans heart a little. They both bore scars, all of which he was fascinated with as a child, small fingers tracing each bumpy outline. He was no longer fascinated by them, but understood why his father bore his so openly and proudly. It was his mother who explained to him quietly that mental scars ran much deeper, and much larger then the physical ones he bore from battle. Those were the ones he was most proud he overcame.

“How does he show them off mama?” He mumbled quietly as she stroked his hair.

“By carrying you on his shoulders every chance he gets.”

He chuckles when he remembers the night his father had finally told him the fairytale. He snorted. Asta gave it that name. Loki had tried to keep a stern look on his face but it broke into a grin even so.

It was told to him the night after he had gotten in….an altercation with another boy his age. The boy had a mouth, and he liked to run off with it.

“Nothing but the spawn of the common Midgardian whore and the Dark Prince who fell from Odin's grace!”

Stefan possessed magic that equaled his fathers at his own age, but instead he went the more satisfactory route.

He had punched him twice. Once for calling his mother, a fully realised Goddess in her own right, a common Midgardian whore. The second, for daring to slander his fathers name with such old cruelties.

“I am Lokison,” he yelled, shoulders straight, “and you will NEVER speak ill of my family again.”

One of his friends had pointed out he failed to punch him for insulting him. But Stefan had grinned, his mouth and nose bloody before dragging himself to his mother’s quarters before she found out through other means. She was attending to Eira, the youngest of his siblings who was only a toddler at the time when she caught sight of him. Her face had paled, and he rushed to explain he was ok, they weren’t in danger. He’d just gotten into a fight. She had chided him softly as she moped his nose and chin, Eira bouncing on his lap as he tried to assist, small hands bouncing gently off his chin. His father had appeared not two minutes after, hawking that Baldyrs son was walking around with a broken, bloody nose.

“About bloody —“ He spun slowly on his heel and faced him with wide eyes.

“He called Mom a common whore and slandered your name.” He straightened his back, looking his father squarely in the eyes, "I don't regret a thing."

He coughed, trying to hide the proud smile that stretched his face, “You know not to be fighting in court.”

When your mother had left him in his room that night, Loki had appeared at the door.

“You know, I did convince her you shouldn’t be punished too harshly. You showed restraint after all. You could have used your magic.” he still fought a smile, a rapidly losing battle.

“Thor is very proud of me, apparently, by the way.” he grinned, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

That made his father unravel into fits of laughter, clutching his side. He snickered also, but it made him wince with his nose.

Loki had sighed, smiling as he sat on the bottom of his bed, and had launched into the tale.

“So truly I can’t really tell you off for defending your family's honour, I did take 5 bullets for your mother after all.” He finished smoothly, smirking at Stefans expression.

“Dad, you didn’t just take 5 bullets you literally took on bloody Odin himself!”

“With your grandmother, uncle and mother in tow.” He warned him, expression serious, “If you take anything from this my dearest Stefan please let it be that you can rely on your family. I am only ever,” he tapped his necklace, “one call away.”

“Stefan!” The present dragged him back to reality and he raised his hand waving to Alex to join him.

Two boys, him and Eira. Two girls, Asta and Eva. And then Alex, his sibling. Five plus Mom and Dad made the perfect storm for the Lokison name.

Alex's cheeks were flushed as they barreled into the chair beside him, slicking back long, inky hair once they caught their breath. Eira was the youngest, still only a child but soon a teen, then Alex, Eva, Asta and himself. Eva was his mother, but smaller, and Alex was similar, but for the inky black hair the rest of the family inherited.

"Uncle Thor had to leave the sparring match early," they explain as Stefan checks his watch, a frown settling over their face, "He was in such a hurry, it was kind of unsettling actually."

Stefan waved his hand, both acting as a dismissive gesture and that to vanish his book, "The nine realms have never known such peace. Don't worry. A diplomatic hiccup, not much more. The realms have never trusted each other more. How could they not? Mother is in charge of that after all." Stefan grinned and Alex relented, grinning up at their parents with a similar adoration on their face that Stefan showed quietly moments before.

"Maybe it's trouble down on Midgard." Stefan mused quietly, "The Avengers perhaps?"

Alex hummed quietly, basking in the late evening sun.

//--//--//

Loki smiles, wrapping arms around your waist as you both look down at two of your children talking quietly in the garden, hands flying animatedly as they throw arguments back and forth.

"I think we did an amazing job my love." he mutters quietly as he watches them both spring to their feet with a laugh that echoes the courtyard, Stefan summoning wooden swords for them to spar harmlessly with.

"I think we did." you smile and you mentally capture this moment in your mind forever. You'd have to paint it, actually. Your hall of art had changed over the years, reflecting your growing family. But by far Loki's favourite was the one at the very end, the huge canvas of your family all together. It would need to be redone, once Eira became a man in his own right, of course. But for now, it captured your family perfectly. You toyed with your necklace, watching thoughtfully as Stefans and Alex's chains glow with your grass green magic for a moment before they fade back to their deep emerald green once more. You felt so peaceful, but something didn't feel right, not in your gut.

"What troubles you, my pet?" Loki purrs and your eyes flutter closed as he places soft kisses all along your throat, hands gripping your waist tighter.

"Something doesn't feel right…" you murmur, sighing softly as the warmth of his lips leave their position. Loki hums softly, dragging you back into your chambers.

"We are all safe." he reassures you quietly, pressing a hand to your chest, "And if anything happens… we will know."

You nod but sigh anyway. Loki chuckles, pressing you against the wall, "My little Goddess… always so attentive to her tasks."

His voice dips and your worry flees your mind as his hand goes up to grip your throat, "I have many tasks I could focus your attention on… your lips around my cock… my hand beating your ass red."

You whimper quietly, but just as Loki is about to speak, his eyes flashing dangerously, there's a knock on the door. Loki growls, only detaching himself slightly before clearing his throat.

"Yes?"

"Prince Loki, your brother requests your presence in the throne room immediately. There's an urgent diplomatic matter he wishes you to aid him in."

Loki sighs and presses his forehead to yours.

"Tell brother dearest I'm coming."

"Later." he promises quietly, smiling and pressing a single finger to your lips. You smile and resist the urge to take it into your mouth.

You smooth your hair and peer out the window. Stefan and Alex are hugging each other tightly, before Alex pushes him away playfully. Stefan notices you and waves up, a wide smile on his face. You blow a kiss and he laughs, a note appearing before you, floating into your hand.

Love you too Mom xx

You sigh dramatically. A carbon copy of his father. The only thing separating them was Stefan's short hair.

You exit your chambers, old habits dying slowly of kissing each of the children goodnight.

---///---///

It's late when Stefan wakes, darkness still cloaking his room and he frowns. He's an unusually heavy sleeper, and is often made fun of when he emerges late from his room in the early hours of the evening.

His curtains flutter and his heart beats loudly in his chest. He closed his balcony door before he went to bed. And locked it.

Quietly, he summons a dagger and swings his feet out of bed. He scans his room, concealing his dagger with his magic, but his hand is shaking. He closes his eyes and focuses on the necklace at his throat.

"Dad, come quietly, quickly. I think there's someone in my room."

The response is almost instantaneous, but the only indication to him is the dip in his bed.

"Stand, pretend to head for the bathroom, keep your dagger hidden."

He felt his father's hand at the back of his neck, squeezing him gently, "You're safe, my son. No harm will come to you."

Stefan stands lazily, heading to his bathroom, eyes darting around as he fakes a yawn, running his fingers through his hair.

A figure leaps from the darkness and he growls, dropping into a roll, the attacker leaping into a crumpled heap before they both leap to their feet. The attacker lunges, but he is caught by his throat, his father revealing himself in a flash of brilliant green light. The fury on his father's face is nothing Stefan has ever seen before, cold hard lines and his eyes practically glow in the dark room.

"Well done my boy." Loki grins at him as Stefan leans heavily on his door frame hand to his chest. Then his heart stops.

"The others!" he lets his dagger clatter to the floor and practically flies out of the door, sword fitting in his palm easily. He practically kicks down the door of each of his siblings in turn, flooding the room with light, before stumbling back out. Asta practically leaps out of bed when he wakes her, the panic on his face telling her everything she needs to know. He flicks her a dagger and they both sprint towards Alex's room, feet impossibly loud on the marble floor. Stefan grits his feet and Alex's door practically flies off its hinges.

Just in time to see someone leap off his balcony ledge, Alex draped over their shoulders like a sack of bricks.

"ALEX." Astas scream pierces the air but Stefan leaps off the balcony like a deranged man, landing impossibly lightly before taking off at a breakneck speed. The attacker weaves in and out of the maze of hedges trying to lose him, but a cold smile graces Stefans face. He's been running in these gardens since he was a child, he knows every pocket like the back of his hand.

"Stop!" He bellows as they reach the edge of Asgard, the attacker not turning to face him, "I am Stefan of Asgard, Son of Loki and you will release my sibling immediately."

The attacker turns slowly. But Stefan can only see his thin smile.

"No."

And he falls backwards.

[dog-day-morning]

YOU OWE THEM NOTHING

People can be self-righteous when it comes to what they think God is supposed to do if, and when they call on Him. God is not a genie in a bottle that you rub, and a jinn pops out granting you 3 or 300 wishes. The saying faith without works is dead can be applied here. Have you ever heard of or read the book Daniel Webster and the devil? This tall tale or folklore legend was about a man who made a deal with old Slew Foot, and when it was time to pay up he had 2nd thoughts. Satan never plays fair. He's forever putting us in positions where we find ourselves desperate for a quick solution to a temporary problem that only leads to a difficult end. The Latin term for buyer beware is caveat emptor, and Satan knows how to spell. The power of a wicken comes from their basic weapon of spelling or casting spells by word of mouth. Even the Bible tells us that “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” Tell that to a Nicolaitan. Those who make deals with the most unclean should expect to suffer in the end. Never trust the father of lies who deals in treachery, and deceit. I look back at my mother's life and wonder if God had ever intervened for her, and fought her battles that surely He and only He would be able to deliver her from, and He has. Life is hard, for many it’s a nightmare that’s ongoing. Satan comes to you when you're at your weakest or most vulnerable in the hopes of snaring your soul into eternal suffering. Jesus comes to deliver us from death, sin, and temptations that confuse us in our trek towards His truth. If you have any aspirations of entertaining people with your gifted voice or your talent for playing lead guitar, don’t sign a contract that promises you the world only to find out you owe them your sweet ass which a man of honor wouldn't consider let alone make you cosign your body for their horn dog appeasement.

Revelation 2:9

9 I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.

You're abundantly rich in spirit Yacob. Now’s the time to claim your position. These bastards have taken everything from you leaving your ancestors nothing but dust. If they could remove us off the face of the Earth they would. They're plotting to do so as you and I breathe, that's why the Father never sleeps. They are demon spawns who say they worship, and believe in God, but whose god, and what righteous god tells you to destroy a people with his blessing knowing what the children of Japheth have done to them historically? The spawns of Satan want your penuche, mouth, titties, and a-hole for their pleasure along with your talent that Justin Timberlake does not have. The new faces of R&B do not look like the people I grew up listening to or the race of people whose songs left an everlasting impression on my bleeding heart that helped me through my ill-fated, miserable existence. Robin Thicke, Christina Aguilera, K-Pop, the BackStreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. Some of these groups are defunct, but they’re cranking out as many as they possibly can like Justin Bieber, and Demi Lovato. I just saw on YouTube where people were considering if Elvis Presley was Black, WTF?!! He was the biggest culture thief that Dr. Frankenstein, AKA Colonel Parker ever created. Man is cruel; Satan is a whole other type of bastard you shouldn’t entertain. I'm retarded. Some call me an idiot savant. YO MOMMA!!! People are blessed by the Father who has blessed many of us with gifts. There are many of you whom God has endowed with multiple talents that people would sell their soul in order to possess just one. If you're anointed by God to sing like Aretha Franklin may He lead you to sign with a label like Brother Carl Crawford's who won't make the same mistake he did with a very popular artist at this moment. More than likely you'll sign a contract entrusting your talent, blessing, and soul to the most unclean ones. Ain’t a reason in hell you should bow down or bend over for a leach like Mr. Friedman so he can butt bone your a-hole while enriching himself off your God given talents. God blesses those who seek him out, and those that don’t. I don’t know if Eddie Murphy went to Church, and sowed an offering every Sunday to God praying that the Father would make him the highest paid comedic actor in his prime. Richard Pryor was anointed in the womb to be the most blessed comedic talent, and influential comedian to ever walk this Earth bar none yet he and Mr. Murphy pursued their dreams in different ways with both of them becoming world renown. I'm inclined to ask, was it worth it?

Mark 8:36

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

The synagogue of Satan isn’t a trending pop culture manifestation that’s to be esteemed, cherished, or envied. These cults are trying to maintain a stranglehold on a world that’s not meant for them or their sort. People who play with Ouija boards or childhood games like Bloody Mary, and light as a feather are ushering dark spirits into their homes leaving their loved ones exposed to something sinister. Get the hell away from me and mine unless you're my sister, AKA Ms. Skunk Funk, who needs to get the crust burnt off her musty, dusty drawers. The whore of Don Juan has a death wish. Explain to me how running with the devil beats walking with God?

Isaiah 59:7

7 Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths.

This Nation was built on our ancestor’s blood, sweat, and relentless faith. Believe me when I say there's strength in every tear. I pray to God that I don’t shed anymore of them. Their wealth is not. It's a stolen Promise that the Father shall reward His children with. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. The most glaring, and frustrating example that is also bitter and disheartening I can give you is our Promised Inheritance called Yisrael that the gentiles are squatting on. When a person or in this case a tribe or race of people believe in their own lies they've become reprobate; they're lost.

Revelation 3:9

9 Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

This is what all of Esau's children fear. It's why the bland, colored people of the world are flipping over the Earth's axis, and killing us without any probable cause. They are a lawless people who've displayed their lack of empathy, and humanity for anyone save their own breed, they behave like blood hounds. I've become content with this planet being void of water (Holy Spirit.) Black people suffer from a social disorder called the crab bucket mentality. We hate to see anyone rise up, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep them down or discourage them. That person may possess something that can benefit the collective, who cares. He who possesses that blessing needs to haul tail ASAP before the winter comes knowing the Father will bless him, and a downtrodden people beyond their wildest dreams. This is why Yeshua, and His Father call us children. It's why I pray, and bemoan to the Father daily that He slays me, putting the fear of the Lord in the heathen and His Son Christ Jesus uses us for His purpose. God doesn't need us, we need Him. He's given us so much power, and authority. When you acquire it, use it for something other than satisfying your sinful, carnal, flesh minded desires. Men, don't behave like horn dogs, and women do not behave as Aholah, and Aholibah, 2 whores.

Numbers 32:24

24 Build you cities for your little ones, and folds for your sheep; and do that which hath proceeded out of your mouth.

Out of thine own mouth you have power to tread over snakes and scorpions. You can exorcise demons and devils out of your present life braking generational curses which is what I' want for a family that's disowned me. To God be the glory. God is telling us to declare a thing, and claim it. What a mighty, just God we serve. Your tongue will become a weapon to use against the lawless ones who use theirs recklessly in their attempts to get us arrested or murdered by local, and federal authorities. You can call it giving them a taste of their own medicine, it isn't. You're reclaiming what they've taken, stolen, including those of us they've murdered.

Isaiah 54:17

17 No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. Speak positive prayers out loud if you can. If you live with your family or have a roommate pray in the closet. You'll have favor with God that many people won't. They rebuked the Lord, and their anger did tear perpetually, and they kept their wrath forever. When they use their privilege, which is what we call it more often than they, comprehending they’re fully aware knowing they use it with a Demonic, driven hatred. They persecute Black men, women, and children for reasons that are not godly, and the Father does not condone. They, and all the Earth will have to answer for our individual sins against the Father in the end.

Luke 10:19

19 Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

We don’t worship the same god as they do. They're praying to a god to erase us off the face of the Earth. Why hasn't he?.

Exodus 1:12

12 But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. And they were grieved because of the children of Israel.

Their birth rate is dropping steadily. For the first time in the history of the census they decreased in population globally while indigenous, and other races of people stayed steady or in our case increased. This is the reasoning behind these draconian abortion laws. They're trying to preserve themselves while God is eliminating the Earth of their bloody dominion. God is sending the wicked a message before the storm comes, but no one's listening. Their violence towards us is documented, and more often it's unprovoked. They continue with the guilty until proven worthy of their mercy dogmatic mantra which is racist BS. The Earth will be lulled back to sleep. When they're confident that their world isn't in danger of being challenged by anyone, especially us. That's when God will do things that will scare them right back to the caucasus mountains bringing destruction to those who've touched, bruised, and abused the Apple of His eye. Speak life into your angel spirit, don’t entertain the demon seed that's trying to kill you, and the rest of Earth's indigenous people. You have much authority, use it. Elohim. 9/23/2021

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 209

209

The problem with supernatural senses was the ability to hear everything. Lance sympathised with Keith, cringing in second hand embarrassment for how his fiancé tried to talk to Pidge. Keith’s awkwardness was a thing of legend. There were a lot of “ums” in his sentence, and he’d twice assured Pidge “that it was okay if she didn’t want to”, before he finally asked if they could talk. The pair of them heading into the house as Hunk kept his eye on them.

“Catching” Hunk staring, Lance decided to say fuck it to manners. Hunk wasn’t upsetting Pidge on purpose. Shay wasn’t upsetting Pidge on purpose. They just weren’t quite clicking and though it wasn’t his place to say it, he didn’t want Pidge to feel left out because her best friend was dating the woman of his dreams

“Hunk, what’s up?”

“Pidge just went off with Keith... I thought they were going to check on Shiro and Curtis... I’m just... uh, I’m kind of wondering why they left”

Scratching the back of his head, Hunk stumped the other “adults” at the table. Allura and Coran both nursing empty tea cups, with Krolia kicked back and holding her half empty beer near her stomach

“It’s nothing to be worried about. They’ll be fine”

“Yeah, but... Dude, don’t you think she’s been acting weird lately? She doesn’t message me as much as she used to, and she didn’t defend how useful UV light could be to hunting vampires”

Hunk took the bait. Sure, Lance had been leading him

“Keith noticed Pidge isn’t happy and he’s gone to have a chat and make sure she’s okay”

Hunk gaped at him. Lance would have chuckled at his friend’s surprise if he hadn’t squashed his ego down. He didn’t want to hurt Hunk, nor did he particularly enjoy the conversation they needed to have. Shay pressed her lips together for half a moment in thought, before breaking her silence

“I can’t remember anything that would have upset her. Are you sure she’s upset?”

“Pidge is learning how much adulting sucks. We’re all in relationships now. We don’t do the fun things we used to do together. We don’t have games night anymore. We don’t hunt. Her best friend is moving in with his girlfriend and she wants to be involved. You guys haven’t done anything technically wrong, she just misses the old times. She’d decapitate me for the hell of it if she heard me. She’s feeling a little insecure right now, but Keith’ll calm her down”

Hunk immediately teared up. Nooo. Not Hunk tears. Whenever Hunk got teary, he did too

“I didn’t... I didn’t realise”

The first tear rolled down Lance’s cheek, causing him to sigh at himself mentally. He was so weak when it came to Hunk tears

“That’s because you haven’t done anything wrong. I’d be mad if you had and my face wound be all scary. Everyone grows and changes. Keith and I can hardly deny we’re very focused on each other. It’s really easy to do when you’re in love. Maybe at the end of the night you could suggest a games night? Or you could have her look at properties with you? She’d probably be able to blackmail the realestate agent into giving you cheaper rent...”

“I didn’t...”

“Dude, I know. I’m in no position to talk either. I let her down too. I let all of you guys down. I love you, bro. I love her, too. You guys are my family. Pidge just needs a little reassurance your still best friends for life... I kind of hope they’re not inside too long, I need to pee... I can’t wait for this pregnancy to be over... I want to meet them already”

Allura placed her hand on his shoulder

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. We all can’t wait to meet them. You and Keith shall be amazing parents”

“Yeah. It’s going to be weird not having them inside me anymore...”

Lance loved it when they moved. He loved resting his hands on his belly and feeling them moving. Already so full of life. He loved belly rubs from Keith, and the way Keith cuddled into his stomach, peppering kissed to his stretched skin as if trying to kiss their twins through it. But everything else was getting too much. The joint pain. The fatigue. The constant heavy feeling in his chest. The last week of feeling constantly ill. His stupid yoyoing ego that couldn’t understand how a pregnancy had weakened him so much. The fits of anger. His overly active sense of smell. He was tired... and tired of waiting... but he... he also wanted to wait until he went into labour naturally so he could keep feeling them inside of him. For years he’d wondered how it’d feel to be human again. To fall in love and do all the other amazing things humans did... He’d never felt more human than in the last month of his pregnancy. He wasn’t sure he could mentally cope with his ego if he and Keith did chose to wait much longer. Mums to be were amazing. Movies just didn’t do justice to all the ups and downs of pregnancy. Feeling a tingling in his skin, Lance looked down at his arm, realising he was starting to burn under the lack of cloud cover. He wanted to give Keith and Pidge privacy, but if he stayed outside much longer, he’d go up in flames... Then again, Keith did say he was “smoking hot”.

*

Lance’s living room had also been transformed. The same bunting that hung outside, hung from everywhere it could inside. Stopping by the bathroom, Lance waddled in on Keith and Pidge mid-hug. Keith probably didn’t know what to do with being hugged so fiercely, still, it was a nice moment between the pair of them

“Hey, guys. Got room for one more?”

Breaking the hug, Pidge moved to make space between her and Keith. Lance waddling over to drop himself down between the pair of them. Yeah. Keith had a point. Maybe it’d be better to deliver early rather than feel cramping when he sat wrong, or sat too fast. He’d recognised that with fatigue came pain sensitivity. Small cramps had been happening more often over the last week, and he’d been reduced to crying over them more than once.

Leaning in, Keith kissed his cheek, Lance smiling at the action because he was so grossly in love with Keith that even a small kiss still managed to make him feel a million times better

“I thought I left you outside?”

Lance moved to show Keith the start of the sunburn on his arm. He’d run it under cold water to ease the burn, but it was still warm and tender to the touch

“You did. Apparently too much sun is bad for vampires... who would have thought?”

“I did wonder if I should find you an umbrella...”

“I’m fine. Plus, I’ve got my two favourite people here, so I thought I’d come stock up on some love”

Excusing himself to the bathroom, Lance knew he’d upset Hunk yet Hunk had to figure out how to make things right with Pidge without his meddling. He probably could have been more tactful about things, and picked a better time to bring the subject up. This was supposed to be party, not a counselling session. Feeling the twins kicking up a storm, he took Pidge’s hand, placing it on his belly. His friends were good about not just touching his belly without asking first, Pidge the one who seemed to hesitate the most when it came to feeling him being bashed up internally

“I think they know that their Aunty Pidge is here”

“Either that or they’ve inherited Keith’s inability to sit still”

Keith pouted, Pidge poking her tongue at him causing the werewolf to huff

“Lance is just as bad as I am”

“Lance has changed a lot since you came into our lives. You both have. You can tell you two are dating. You’ve got that old married couple vibe where you finish each other’s sentences and sound the same”

Lance couldn’t deny it. Keith had picked up so many of the expressions he used. And Lance had definitely picked up Keith’s habit of swearing openly.

“That’s what happens when you fall in love. Actually, Keith and I have something to tell you. We’re madly grossly in love, not just in love”

Pidge rolled her eyes at him

“I already know that. One bite between you and you’ve both turned into idiots”

“You know what they say, “Once bitten, twice stupid””

“Dude, it’s “once bitten, twice shy”. But I like your one better. You bit Keith to save his life and you both turned into love struck morons with a shared brain cell between you”

Keith frowned heavily at Pidge’s joke, Lance snorting due to how true it was

“He really does feel like the other half of me. I’d be happy to share a brain cell with him any day of the week. I know you’re worried about the future, but you’re always going to be a sister to me, and an aunt to the twins. No more sad, Pidge, not when she’s a scary little ankle biting gremlin that we all love”

Pidge pulled her hand back, looking to her lap

“Hey, you know I’m proud of you, Katie. You’ve been through a heck of a lot, like the rest of us. Things might have changed and they might be scary, but you’ll always have a home here with us... provided you don’t bring your work home and destroy my house with your experiments”

Pidge groaned deeply

“You blow up a circuit board once and they never let you forget it. And, if you call me “Katie” again, I’m going to give you a dead arm to go with that dead body of yours”

“Oh no! The gremlin’s getting angry. Quick, babe. You’d better make her a coffee before her wrath descends upon us”

“Fuck you”

“I’m flattered, but I’m in a loving and committed relationship... I mean, if I were two decades younger...”

Pidge punched his arm to shut him up

“You suck”

Lance continued with his shit stirring mood

“Quite well, don’t I, babe?”

“I’m not getting into this, but yes”

“See, my skills have got Keith’s stamp of approval”

“You’re going to have my footprint stamped to your arse if you keep traumatising me like this”

Wrapping his arms around his gremlin, Lance kissed her hair. Pidge trying to shove him off

“I love it when you’re mean. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you”

“Keith, help. Lance is being weird”

Keith hefted him back so Lance was laying awkwardly in his arms looking up at his fiancé. Bopping him on the nose, Lance went cross eyed as Keith let his finger hover

“Babe, leave the bitey creature alone. She’s fine. More importantly, did you put cream on your arm?”

Lance didn’t really prescribe to the use of burn cream seeing he healed on his own. Cold water would forever be the best things for burns

“Burn cream isn’t always good for burns, aaaaand the aloe vera is in our bathroom. Which is upstairs, and totally too much effort right now”

“You can’t ignore it. Where else got burnt?”

“I don’t know. Stop picking on me. I thought we were picking on Pidge”

“We’ve done that. I’ll grab the aloe vera, and Pidge can get you some blood. We have the whole day to relax... provided no one’s gone and planned party games”

Pidge burst that bubble. That tiny bubble of maybe fitting an uncaught nap in... This fatigue thing was ridiculous

“Oh, dude. There’s totally party games. We’re going to set up penalty beer pong under lunch”

Keith scrunched his brow. From how he was positioned, Lance kind of wanted to poke his finger right up Keith’s nose. It was like his nose was staring down at him, begging to be poked

“Should I be worried?”

Lance didn’t like to brag, but beer pong was his jam. His first time through college not so much, second time, he was pretty much undefeated. With how long it took to set up, it wasn’t usually one of their party games. Poor Keith had no idea what penalty beer pong had in store for him, Lance would have to defend his fiancé’s honour

“Seeing it’ll be you and Lance facing off, you should definitely be worried. Buuuut I totally didn’t tell you that. If you two are going to keep being gross, I’m going to go back to the party”

Whelp. Keith was on his own then... It was nice knowing him

“It’s okay, Pidgeon. Go forth and abandon us. Leave us... be that way... We’ll be back out as soon as I’ve had some blood and this sunburn starts healing. Maybe I should change into something longer, I don’t want to burst into flames at my own baby shower”

Keith bopped him on the nose again, before helping Lance sit back up

“That’s probably a good idea, babe. You’re smoking hot as it is. That’d make you literally flaming hot”

Pidge was completely right. They really did share one brain cell. The idea leaving a stupidly huge grin on his face that Pidge called “creepy” before leaving the pair of them.

*

Penalty beer pong... of all the things they could have played, they’d chosen some kind of abomination that belonged in hell. After lunch, Hunk had taken Lance aside, while Matt and Pidge took Keith inside. Both of them forced to wear headphones so they couldn’t hear each others answers to the questions for their friends had prepared. Keith felt very very dumb. 20 questions on Lance should have been easy... but their friends had really wracked their brains being creative and going for the odd, mostly unknowable things that he was supposed to know about his “boyfriend”.

With the living area the only place big enough to fit all of them, the coffee table was covered with a thick piece of plywood where the cups were set up. Keith didn’t like to admit that he’d never played beer pong. He’d never had the kinds of friends that did, nor did he go to college. One of the more popular games at Blade headquarters was darts with knives instead of darts, and vampire faces for targets. You took a shot if you failed to stick the knife in the vampire when it was your throw. He’d never been invited to play with James and the rest of them... He and Shiro used to have shooting target competitions, but that was just the pair of them with the winner getting out of some mundane house chore, that Adam usually scolded them about.

Kneeling across from him, they’d both avoided the penalty cups so far. Keith thought not getting the ball in one meant not having to drink what was it in. No. Instead the penalty was played out for each question they got wrong about each other. Each cup contained some kind of condiment construction Keith really wanted to avoid. It started tame, first with chilli sauce, then soy, then vinegar... slowly progressing in quantity and combination. The last cup was a grotesque mix of what seemed to be a little of everything from Lance’s pantry. Having swapped questionnaires, Hunk and Matt were their quiz masters. They were fifteen questions in, Keith not feeling the effects of the vodka he’d had to chug when Lance got the ping pong ball in his cups. His fiancé, not able to drink, was delegated water. Keith wasn’t sure that Lance actually won anything from playing against him seeing he’d have to pee the moment the game was done.

“Lance. What is Keith’s most annoying habit?”

Throwing the ping pong ball, his fiancé landed it perfectly in the cup. That’s how it went. Question, throw, answer, shot...

“His amazingly lacking self confidence since turning into a werewolf”

His damn fiancé got that one right... like the rest of them.

“Keith. How many years, combined, did Lance spend attending University?”

How the fuck was he supposed to know that? He didn’t know how long it took to be a lawyer... he didn’t know how long it took, or if Lance had any recognition of prior training to drop the amount of time he was required to study, plus his fiancé was a smart little shit... Lance looked sympathies and smug at the same time. Yeah. His questions were far easier than Keith’s had been. Tossing the retrieved ping pong ball, it landed in one of the penalty cups

“Um... I’m going to with... um... 12 years”

Lance groaned, Keith knowing he’d gotten the answer wrong. Matt delighted in telling him

“11 years and six months. Apparently being a lawyer in the early 90’s meant less time in class... Your first penalty shot is chilli sauce. Bottoms up”

If a jalapeño’s had sex with another jalapeño, then their offspring continued in breeding, that would only explain the fire in Keith’s mouth. His eyes running as his throat burned. That wasn’t simple chilli sauce in there

“God... it burns... what the hell is that?”

“Ghost pepper sauce”

Lance shot Matt a glare

“That’s not very nice. You guys are dicks”

Matt shrugged at Keith fanned his burning mouth

“Then he shouldn’t have gotten the question wrong”

“We didn’t really talk about it. Babe, you okay? Rieva, can you get Keith some milk, please. You guys are banned from giving Keith chilli ever again”

“Chill, dude. He’ll survive. Right, it’s your turn”

Lance plucked the ball from what looked to be soy sauce, unamused Keith’s ego wanted to flip the stupid board of cups over. Their friends were slightly laughing at his reaction to the chilli and Rieva hadn’t gone to get him a glass of milk

“Okay, Lance. What’s Keith’s deepest secret that he’s hiding at he moment?”

Keith had answered “He’d always believe in mothman until his dying breath”. Lance hummed at the question

“That he doesn’t hate Lotor as much as he says... it’s either that, something to with me, or something to do with his crush on mothman”

“Correct...”

No. That wasn’t correct at all! The game was rigged

“You two didn’t bother telling us that you’re engaged! Which is a secret to do with Lance, so technically correct!”

Suddenly Keith got the feeling that beer pong was less about what they knew about each other and more about what the group suspected and wanted to confirm

“They’re what?!”

From Pidge’s yelling, she mustn’t have been in on it... So this was all Matt’s idea to get them to confess to their secret engagement?! He could strangle him for putting them both on the spot like this. Right. He could play it cool... yep. No secret here

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, dude. We found the empty ring box in your bedside drawers. Why didn’t you tell us?! Do you know how happy we are for you guys?! This is awesome... Maybe not as awesome as Rieva saying yes to me, but we’re supposed to be your friends! We need to have a party to celebrate this”

Ahhhh. Keith wanted to laugh in relief. They hadn’t been caught yet, and now it seemed like a pretty fun idea to mess with Matt for going through their things

“That’s was from Krolia. There was never any ring in that box”

“You expect us to believe that?”

Keith glanced to his mother, Krolia shrugging as the others also looked to her

“Miriam and I both thought they’d make the cutest grooms. It’s not my fault he hasn’t proposed yet”

“What makes you think I’d be the one asking? Lance could always ask me, right, babe?”

“Yep. I totally could have been the one to ask him”

Sharing a look, Matt and Hunk both chuckled. Their “Sunshine Teddy” shaking his head

“Man, we all know Lance is the romantic one. He’d spend everyday waiting for you to ask, rather than asking you. Then, he’d expect the whole fairytale night. Dinner at a fancy restaurant. A bouquet of red roses as big as him...”

Hunk counted on his fingers, Matt adding as Hunk stalled mid-thought

“Don’t forget the champagne and the hotel room”

Hunk quickly counted those two on his fingers

“Yep. Lance is too much of a romantic”

Matt nodded quickly

“He’d drop hints too... Romcoms. Jewellery brochures... Though you’d probably miss them like you missed Valentine’s Day”

The pair were ganging up on him, Keith depressed about the fact they were right. Lance would have loved all that, but his fiancé didn’t need all that. He’d proposed in a horrible hotel room...

“Keith is romantic. Sure, his idea of good date is a trip to a shooting range, or some other combat related activity, but he’s very romantic. I don’t need all the fuss, I just need him”

Hunk faked feeling faint as he grabbed Matt by the arm, Matt playing it up and acting as if he were concerned

“Hunk?!”

“I’m okay... I never thought I’d live to hear Lance say something so unLance like. Pregnancy has changed you, man. Next thing you’ll give up watching your soap operas... Dude, my heart can’t handle the changes”

Keith mentally thanked Lance for trying to stick up for him. He wasn’t the world’s greatest fiancé, yet he felt better that Lance thought he was good enough for him. His fiancé had more to say on the matter

“You two keep picking on Keith. He’s awkward and he’s a little emo, but he makes me happy. We could get engaged in a room so dingy that Jesus couldn’t save it, and I’d still be happy”

Hunk waved his arm, kind of weirdly and kind of as if he were trying to gesture “how big this was”. Keith felt his lips turn upwards as Lance pretty much told everyone they’d gotten engaged while away, yet none of their friends would put two and two together

“But as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been a sucker for those big movie engagement scenes”

“Movies aren’t real life. Matt, that box wasn’t any of your business. What were you doing in our room?”

“Helping Shiro and Curtis build your present. We were looking for an adjustable spanner”

Lance leaned back to rest his weight on his hands, bottom lip wobbling

“You know the tools are kept in the laundry, and you know you’re not supposed to be in my room...”

“We were...”

No one messed with Lance’s room, or his bed. Lance washed and changed the sheets alone, swapping the blankets whenever the whim took over

“I don’t care. I’m sorry, but I can’t... I need air”

Keith jumped to his feet before Lance started started struggling to his. As Coran went to help the vampire, Lance slapped his hand away with a sad “sorry”. Moving to Lance’s side, Keith looped his arm around his waist

“You guys can take over playing. No listening in”

[ofthelibertine]

did [DIAMOND BELLEVUE] chase one of seven sins seven miles down the coast? originally from [NEW YORK CITY], the [22] [CISFEMALE] is a [SUPERMODEL] and has lived in the key for [THREE MONTHS]. [SHE] is suppose to call [THE MEADOWS] home, but there is always temptation lurking between the streets and the ocean that keeps [HER] from heading back. sinners and saints take many forms, but they look like [ZENDAYA] and on their way to make decisions, good and bad, they always seem to sway to the beat of [DRUNK WITH MY FRIENDS BY ASHNIKKO].

Trigger Warnings: eating disorder, bipolar disorder, NAS, drugs, alcohol, underage drugs, underage drinking

- B A S I C -

Full Name: Diamond Nathalia Bellevue Nickname(s): Dime, Dia, Di Age: 22 Occupation: Supermodel, but she also runs her own online beauty and fashion shop. Birthday: December 15th Aries: Sagittarius Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Neighborhood: The Meadows

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Winston Bellevue Mother: Betty Bellevue Siblings: Four older siblings (all adopted) Children: She has a 13-month-old son, named Dante.

- B I O -

She is originally from New York City. Diamond was born to a teenaged drug addict and was willingly put up for adoption the second she was born, only to be adopted a few short months later by Winston and Betty Bellevue - an older couple in their late forties who hailed from London, England. They had just moved to the Upper Eastside of Manhattan a few years prior, along with their four other adopted children. Her father was one of the top cosmetic surgeons in the state of New York, while her mother was a leading patent attorney, so they were often kept quite busy with work. Despite that, their work didn't stop them from being really attentive parents to their children. Dime had a great relationship with her parents, and though her siblings were significantly older than she was, she was still quite close to each and every one of them. That said, there were still some clashing personalities and views of opinion from time to time among the family - they weren't perfect, after all - but overall, everyone got along fine. There weren't any disputes that didn't go unforgiven for too long, which was nice. She had a very serious habit of shutting out her family, or even withdrawing completely for a while, as her work or mental state allowed it to happen...but her family eventually reeled her back in and she was grateful to them for that. They really were her rock, at the end of the day.

Despite being adopted by a wonderful and loving family, that did not erase the damage done to her by her addict birth mother. Dime was born with NAS (Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome) and this is believed to be the leading cause of her overall mental illness and eating disorder and later on, her own drug addiction later down the road.

When she was just toddler she was diagnosed with ARFID - she'd always had an aversion to food, starting from infancy and that never changed as she grew older. It worried her parents, because there were many times when she just wouldn't eat anything for days - refused all kinds of food - and it would end up with her in the hospital, being force-fed through a feeding tube, lest she starve. Her childhood diagnosis of ARFID has since turned into a full blown and rather serious eating disorder that she is still constantly battling to this day. When she turned seven, she was officially diagnosed with Bipolar, which she had apparently inherited from her birth mother also. The diagnose did not come as a huge shock to her family, since Diamond had always had very extreme mood swings - one minute she would be incredibly social and rambunctiously hyper, talking people's ears off and the next she would go very quiet and closed off and sink into a very noticeable depression. So by the time she was in middle school, she was taking meds and seeing therapists frequently, which was...tiresome to say the least. Despite her rather poor mental and physical health, Diamond still led a pretty normal life in Manhattan. She was a major hobbyist, even as a child, and so she was always bouncing from one activity to another, easily bored with things once she'd mastered it. She was always wanting to try and learn new things. Dime took up dancing, vocal lessons, piano and violin lessons, and dabbled in painting, scrapbooking, journaling, photography, needlework...you name it, she's very likely tried it at least once. Her interests in dancing, painting and photography were still strong, especially dancing. At the age of five her parents put her in her first dance class and she fell in love with it. She learned ballet first but quickly grew to love contemporary hip-hop the best and delved right into it. She still danced today, and could have gotten a full ride to Juilliard if it weren't for her modeling career taking off as quickly as it had. She was first introduced to modeling at the age of nine, when she was scouted while in the mall with her mother, and after getting both her parents' consent, Dime was allowed to be signed on to the agency and soon she began work as a child model. Child modeling soon turned into full-time as soon as she turned sixteen and by the age of nineteen she was at the top of her stardom. With her parents’ naively trusting that she would be well looked after, Diamond moved out of her parents’ home at sixteen, once she began making really good money off her modeling, and into an apartment with several other young models - five others, to be precise. So it was crowded, with it being only a three bedroom place, but they managed. The apartment building was full of other models who lived in various apartments, women and men alike, and soon these people because her ‘crowd’.

They partied together, slept together and fasted together. Fights were also not an uncommon occurrence among the models, since the industry was known to be quite competitive and brutally cutthroat. Within her first year of living with the other models, she became heavily addicted to narcotics and alcohol - it was ridiculously easy for her to get addicted, too, since she was predisposed to it from her birth. Sadly, in her new social circle, drugs and alcohol ran rampant at parties, even to the underaged.

It didn’t take long before she stopped taking her meds altogether and stopped going to therapy sessions, and instead Diamond submersed herself deep into her new life. Outside of modeling, when she wasn’t working, she often spent her nights out with her fellow models - partying, drinking, doing drugs and having a lot of fun and a lot of sex and she grew further and further away from her family. A family that she still loved with all of her being but whom she rarely saw anymore. She let the lifestyle pretty much consume her life, to the point where her world became a permanent sort of blur; she was rarely sober. Just shy of turning 20, Diamond met an older man named Ivan, who worked as an up and coming actor. He lived in Los Angeles but had been in New York shooting a film. The two had ended up bumping into each other at a party and had hit it off and began dating shortly thereafter. It would prove to be a very short-lived relationship - lasting only a few months, just long enough for Ivan's film to finish and for Diamond to fall pregnant. Unsurprisingly, Ivan flipped the hell out when she told him the news and he immediately fled back to California with his tail between his legs, wanting nothing to do with the baby. Deep down, Diamond couldn't really blame him - his career was just getting off the ground, same as hers and becoming a parent was a total derailment of his plans. As a young working woman herself, Diamond understood that...but she was no less pleased about it. After four years of living on her own, away from her parents, Diamond returns home - not really knowing what else to do, now that she was knocked up. Thankfully, her family welcomed her back with open arms. No one was anymore thrilled with the news of her pregnancy than she or Ivan were, especially given her obvious addiction to drugs, but they were far more supportive with her decision to keep the baby. However, her parents had insisted that she go to rehab and get clean and get back on her meds, first - for the sake of both her and their unborn grandchild - and though she initially fought them on it, Dime had agreed to go in the end. She ended up spending three months in rehab, getting clean and sober and getting back onto her meds and starting up therapy once again. It was an arduous process, but one she wouldn’t regret. When she welcomed her son, Dante - with a clear mind and a heart filled with nothing but love for the infant boy that she cradled in her arms - she’d felt immense relief that she had listened and had gone through the program. A year later and still clean and living with her parents in Upper Eastside Manhattan, while raising her son and still working full-time as a pretty well known supermodel, Dime made the rash decision to buy a beach house down in Key West, Florida. For her, her son and her family when they needed a place away from hustle and bustle of the city. She loved New York City, it was her home and where she worked, but she didn't want to raise her son there, at least not solely. Their Manhattan residence would always be there as their primary home, but a vacation house in the Keys sounded rather nice.

- W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S -

OLDEST (ADOPTED) SIBLINGS - She is the youngest of five, and all of the Bellevue children are adopted so ANY ethnicity will work. (age ranges: 26-40)

BEST FRIEND(S)

Casual Friend(s)

Bad Influences

CLUB / BAR HOPPING BUDDIES - people she can rely on to always be up for going out drinking / dancing with

DANCING OR WORKOUT BUDDIES - She loves to go dancing (she’s a trained dancer) and working out, either at the gym or going on hikes and long walks, so it would be fun to have someone she can go with.

Fellow Models that she’s possibly worked with in the past.

PHOTOGRAPHERS

Rivals / Enemies / Frenemies

Neighbors of Silverwood Terrace

Babysitter / Nanny / Daycare - for Dante

LOVE INTERESTS AND / FLINGS & ONE-NIGHTERS - She’s got a thing for older men, so it would be fun to explore that a bit, in either a serious or casual fashion.