#and I just don’t fully understand how people who are older than me even

[imruination]

There are very few pieces of media that speak to me on what I can only describe as on a spiritual level, and one of those is Shadow and Bone, written by Leigh Bardugo. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Six of Crows and I think it’s an important story that needed to be told for so many reasons, but there’s something so special to me about the simplicity of Shadow and Bone.

When something is simple, it has to be done well. Yes, Shadow and Bone is on its surface a good vs. evil story which we have seen in media time and time again. I think what stands out to me about it is ironically why so many people call it (or specific things about it) “boring.” There are a lot of important themes, but my favorite is the emphasis that is put on the power of being “ordinary.”

I was 15 when the first book came out, and I read them as they were released. I spent a lot of my childhood reading fantasy books because escaping into them made me feel special, in a world where I felt at once completely ordinary and like a total outcast. This feeling only got worse as a teen, as I would spend a lot of my classes, and even my lunch period reading these books. I understand that this is a feeling that a lot, if not all teens feel. I am not special even in my isolation. I spent so much of my time pretending I had some incredible hidden but innate magical powers.

Shadow and Bone was incredible to me for the very reason why I constantly see it being criticized by my peers and even my friends. The idea of “power” being seductive, while also inherently being corrupt, and fueling the class system and poverty that the entire population is living under, (but Alina as the protagonist is being exposed to a lot of it’s worsts) is something the reader is constantly being reminded of.

Alina is put in a very unique situation by being a girl who holds incredible power as a grisha, but was not raised in that knowledge. To her, the power was suddenly thrust upon her, which made it a lot easier to eventually see the flaws in the entire system. So to read about this protagonist my own age, who had the option of power, was tempted by even more of it in the darkling and the amplifiers- and to give it all up in the end was mind blowing to me.

Alina goes from despising her upbringing and general hardship, to ultimately embracing the simplicity of it. Alina is THE Main character™️ and she ends up as a powerless orphan, in love with another powerless orphan she’s known her entire life. In the realm of all my fantasy books I’d been reading, there was nothing “special” about that. And yet, in it’s difference there was.

Alina’s privilege in making her own choices was special. Her choice to not be controlled by the pillars of power around her. Her choice to embrace her upbringing, and help those who will grow up the way she did. Her choice to accept the love she had had her entire life, that although was not seductive and dangerous, was reliable and enduring and all the more powerful for being that.

It is really surreal and almost funny to see it being criticized for these things now. You think Alina and Mal are boring? Well so did they. And then they grew up and learned better. This is the first book that I can think of in hindsight, that made me wonder if I actually did have this very ordinary but incredible power in myself. I have the privilege of making my own choices. I have the power to love others, and isn’t that incredible? From a person who has now grown up and gained some perspective for myself… Thank you Leigh.

[ann1eee]

Misunderstandings

You and Satoru have had a beautiful relationship. You both understand each other and compliment each others personalities perfectly. That is, until Satoru attempts to take a step forward.

The plan was perfect. He’d checked your schedule and made sure there was no extra work for you the night he wished to proposed. He had spent the last few months ensuring everything went smoothly, and he was 99.99% sure you’d say yes.

He’d be waiting at your favourite restaurant, which he had fully booked just for the two of you. Then, he’d treat you to to a 7 course meal, and spill his heart out after dessert. He had memorised a whole speech summarising your relationship with him. He’d probably cry, and you’d say yes.

You had no idea what he was planning, he’d been really discreet. You’d gotten used to running into him at the Jujutsu faculty, and he’d flash you a stunning smile each time. Your colleagues knew about you two, you were pretty serious about each other. As you climbed up the ranks, the higher ups decided it was time for you to have your very own secretary. However, the person appointed as your secretary was not who you expected. He was a man in his late twenties, a few years older than you.

Honestly, sometimes being in close proximity with him made you uncomfortable. He’d even invited you to dinner once, and you had politely declined. You had chosen to barely speak to him about work (preferring to do most of the work yourself) let alone personal lives, so he didn’t know about your relationship with Satoru.

Fast forward to the night of your to-be proposal, and you were finally done with work (as Satoru had planned). Just as you were about to leave, you were stopped by your assistant. You had planned to meet Satoru at the restaurant, since he was called in for an emergency mission. Your assistant stalked his way over to you, and was undeniably flirting with you. You declined his affections, and finally blurted out that you had a boyfriend. He seemed surprised and shocked at that, but continued trying to make moves on you. He pulled you in by your waist, and once you finally came to your senses about what he was trying, you slapped him. Hard.

What you failed to notice was Satoru, hoping to surprise you outside your office with a bouquet of flowers. He saw the way your assistant pulled you in, eyes wide with betrayal. He left right after that, discarding the flowers, not seeing you slap your assistant and push him away.

You were a bit shaken after the incident, and wanted to quickly get to Satoru and tell him about it. When you reached the restaurant, it was completely empty. No people, no Satoru.

You were confused, wondering if you had mixed up the dates? No, that couldn’t be. Perhaps the mission was taking longer than anticipated? Maybe. You decided to sit down, waiting for Satoru. You really expected him to show up, he got late to dates sometimes, yes, but he had never stood you up.

You spent the next 3 hours sipping measly at your bottle of wine, before you decided to head home. You called a taxi and went back home, disappointed.

As you unlocked your door, you were startled to see Satoru sitting on your shared couch, head in hands.

“Satoru..?” You called out softly.

You were greeted by an expression on his face you’d never seen before. Shock? Disgust? Anger? You couldn’t tell.

“What’s wrong? Why didn’t you show up? Did something happen on the mission?” You inquired, hoping he’d offer you an explanation for what was going on.

“How long?” Was all he said.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been having an affair with him?”

You shot him a confused look, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

He simply chuckled at your expression.

“Don’t act so shocked now. I saw what happened in your office. Just tell me the truth”

A wave of realisation washed over you. Satoru saw the way your assistant had touched you, and left before you rejected his advances.

“Toru, it’s not like that. He tried to make a move on me, but I pushed him away. I promise” You were almost crying. There was no way you’d let your relationship with your boyfriend end over a misunderstanding like this.

“I swear, I’ve never cheated on you Satoru. He made me so uncomfortable, I never imagined he’d do such a thing. I only want you. Please, believe me.” You were sobbing. You were already overwhelmed from taking on most of your assistant’s job, and after what he did, you wanted nothing more than to just melt into your boyfriend’s arms. But no, you had waited and waited for him to show up and he didn’t. Now he was accusing you of an affair and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You hunched over onto the floor, sobbing into your hands.

Satoru’s eyes widened. He knew you weren’t lying, his six eyes could tell. He can’t believe he just accused you of cheating on him so casually. You, out of everyone? Someone who had given him nothing but happiness for the past few years? You were the most precious person in his life, he couldn’t afford to lose you. You were the light at the end of his tunnel. He felt ashamed of himself for causing you so much pain. His heart hurt looking at you in such a worried and desperate state, and he rushed over to you.

“Baby, I believe you. I’m so sorry I thought of that.. I don’t know.. I’m sorry” He pulled you into his arms and stroked your head.

You leaned into his touch and buried your face into his shoulder.

“I wanted tonight to be perfect, and when I saw what he did.. I just assumed the worst. I’m so sorry baby, please.. just don’t cry”

You pulled away and looked into his eyes. He looked so flushed, and genuinely sorry.

“I would never cheat on you Toru.. I love you” you whispered.

“I love you too baby.” He stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and fished for something.

Your eyes widened as you saw him shift his weight to one knee and pull out a small, blue velvet box.

He flung it open and carefully took out a dazzling diamond ring.

“I love you, y/n. I wanted tonight to be perfect, and I’m so sorry it wasn’t. But I just can’t wait any longer. I want you to be mine forever, I promise I’ll make you so, so happy. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, y/n. You’re my best friend, my girlfriend and now I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

You felt tears of joy running down your cheeks. You had never wanted anything more than Satoru being your husband.

“Yes.” You said as he pulled you onto his lap and kissed you desperately. He slid the massive diamond onto your finger and cupped your cheeks.

“I love you so much.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

“I love you more.”

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

my frustration with “going nonverbal/nonspeaking” (as a fully nonverbal person)

transcript: my frustration with “going nonverbal/nonspeaking” (as a fully nonverbal person)

this written for instagram because of this post. but thought tumblr may like it too. “you” means general you, no one specific.

the instagram post and this on wordpress

this disclaimer is for instagram but also for anyone new to this discussion:

in full honestly, don’t know how to write this. am tired, language and complex ideas too much at time of writing, and general exhaust at having to argue same thing over and over again and justify own existence. tired of being minority within minority, wish there are others to do these work for me so i don’t have to do it all by self, singlehandedly advocate for everyone (not to mention problem with that—i can’t speak for everyone).

so honestly, if you don’t have anything nice to say, especially if you speaking (yes, even if you lose speech. include you), just don't say anything at all. move on.

online actually autistic community (AAut) dominated by white, lower support needs. level 1, speaking, late diagnosed, high masking autistics. find people like you is great, what not great is you treat your very narrow community as “voice of all autistic” and your experience as ultimate autistic experience. i write plenty about that, many more elaborate than this, if you not familiar with this concept.

many people in this community experience times when cannot speak, sometimes because overwhelm, shutdown, dissociate, or anxiety (situational mutism), but do not struggle with act of speaking rest of time (some struggle with speech all the time but still can speak - more on that later). the community call “going nonverbal/nonspeaking,” or even “when i am nonverbal nonspeaking” (not talking about those nonverbal as child and verbal now older), after clinical term “nonverbal” (nonverbal autism) and term coined by apraxic nonspeaking autistics “nonspeaking.”

both of which talk about it as an “all the time” experience.

when i search nonverbal or nonspeaking because i want community too, want see people like me too, two category i see: 1) parents of nonverbal nonspeaking children, whom can’t relate to because age, who can’t write own experience because their age and developmental ability. and 2) overwhelming amount of speaking autistic talk about going nonverbal going nonspeaking.

and the very very few fully nonverbal nonspeaking voices. drowned out. cannot find anyone.

nonverbal used to be term to describe us, people who can’t speak or cannot functionally speak beyond few words. medical term, alright, so some of us don’t like. so some of us reject that and create term all of our own, called nonspeaking. created by nonspeaking autistics with severe apraxia and brain body disconnect, describe their own experience of able to think in words able to spell out words (with great dedication and work and support), just cannot do that with mouth. their term. they create.

and you take it? without knowing context? without reading anything by those same nonspeaking coiners?

when is last time you purposely seek out nonverbal nonspeaking voices? when is last time you accidentally came across us? can you name any nonverbal nonspeaking advocate that talk about their experiences? one? two? three? a BIPOC person, a (specifically) Black person? a Black woman? a trans person? a physically disabled person? a person not from western world?

same narrative over and over. “i can speak for nonverbal autistic i understand their experience because i am autistic i can’t talk sometimes” no you cannot. as someone who was able to speak when young who lose speech (”go nonverbal”) but now have no speech to lose because full time nonverbal. no the experience not the same. not comparable. you gain it back. i don’t. you can explain with mouth words what happen when you get out. i can’t, i only have AAC. countless nonverbal nonspeaking people without AAC or sign cannot, at all. you never experience daily small and big struggle of casually being nonverbal all the time.

your experience of lose speech unique from my nonverbal. but if you so insist to compare and equate, you only guest to my experience, my daily life.

“when i go nonverbal and no one understand so have to force to speak” i cannot force words out. know you don’t mean to say this, and not saying you at fault for this, but nevertheless accidental perpetuate and reinforce idea that anyone who don’t speak can just be forced to speak if try hard enough. but often not how it works. and this exact harmful rhetoric devoid and delays nonverbal nonspeaking people given access to AAC, because “need try to force words out first, AAC unnatural so last resort.”

this may be new concept for you. new concept to instagram, to tiktok. to other places. it may seem i only one with this problem, “i once saw a nonspeaking person’s account and they don’t have problem.”

yeah, because we are not monolith. some nonverbal nonspeaking people don’t care. some nonverbal nonspeaking people may even welcome “go nonverbal nonspeaking” or “when i am nonverbal nonspeaking.”

but don’t be fooled into believe i only one. have many nonverbal/nonspeaking and/or higher support needs friends on tumblr, who talk about this who have been saying this for years. *years*. years before i joined. i am not creator, i only bring message here, because many of us are too high support needs too disabled to do anything else. many of us only stay on our small corner of tumblr because it most peaceful, because at least some listen, because least hostile, because need to defend our experience against our own community the least. (but it happens less doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, we still exhausted.) many of us only stay on our small corner of tumblr because that all we can handle, or because we not allowed or shouldn’t be on other social media because age or abilities or both.

i cannot handle conflict i do not do well and i shouldn’t be here. but if not me, who else? if i don’t do it, who else is going to?

some nonverbal nonspeaking people and parents of them may question, why you start debate about useless term when so many nonverbal nonspeaking people don’t even have access to communicate, real problems. to that i say i do those work too. and to that i say this is real problem too, because am autistic so online actually autistic community should also be my space too but it not. but it hostile. because am lonely because seeing yourself so crucial because don’t know anyone in person like me don’t have any friends in person like me, so i go online to find people like me and i cannot because no own term to search and what used to be term many people without similar experience insist they understand and can speak for me because they say we have similar experience. because this aloneness and the unique difficulty from being full time nonverbal and the struggle of future and the unique mistreatment from both outside but also inside community have drove me over edge many times and it is presence and knowing their presence of my tumblr nonverbal nonspeaking / higher support needs friends that gave me hope to stay. because so many people don’t listen and instead speak over. terminology only a symptom of problem. address roots, sure, but part of address roots is address symptoms.

‘well nonverbal people are never around” maybe it because you don’t make it welcome for us to join.

“fully nonverbal rare anyway” estimated 30% of us nonverbal nonspeaking, which this statistic probably only count those nonverbal since birth. even more are minimally speaking or without full functional communication, abilities limited to requests. sure, 30% still not majority. but significant amount never the less. speaking lower support needs autistic without intellectual disability not majority anyway too but your experience still deserve heard. ours too.

“see less nonverbal people because they don't have ability to communicate and use social media” yes, many nonverbal nonspeaking people not given access to communication (like AAC), forced to live in silence (because body language communication not enough alone!). silence from birth to teenage years, to adulthood, even until they die. some cannot understand social media or AAC because intellectual disability or cognitive ability. some not allowed on there because safety, some not allowed on because presumed incompetent and abused. all true. do you advocate for them too? or is it just talking point against me, pretend you care?

but not all of us, we exist. some of us thankfully supportive parents all along, parents given resources, us given resources, so we access to AAC since beginning. some of us became nonverbal later in life (which not same experience as those early in life, i acknowledge). some of us after years of forced silence, finally given access to AAC and can now communicate and advocate! some of us on social media - do you listen?

but you see none of us in your community anyway. maybe one token person.

you can go nonverbal. i cannot go verbal. see difference? you can come close to my experience, but i never will have (future) ability to go to yours.

it frustrate that have to specify am nonverbal **all the time** when write this, because if don’t do that will be assumed otherwise. frustrate that when in neurodivergent space stranger see me AAC they assume i can speak because they only know part time users (know part time users frustrate too because people assume they cannot speak and get surprised when they do. me being assumed automatic part time is not fault of part time AAC users.)

even been told am privileged to be nonverbal nonspeaking, privilege over speaking autistic who lose speech because in their mind it mean i get all support i need i get all recognition get all the representation. which. couldn’t be farther from truth.

all that. is fraction of reason i frustrate at “going nonverbal nonspeaking” and “when i was nonverbal nonspeaking.”

so many other words. lose speech. intermittent speech.

just want have own sub community where can find people similar experience.

[myinterestsvary-writes]

there’s so much little things in the manga the anime omitted, partly to add more comedy and also TamaHaru scenes which didn’t do much for me in isolation and actually actively harmed the narrative and ship imo (*cough* last two episodes in particular) and this is literally the main reason why I want the entire manga to be adapted in a reboot

From Volume #8

[leviathans-watching]

copping a feel of the older brothers

includes: lucfier, mammon, levi x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .6k | rated t | m.list

warnings: though it's alright with the boys and they even find it funny/enjoy it/etc. this could possibly read as harassment so if that's something you're sensitive to...

a/n: this is with an already established relationship with them btw!! do not go around doing this to people you know!! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, and req, so come stop by!

please please please reblog

lucifer always seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re feeling down, no matter how serious the situation is.

“it’s just not fair!” you insist emotionally. “i mean, he was my favorite character. and he died!”

lucifer, bless him, doesn’t always know what to do with that sixth sense. “that must be…difficult. um, do you want me to get levi? i’m sure he’d understand your…plight…better than i would.”

“no, it’s fine,” you say, pouting only slightly. “i’m sorry, i must be bothering you.”

“no, no,” lucifer quickly disagrees. “look, would a hug make you feel better?”

a hug? now, that was rare for him to offer! but you jump on the chance, nodding pitifully. his arms wrap around you then, warm and strong, and you press your cheek to his collarbone.

“is this better?” he asks, and you nod against him, pressing your hands to his back. his broad and muscular back, you notice, and fully taking advantage of the situation, you run your hands across the muscles, digging into them lightly.

lucifer coughs slightly, pulling back. “are you quite finished feeling me up?” he asks pointedly, but there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“honestly? not yet,” you say, and his sigh is long-suffering, but he lets you continue mapping the expanse of his back, even as his ears turn slightly red.

mammon moves quickly, catching you before you fall. “hey, be careful! i don’t need a human splatter stain at the bottom of the stairs.”

“thanks,” you say, gripping his arm. “that was a close one!”

“and that’s why you need to pay attention, idiot,” he scowls.

“i don’t really need to, not if you’re always here to save me,” you say slyly, giving his biceps a nice squeeze. dang, he’s packing some surprising muscle there!

“well,” mammon says, as his chest fulls up with pride, “i know i’m great and all, but i won’t always be there. and hey, stop that!” he swats your hand away form his arm, and you grin.

“sorry, sorry, i was just impressed by your muscles.”

his brows raise and his ego swells. “oh, well, in that case,” he says with a booming laugh, holding his arm out to you. “feel all you want! i’m the great mammon, after all! it should only be expected that i come with great, impressive muscles too!”

levi shakes you, trying to wake you up.

“five more minutes,” you groan, not even opening your eyes, and he frowns.

“you were the one who told me to wake you.”

“that wasn’t me,” you deny. “that was evil me. evil me who ahtes current me. five more minutes.”

“no, you’ve got to get up now,” levi continues, and is stopped by your hand landing blindly on his face, covering his mouth.

“shhh,” you insist, and he sits there, frozen, as your hand moves down from his mouth, to his neck and collarbone. fingers ghosting over this adam’s apple, you stroke his skin, making him flush, and seriously, what kind of dreams are you having now to be making that face?!?

with a great deal of effort, levi moves your hand from where it’s traveling dangerously close to his chest and shakes you hard. “get up!” he says, quickly, and this time it works.

“huh? oh, levi. thanks for waking me,” you say, stretching. “why is your face all red? did something happen?”

“n-no!” he almost shouts, taking a few steps back. “will you just get out of bed?”

“i’m coming, i’m coming,” you say, pushing the covers back. “man, i was having a great dream, too!”

leviathans-watching's work - please do noto copy, repost, or claim as your own

[written-in-flowers]

Her Soldier: Demon!San x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubi!San x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst MINOR DNI

Word Count: 14k

Summary: Injured during a mission to protect Lucifer's child, San begins to doubt his dreams of having his own someday. It's only your comfort that convinces him it's not all pointless.

Tags: polyamorous relationship (m/m/m/f) bisexual!demonline, graphic depictions of violence, serious injuries, scenes of child birth/child labor, blood, blood and violence, angels vs demons, religious imagery, underage storylines, mentions/allusions to underage violence, implied child neglect/abuse, crime, mentions of childbirth death and complications, fluffy vanilla sex this time, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, breeding.

Pretty Lady Masterlist

Previously on Pretty Lady

Next >>

***

He’d never seen anything like it before. The young woman laid on the stone table in the torch lit room, sweat gleaming on her body and blood oozing from her legs. Dark hairs sticking to her forehead, her face squeezed tight as she made attempts to push the child from her. Women wearing black cloaks stood around her, dabbing cold cloths on her forehead and encouraging her to breathe between pushes. One sat at the edge between her legs, gloves on her knobbly hands as she urged the woman to keep going. Around the room, monks in crimson cloaks held black candles. Her cries drowned out their low chanting, an incantation to welcome the new babe into the world. San couldn’t keep his eyes off the mother. She looked so young. She couldn’t be any older than you, and here she was harboring the greatest responsibility a servant of Lucifer can bear. 

His seed. 

He’d heard people around her say how lucky she is to be pregnant with Lucifer’s child; it is a high honor to carry the King’s child. They tell her that she will be the mother of a powerful lord, who will take over the world and rule as a living god. He heard one midwife talk of Lucifer’s other children, and how successful they’d become. Very few women have had the privilege to carry the new Antichrist. She should be thankful for this child’s birth is a slight upon The Almighty. San knew he’d be more worried about not dying during the birth than the honor of being chosen.

“Your first birthing ceremony, son?”

The soldier beside him leaned over and whispered, not catching anyone’s attention. San almost didn’t hear him. He saw more blood staining the mother’s white dress. San shed more blood than either of his brothers, but this was different. 

“Yes, sir.”

Hector chortled. His former commander stood in bronze armor that popped against his green tinged skin. His horns, white and ribbed, curved from the top of his forehead and his wings remained close to his back. He stood several inches taller than San, and much wider too. 

“Is it always this…bloody?” he asked, watching the midwife reach forward.

“Yes, sometimes bloodier depending on the woman,” he replied. “It is an honor to be here, Choi. Not just anyone is chosen to protect The King’s offspring.”

“I know.”

The messenger came to the Black Keep with a royal summons from His Majesty to San. San thought it might be to perform a demonstration in the frozen palace in the ninth circle, since he’d done it before, but he’d been wrong. Lucifer had impregnated another follower, who was due any day. They’d chosen him and others to protect the mother and child. His brothers begged him not to go.

“You could die, San. You could actually die if an angel gets their sword in you.”

“Please, decline. You can tell him that while you are honored, you cannot accept. San, you’d be going to the living world and you’d be facing holy magic. That can actually kill us. Do you hear me? A holy blade can and will kill you.”

“Sannie, don’t go.”

Your plea had been the softest of them. Even if you didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation, you didn’t like the sound of it. The look of concern in your eyes haunted him as he stepped through the portal into the living world. He found himself memorizing your kiss when they arrived at the church. Standing in the circular room, watching a young woman give her life for her master, you kept rushing to his mind. It was possible that this birth would be successful and he'd go home to you. But, the likelihood of a fight was also possible. Every soldier faces the risk when they head into battle. San knows once he picks up his sword, he agrees to the fight. There’d been a time in his life where he’d join without hesitation, but that changed when you arrived. 

The image of you sitting across from him, laughing at one of his jokes and engaging in conversation, brought comfort to him. In a world of blood and pain, you’d become a beacon of warmth; the candle in the window or the light in his valley of darkness. When he first looked at you upclose, seeing you in the soft firelight, he felt you slip through the chinks in his armor. He still thinks about the vision of you on the soft sheets, soundlessly sleeping next to him the morning after. He’d wanted to stay holding you a bit longer. San wanted to know the beautiful “human” who’d wandered into his life so unexpectedly. He’s thankful you’d decided to stay so he can keep digging for more. 

“Father,” the midwife turned to the coven leader, “There’s something wrong.”

“What’s wrong?!” the mother panicked hearing this, eyes wide with fear as she looked between them. Neither priest or midwife answered her, but instead quietly spoke to one another. “What is going on?! What’s wrong with my baby?!”

San’s blood ran cold. He watched the pair continue talking before the priest went to retrieve a black bottle from a nearby altar. He bid the mother to drink it, telling her it’ll save her child. San saw him bring the bottle to her lips, and she gulped it greedily. Thin crimson trails leaked from the sides of her mouth, not going to waste as she wiped them. Suddenly, she screamed. A terrible, painful scream ripped through her chest and out into the world. Bony fingers gripped the sheets underneath her, and her toes tightly curled inwards. The midwives encouraged her to keep pushing, even as her screams turned into guttural snarls. San’s eyes widened as that final push ended in high pitched squeals drowning her out. The coven members awed and praised her as the head midwife pulled the squalling babe from her. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hector asked, wiping his eyes. “I always cry at these things.”

“Yes. It’s wonderful,” San said in a monotone voice.

The midwife wiped the blood and matter from the baby, and San finally caught a look at it. Skin the color of snow, he saw small hands and feet kicking around before being swaddled in a blanket. The mother beamed happily, laughing as she held her baby to her naked chest.

“She’s beautiful, Francesca,” smiled the midwife. “You’ve done well, my child.”

“What’s her name, Sister?” asked one of the attendants.

“Gisella,” the mother sniffled, unable to stop her happy tears. “Her name is Gisella.”

Francesca kissed her daughter’s forehead, not bothered by her small claws or dark red eyes. San knew once the child grew, the human features would start appearing. He wondered if any child you two had would be the same. His heart fluttered imagining you in her position, holding his child and crying tears of joy. It was unlikely you’d want children or a family, since you never showed interest in having them, but he knew you at least liked babies. You smiled whenever you saw one in the street, and some friends of yours had them. The dream of you carrying his children, being a mother to them would be a dream.

“Choi,” Hector called to him from the birthing bed, “Come see her.”

In timid steps, San approached them. The stench of blood grew thicker, but the sight of the newest Antichrist took his attention away. The baby had His Majesty’s sharp nose and round eyes, but her mother’s lips and chin.

“Congratulations,” San said kindly.

“Thank you,” she smiled, immediately looking back at her baby.

“His Majesty must be informed at once,” the priest said.

“I’ll have one of my men go inform him…” Hector said, but San tuned him out right away.

An unnatural breeze blew in from the nearby tunnel entrance. His entire body moved into action. In an instant, a figure in bright gold armor appeared from thin air, raising their longsword to slash at San. He blocked it with his own sword, then swiped at them. The angel, with their large feather wings, lifted into the air and more of them appeared. Then, the battle began. San and Hector stood by the table while their fellows fought off those at the entrances. The angel who’d attacked San came at him again, but a swing of his sword to the midriff and then to the back of their wings wounded the celestial being. San then blocked another angel’s sword, kicking them right in the chest and stabbing them in the gut. All the adrenaline he’d held back came at him full force. It fueled his fast, precise movements, causing his heart to pound in his ears and made him hyper aware of his surroundings. 

“Beat them back!” ordered Hector, who blocked an angel’s sword. “Protect the babe!”

He could not fail. If the angels managed to get their hands on the baby, they’d never see her again. One angel flew and landed on top of the table, reaching for Gisella, but a slice at the back of their ankles crippled them. San then stabbed them right in the neck, blood spurting from the wound and the angel clutched their neck as they fell. He had no time to observe.

“Can you stand?” he asked Francesca, who shook her head. 

“Take her,” the young woman cried, handing Gisella to him. “Please, take her.”

“Take the baby and get out, Choi,” Hector ordered.

He gently took the baby from Francesca, and held it close to him. Due to all the noise and commotion stimulating her senses, little Gisella’s shrieks nearly blew out his ears. San, unable to use one arm, swung his sword at any enemy he came across through the tunnels. The portal back home was on the other side of the church, underneath the Vatican streets. Urgency pushed him forward, and panic had him holding the child close to his chest. He moved through the caverns until he reached a large room where seven demonic statues stood facing the center. Yet, right as he reached the very threshold, one of the angels grabbed him by the metal arm guard and spun him away. San lost his grip on Gisella, who floated in the air before being caught by an angel. 

“No!” he screamed, scrambling to stand and rush at the man holding Lucifer’s child, but was then countered by another soldier. 

The burning heat of a holy blade seared his skin, sinking further into his body. All the air in his went out in a single gasp. His muscles constricted, but he maintained his own strength. As the pain took over, San reached for the dagger on his belt. The handle carved with serpents slithering towards the rose pummel, San sunk his blade into the angel’s exposed neck. Blood poured out from the angel’s mouth and artery, while more bled out from San’s side. The angel fell first, laying flat on their wings as they struggled to stay alive. Demon blades held the same power as holy ones. Falling to the ground, San took deep breaths on the stone ground. Each one burned, and he felt them start to choke him. He grabbed at the wound between his ribs. His vision started to blur and blacken, but he blinked it away. Images suddenly flashed before his eyes. 

Hongjoong smirking and winking as he stole a grape from San’s bowl. 

Seonghwa smiling widely, a book in his lap and the sun beaming behind him. 

The three of them sitting in the lounge, chattering and laughing together. 

And you. Wonderful you. Your eyes are bright with happiness as flowers grow all around you. Face down on the floor, the stone scratching his cheeks and arms, he held onto images of the four of you. The sounds of his enemies fleeing with the squealing baby became muddled and inaudible to him. He thought of your laugh, sweet and cheerful. He’d promised to come home. More pain shot through him as the magic took over, sapping more life from him. 

“Choi!” he heard a voice say from nearby. 

Before, he would’ve been glad to be dying for his king. He’d feel honored to die fighting. Not anymore. Now, he wanted to live. San only groaned, rolling onto his back. He struggled for a breath, clutching onto each one as it may be his last. He told Seonghwa he’d be back in no time. It’d been almost a month. Hands grabbed at him, and he left the ground. 

He told Hongjoong not to worry; that he’d been in tons of battles before.

He told you he’d be fine. He said he’d be home before you knew it.

Promises he’s unable to keep. San clung on to every breath, feeling the pain it brought and the hollowness of his chest. The sudden nothingness of the portal sucked more precious life from him. He heard voices all around him. Bright lights burned his eyes. Where were you? He wanted to see you. He wanted to see his brothers. Several hands laid him on a firm surface, and small wheels could be heard underneath him.

“You’re going to be alright, son,” he heard Hector’s voice. “You’re going to be alright.”

His Darling, who brought so much comfort to him. He’d never known real comfort until he ended up in Hell. The couple he’d been given to gave him the bare minimum. The witch, Hyeon, and her servant, Heechul, took him in as a baby and never told him about his true identity. He’d only learned what a family was when his brothers took him into their home.

Darkness came over him the moment the cart stopped. He forced himself to stay awake, despite the blood filling his lungs to choke him. San wanted to see you. He needed to see you one last time. 

“YN…”

****

“Wake up, you stupid boy!”

The world came to him in a blur. He blinked back the rays of sun peeking in between the cracks in the curtains. Outside his doorway, he heard the other tenants starting to rise from their corners of the shared room. The stench of sweat, illness and filth sunk right into his nose at the first breath; he coughed it out as he did every morning.  

“I said ‘get up’!” 

A swift kick to his ribs took the breath from his chest. San curled inwards on the thin mattress, groaning as the pain subsided into a dull ache. Kicks to the stomach hurt more without any fat protecting it. Immediately, the boy stood up from his bed on heavy legs. Ahead of him, a skinny woman with messy black hair in a bun walked away from him to a rickety dresser. He watched her start slipping into a ragged chemise and stockings. In a corner of their small area, a man in rags sat passed out against the wall. The dark bottle beside him told San he'd drunk too much gin again. He recalled Hyeon and Heechul’s argument last night, and the latter likely drowned his sorrows in the drink. The yellowish puddle around him made San’s stomach churn.

“Daniel!” Hyeon screeched from her cot, using his English name.

“I’m up.”

He picked up the gin bottle from Heechul, and finished it off. The pure liquor stung his throat, but relieved his thirst and woke him up right away. All around him, he heard people starting to rise from their beds to begin their day. He saw Mrs. Cimorelli pulling on the top layer of her dress. His eyes scanned over her slim figure, taking in her soft curls and olive skin. A shudder went through him when he recalled a few nights previous, when he’d offered her his last bit of coin for a suck. His age, fifteen, didn’t matter to a whore like her. San snapped back into reality when a sharp hand hit the back of his head. This caused Mrs. Cimorelli to turn her head. It took her a moment, but she smirked when she realized he’d been watching her.

“Filthy lout,” Hyeon scoffed, pulling on her worn out boots. “You’re going to catch a pox one day, boy. You mark my words.”

“Ah, shut up, you ol’ cow,” he snapped back, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“You're lucky I got work, or you'll get more than a clout on the ear. You get yourself right and get going. The overseer will deduct your wages if you’re late.”

San glared at her. He'd grown used to it since arriving in New York. Whenever she started barking about work, he thought of telling Hyeon they’d do better starving back home than starving in a new country. Though, she’d quickly retort with, “There aren’t any jobs at home.” He’d then tell her fortune tellers and mediums did just as well in Korea as they did in New York.

When Hyeon turned her back, San quickly snatched the lump of bread she had hidden under her blanket. Taking a bite of the hard lump, he glanced back at Mrs. Cimorelli as he passed her. Her small wink and smile warmed his blood. If he made enough, he’d give her another go if he caught her on the street that night. San walked past the other tenants in the small apartment space, nodding to those he knew and turning from those he didn’t and walked outside. In the stairwell, he heard the hustle of the morning crowds. He heard and smelled everything around him. He heard babies crying behind closed doors; he caught Mr. And Mrs. Wang arguing about Mr. Wang’s drinking again; he saw Daisy, Irene, and Sarah walking up the stairs from their night on the streets.

“Morning, Handsome,” Daisy, straight black hair in a messy braid and dress slightly askew, smiled at him. “We missed you last night.”

“Sorry ladies, I had places to be,” he said apologetically as he walked down past them.

“Will you be out tonight?” asked Irene, a red blotch starting to bruise on her peachy skin. “You know I always save space for you.”

“If the boss lets me,” he winked, walking down the steps to the next floor.

The best thing about New York? The girls. Back home, girls shared the conservative, modest views of their parents. The women in the brothels looked tempting, but they didn’t service teens. The ladies he’d met in America did him as long as he had enough money.

Coming out into the street, San took in the sights and smells of New York’s Chinatown. It wasn’t strictly speaking only Chinese people. A melting pot of different ethnicities and races lived in the small community, working and surviving off meager wages. Those with a bit more sand did jobs for the gangs around the city. When he first arrived, San got a job at the textile factory working the looms. It was a dangerous job for a skinny boy who barely spoke English, but it was better than the street. Of course, any money he made went directly to Hyeon, who claimed to spend it on ‘keeping them above ground’. Heechul worked in the fish market, coming home stinking of fish guts and stagnant water every day, while Hyeon was a seamstress who told fortunes on the side. It was when he beat down two thugs trying to rob him that he caught the attention of crime boss Lee “Benny” Siwon. Siwon led the gang known as the Black Lotus, a gang known for smuggling, theft, and drugs. He offered San a place in his gang.

San had been working for him ever since.

Making a right turn down an alley, he passed through a market street where vendors peddled their wares. His stomach growled seeing the fruits and vegetables being left out. He bypassed a fruit vendor, and with a deft hand, took up the topmost apple in the pile. The vendor never noticed. Nobody noticed. He waited until he’d gotten a good distance before he sunk his teeth into it. The sweet juice filling his mouth pushed back the constant seed of hunger. San could never take food home, otherwise Hyeon split it and gave him the small pieces. One might think a new country with better opportunities would make the old witch turn over a new leaf. It’d done nothing.

San finally reached a small restaurant nestled between a butcher’s shop and a chemist. The black lotus sign hanging above the door told people who ran these streets. He walked in with a small smile, seeing people already at tables and servers taking orders. The boys sitting at a nearby table took notice of him first, all of them smiling and greeting him. He shook hands, and took the shot of gin that they offered. As the boys went back to talking about their various runs, San lit a cigarette and took his first puff of the day. Any minute now, Siwon will send one of his thugs to give them various jobs for the day. Everything from passing on messages, picking up or dropping off products to theft and beating people up could be assigned to any of them. San hoped he’d be sent on one of the more important jobs for once. Things like stealing from rival gangs, picking up money from extorted business owners, or roughing up people who owed money paid much more. Siwon promised he’d give him a chance one day, but ‘one day’ is too far away.

“Hey boys,” a tall man with square shoulders and an oval face approached them. In his tailored pin-strip suit, he looked like any ordinary gentleman.

“Shoiming!” the boys cheered, clasping hands with the older man.

“I got your jobs right here,” he said, holding up a few papers. "You know your streets. You know your marks,” he began passing items to certain boys, “Get the job done fast, you get paid even faster.”

Shoiming handed everyone a slip, and San looked at his. From the scrawled handwriting, he saw mostly pick ups and drop offs. He sucked his teeth. Pennies again. He supposed low wages were better than none. He stood up from the table, holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, as he tucked the paper into his pocket. It was then that Shoiming stopped him by the shoulder. For a split second, San thought he’d get a scolding for his reaction, but the large man didn’t seem angry.

“Do your work quickly,” he said, “Siwon has a big job for you tonight.”

“Really?” San’s eyes lit up. “What is it? Smuggling? Roughing up?”

“Something like that,” he nodded. “Go on, now.”

San walked with a pep in his step the rest of the day. While Hyeon thought he was at the factory, he was really jumping from place to place. He handed off packages and messages that couldn’t be sent through official channels. He bought and sold the items given to him by various vendors. San even took time to go into the fancy part of town where he picked pockets. He’d gotten away with a decent loot: a gold pocket watch, a few coins, three rings he lifted from a shop, and a snuff box he stole from a fancy lady. Siwon will be so impressed, he’ll take him on the big jobs. By nightfall, San felt nervous and excited. He came back to the restaurant with his loot and messages.

“Good haul,” nodded Shioming. He took the pocket watch, two rings and the snuff box. “Siwon’s not here. He told me to tell you to meet him at Flannery’s Hall. It’s on King’s street, not too far from here.”

“What’s that? Some kind of club?”

“Yes, now hit the bricks. Don’t be late.”

He left right away, going down all the alleys and side streets until he reached King’s street. The nightlife started buzzing to life around him. New York never slept, he’d come to learn during his time there. Back home, everything grew quiet once the work day ended. That wasn’t the case in this new country. Life kept going even as the moon reached high into the sky. He liked that. He never grew bored or anxious in the hustle of the city. Walking down a row of clubs and bars, San stopped outside the one with the sign ‘Flannery’s Hall’ written on it. He only stopped because his stomach twisted tightly. A pair of women’s boots hung on the newel post leading down into the building’s basement. San tried not thinking anything of it as he walked through the doors.

Once inside, a new world unfolded in front of him. In the small bar, he saw men sitting and drinking at tables with pretty girls. Except, most of the ‘pretty girls’ weren’t girls at all. They were boys in girls’ clothes and wigs who’d powdered their faces. In various stages of dress, they moved about the room to their marks while one “girl” sang up on a stage in a falsetto voice. San’s insides told him to run, but he knew better. Siwon didn’t like people who didn’t follow orders. He walked up to the bar where a young man stood handing out mugs of beer.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man, “I’m looking for Siwon. My boss said he’d be here.”

“Nah, I ain’t seen him,” the barman replied.

A lie. He likely didn’t trust San. Most white people didn’t. He huffed and turned to the room. San tried not noticing the boys around him. He found them to be beautiful in and out of their dresses. He supposed them dressing as girls made it easier for their customers to stomach their desires. San preferred boys who looked like boys and girls who looked like girls. Of course, he kept that bit to himself. If Hyeon knew, she’d kick him out for sure. She’d rather he be stealing than selling himself to old men.

“I know where Benny is,” someone said to him.

In a very short night dress and stockings, there was nothing hiding the fact that they were a boy. Blond hair cropped short, he wore a thin robe that barely hid the naked flesh exposed underneath. He sat on the bar stool next to San, light blue eyes sultry and flirtatious, and leaned closer.

“I can take you to him.”

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“For you? Not a dime. I’m Lucy,” he said, “Benny and I are pretty close. I can get you in with him.”

“He asked me to come,” San said.

Lucy paused, his seductive stare breaking for a brief moment, “Huh, alright. Come with me, handsome.”

Lucy walked him through the bar’s main floor and up the stairs. He tried ignoring the workers servicing their clients or sitting in their rooms waiting for the next one. San enjoyed a good brothel, but something about Flannery’s Hall disgusted him. Not the boys or the girls, but the clientele. Old, wrinkled men who want things that real girls would not do. He saw one man in just his trousers come out of a room holding his shirt. Even after being with the person inside, he still sized San up with hungry eyes. He nearly vomited before moving onwards. Lucy led him to a series of rooms on the third floor. These rooms weren’t much quieter either. His body grew numb. He regretted coming here.

“Do you know what he wants?” he asked Lucy, keeping the nerves out of his voice.

“What every man that comes here wants.” He brought San to the last room and turned around, “Just relax. It’ll be over a lot quicker than you think.”

He blew San a kiss, and walked away. San could run. He could turn tail back home and pretend he’d gotten lost. He can say he got picked up by cops. But, he knew Siwon. The old man would see right through him. It wouldn’t be his first time with a man, but those had been different. He didn’t do it for money or by force then. San turned the knob, took a deep breath, and went inside.

“-And I told him, ‘Sure you can have it, but let me tell you, this snuff bites back!’”

Siwon sat in a well furnished room with a group of other well-dressed men. He stayed frozen by the door, counting down the seconds before someone saw the young, good-looking boy in the doorway. Siwon lifted his head first, gleeful and sucking on the end of a cigar, and smiled at San.

“San! There you are!” He stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. “I worried you might’ve gotten picked up.”

“I ain’t a whore,” San heard himself say defiantly. “I ain’t sucking anything I don’t want to suck.”

Siwon appeared stunned by his words. “What?” he said in disbelief, but then it came to him and he laughed. “No, no, Sannie. You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not why I called you here.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no,” he said. “You’re a good looking kid, San, but my girls have to be delicate and pretty. You’re too rough for that kind of work. Nah, I got a better job for you.” He put his arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to the men, “You see these men?”

San nodded, and he immediately noticed their fine suits, pocket watches and shiny shoes.

“They’re some friends of mine from uptown,” Siwon continued. “I told them I’d show them a good time while they’re visiting our little corner of New York. Now, I got the ladies and the booze, but we need the entertainment. That’s where you come in.”

“I ain’t following, Siwon.”

“This,” he gestured to another boy on the other side of the room, “Is Tiny.”

Tiny stood much taller than San, with muscular arms, legs and chest. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he might’ve been mistaken for a grown man if the face didn’t give away his age. San saw the faint scars on Tiny’s bronze skin, and the scab on his lower lip. He gulped down his nerves when the truth came out. 

“And you’re going to fight him.” 

****

“San? San? Can you hear me?” 

The voice came to him through a blurry haze. A gentle hand touched his face, and he instantly swatted it away. He pictured Siwon, the old man who’d caused his death, hanging over him with disappointed eyes. He’d lost the fight. Tiny beat him to a bloody pulp and he landed in the hospital. It explained the pain coursing through his body, starting at his torso and radiating across the rest of him. A low groan escaped him as a rough hand cupped his face. 

“San, wake up,” a familiar high voice said, not in the usual forceful tone but tender and calm. “Wake up, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” he coughed, the breath he took hurting his chest. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” they said. “We’re just glad you’re home.”

“San,” a female voice spoke to him. Hyeon? No, not Hyeon. Someone whose voice calmed every nerve in his body. The other person moved away as the woman came closer. “It’s me,” she said, “It’s YN.”

Opening his eyes at last, he saw you next to his hospital bed. Your eyes, puffy and red, stared at him worryingly. The girls in New York looked nothing like you. They had bruises or scratches from rough customers, and they carried that New York bred toughness about them. You had sand, but softness too. If he’d met you then, he would’ve tried keeping it straight and narrow. He’d get an honest job and marry you. That’s what couples did back then; they got married. But then, he wouldn’t know who and what he was. 

“YN…” your name left him in a hoarse croak. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” you sniffed. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” he said unconvincingly. 

“You got stabbed in the lung and started choking on your own blood,” said Seonghwa. “You aren’t okay.”

“What?”

Then the truth came to him. The birth. The angels. The baby. “Where’s Gisella?” he asked, panicking. “Did we get her back?”

“Gisella?”

“He means the baby,” Seonghwa told you. “They lost her,” he answered San’s question. “The angels got away before we could get her back.”

He’d failed. Once again, he’d let somebody down. “What happened after?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “You stay here and rest.”

“What happened?” he asked more forcefully. 

“They brought you here,” Hongjoong answered. “Hector told Lucifer they’d taken the baby, and, well, losing a kid isn’t great news.”

“You’re lucky he doesn’t blame you,” Seonghwa said. “The guy’s lost so many Antichrists that he isn’t surprised when the angels take them away.” He paused, looking down at his younger brother. “Let’s give San some breathing room. We’ll come back later, Brother.”

A pair of lips touched his forehead, and another hand ruffled his hair. San reached out for you, grabbing your sweater. “Stay,” he said, though felt himself dozing off again, “Don’t go.” 

“I’ll stay here.” 

“Until they kick you out,” noted Hongjoong. 

San heard footsteps cross the linoleum floors and a door softly close. The scent of oranges caught in his nose, and he inhaled it until his lungs hurt. Your fingers pushed hair from his forehead, giving him a way to catch your hand. 

“I thought you’d died,” you said in a whisper, afraid to break the quietness of the room. “When you didn’t come home after a week, I thought something happened to you.” 

“The birth took longer than expected.”

“It made me think of what it’d be like without you,” he heard your tears thicken your voice. “I don’t like it.”

“I wouldn’t prefer it either.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you said, sniffling. “You hear me?”

“I’ll try.” He felt you rest your head on the bed, still staring at him with watery eyes. San hated seeing his Darling cry. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’ll be okay now, Darling.” 

“I can’t help it.”

He cupped your cheek and wiped a stray tear. Whatever painkiller they’d given him slowly took over again. He didn’t let go of you, worried about where he might end up. 

“Just sleep, Sannie,” you said, kissing his inner wrist. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

****

He should be in pain. The bones Tiny broke with bloody fists should be cracked and poking through his skin. Blood should be dripping from the broken teeth and cut cheeks onto the floor. His jaw, his arms, and shoulders suffered so much pain that they must be in pain. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he felt barely anything. Only a dull stiffness in his muscles remained. A soft groan pulled itself from his chest, which did not feel broken or torn apart. He forced himself to open his eyes, but immediately regretted it. 

“Welcome,” a man’s voice said from nearby. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. “Name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name, son. What is your name?”

“Daniel,” he answered with his English name. 

“Your true born name, please.”

“San.”

“Surname?”

“Choi.”

He blinked the pain from his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He found himself on a cold, hard floor. Looking around, he saw empty chairs in a carpeted room. When he glanced upward, he saw a man in a purple suit standing behind a window like a bank teller. Except, this wasn’t a bank. 

“Choi San, Choi San, Choi San,” the suited man looked through a thick, leather bound book. “Date of birth?”

“July 10th, 1910.”

He sensed the man’s silence when he finally stood on his stiff legs. The man, dark skinned with tight black curls, looked at him in astonishment. All the breath came out of him at once, and he fixed up his suit jacket. 

“My-My Lord,” he said, “Forgive me. We weren’t expecting you so early. You had four more years until you came of age. This is, I’m sorry to say, quite irregular for us.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, confused. He touched his lip where Tiny slammed his fist last, and felt the split skin. “Where am I?”

“You’re home, sir,” he answered. “I am Charon, ferryman of souls.” 

“Okay, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re in Hell, my lord.”

San’s eyes widened, and his heart jumped into his throat. “I’m where?”

“In Hell,” he repeated. “Since you are a demon, you came to my station instead of the forest.”

“Look,” he walked up to the window, “I know I wasn’t the best kind of kid, but I couldn’t have been that-” then he stopped. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said that since you are a demon-”

“-What? I ain’t a demon.”

“Yes, you are. Look for yourself.”

Charon turned the book around to show San a list of names scrawled in black ink. He pointed to San’s name, “Choi San, birth date July 10th, 1910. Mother: Kim Youngmi. Father: Asmodeus, Prince of Lust and Lord of Depravity. You’re a Duke of Lust, my lord.” He paused, “Did you…Did you not know that?”

San stared at the names. That couldn’t be right. Hyeon and Heechul were his parents. As terrible as they were, they’d tolerated him enough to feed and house him. Hyeon always told him she’d given birth to him in their house in Korea. Heechul claimed to have delivered San on his own. No Youngmi or Asmodeus came looking for him. 

“I can’t be. I just can’t.”

“But you are,” he closed the book, “You’re a very important person down here, my lord.”

“I ain’t a ‘lord’.”

“Yes, you are. Come with me. The ferry for Depravity hasn’t left yet.”

Charon walked out from behind the window and walked him to the front door. He led San out into what reminded him of the ferry back in New York. Thousands of people moved in straight lines towards the different colored ferries. A melancholic, dreadful feeling carried through the air. San thought he’d stepped into the most miserable place he’d ever been. He followed Charon down a flight of stairs opposite the one leading down to the crowds. By the ropes separating this line from the others, San guessed he’d gotten special treatment. Charon led him past the flowing black river, the crowds thinning the further they walked from the main ferries. 

“Are all those people demons too?” he asked. 

“No, these are reluctant sinners or those who received no baptism or funeral rites,” he said. “They’re taken across the river to Inferno’s port where they’re shepherded to Limbo. That’s where the sin seers figure out where to put them. Don’t fret, my lord. You’re not going to Limbo.”

“Where am I going?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“The Lands of Depravity, located several circles above the circle of lust,” he said. “Your older brothers will explain more.”

“Brothers?” San gulped, “I have brothers.”

“You didn’t know that either? Whoof, whoever raised you certainly did you no favors,” he huffed. 

Charon led him to a smaller dark green ferry. At the bottom of the ramp leading onto it stood a soldier in bronze armor. Charon approached with a self-important smugness. 

Charon turned to him. “Here’s your ferry and your ticket,” he handed San a ticket from his inner pocket. “Hand it to the guard, and he’ll let you on board. It’s a short trip, but there’s plenty of food and drink there.”

“Thanks,” San said, reading the white ticket. 

“You’re welcome, and I hope you enjoy your new home.”

San nodded as Charon left his side. Anxiously, he walked up to the guard. 

“Ticket, please,” he said. When San handed it to him, he checked and then stamped an approval. “Welcome to Hell, my lord.”

“Thanks.”

San took careful steps up the ramp. It reminded him of the ferries back in New York, except this one didn’t have any people. An attendant in a purple vest and pencil skirt smiled brightly when he walked into the sitting room. She offered him refreshments, but he declined. He might vomit if he digested anything. Sitting on a chair, he kept an eye on his surroundings. He wanted to think he’d entered a sort of coma-induced dream. Right now, he’s really in a hospital bed. Any second, he’ll wake up and it would’ve been a big dream. 

He figured out he was wrong once the ferry reached port. The attendant led him to the ramp and gave him the typical customer-service farewell. At the bottom, he spotted dozens of people leaving their own boats to come ashore. He might as well be in New York, coming off a ferry from one part of the city to another. San had no clue where to go from here. Charon gave him no directions, and the attendant told him nothing. Staring around, he saw certain people in suits holding up signs. He spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit holding a card with his name on it. 

“Um, hello?” San approached him slowly. 

“Choi San?” the man asked with bright eyes. 

“That’s me.”

“Oh, wonderful,” he laughed with relief. “I’m Yunho. I work for your brothers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. We weren’t expecting you for a few more years.”

“Things happen,” he shrugged. 

“As they do,” he agreed. “Come with me. I'm going to take you straight home.” 

“Where is ‘home’?”

“The Lands of-”

“-Depravity, yeah, the Charon guy told me that. What is home? Who is there?”

Yunho guided him towards the turnstiles, “The Black Keep. Well, it isn’t so ‘black’ anymore, but the name’s endured the centuries. Your brothers, Lords Seonghwa and Hongjoong live there. When they received Charon’s message, they were overjoyed.”

“They don’t even know me.” 

“That’s not important. You share a mother and father. Do you understand how rare that is for a demon prince?”

“My dad’s a prince?”

“Yes, Prince Asmodeus. Charon didn’t tell you?”

“He glossed over it.”

“As usual. I suppose it’s excusable since he has a lot on his plate. Things have been heavy for him since Lucifer added more ferry boats…”

He brought San over to a motorcar. Black with white leather seats, San hesitated to get inside. “I ain’t never been in a motorcar before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

The car ride distracted San from the city around him. He hardly noticed how much it reminded him of the big cities of the world. He held onto the side of the car as it bumped and rode through the streets. Soon enough, they’d left Inferno and ended up in a vast countryside. It looked nothing like what he expected. Evergreen trees lined the rolling hills and fields of tall grass. The sun shone bright in the clear skies. This was “rich people country”, as Hyeon used to say. Street rats like them didn’t live in big houses with lots of land and fresh air. He knew it must be nice, but not like this. Yunho drove up the country lane to a large gold and white gate. Golden serpents slithered down from the bars that resembled flower vines. They opened on their own, letting them drive onto a circular roundabout surrounding a floral bronze fountain. 

“I ain’t ever seen a place like this…”

More snake motifs molded into the cream colored walls, with a long balcony above the tall doors. San stayed frozen in the car as he continued taking in the grandeur of the mansion. The people who lived here came from old money, like Siwon used to say. Their home didn’t appear brand new by any means, but it was not decrepit or unkempt. It amazed him. Not even Siwon could afford a place like this. His sleazy uptown buddies would never own a home like this. 

“Behold, my lord. The Black Keep.”

“It’s…”

He saw gold roses winding through the rails of the balcony above, and more clinging to the columns holding it up. San felt tears in his eyes. He’d never seen a more beautiful place, and this guy was saying he’d be living here. Impossible. Not even in his wildest dreams could he make up a place like this. 

“My lord?” Yunho opened his door without San realizing it. “We’re here.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “This can’t be it.”

“You’re right. There’s more inside.”

San couldn’t picture the inside. Slowly, he stepped out and onto the gravel driveway. Yunho led him up stone steps to the front doors. More roses. 

“They must like roses, huh?” he joked, trying to hide his anxiousness. 

“They’re part of the family crest.”

“What’s a crest?”

“Like a little picture representing the family. Seonghwa will explain it should you want to know more.”

Yunho opened the doors and San stepped inside. He’d been right. He could not have dreamed up this place. High ceilings, paneled walls, expensive paintings and drapes with a grand staircase could not be of his own imagination. He gazed up to the ceiling to see a garden mural with a naked woman standing next to a tree holding an apple. He’d never seen a more beautiful painting. 

“You’re here!”

No fantasy of his could create them either. At the top of the steps stood two men: one with thick black curls hanging to his chin, and the other with dark red hair slicked back from his face. They weren’t New York boys. They weren’t human. Their beauty surpassed any boy or girl he’d paid for back home.San saw the golden pins on their chests: a snake coiled around a singular rose. The dark-haired one wore a white shirt underneath an emerald velvet and satin vest with a nice tie. The red-head wore a similar fashion, except dark red rather than green. They were beautiful. 

“You’re more beautiful than I thought you’d be,” the dark-haired brother grinned, eyeing him from top to bottom. “A bit grubby, but with a bath you’ll sparkle.” 

“I don’t mind a bit of grubbiness,” said the redhead, also sizing him up. “I think it adds to his charm.”

The way they undressed him with their eyes didn’t bother him like it might have before. He couldn’t look away from either of them. He’d let them take a piece for free. The dark-haired one snorted with a smirk. 

“Naughty,” he said. “I’m Seonghwa.”

“I’m Hongjoong,” said the other brother, still looking down at San's body. “He’s the oldest. I’m the middle child, and you’re the baby.”

“I ain’t a baby.”

“You mean ‘I’m not a baby’,” Seonghwa corrected him. 

“But, I imagine you’ve done a lot of things kids your age shouldn’t have been doing,” Hongjoong winked, but stopped when Seonghwa backhanded his arm. 

“He’s a child, Hongjoong.”

“You think the people up there care?” he retorted. “They force boys to dress up like girls and fuck them for spare change. They’re a bunch of animals. I bet he walked around with a painted face and gave blowjobs for two dollars-”

“-I ain’t a fucking whore,” San interrupted him harshly. 

“It’s ‘I’m not a fucking’-”

“-Correct me again and I’m putting you on the floor,” San cut him off. 

Seonghwa laughed rather than cower away. Hongjoong beamed, “Finally, somebody with some fire around here. Are you sure he’s our brother, Seonghwa?”

“Yes, I double checked. It seems he inherited Mother’s tough streak,” he said, amused. It was then that Seonghwa addressed the injuries left on San’s body. He walked up to him, and tried touching his chin before San flinched away. “Who did this to you?”

“A kid named Tiny.”

“What was he? Like four-feet but full of fire?”

“Six-feet with muscles that no kid should have. My boss made me fight him.”

San didn’t want to explain it to them. He still tried wrapping his head around the incident. He always believed Siwon cared about the kids who worked for him. Whenever one of them was mugged or picked up by the cops, Siwon sent men to take care of them. As he thought about it, he realized Siwon didn’t protect them. He protected the product the kid held for him. It saddened him. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Seonghwa said. “Men like him only care about themselves at the end of the day. If he’d treated you like scum, you wouldn’t have worked for him. I’m positive if you’d survived that fight, you’d end up doing it again with someone else.” He brushed his thumb on the split lip, “Nobody is going to hurt you here. Not even if you asked,” he glanced sideways at his brother. “You’re the son of a lord now. Demons around here would be marked for death if they put a finger on you.”

“We’d make sure of it,” reassured Hongjoong. 

Their words should comfort him, but the comfort never came. He’d met plenty of adults who made the same promise. Hyeon was supposed to protect him, but she never did. Heelchul was supposed to protect him, but he never did. Siwon, Shoiming, his friends all meant to protect him and they didn’t. He meant nothing to them. He meant nothing to anyone. 

“Come on,” Hongjoong touched his shoulder, and frowned when San pulled away. “You’re peaky. Cook will make something for you. What do you like?”

Nobody did things for free. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Let’s go.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa led him into a fancy dining room. On the table, servants put a large spread of food. Meat, cheese, fruits, and small cakes laid about the table. San’s stomach rumbled. The two of them sat on the other sides of the table, watching him closely. A woman in a maid uniform served him pieces of chicken, potatoes and vegetables. San stared at the plate. It beat the bits of bread and cheese he managed to steal off Hyeon. He picked up one drumstick and bit into it. The juicy meat broke on his teeth, tender and steaming hot. The first bite preceded the next greedy bites. It was so good that San thought he might cry again. Nabbing a bread roll, he wiped up gravy to stuff into his mouth. 

“Easy there,” Seonghwa chuckled. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

“Or are you used to food disappearing before you eat it?” Hongjoong asked with a knowing look. “You aren’t the only person here who’s used to going hungry.”

“How could you get hungry? You live here,” San asked, food in his mouth still. 

“I didn’t always live here. Neither did Seonghwa.”

“Did you know who you were?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Seonghwa paused, “Did you not know you were a demon?”

“Not until I got here.”

“You mean to tell me that not only did your caregiver treat you poorly, but they never told you who you are?” 

“Yes.”

Hongjoong laughed gleefully. “They’re going to get torn apart.”

“Rightfully so. You weren’t supposed to be here so early. You’re still a child.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

“Yes, you are,” said Seonghwa firmly. “Just because you’re not twelve doesn’t mean you’re not still a child.”

“Nobody treated me like one.”

“Because they didn’t care. I care. Hongjoong cares.”

He’d believe it when he saw it. 

*****

Nothing beats coming home. Whether from a vacation or a night out, walking through the door into the comfort of familiarity relaxed the mind. San breathed much easier when he finally came home. He smiled seeing his bedroom, neat and tidy as he’d left it, and at the softness of his own bed. Seonghwa told Cook to make his favorite dinner for his homecoming; Hongjoong pulled out the “fancy shit” from their cellar. He appreciated his brothers’ attempts to make the event special, but the person who eclipsed them was you. 

“No fair,” frowned Hongjoong when you walked into the dining room, “Nobody said to look hot. Seonghwa just told me to wear my ‘nice shirt’.” 

San couldn’t take his eyes off you. In a velvet blue dress, he saw the tantalizing off-the-shoulders and the way the dress slimmed down to your shins. You’d put on the diamond necklace and earrings he’d bought you for your four month anniversary. He stared down your body as you walked to him and kissed his cheek. A single whiff of your expensive perfume had him capturing your lips with his. 

“You look divine, Darling,” he grinned, taking in the shade of your lipstick and your upturned lashes. “And all for me?”

“All for you,” you agreed, kissing him once more before taking your seat at the table. “I wanted to look nice for you.” 

“Do we really have to eat?” Hongjoong asked Seonghwa. He looked over to you, “She looks better than anything on this table.” 

“Back off,” San joked, throwing a piece of his roll at him. “You sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Oh come on,” he whined, “We missed you too Sannie. I think we should all celebrate you coming back home alive together.”

“We can do that another time,” he laughed at the weak attempt. He took your hand, noticing the ring on your finger. “I want my Darling all to myself tonight.”

“I’m not the one complaining,” you replied, smiling coyly at him. 

“First course, please,” Seonghwa told one of the maids, who bowed and went to the kitchen. “This reminds me of his first homecoming.”

“His first homecoming?”

“He’d gone back home for a special assignment,” he said, buttering a bread roll. “On their 18th birthday, a demon is allowed one free kill. They get their choice of prisoner, living or dead, and can torment them however they see fit.” 

“I tormented a guard from my reform school,” Hongjoong smirked over his wine. “I put a box of rats on his stomach and-”

“-San,” Seonghwa continued, “Was offered the pass too.”

“You killed someone?” you asked, surprised by it. “Who?”

“Lee Siwon.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was a gang boss who cheated, lied, stole, gambled, raped, and killed. He sold young boys to seedy old men. He forced kids to fight each other until they knocked out or died. He was your classic asshole criminal,” he picked at the soft inside of his roll, “My dad gave me the torment pass as a gift for my birthday. He said it was a right of passage for demons. You can really exercise your powers and spread sin everywhere at the same time. I could only think of one person when he asked me who I’d pick.” 

“Was he still alive?”

“Surprisingly,” he nodded. “I figured he’d still be in the same city, extorting the same families and fucking the same kids. I got my pass and went home.”

“And he saw you?”

“No,” San grinned, recalling his one year back home, “And it drove him insane.”

“How?”

“General ghost stuff at first,” he shrugged. “I would open drawers and cabinets. I’d move stuff around his house and office. I’d make random noises in quiet rooms, open windows, and make radio static during his favorite songs.” He then laughed softly, “Every night at exactly 3:42am I’d turn on his water faucet. Not a steady stream, but enough that he’d hear it dropping. It drove him crazy. Then,” he ate the soft part of his bread, “I revved it up. I’d make him think people stole from him by taking money and hiding it around his businesses. I’d leave messages to make him think people in his gang were conspiring against him. Whenever he went to a drug deal, I’d either take money or damage the goods.” He laughed softly, “He finally spiraled when the market crashed, and he lost everything. Without me, he might’ve been able to survive with the money he’d kept hidden in one of his warehouses.”

“But you happened?”

“A huge fire started in the warehouse and destroyed property and the goods inside. By the time Siwon put the gun to his head, he’d completely lost his mind.”

San pictured his killer: Siwon, his hair streaked with gray, kneeling in his dusty apartment, sobbing as the agony took over. He remembered the man’s luxurious apartment having been stripped of anything valuable. Without a maid, and his wife having left him, Siwon surrounded himself with filth. Stuck in an apartment of trash, no money to his name with only the clothes on his back, Siwon had fallen. By the time San finished with him, nobody feared or respected Lee Siwon. He only revealed himself in those last few minutes, disguised as his fifteen-year-old self. Believing himself to be in a delusion of despair, Siwon didn’t question it when San made him see more children: the ones he forced into prostitution, the ones he put into fighting rings, and the ones he sacrificed on his path to fortune. The visions surrounded Siwon as he put the shotgun in his mouth. 

“No talking gore at the table,” said Seonghwa as the first course was served. 

“My favorite part was when he came home,” Hongjoong smirked, hardly noticing the soup bowl in front of him. “Seonghwa and I used to peep at him through the holes in his walls. We didn’t want to force him into anything, since we weren’t sure if he liked boys. Imagine our delight when Sannie walked into the lounge and,” he held back a laugh, “And told us if we wanted to see him naked, we could have just asked.” 

“And then you guys fucked?” 

“And then we fucked,” San confirmed, starting to eat the soup. A creamy chicken soup he’d fallen in love with when he first tried it. “What did you do while I was gone?” he then asked, wanting to change the subject. 

“What happened between you and Siwon?”

“Huh?”

“You could have picked anyone, but you picked him.”

San’s eyes met Seonghwa’s from across the table. He preferred not to think about how he ended up in Hell in the first place. 

“He killed me,” he said. “Well, indirectly. He put me to fight this kid that was twice my size and he beat me to death.”

“You've taken out guys bigger than you though. Jongho and Mingi have told me.”

“I was fifteen, skinny as a twig, and tired from running errands for him,” he answered. The image came to him as he spooned more soup. “If he and his friends wanted to watch a fight, they should have chosen grown men, not kids.”

“That's terrible,” you said. Like he knew you would, you picked up on his reluctance to continue. “I didn't do much.”

“Didn't do much?” Seonghwa said, astounded. “You learned how to make armor and weaponry with just your abilities.”

“You did?”

“It's not perfect. The bark is soft in some spots.”

“It can't be hard everywhere,” San said, “Otherwise you'll have trouble moving around when you're fighting. You can try filling up those weak spots with some kind of soft leather or mossy chainmail or whatever your flowery version would be.”

“What do you wear?”

“Breastplate, shoulder arm and shin guards.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s meant to be a costume as well as actual armor,” he explained, finishing off the small soup. “It’s in an old coliseum, so it has this Roman era theme to it. The armor protects most of the body, but leaves room for mobility. If every inch of me's covered in steel, I can’t move as quickly. The heavy armor would weigh me down because of my weight and-”

“-She’s been learning how to make living things with her plants too,” Seonghwa told him. “She’s managed to make flowers that sparkle like gems.”

“That’s great,” said San with a grin. “What have you made so far?”

You began telling him about what you called “gem stems': a beautiful range of different flowers that glittered and gleamed like gemstones. You’d managed to produce opal, rose quartz and amethyst flowers. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, you said, proved a bit more challenging for you, but you’d get it in the end. San found your creativity your most attractive trait. He saw the ensembles you wore, the way you redecorated your bedroom, and the plants you grew in your greenhouse. Everything you made turned out vibrant and beautiful. Seonghwa’s experiments might have had various shades of purple and red, but yours popped. He thought of the yellow-mouth flowers you’d made variations of in your greenhouse. Instead of only yellow, you had purple, pink, and orange-red ones. Octavius’s offspring came in hybrid forms now. Rather the purple hibiscus shapes, you’d merged them with sunflowers, roses, and tulips. Even the more dangerous flowers, who you called ‘Spike’ and ‘Rex’, bore interesting personalities and colors.

San wondered, as the conversation switched, about Francesca. He hoped Lucifer hadn’t harmed her. She’d already been in so much physical and emotional pain. Not only had she just given birth, but she’d lost her child. He’d thought someone might tell him what happened to her, but nobody breathed a word. The mother of Lucifer’s halfling children never seemed to matter to anyone. She was simply a vessel for the child who’d one day destroy the world. 

He looked over at you, cutting into the steak dinner Cook prepared, and felt grateful. Demons could breed with other demons. Demons could not breed with humans, aside from Lucifer, the King of Demons. Demons and cambions did not typically reproduce because most demons considered cambions closer to humans. When he first entered you, he quickly thought about how you’d never have his children. He’d never met a woman he wanted to “mate” with until you. Knowing you better now, and knowing your status, it was possible. Not certain. It’d be difficult and there’d be many failed attempts, but not impossible. 

But, what kind of father could he be if he’s unable to protect them? He’d been trusted to protect His Majesty’s child, and he could not do that. He’d failed in keeping the child safe. It’d likely been purified and turned into an angel by now. What if the same thing happened to you and he’d failed again? The image of you in Francesca’s place, laying flat on your back with blood pooling around your thighs and legs came to him. Some women died in childbirth. His mother claimed she’d nearly died giving birth to her last child, who’d come out deformed and sickly before passing a week later. He didn’t want that to happen to you. He didn’t know what cambion-demon pregnancies were like, but it could not be that different from normal ones.

“San?” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he saw you looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Darling,” he said, pushing pictures of you lifeless and bloody from his mind.

You didn’t believe him. He saw your worry even as you went back to eating. San tried keeping up the charade by eating his own dinner.  The meal ended with a variety of tarts San enjoyed. He devoured the peach tarts, while you’d dove into the strawberry tarts. Your appetite never ceased to amaze him. You told him in your past life, you’d waste time going on fad-diets to keep yourself from gaining more weight. Now, in a world where that doesn’t matter, you indulged more than you used to. Cook’s excellent skills made everything you tasted mouthwatering. San didn’t mind at all. He loved a woman who ate well; particularly the luscious curves that might result from proper appetite.

“I’m heading to bed,” you said once dinner ended, kissing each brother but lingering on his lips the longest. “This dress is nice, but not sleepwear. Right, San?”

“If you give me a few minutes,” he slid his hand down around your thighs to your ass, “I can help you take it off.”

“No, I want to keep it a surprise.”

You kissed him one more time before leaving the dining room. San downed the last of his wine before standing from the table. Seonghwa and Hongjoong instantly gravitated towards each other as they often did when alone. It reminded him of the first time he saw them together, and he shuddered.

“Looks like San is going to get a second dessert tonight,” smirked Hongjoong. Seonghwa cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, “A nice, thick, yummy creampie.”

“Hush,” San laughed, cheeks turning hot. “I won’t be the only one tonight, it seems,” he said, nodding to Seonghwa. “You two have fun.”

“You too,” Hongjoong said, hazy from his tipsy state and Seonghwa’s full lips on his neck.

He walked out of the dining room to his bedroom. Sadly, he envisioned a child in the hallway. A beautiful girl with your eyes and hair, giggling and skipping joyfully. Perhaps a boy with his nose and jawline, playing with a wooden sword and pretending to cut down imaginary foes. San wanted to say you’d both be good parents, but could you really be? Andromeda was the kindest demon he’d ever met, who’d loved you with all her heart. You had some idea of how to be a loving mother, should you want to be one. But he didn’t grow up with such love and attention. Hyeon and Heechul despised him, and did nothing to hide it. He’d been another burden for them to bear. He never felt a mother’s warm hug and kiss or a father’s arm around his shoulders or patting his back. No fun holidays together. No cozy nights. Nobody comforted him when he cried or had a bad dream.

He didn’t have any of that until Seonghwa. Hongjoong might’ve been more of a sibling figure, but Seonghwa took on the parental role. He made sure San got a good education, that he ate well, bathed and tried making him the gentleman Hongjoong refused to be. He’d hated it at first because he saw it as a force to change. But, he soon learned Seonghwa didn’t want to change him, he wanted to help him. If San should imagine any father figure, it should be his oldest brother.

San walked into his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as he headed straight to bed. He pictured you, him and your child having come back from a family night out. You’d be in one of your lovely dresses, and he’d be wearing a suit and tie. Your kid would be put to bed first, wrapped up in soft pajamas and falling asleep as one of you read to him. Then, you’d both be alone. As he removed his jacket and unbuttoned his tie, the idea of domesticity between you both appeared to only sadden him. What if someone tried harming one of you, and he failed to protect you? What if he wasn’t quick enough? Strong enough? Brave enough? If he’d moved faster, he might have saved little Gisella. Lucifer would be delighted for another antichrist; lovely Francesca would be rocking the baby to sleep right now. But because of him and his hesitation, that had been shattered.

“This room hasn’t felt the same without you.”

San, unbuckling his pants, turned to see you leaning against the doorframe. You wore a lace night dress, a slit through the middle to reveal the matching underwear underneath. Your beauty usually distracts him from any thought in his mind, but not tonight. All he saw when he looked at you was Francesca and the baby he didn’t save.

“Has it?” he asked, knowing he had to say something to keep you from suspecting anything other than pure lust.

“It was empty,” you sauntered over to him, running your hands down his back and around his waist when he turned away. “And the bed was always cold.”

He felt your warm lips dot kisses on his shoulders, and your hands replaced his at his front. With deft hands, you undid his belt and fly, then lightly pulled at them until they pooled at his feet. In the mirror, he saw you clinging to him. He touched one of the hands on his chest, feeling the softness of your fingers and palms. Your fingers then intertwined. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, the temptress dropping in favor of the sweetness.

“Nothing,” he assured you.

“Liar,” you said, lips on his skin. “What happened up there? Who’s Gisella?”

“What?” He never recalled mentioning neither mother nor child to anyone.

“You said her name in your sleep,” you replied. You didn’t sound jealous. You sounded comforting, “Was that the baby’s name?”

“Yes,” he said, preferring not to lie to you.

“What happened to her?”

“She was taken. I…I didn’t get her back in time.”

“What do angels do with demon babies? They don’t…” you hesitated, then said, “They don’t kill them, do they?”

“No, they purify them,” he said. “They use their holy magic to sap out the demonic energy in their blood, and turn them into another angel. To Lucifer, that’s as good as death, but it’s more favorable than true death.” He stared at himself in the mirror. Even with all his muscles, speed and skill, he couldn’t protect the most important being in demonic history. “I’d nearly gotten her out. I was right there, YN. I was right at the exit into Hell, and they caught up to me. I…I tried fighting them off, and I did for a bit but then one of them caught me and she…” his chest tightened remembering the moment she slipped from his arms. “They caught her before I could. One of them stabbed me through my armor. I managed to stab my knife into their neck, but not in time to save her. They’d escaped through their own portal. I failed, YN. I was given one job. I had one job to do and I failed.”

“Just because you failed once doesn’t make you a failure. You did all you could-”

“-I have fought angels twice my size. I have fought against humans, demons, angels, archangels, cambions, and all the rest. I should have succeeded-”

“-You’re not always going to win,” you assured him, putting yourself between him and the mirror. “From what Seonghwa told me, the likelihood you would lose the kid was fifty-fifty. You might get the child away or you might not. It isn’t an indication of your skill or abilities.” You rubbed his arms comfortingly. While you have bite and bark, you also carried a gentleness he rarely experienced.

“I watched the birth happen,” he explained, “And the mother. She was so young, but carrying this big responsibility. I saw the pain in her eyes when she handed her baby over to me. She’d hoped I might be able to take her to safety, and I didn’t do that. The child she bore for weeks was gone, and she’d never see them again and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you said bracingly. “She must’ve known what she was getting into when she agreed to get pregnant. Seonghwa told me all about it. He says every few years a woman is chosen to have his kid, and she has to consent before it happens. This woman knew there was a chance she’d lose them one way or another. Now, is it nice that it ended up happening? No. The kid getting taken is not your fault.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t,” you said more firmly. “You did the best you could.”

“I should’ve done better.”

“Stop that,” you cut him off. “Everyone always says what a great swordsman you are, but you’re not going to win every battle-”

“-What if that happens to you?” he said. He cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes. Their shape and color had been his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. “What if something happens to you and you die because I wasn’t fast enough to act? What if we have a kid and they get hurt or die because I didn’t try hard enough? YN, you are the one person who matters most to me. I don’t want to lose you-”

“-Is there something that makes you think you will?” you said, touching the hand on your cheek. “I do have a shadow demon for a bodyguard, and Jongho and Yeosang aren’t weaklings either. There’s also two other demons who’d protect me just as much as you would. What makes you think something might happen to me?”

“The fear of losing something that makes me happy,” he said. “When I was growing up, nice things always got taken away. When I made some money, the witch took it from me. If I got a bit of food, she’d snatch it and give me the smaller piece. If I showed any sign of happiness, it disappeared somehow. I love you, YN,” he said, “And I don’t want anyone to take you from me.”

“Nobody is going to,” you assured him, kissing him lightly. “I’m not exactly defenseless either, you know,” you gave a small grin.

You extended your hand, and several thin vines extended from your hands and around his wrist. San hissed when the vines tightened around his arm, squeezing him until his arm seized up. As that happened, you flicked your other hand and out shot a spiked, magenta dart that lodged itself to the wall. San watched the barb start spreading a sizzling, black goo that burned a hole right through the stone.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked, impressed by the snake vines slithering back into your palm and the acid dart dropping to the floor.

“My Aunt Rhea,” you shrugged. “She’s been giving me self-defense classes. She says ladies need to know how to protect themselves from man-things. Gaia is the one who teaches me how to create and grow the flowers I work with now.”

“Your mother?”

He noticed your sad expression, “How to live again.” You held the hand you’d cut the circulation from, rubbing it gently, “How to feel whole and happy.”

“Were you not before?”

“Not truly,” you said. “I filled my life with meaningless, temporary happiness. I thought having lots of nice things and sleeping with good looking people made life worth it. But, now I realize how empty I’d always felt then. I never felt complete,” you brushed yourself up against him, “Until I met you and your brothers. I love you more than anything else, and not just because the sex is amazing.” The both of you shared a laugh, “I don’t want to lose any of you. I might have owned nice things, but the people I chose to share myself with didn’t stay long. I don’t want you to get bored of me and throw me out or trade me in for something better-”

“-There is no one better,” he reassured you. “No one.”

He stepped out of his pants, kicking them away as he cupped your bottom. This prompted you to leap into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He turned to the bed, where he laid you down gently before landing on top of you. Once your bodies met, his lips opened yours in soft caresses. The intoxicating natural drug in your mouth mingled with his own, and that familiar burning desire ignited between you. Usually, this sensation took him down a rabbit hole of overwhelming lust. Tonight, it didn’t seem to do that. This time, he felt nothing but tenderness as he slowly grinded himself into you. He wanted you, but not in the sexual, primal way. San didn’t want to fuck you until the sun came up. He didn’t want to ‘take you’ like an animal in heat. He wished to melt with you. After witnessing so much violence and blood, he wished every vein and muscle in his body sunk inside yours to make you one body.

‘You are the sun and I am the moon. Without your light, I am nothing.” 

A quote Seonghwa read in a poem came to him as his hands slipped off the straps of your dress. Seonghwa was better with words. He grew up with poetry and literature while San could never get a grasp on it. He often forgot names of poets or authors or playwrights, but he understood their words. He felt them. This quote bundled everything he felt for you into two sentences. Now that he had you, he would be nothing if you left him. 

“San,” you breathed his name between kisses, “Don’t be rough tonight.”

“I don’t plan to be,” he replied, pulling down the top half of your dress. He peppered kisses on your chest as your breasts spilled out of the cups. A nipple in his mouth, he sucked and licked softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

He exhaled deeply when your hands slid through his short hair and down his neck to his spine. Your hips slowly rocked against him, your thin underwear dampening between you. He wouldn’t use toys this time. He won’t call you dirty names, choke and slap you. San treated you with all the gentleness of a man holding fine china in his hands. He delicately handled your breasts, giving them gentle squeezes and sucking them until you whimpered. He did not bite them like he sometimes did. San teasingly wagged his tongue over each just to hear your soft gasps. He knew how much you loved having your nipples teased. It’s why they paid so much attention to them during those first few moments in bed.

Your excitement grew when he kissed between them and down to your pubic bone. Kissing along your hips, his arms wrung around your thighs so his hands massaged the inner sides. The mere scent and taste of you aroused him. He started at your knees before moving closer to your center, where you hitched a breath when he reached the very innermost corner. He kissed back up to your waist and to your breasts again. On the base of your throat he asked:

“Would you want one?”

You did not answer right away. You paused, staring at the ceiling. Right when he thought he’d ruined everything, you answered him. “Maybe? I never thought about kids before. I like kids, and babies are cute, but I never considered it. I never met anyone I wanted a family with, since most of them already had families.” Hands in his hair, you looked down at him. “But then, I met you.”

This brought you to his lips, where he kissed you as passionately as before. You both broke apart as if you’d just come up from underwater. You wrapped your legs around him as you kissed his neck. “Give me one,” you whined in his ear, rocking against him again, “Fill me up with one. I’d have one with you any time.”

He strengthened his arousal. His cock hardening against your inner thigh, he groaned as he pushed to your hips. His hands on your breasts, San moaned when a hand slid between you to his groin. He didn’t stop you from pulling him from his boxers to lightly stroke it. The pleasure it brought felt like nothing before. It might as well be the first time you two have touched each other. While he suckled your nipples, you took your time fondling his boner. He could feel your fingertips sliding over the most sensitive parts of his cock; he groaned aroundyour hard nipples whenever you gently squeezed the bulbous head. San knew he was larger than either of his brothers. They liked mentioning it whenever they shared a bed. The only thing that mattered to him was how much you liked it. Pushing into your fist, he thought of all the times you reached out and groped him.

‘I don’t know why. I just love having it in me. It hits the spot each time and makes me cum so much.’

San hooked his hand to the side your panties and slipped himself under them. The both of you shared a moan once his thick head touched your soft lips. He didn’t enter right away. San lifted himself up a bit more to see the two of you nestled together inside your wet panties. Your hands gripped his forearms for stability as you slid yourself up and down his tip and shaft. The sweet nub at the very top, hard and uncovered from its hood, dragged across the slit of his head. He took hold of himself just to move side to side over the sweet spot. You pulled your panties aside to give him a better view of your soaked pussy opening up to his throbbing cock. It made for a beautiful sight. He saw the need for him in your eyes, and he’d usually withhold it. San and the others enjoyed teasing you into madness, but not now. He sunk himself inside the tight entrance that clung to him. It brought a twinge of relief before he pulled out to keep rubbing. 

“Don’t stop,” you said, moving your legs further apart to give him more room. “That feels so good,” your eyes fell shut as he sunk back in and pulled out a second time. 

“It’s you that feels so good,” he groaned, sliding in and out a few times before withdrawing. He saw how wet you became each time he did it. “It’s your pussy that drives me absolutely insane,” he huffed a laugh, then groaned when he saw you stretched around his shaft. “It’s so tight every time,” he said when he pushed further inside, rolling his hips to get deeper, “It makes me want to breed you whenever we fuck.”

“Then breed me,” you said, head tilting back into the bed and hands gripping his arms tightly. “Cum deep inside until I’m bursting with it.”

Anything for you. Laying on top of you, arms sliding underneath your shoulders to keep you close, San fully plunged inwards. Even though his body begged him to go faster, he continued gradually. His lips found yours, and you each moaned into each other’s mouths. He never felt so close to one person, not even his brothers. Not a single soul alive made him feel the way you do. It was unlike any romance or feeling he had for anyone before. San needed you the way plants need sunlight; the way fish need water and birds need the sky. After what he’s gone through these past few days, he cannot be without you anymore. 

Even when you managed to roll him over, you remained connected by a few inches. Arms on either side of his head, you kept kissing as you brought your hips up and down on him. The faint smacking of hips on hips joined your moans and groans. He felt down your back to squeeze your supple cheeks. He didn’t let go, but he didn’t spread or spank them either. He simply held you as you went at your own pace. 

“San,” you whispered his name in the midst of your whimpers, “Sannie…”

“YN…” he replied, merely wanting your name to roll off his tongue.

You are the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Just like when he first laid eyes on the Black Keep, it nearly brought him to tears at times. He pushed his hips to yours, feeling his orgasm slowly climbing to the top. Your taut walls grew tighter as his tip hit that squishy piece inside, driving you to rock back and forth. He put one hand to your chin, thumb resting on your lower lip. The feeling of your tongue and lips around the digit made his jaw drop. You put his other hand between you to your clit, where he slowly rubbed it from top to bottom. He made sure you felt the pad of his thumb moving around over the middle.

He came right when you did. Your body stiffening, mouth hung open with his thumb still inside, you kept him buried deep as you shuddered on top of him. He removed his thumb to hear your moans uninterrupted, causing his own to drive further. He felt the distinct hot sensation of his cum shooting inside while yours covered him entirely. You planted yourself on him as his head stayed firmly on your g-spot, bringing overwhelming pleasure before it turned to sensitivity. 

San didn’t pull out right away. With a bit of maneuvering, the both of you stayed connected against the pillows. You hugged him close as he continued pushing inside you despite his sensitive cock. More deep, passionate kisses resulted in him remaining hard for another orgasm. San lifted your knees up, curling you upwards to shove in at a different angle. When he broke away to look down, he saw thick white fluids mixing each time he slid outwards. This encouraged him to keep his strokes short and deep so nothing spilled too far out. He can’t breed you if he lets it seep onto the bed. That’s awfully wasteful.

“Fill me up with more,” you said, hands tugging at his scalp. “Please, San. Please.”

“As much as I can give you, baby.”

He did. He came inside until he felt empty. You enjoyed this part particularly because his orgasms also brought out yours. By the time he felt spent, he still did not pull out. Holding you to his chest, he brought the covers over the both of you as you kissed wherever your lips could reach.

“I love you,” the words escaped you in a single breath, staying as close as you could under the covers.

“I love you,” he said back, giving light kisses to your chin and lips.

While it was highly unlikely it’d take root inside you, San liked the idea of it happening. He’d do anything for you regardless of whether it happened or not. You meant the world to him. Seeing you fall asleep in his arms, San pictured it and smiled softly before kissing you one more time. 

***

A/N: Such a fluffy good time! I kind of wanted to dial back on the kink for this one, so I hoped you guys still enjoyed it <3 Like and reblog! It keeps posts alive!

[srjlvr]

SEVEN ROYALTIES

“once upon a time there was a prince, who did anything he could to be with the love of his life” — park sunghoon.

park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers , one sided love somewhere into the story , heavy angst , fluff ! warnings: character’s death (not a main character) , curse words. (lmk if i missed something pls!) || NOT FULLY PROOFREAD!!

WORD-COUNT ; 5.5K+

NOTE. wow i dont even know where to start! it’s been a real while! i think like more than a month, i’m extremely sorry for being gone, school is so stressful, but i got some time to write now and honestly? i missed it so much!! hopefully you’d like this part and don’t let it fool you, just because i’ve been gone for a while doesn’t mean i’m not continuing this wonderful series!! it was also supposed to be enemies to lovers but i honestly failed miserably and idk how to define it- some mentions of sunoo’s story are dropped here too :)

“why do you always look at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i’m the most precious thing you’ve ever saw”

a few years into your childhood and you were already been told that you’re going to marry off to someone as soon as possible.

you, being the second princess and the least favorite one, had to deal with a lot of struggles through your childhood.

everyone loved your older sister more, praised her, cherished her, spoiled her, gave her whatever she wants.

you, on the other hand, had to work hard in terms of getting what you wanted.

you always looked up to your older sister, you can’t lie, you definitely understand why she’s getting all the attention to herself without even trying.

your mom is your favorite person, she’s actually your best friend.

some kids have hard time deciding what to answer when they’re being asked who’s their favorite parent, but you definitely know the answer already.

it’s your dad that never bats an eye to you, your mom however always tries to maintain her attention to both you and your sister. you’d do anything for your mom.

as much as you’re happy that you’re at least not a second option in your mom’s perspective, the king is the one who’s more dominant.

you’ve always tried to get your father’s attention, even for a mere second, but he always pushed you away, making you feel unworthy and sad.

at age six, you were forced to go with your mom to one of her friend’s kingdom, your neighbor kingdom.

everyone in royalty knows about the good friendship your kingdoms have, and they’re all surprised it still keeps on going.

royalty comes with a dangerous risk, people will always look at anything you do, and will not hesitate to attack if you happened to do something they’re not a fond of.

your kingdom suffered lots of wars, but won almost all of them.

at the very same day you were forced to go with your mom, you also met the person who finally had all their attention on you, the person who you could rely on no matter when.

“i’m y/n!” you extended your hand out with a smile.

“i’m sunghoon” he whispered and you tilt your head. he wasn’t shaking your hand and you couldn’t even hear him.

“what?”

“i’m sunghoon”

“i cant hear you!!” you shout and put your ear really close to his mouth.

“i’m sunghoon!” he shouted into your ear and you fell down while holding your ear.

“you did that on purpose didn’t you!” you pout and he laughed.

that’s when you realized his cute smile and the little dimples that grew on his cheeks.

he was cute, a cute and shy prince, you could get along perfectly with him.

and you actually did. you spent the rest of your visit just roaming around their castle.

he introduced you his six brothers, they were all very nice and funny, but only sunghoon interested you.

he told you about his interests and you told him about yours.

“i want to learn how to skate!” he said and you noticed his eyes growing in excitement while talking about it.

“it sounds really interesting!” you smiled and cheered him.

“what about you?”

“i actually don’t know” you sighed, “i want my father to pay more attention to me”

“who needs your father when you have me? i’ll be always here for you” he smiled.

“really?” you asked and he nodded, “really”

“promise me!” you held out your pinky and he locked his with yours, “i think promises are stupid, but only for you i promise to never leave you side”

“why are they stupid?”

“because sometimes you regret them, or even forget them, and you cant keep them forever”

growing up with sunghoon was something you could never explain.

having to suffer your father’s comparisons between you and your sister was something, but having to see sunghoon going through puberty was something else. scarier indeed.

the both of you were inseparable, to the point where your parents even started talking about marriage between the two of you when you were twelve.

every now and then in your teenage years, you’d come around his castle, your second home.

whenever you were pissed off with your father or just wanted some quiet, you’d find yourself going back to sunghoon, only he knew how to make you feel ten times better.

“what are you reading?” he asked you.

you were laying your head on his lap as he sat under a tree, it was a peaceful day and you wanted to enjoy some time with him.

“just some fairytale stories” you put your book on your stomach and looked at him who was already looking down at you.

“wishing it was you?” he teased.

you rolled your eyes and smacked the book on his head, “fairytales are the best!”

you returned to read the book while he kept staring at you.

“read for me” he asked and you looked at him, sharing an eye contact.

“hey”

“hm?”

“why do you always look at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i’m the most precious thing you’ve ever saw”

sunghoon coughed a bit and looked away, “just start reading please, im interested”

“the princess then took the prince’s hand and held it tightly, slowly closing the gap between them and leaning in for a kiss—“

“never mind! i’ll just go sleep” sunghoon threw you off him and laid down next to you.

“you could’ve done that nicely!” you scoffed and he laughed.

he can’t explain it, but something about you makes him feel warm and comfortable. he loves your company more than anything else in this world and there’s nothing he loves more than staring at your gorgeous face.

spending a few years together made him long for you more and more every day that he’s not next to you.

he fell in love with you, and he fell hard.

you weren’t better either, every day without sunghoon for you felt like eternity.

he’s the only person you can see your future with, the only person who loves you for who you are and the only person that has his full attention on you.

you trust him more than you trust yourself and you family members.

on royal events, you’d be acting like a married couple, shooing away the singles royals that wants to catch you.

you belong to sunghoon and sunghoon belongs to you.

“it’s nice to meet you prince sunghoon” one filthy princess introduced herself to sunghoon while you stood by his side, holding his arm.

“likewise, meet my wife, y/n” he said, clearly uninterested in the princess but as soon as he looked over his side and met your eyes a smile formed on his face.

the princess scoffed and went away, finally letting you and sunghoon laugh it off.

“did you see the way she looked at you when you said you have a wife?” you held a hand over your chest, out of breath because of the amount of air you let out.

“please, it was so funny i’ll remember it for long” he nodded and you continued making jokes about everyone around you.

you shared your first kiss with sunghoon when you were fifteen.

“i love cherry blossoms” you said as you walked together with sunghoon under the cherry blossoms.

it was one of your favorite things to do with him, walking through the long road, hand in hand.

“and i love you” he let out.

“what?”

“what?” he repeated after you.

“what did you sa-“

he cut you off with a kiss, your first kiss.

cherry blossoms fell from the trees and the wind caressed your skin.

his lips were soft, locked with your lips. it was perfect, the kind of fairytale you were always wishing you could have finally came true, with the person you loved the most.

when you parted your lips to get some air, both of you giggled and he put his forehead against yours.

“i said i love you” he smiled.

“i love you too”

regardless of the sudden confession, you decided to stay as friends, and when the both of you will feel ready, you’d try it out.

at age sixteen, your mother’s condition started to go downhill. she got sick and had to take medical exams every now and then, ever since then, you decided to spend time with her as much as you could.

“good morning mom! how are you feeling today?” you asked with a huge smile on your face when you saw your mother.

“feeling as usual, nothing new” she gave you a weak smile, “have you eaten yet?”

you shook your head, “i was at the garden after father had his daily complains over me, i needed to take some breathes”

your mother nodded and hugged you, “i’m sorry your father is like that, if being a selfish father was a competition he’d definitely win”

both of you giggled and spent a few hours together.

you never told sunghoon anything about your mother’s condition, every time he’d ask about her well-beings you’d say she’s doing well but she’s too busy with duties, and he’d suspect nothing.

at the age seventeen, your mother’s condition worsened, she had doctors around her all the time.

“hello mother” you smiled.

“y/n! good morning” she tried to smile back.

“how are you—“

“i must ask you something before it’s too late” she cut you off.

“what is it?”

“i’ve been thinking about it for a while, and it might be silly and selfish of me to ask you to do that” she sighed, “please promise me you’re going to marry sunghoon”

“what?” you asked confused.

“he’s treating you well y/n, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you happier than when you’re with him. you’re perfect for each other” she nodded, “i don’t have much time left, hearing you promising you’d marry the man who makes you the happiest, would help me leave peacefully, to know that you’re going to live the life you deserve”

“i promise mom, i promise i’ll marry him but please, you have much time left, don’t say such nonsense!”

your mother hugged you and thanked you. guess it wasn’t so well-hidden that you were in love with sunghoon.

on one of the days your father called you. before walking inside his room you rolled your eyes, what kind of a complain he has now?

“hello father” you looked at him coldly.

“y/n,” he called, “i need to ask you to do something”

“huh?” you looked over him confused, “you never ask me for favors”

“your sister is too busy with her duties, so i trust you with this one” he shortly explained.

“okay,” you nodded, “what is it?”

“i need you to come with me to visit the other neighbor kingdom—“

“but we were never on good terms with them, they’re hybe’s kingdom biggest rivals too!” you cut him off.

“they’re the only ones that can help us with your mother’s condition. we must do anything we can to help her” your father sighed, “they have a son who’s interested in you, they requested to see you too”

you shook your head, “i’m not interested in him—“

“this is the only way to help your mother!” he shout and you backed away.

“what about hybe kingdom! can’t they help in any kind of way?” you argued.

your father shook his head, “they can’t do anything about it, and they must not know about your mother’s condition”

“so going to the rival kingdom and risking your good friendship is better?”

“you’re coming with me and it’s final”

a few days before your visit in your neighbor kingdom, sunghoon came over.

before he went to search for you, he heard two servants talking about something that drawn him to it.

“did you hear about y/n’s mother’s condition?” one of them said.

“it keeps on getting worse, poor y/n! i heard she has to go to the other kingdom to ask for their help together with the king” the other replied.

“i heard they’re the only ones that could help! hybe kingdom knows nothing about it because they don’t want to bother them too much, i also heard the son of the other kingdom is interested in y/n, what about prince sunghoon!”

“poor them, i just hope she won’t end up with their son. i was rooting for y/n and sunghoon endgame”

“agree, i also heard their daughter is interested in sunghoon! this is risky” she shook her head.

“y/n is strong, she won’t marry the son i just know it” they both nodded their heads and sunghoon slowly walked back.

he refuses to believe what he just heard. y/n’s mother’s condition worsens? y/n marrying someone else? he’ll never let that happen.

“sunghoon!” you called and hugged him, “i was searching for you instead of you searching for me”

sunghoon was not responding, he was too deep in thoughts and didn’t know how to stop them.

“sunghoon?” you waved your heads in front of him and he finally came back on track.

“i was just thinking about something” he smiled.

“would you like to talk about it?” you smiled warmly at him.

how could you smile so widely when youre going through all of this?

“it’s not something that should bother you” he smiled and kissed your cheeks.

you spent the rest of the day looking out for sunghoon, he was different today, as much as he didn’t want to show it, you noticed.

the next day sunghoon found himself standing in front of his biggest rival kingdom. he never thought he’d have to step his leg into this kingdom, but he’d do anything for you as long as he could.

“park sunghoon! i’ve never thought i’d witness a hybe royal inside my kingdom!” the king teased.

sunghoon closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, “i need your help and you’re the only one that can help me” he said firmly.

“we’re rivals, why would i want to help you?”

“because i have something you want” he sighed, “i’ll be getting my kingdom sooner or later, i’ll give it to you together with my crown”

“you’ll lose your crown for something possibly stupid?”

“i need you to help princess y/n’s kingdom. the queen’s condition is getting worse. i heard you gave the best doctors that can help her”

the king laughed, “you’re doing this for y/n and not for yourself? what a stupid prince you are!”

sunghoon looked away, fighting the urge not to stab the king and fight him.

“very well, i will help in exchange of your crown”

their agreement was that the king will send his best doctors to help your mother, and as soon as sunghoon will get his crown, he’ll give it to the king. if one of them breaks the agreement, it’s off.

a few days passed, and it was supposed to be your visit day in the other kingdom, except that it got canceled.

“did you tell anyone about this visit?!” your father shout at you and you shook your head.

“how come he sent me this stupid letter saying that if we step into his kingdom he’ll declare a war!”

“i don’t know! i did nothing!” you argued.

“something stopped him, more like someone! i’m going to find out who did this!” your father roamed outside his room, slamming the door harshly and you flinched.

a week passed and your mother’s condition wasn’t doing any better, the doctors told you it was already time to say goodbye but you refused to do so, you refuse to believe you won’t be able to see your mother everyday soon.

everything was too overwhelming and stressful, you decided to go to your second home, you needed some comfort and it’s been a while since you saw sunghoon anyway.

“what are you up to?” you found him in the castle’s garden, deep in thoughts.

“just thinking about something”

“by something you mean me?” you teased and he smiled, not answering your question because the answer is quite obvious.

you then hugged him tightly, and sighed deeply as you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“is everything okay?” he caressed your back slowly.

“my mom isn’t doing well lately” you finally confessed. you had to let it all out and tell sunghoon the truth.

“she’s sick, too sick. and the last week was such a roller coaster, her condition isn’t getting better and it’s our time to say our final goodbyes, i’m not ready for that sunghoon” you sobbed, “i’m sorry for dumping it all on you and telling you all of this now when it’s late i just—“

“it’s okay” even though he already knew about your mother’s condition, he was so glad that you finally opened it up and told him, “i’m here for you”

he held you tighter than before and whispered sweet comfort words that always knew how to calm you down.

right after you left he thought about what happened.

he made a deal with the other kingdom, the king was supposed to help your mother, how come her condition worsened? something didn’t make sense to him at all.

“sunghoon!” his father called him and sunghoon rushed to the king’s room.

“yes father?”

“you’re getting married to our biggest rivals daughter and didn’t even tell us? are you out of your mind?” he shout.

sunghoon could’ve swore that in that moment his heart stopped beating, “what?” he asked in disbelief.

“the other king sent us a letter! inviting us to your wedding with his daughter! we’ve never been so humiliated, how could you betray your family?” his mother interrupted.

sunghoon shook his head, “there must be a misunderstanding—“

“how come?” the king asked, “your name is written on that letter! and it was probably sent to all the other kingdoms!!”

“what about y/n?!” his mother asked and his eyes widened.

“y/n…?”

“how do you think she’ll feel receiving that letter? huh?”

“no, no! none of this is true! you must believe me!”

“explain yourself then! we’re here waiting!” sunoo, one of sunghoon’s brother argued.

sunghoon sighed, shutting his eyes tightly and clenching his fists, “y/n’s mother, the queen, her condition is getting worse. she’s been awfully sick for a few years already, i overheard their servants talking about how only the other kingdom could help her because they don’t want to bother us. so i went to them myself, i made a deal with the king that he’ll help the queen in exchange of my throne—“

“are you out of your—“

“jay! let him talk” the queen shushed him.

“yes! i was ready to give up my crown if it means i can help her in any way!” sunghoon sighed, “the king obviously did nothing and lied to me! and now apparently im ‘marrying his daughter’ you know damn well that’s never going to happen because i want to marry y/n!”

sunghoon’s mother wiped out her tears and hugged sunghoon, “i’m sorry you had to go through this, you could’ve told us—“

“i didn’t want to bother you too, this story is complicated than you think”

“what about y/n’s mother’s condition?” the king asked quietly.

“y/n said it’s been getting worse, they started to say their final goodbyes” sunghoon whispered and the room became quiet, as a respect for the queen.

“you should go to her, to check on her” heeseung suddenly spoke.

“yeah, i bet she needs someone by her side right now” jungwon added.

sunghoon nodded and with his parents’ approval he went to your kingdom.

he searched for you around and saw you staring at your garden, he smiled for himself and tapped your shoulder.

“hey” he said.

“what are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

“what?” he tilt his head, “i’m here to visit you”

“don’t you have a wedding to go get prepared to?” you scoffed, “go away park, you’re not welcomed here anymore”

sunghoon had been stabbed a few times in his life, but your words hurt him more than ten stabs at once.

“you have to listen to me i—“

“there’s nothing to explain! i got the letter, saw your name on it and it was enough for me to understand this was all a game for you” you shout, “i can’t believe i actually believed your bullshit”

“i hate you, park sunghoon” you spit out, nothing but hate is in your fierce glance at him. he just chuckled, “you don’t mean that”

“oh i do,” you nodded, “and to think that i actually promised my mom i’ll be marrying you” you chuckled in disbelief.

“looking back at that promise, i realize why you used to believe that promises are stupid” you added.

“i’m sorry” he apologized, “sorry isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

“y/n—“

“just get out, please” you were being nice, asking him to leave and pointing your hands to the door although he already knew where to go.

sunghoon didn’t want to bother you, he thought you’d probably relax in a day or two, and he’d be able to talk it out with you.

you can’t just erase all your feelings and delete all your memories after so many years, right?

as soon as he got out he went to the other kingdom, to finally get some sense into that stupid, useless king.

“park sunghoon! so nice to see you my son-in-law!” the king said and sunghoon only wanted to punch his face.

“wedding? with your daughter? son-in-law? you’re out of your fucking mind!” he spit out.

the king only laughed in his face, “why? wouldn’t you like to be my son? i’ll take good care of you”

sunghoon rolled his eyes, “the deal is canceled, you won’t get any crown or another kingdom, fix whatever you did, you ruined my life anyway and you never even helped y/n’s mother”

“oh but i feel like i haven’t ruined your life enough”

“cut it off, we both know my kingdom will finish you once we’ll declare a war”

“what makes you think that?”

“i did” another voice was heard in the room.

sunghoon’s father stepped in and put his hand on sunghoon’s shoulder.

“and i’m afraid i also know too many secrets about you, old friend” he teased, “leave my son alone, and don’t you dare ruin his life again. he did a mistake asking for your help but he did what he had to do”

sunghoon’s father then dragged him out of the kingdom back to theirs.

right after sunghoon left your room, you went out to breathe and relax your brain a bit.

how could sunghoon do this to you? everything he ever said to you, every hug, every joke, was it all a lie to him?

there must be a reason behind it, but you’re too hurt to even care about it. no reason could be enough for you right now.

you decided to focus on being next to your mother, spending her last days together and showing her the brightest side of you, you didn’t tell her anything and she didn’t suspect anything so you just left it be.

three days passed ever since you last heard from sunghoon.

you miss him, you miss everything and anything about him. you needed his comfort the most right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him.

“y/n, sunghoon is here to pay a visit” one of your servants informed you.

“tell him i don’t want to see him,” you sighed, “and tell him to take care” you whispered that line.

you refused to see him in any cost. you’re too angry to even care about his feelings right now. all you could feel is betrayal, and hurt.

in one of the next days, you went out to the garden to read some books and write on your diary.

when you got back inside the castle you saw your mother’s doctors standing with their heads down.

“we’re sorry your highness, we did everything we could” they said and couldn’t even make eye contact with you as their eyes were full with tears.

you froze there for a few minutes, you knew this day would come but could never prepare yourself enough for that. you didn’t want to believe this day would come so fast.

“please tell me i’m dreaming” you told them but they shook their heads, “we’re very sorry your—“

they got cut off when they saw you falling to the ground, sobbing and covering your eyes.

you were crying like a little child who lost their ice cream, refusing to get up and screaming at everything.

the last few days were just about you and her, she taught you everything you needed to know about life and royalty.

“you need to be a good wife to sunghoon!” she smiled.

“mom! he has to be a good husband before that!”

“you’re right! if he’s being mean tell him you’d leave him and take all of his money” she joked and you giggled.

“i don’t need money”

“you don’t, but you do need to annoy him and help him realize he’s nothing without you!”

all of those memories past by your mind all day, thinking about your dear mother, who was there for you when no one else was.

“who’s going to be by my side now, mom?” you asked quietly, “i already miss you so much”

it was dinner time in hybe’s kingdom, all seven brothers sat together with their parents.

“sunoo, we’ve found the perfect wife for you! you’re going to meet her at the ballroom on ni-ki’s birthday!! isn’t that exciting?” the queen clapped in excitement.

“yeah, very exciting!” sunoo tried to sound cheerful, but failed miserably in sunghoon’s eyes.

he pitied his younger brother for being the only one who’s being forced to someone he doesn’t even know.

sunoo explain multiple times to his parents that he wants to marry someone out of love, and that he believes that when it’s time, he’ll meet the one for him. but his parents turned deaf to his thoughts.

“i already met her once, she’s really pretty! the perfect pair for you!”

“your highness” a few servants came into the room and interrupted the dinner.

“is it important? we’re having dinner right now—“

“queen (name) of (name) kingdom is no longer with us” the servants lowered their heads as a respect and the king got up from his seat instantly.

sunghoon’s eyes widened, he was left speechless and froze in his place.

“we’ll be going to pay our respects tomorrow morning together, prepare yourselves” the king said and left the dining room.

sunghoon didn’t know what to do. it has already been a week and he’s been trying to reach out to you, but you rejected him every time.

he sent you letters but didn’t get any back. he was hopeless.

what is he supposed to do now? he didn’t even say his last goodbye to his mother-in-law.

the next day, you received loads of letters from loads of kingdoms, thanking the queen for her service and mourning her death.

hybe’s kingdom however, came personally to comfort you and the rest of your family.

the king and the queen, and six of their children. yes, only six of them. one of them was missing.

park sunghoon didn’t come to comfort you.

“we’re very sorry to hear the devastating news, the queen was the kindest soul we’ve ever got to meet” the king shook your father’s hands and pat his back.

the six sons came to you and hugged you. you hugged them back and broke down. the six sons already became your brothers long time ago, you felt safe around them.

“we’re sorry y/n, we’re here for you now” heeseung, the oldest one said with a comforting smile.

as much as you were thankful for them, you were hoping to see a certain person, a person who didn’t even bother showing up.

it only added up to your anger on him, how could he do that? what happened to always being there for you?

“sunghoon felt a bit sick and unwell today, he couldn’t get up from his bed, he really wanted to come” the queen smiled weakly at you and you returned the smile.

you spent the rest of the day with your six brothers, completely forgetting about your father and sister, they were here to comfort you and be with you.

“sunoo,” you called out, “hm?” he answered quietly.

“is sunghoon really sick?” you asked and he nodded, “i think the news about your mother caught him off guard, he couldn’t even speak after he heard the news”

you pressed your lips together and nodded, “please wish him well, i hope he’ll get better as soon as possible”

“i will do that” he smiled warmly at you.

just because you’re hurt by him, doesn’t mean you don’t care about him. he still holds a big place in your heart.

the next days passed by slowly, you spent most of your time in your room, sometimes even refusing to get out for a whole day.

sunghoon crossed your mind every day. your last words to him crossed your mind every day too.

you said you hate him, but you lied. you love him, you love him too much that it hurts.

you feel too betrayed and hurt by him but it’s somehow the last thing that interests you.

you just need to see him and hug him. but your ego wouldn’t let you.

so you waited for him to fight for you, you knew he’d try again, and again, and again, that’s just the person that he is.

after a while of isolating yourself in your room, you decided to get out and read some books.

that’s what your mom would want you to do, to move on and start a new life.

as you were reading your book, you heard a familiar voice calling you.

“y/n,” your heart skipped a beat. you were too scared to turn around and see the person you were so hoping to see for so long.

“please tell me you’re not who i think you are” you breathed slowly.

“i’m sorry” he let out.

you finally decided to turn around and you met his eyes. it’s been a while since you last saw him, you missed staring at his beautiful face, and his beautiful moles that made his face look ten times better, his kissable lips that always felt soft against yours, you missed everything about him.

“please,” he whispered, “please hear me out this time”

you blinked a few times, still not believing that he’s actually in front of you.

“you didn’t show up when i needed you the most, you betrayed me and lied to me, why would i listen to any of your excuses now?” you argued, but deep down you wanted to hear him so badly.

“y/n please” he pleaded, “just listen to what i have to say, and it’s up to you wether to believe it or not, just please, i don’t want us to break apart without you hearing the reason behind it”

you let out a few tears to fall and slowly nodded, he was right, you never let him to explain himself, you were too selfish and cared about your feeling that you didn’t even care about his.

he told you the whole story from the start, and you were sobbing your heart out.

“i’m sorry,” you let out, “i’m sorry for refusing to listen to you, i’m sorry for rejecting you so many times, i’m sorry for telling you that i hate you—“

“stop apologizing stupid,” he chuckled, “it’s over now isn’t it? we’re even now right?”

“it’s over now, promise me you won’t ever hide from me something like that again” you extended out your pinky.

“but you said that promises are stu—“

“not when it comes to you” you smiled.

instead of locking his pinky with you he cupped your face and pulled you into a kiss.

“i love you y/n, i’m sorry it took me a while to get back to you” he whispered.

“i love you too sunghoon, im sorry for rejecting you multiple times” you giggled.

“finally! get married already and leave this kingdom please!” you heard your sister in the back.

“i’m sorry that my sister can’t be a bit more like your brothers” you awkwardly smiled and sunghoon laughed.

“she’s right though, let’s get married as soon as possible and get our own kingdom” he pecked your lips.

“IN TWO DAYS??”

“well you said you wanted to get married as soon as possible! i already planned everything!” sunghoon’s mother smiled and hugged the both of you.

“can’t say i’m not biased, i’ve been shipping the two of you ever since you both met” the king added.

“are they gonna have babies as soon as possible now too?”

“NI-KI!!!!”

TAG-LIST ; @jaeneohee @hsgwrld @enhastolemyheart @enhacatalog @kaykay11sworld @ipoststuffandyeah @beomsbeanie @queestionmark @ineedsomezzz @yenqa @nshmrarki @asteriaskingdom @ikayyyyyy @mrchweeee @artiiistyxoo @6yulight @woncoree (bold means cannot be tagged)

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 (bold means cannot be tagged)

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

[n3rdyw0rdy]

My thoughts on Vefve

I’ve been a fan of Ghost and Pals since 2018, and only in recent years have I joined the fandom. If you’ve seen my past tumblr account, you can tell that I’m quite the fan of Christopher Pierre (Aka: The Distortionist)

I’ve noticed Vefve when I saw her reference sheet for her version of Christopher Pierre and went down the pipeline of her works, and I’ve got some thoughts.

Selfshipping

I have no problem with self shipping at all, since I myself, if you couldn’t tell, make countless ocs for fandoms or characters I like.

What I do feel odd about is Vefve’s self ship with Christopher Pierre. I have heard that Vefve is in her early or late 20’s (I’m not completely certain, but she claimed to be an adult), which the character, Christopher, is 17.

I know she has stated that the version if Chris that she ships herself with is “aged up”, but Christopher, quite literally, hasn’t aged a bit in her art. Even if he’s supposed to be “24”, Vefve has done nothing to his design to indicate that he’s older than he canonically is, appearance wise, which rubs me the wrong way.

“He’s fictional”, I don’t hear you guys saying that when Erin Clover shipped herself with Bakugo while she was in her 30’s.

The Vampire Au

I wasn’t familiar with this AU or the fanfic that went along with it until recently.

I know that Vefve has made a statement saying how she doesn’t like the fanfic anymore, but I beg to differ.

For context, the fanfic consisted of Christopher Pierre as a Vampire, and Kennith Simmons (keep him in mind) as a victim. Christopher attacks Kennith and offed him, but then kissed the severed head of Kennith.

This fanfic is both odd and just weird to me. The random n3crophilia and weird romanticization of the situation leaves a weird taste in my mouth, and if anything, unnecessary.

I understand that Vefve wanted it to be a “horror” fic and not glamorized, but the fanfic itself does that. She even made the excuse that “vampires can’t control themself” or are mindless monsters, but even with that logic, I don’t think a mindless monster would make out with a severed head.

Even with Vefve’s statement of not liking the fic or au, she still mentions it a lot and even made art of the kiss scene, which discourages me to believe that she was honest about it.

Mischaracterization and Chrisken (christopher x kennith)

Probably the most prevalent excuse Vefve gives for defending this ship is that she “changed the characters” so the relationship isn’t as toxic as it would, and with that, fully mischaracterizing the two characters.

Vefve has changed Christopher to a “dominant nonchalant charismatic charmer” while Kennith is a “Sweet innocent boy”. This may be nitpicky of me, or over exaggerating their recharactsrizations, but I just personally dislike it. She also characterizes Kennith to be “child like”, which is really odd to me since canonically, he’s an adult and Christopher is still a minor. I know it’s only a one year age gap, but I have more thoughts on the ship itself below.

Now for the ship itself, I’m not a fan at all. Sorry. But don’t take this being the only reason I don’t really like Vefve, as seen above theres more understandable reasons for my distaste other than me being nitpicky. The ship itself doesn’t really work for me, especially by how realistically, it would be really toxic. Toxic ships have a right to exist, but I feel like if it got into the hands of Vefve or people like her, it would be glamorized to hell and back. (pun intended)

Other thoughts

Generally, the very risky and otherwise odd things she post of Christopher and the fanart her fans make her is very jarring, especially knowing the context of Christopher as a character and his age.

The dynamic of Vefve’s version of Chrisken is just really generic and oddly fetishistic. I’m not accusing anything, but being honest, their relationship feels like it was written by a person who just discovered gay people existed. Sorry. That was mean. But I’m trying to give my honest opinion.

Vefve’s behavior towards people who dislike her is somewhat immature for an adult. Yes, I do understand that some people send death threats to her which can be a bit overboard, but Vefve going out of her way to make post about them seems unnecessary if she can just block them.

I don’t like using the word cringe, but Vefve is cringe. Sorry. I genuinely hate using the word cringe by how watered down the meaning became, but I have no other label to think of when it comes to Vefve. Her fans are no different either. Sorry, that was also mean. Please don’t publicly execute me.

These were my honest thoughts on Vefve. I know that I might be dogpiled for even criticizing her for anything, but I feel like someone had so say at least something. If I missed anything, I’ll edit this, but whoever read through this whole thing and agree with me, have a good day. And if you disagree, also have a good day, but if please don’t associate with me.

And if Vefve is reading this, hi, stay cringe, but don’t thirst over canonically minor characters. Thank you.

[fangsforiris]

How would the sakamaki brothers react if they find out that they were the sons of the same mother and that they're biologically brothers but karlheinz killed their real mother and separated them . (Btw i reaaally love your blog 💕💕)

Sakamaki Brothers’ Reaction to Being Blood Siblings Related by 1 Mother

——————————

Shū:

“We are blood related…? Seriously…? And here I thought I only had to deal with Reiji. …It seems as if that man will never rest. …That poor woman…”

• Shū wouldn’t be as shocked as compared to the others. He’s been used to Karlheinz’s plans for years longer than the others.

• However, he’d be more tired if anything. Like always, he can never be rid himself of his father and his constant need for his plans to succeed.

• I doubt his relationships with the brothers will change, since beyond this revelation, they are all still the same people. Within the same environment which conditions them to act within a hostile manner.

Reiji:

“Father… he… No. I refuse to believe such a sentiment. I already loathe being related to that deadbeat enough, but this? …What will become of us now?”

• He’d be the most in denial. As in, it would take Reiji the longest to accept that this was even a possibility in the cards.

• Reiji is known to idolize his father, so for this to occur? I think it would heavily confuse his loyalties.

• However, since he does have somewhat of a maternal instinct for his siblings, mainly younger, he’d use this as an opportunity to get closer to them and have more of a ‘close knitted family,’ in the way the Mukami’s do.

Ayato:

“Ehh!? What do you mean we all shared a mother?! That doesn’t even make sense…! We don’t even look alike? Gah… that old man has some explaining to do!”

• Most confused 100%

• Either he skipped a few biology lessons or fell asleep in them, but even he knows that it doesn’t add up as much as it’s supposed to.

• I think he’d use this as a way to perhaps become a bit closer to all of the brothers and in a sense, make amends for the past teasing/borderline bullying he participated in (mainly towards Subaru.)

• Since he is considered to be the most ‘humane’ out of the brothers, it isn’t as far off for him to have empathy and to want to start brand new.

Kanato:

“We… all share a mother? What do you mean? Am I not my mothers son? I don’t understand, Teddy. What are is he saying…? What are you saying!? This does not make any sense…!”

• I think he’d also be in denial, or mainly shocked beyond comprehension.

• It’ll take Kanato a bit to understand, especially since this will deeply impact his pre-established identity issues.

• He was heavily narcissistic about his hair due to it being almost exact to the late Cordelia’s, so for him to not have that connection, one that he founded his entire self-esteem on, it would be detrimental.

Laito:

“So it seems we were fooled, weren’t we? Fufu~ That man certainly knows how to cause a commotion. …That woman then is no mother to me…”

• Out of everyone, I think Laito would want to do further research into this woman and who she was.

• Due to his complicated relationship with his mother, and his pre-established self-loathing, I think this will make him wonder if in another life, he’d be able to have a healthy correlation with mother figures and sexual activity as a whole.

• Laito already does somewhat act as an ‘older brother’ towards Ayato, Kanato, and Subaru, but perhaps this would allow him to get away with more in the scope of caring and involvement.

Subaru:

“He… killed her…? That damned old man! He’s selfish to the core, not one ounce of feeling to be found in him…! That’s all we are… just pawns…”

• Subaru already hated his father due to what he did to his mother and himself. So to find out that he shared an actual blood bond with his brothers, and not just a half-bond would be almost incomprehensible to him.

• He’s always wondered what it’d be like to share a fully-blooded sibling, so to find out it was always here… is bittersweet. Especially since the pre-established relationships between him and the rest of them are sour, and based on tearing down his self-esteem.

• He’d feel the most bad for the woman, and whatever alternate universe could’ve arised from him having a good parent that didn’t project all of their emotional turmoil onto him.

[accio-victuuri]

my mostly calm(er) reaction and reflection post on the magnolia awards nomination list 🥀

sir i don’t understand. why aren’t good people rewarded? // as the old saying goes, evil doers get gold belts and good people can’t even keep their corpses. { war of faith episode 24 }

the quote above is one of my favorites from the show and i feel the truth to it now more than ever. i have already posted about my initial rage and that hasn’t changed, it’s not okay and will never be. i’m mostly a pacifist but i’m not a doormat. there is a reason why the WOF account or the other nominees like the director and “best actor” have not posted their thanks as soon as the nominations were out because they are guilty. it speaks volumes and they should be ashamed of themselves. if you look at the most recent post for WOF weibo account, they are being torn apart. not to mention blog accounts and the same audience who supported the drama calling them out.

this should not be a surprise to those of us who watched the show and understood it’s meaning. because this is what the show thought us, to not stay quiet when there is injustice. much like how wei ruolai said that he is ashamed to be in this mountain. how he was not afraid to leave his dream and literally walk back to Jiangxi for what he believes is the right thing to do. i don’t think you will fully understand the hurt, this is not just me being a yibo stan but someone who saw myself in Wei Ruolai.

the drama was about how the youth can change the world. the reality, and what just happened is proving otherwise. i’m sharing this quote here cause it perfectly explains the problem:

"If the youth are strong, the country will be strong" but the truth is the youth are strong, but you don't recognize it.

this incident exposed the problem with these acting awards. i daresay, not only that, but with other industries where everything has to be about seniority. which in turn makes the younger generation feel burned out and contribute to wanting to lie flat. because what’s the point if the game is rigged. the CCP have always given importance to the youth. often inserting the message of why you all should have kids now because they are the future. they are important blah blah blah — but this simple award? you can’t even show fairness? Wang Yibo is the poster boy for CCP’s propaganda on how an upstanding Chinese Youth should be. He has been in the most recent years, we all cannot deny that with how prominent he is showing up in nationalistic programs tied to the “youth”. So if someone as popular/well-known/talented as WYB can’t be treated fairly. can’t be rewarded with his efforts, then what more for a normal citizen?

WOF team and Magnolia Awards really opened a can of worms here. It goes deeper than nominations and a fandom. In a way, it’s good how this exposed the corrupt system and contributed to why people are so angry. The tag for him continued to stay on top because a lot of netizen can relate, even if you didn’t watch it, i bet they had something to say. It’s been happening for some time but definitely is magnified because of Yibo’s popularity and it made them look really bad.

I am aware of Yibo’s chances with the history of older nominees when it comes to this Awards show but I am confident that he had a good chance of getting it. What made me livid was Wang Yang taking the nom. You can slice and dice it however you want, but Yibo carried that show. He is the main lead. The story is about Wei Ruolai. If Yibo didn’t get it i will still speak up but with the betrayal, not only to him but also the screenwriter — i can’t stay silent and be the “rational” vic that most of you are familiar with. WAR OF FAITH is still one of my favorite dramas with how it affected me and is largely contributing to why i’m reacting the way i do.

I’m not gonna defend anyone. Only Wang Yibo. Honestly. Fuck them all. I watched the show and supported it for WYB — everyone else don’t matter. I won’t post any hate message on their accounts but they get no love from me either.

So now let me get to the good part. Because no matter how hurt we all are, there is still a lot of good that came out of this. The silver lining(s) if you will.

1. Everyone who said that WYB has some backers can fuck off. This proves that he hasn’t. He has no background. There is no big-name pulling the strings for him. He is where he is because he is WANG YIBO. His name alone is enough. WOF got the green light because Wang Yibo’s name was on it. Now more than ever, it is proven that he is where he is because of who he is and what he can bring to the table.

2. We are reminded once again that producers are not our friends. LOL. if you know, you know. it’s all business. So don’t kiss their ass.

3. The fact that he trended #1 for hours, and still is right now at number 4 is proof of how great he represented the character of Wei Ruolai. People now recognize him as an actor who deserves a nomination and a win. The general public are now on his side. He is the underdog and there is nothing more that we want to see than a beaten down person rise above it and win. In a way, this creates more buzz and anticipation for his next movie that will be out. 🫶🏼

4. This has really set him apart from his peers of idol actors who crossed over to being professionals. He did it so effectively and in a short span of time. What happened is sad, but he won people’s hearts and those who already do stan him are more geared up to support him in the future. 💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼

I’m happy for WOF’s nomination. If i’m being honest, it was a sure thing. I’m proud WYB was part and led this amazing drama to what it is. He will continue to give us more excellent works because that is his gift to the audience who always support him.

In the next coming days, if WYB or most likely YBO puts something out, that’s what i’m gonna follow. The most i will do is congratulate WOF, but the others? no thank you.

[thisiskindagross]

I got an ask recently, and while I didn’t wanna get into everything in it, I do feel the need to clarify some things with the comic’s trajectory,

The upped rating for SaM was a personal choice. I’ve always been interested in mature stories, but with how abruptly SaM started, and it was my first real webcomic, I felt inclined to keep it light most of the time. 

But the older I’ve gotten (heck, SaM is almost 10 years old wow!), my desire for mature fiction has increased. I’ve staved off upping the rating for at least the last 3 to 4 years because I was under the impression readers wanted me to keep it pg13.

Then I talked to some friends and read various reader feedback about it, and I know SaM will still take a few more years to finish, given I’m a one man labor source. But I want to fully enjoy the experience while I still have it. So I upped the rating because I want to do mature themes every now and then (it’s just a bonus a lot of my audience wanted me to up it, as well). That doesn’t just go for sexual content, I plan on also upping the violence/action, etc (with warnings obv for people who still want to read, but who don’t want to see such content).

The spacing out of these recent NSFW updates is due to the fact that it takes me months to draw these pages. I could technically wait until all of the updates are done, then splice them together in a long update for the censored public, but then you guys wouldn’t get a single update from SaM for 3 to 4 months. So I opt to keep my regular pacing (somewhere between 10-20 panels an update). I thought that would be preferable than making y’all wait for months on end for something.

So far I’ve only gotten mostly positive feedback for deciding to update the rating, but I’m sure there still will be people who aren’t thrilled with it. Either way, I plan to continue SaM’s story just as intended, there will just be updates here and there that need to be censored because of TOS, unless you want to see them on my Patreon, which, as always, has been optional.

Thank you guys for understanding! I just wanted to clarify the recent rating change, and let you know the story will remain as intended, even as my media interests progress with more adult themes to accompany it. I hope you guys enjoy the new content this year! <3

[laenordeservedbetter]

Just idea to look over for if/when you feel like doing requests.

Sam and reader have always been close. The two grew up together. But after everything that happened in Woodsboro and them moving to New York, the two have grown even closer. Closer to the point where Sam sleeps in Readers bed because of her nightmares and one night when Sam thinks reader is asleep, she confesses her feelings to rs 'sleeping' figure.

Sweet Nothing

Words: 1.2k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of nightmares, cussing, fluff, humor in things that are supposed to be serious

This is set before the events of Scream VI. Reader is Tara and Sam’s roommate here, not Quinn.

Title is based on the song ‘Sweet Nothing’ by Taylor Swift :)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

Sam sleeping in your bed had turned into a customary routine pretty quickly after you moved to New York. It was no surprise, really. The two of you have stuck by each other your whole lives. Though, given everything that befell the town of Woodsboro, it’s safe to say that you and Sam had gotten closer.

However, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Moving to NYC helped, sure, but that did not fully erase the remnants of the trauma it has given all of you. Especially Sam.

The nights were often hard to endure because of the nightmares. It was why Sam didn’t get much sleep. You found that out when you saw her on the living room couch staring blankly at the television with bloodshot eyes. She was barely moving when you saw her. That was when she opened up about her nightmares, how she couldn’t sleep well. In turn, you invited her to rest in your room.

It seemed silly at first, but it proved to be fruitful when Sam admitted the next day that because of the sleepover, she had had the best sleep she's gotten in months since the murders.

From that day onwards, Sam has been staying in your bed and is rarely found in her own room to the point where Tara suggested that the three of you should get a new roommate who’ll occupy Sam’s space since the older Carpenter sibling doesn’t sleep there anymore.

But as much as your sleepovers are helping Sam, it is also torture for her.

It was no secret that she harbored feelings for you. How could she not? You grew up together, went through so much shit together, and left the fucked up town of Woodsboro together. Still, those things can’t encompass how she feels about you. Every minute you spend with each other singularly adds fuel to an open fire. Even if you spend time apart, it won’t matter. The feelings are still there to eat her up. But she’d rather take that any day than losing you.

“Are you awake?” Sam glances at you over her shoulder. You have your back turned, eyes closed. She sighs when you don’t reply. “Guess not.”

She tries to fall asleep as well, but it is proving to be difficult since this is one of the nights where her affection for you threatens to eat her alive. If nightmares aren’t her problem, it’s her feelings. No matter what she does, there’s always something keeping her up at night. Although if you were to ask, she’d say that she very much prefers the latter. Looking at you brings Sam a calmness that pulls her back to reality when the darkness is trying to drag her away.

In a split-second decision, Sam attempts to impart a description of how vast her love (it took her a long time to agnize that it was no longer a stupid crush) is for you to your sleeping figure.

“I didn’t find a safe space until I met you. To other people, I’m strong, despite all the fucked up shit I went through. Only in your arms do I allow myself to break. You see who I am and not who I appear to be. You are who I look forward to seeing at the end of the day. It is you who I would do anything for. You’re who I… love.” Sam breathes out, smiling at her own words. “Feels good to finally say that out loud.

“Loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. Though it took me a long time to understand what I feel, I am grateful because I finally found a name to the crazy storm of emotions that I experience whenever you look at me. And, fuck, I’d do anything for you to keep looking at me the way you do. But I’d never have the guts to say that when you are awake because what if you stop? That would certainly change things. I don’t want to lose you . . . It is enough for me to love you from afar. I don’t want to be selfish, pining for someone I can’t have. So, I’ll settle for this, hoping that that would be enough.”

Sam feels an invisible weight lift off of her shoulder. She did it. She finally confessed her feelings despite knowing that it doesn’t count since you aren't conscious to hear this. If Tara saw what is happening, she would likely call Sam out on being a chicken. The Carpenter girl closes her eyes, sleep creeping up on her before…

“You know, out of all the confessions I had imagined I would get from you, I would’ve never expected hearing that.” You turn to your side, facing Sam and you look on with amusement as her eyes widen in fear. “Not complaining, by the way. What you said was sweet.”

Sam looks away, her hand covering her eyes as if that would make this situation any less embarrassing. She waits for the ground to swallow her whole, but that moment never comes. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow, “For what?”

“I’m sorry I feel this way.” She clarifies, “I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I ruined everything. I’m so sorry.” Tears start to prickle in her eyes.

You seem to think ahead, considering how you sit up, gingerly pulling Sam’s hand away from her face before she can hurriedly wipe out the tears. “Sam, you didn’t ruin anything.” You assure her. It hurts you to know that she thinks that she is ruining what you have by falling in love with you, as if you haven’t made it obvious that you feel the same.

“I didn’t?” Sam appears confused, half-expecting you to turn away and leave.

“I love you too.” You admit, sheepishly. “I had a whole plan to declare it. I was gonna take you out tomorrow to your favorite diner. Then, I would have asked you to walk with me and confess my feelings while watching the gorgeous scenery, including all that sappy shit that we’ve only ever seen in movies, but I guess this works too.”

Sam blinks repeatedly (you would’ve thought she was malfunctioning if you didn’t know her) prior to getting on top of you to hit you with a pillow. “So you’re telling me that we could’ve gotten that instead of whatever this is? Why. Did. You. Pretend. You. Were. Sleeping. This. Whole. Time?!”

You put your hands in front of your face to shield yourself from the attack. Laughing, you manage to say, “In my defense, I didn’t know you were going to say that! For all I know, you could’ve been planning to tell me you have diarrhea or something!”

“Unbelievable.” Sam scoffs, getting off of you. She stands up, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.” She answers, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “You’ll make it up to me tomorrow by taking me to that diner.”

“We’re not even gonna kiss?” You pout.

Sam shakes her head indignantly, “Nope. Not until you take me out to dinner.” Seeing how affected you are, she chuckles teasingly, “It’s not the end of the world, Y/n. Be patient.” Then, she disappears, leaving you in your room alone with your thoughts.

You slump back into the bed, giggling like someone with a school girl crush.

And to think that this was only the beginning.

[theblackqueen-ofmyheart]

You know what we need @fiery-red-kryptonite? We need a diabetic convention.

A few days long where diabetics of all ages could all get together and just talk, share things. both type 1 and type 2 diabetics. I know where I live there were diabetes camps but like…those were for kids and that’s great but so many people who are older need the support.

Because honestly no one understands a diabetic like another diabetic, doctors don’t get me the way you do. Other friends may try to help (and they do an amazing job when I need them to help) but I can just message you and go “holy shit the low I had today” and you understand and share what helps you. I can say “my lord the dream I had today” and you respond with “how was your blood sugar?”.

Plus I know way too many type 2 diabetics who are sorely uneducated on type 1 diabetes and I feel like they would learn better in an open, friendly environment rather than a doctors office where the doctor might not even fully know.

New diabetics who are scared and worried being able to talk face to face with elder diabetics who’ve been dealing with this Illness for most of their lives and hearing from some who knows first hand how they handle it. Being able to go back to their doctors with informed ideas on how to better manage their diabetes.

Panels set up by diabetics for diabetics (and their families because let’s be honest families need more education than they get too)

Little sales booths where diabetics can sell little trinkets to decorate pump or pen pouches. Little bears to help little kids with diabetes brave the injections (I had one his name was poke, he was my second favourite bear)

Just something for diabetics to get together in person and be able to share. Make connections with each other and finally feel a little bit less alone.

I don’t know this idea struck me while I was changing my sensor and I felt like a post that other diabetics may see and share etc would be nice……at least we can have a diabetic Tumblr group or something 😂

Edit: the post has been reblogged and liked a few times so I went ahead and made a discord so diabetics can connect in some way at the very least. The invite shouldn’t expire but if it does please let me know and I’ll put a new one or invite you personally.

[theashesofthefirststar]

This weeks adventuring party fully framed Trackers phone call as “words Kristen needed to hear” Which I find pretty hard to stomach seeing that, if you changed a few key words, this is the same exact lecture that most people with adhd have gotten at some point in their life. You’re so talented, but you don’t want to work for it. If only you put in the effort, you expect things to be easy/handed to you and on and on it goes. I fully admit that I may be projecting, and that my interpretation of Kristen may not align with Ally and Brennans vision, but Kristien’s struggles with executive dysfunction are so clear in everything she does that they can hardly be labeled as subtext at this point.

When I was younger, back before I understood my adhd for what it is, I was known amongst my friends as being clumsy, chaotic, and constantly making small mistakes with big cascading consequences. This behavior was so infamous that anytime a friend did something similar, the rest of the group would call them out for “pulling a Xander.” At the time it was funny and mostly harmless, but as I got older and those consequences caught up with me, as I tried desperately to change, I realized I didn’t know how. I remember sobbing in frustration after I missed the deadline of another assignment, because I couldn’t understand why I was making the same mistakes over and over again. It felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with me.

Now at nearly 30, I understand what was wrong with me. I have a neurodevelopmental condition, that’s associated with life-enduring cognitive dysfunction, and it is a fundamental part of me. It will always be an immense challenge for me to exist in a regimented world, let alone thrive in one. When Tracker said Kristen thinks she deserves for it to be easy on some level, my immediate thought was ‘yeah of course she does’. Because executive dysfunction makes everything hard, even the things you love, and what’s more relatable than wishing that just this once, life will be fair. That just this once, your mind will stop working against you.

As someone who’s gotten much better at living with adhd and who also currently on track to get a masters degree in clinical social work, Kristen should be framed as someone who needs support instead of someone who needs to simply stop being so chaotic and start putting in the hard work. It would empower her to work with her executive dysfunction instead of working against it. It would allow her to find sustainable coping mechanisms that utilize her skills and goals.

[oldfashionedbooklove]

tell me about your favorite lm montgomery novel please <3

Okay this is SO hard because her books are amazing but I just have to admit Rilla of Ingleside is my favourite, which is saying a lot because I LOVE HER BOOKS, okay! I adore the Story Girl duology and I absolutely love the Anne series and Jane of Lantern Hill.

But Rilla. This book is a heartbreaker. And it’s so beautiful.

I don’t know if I can fully express how much is to be found in this book. I have been reading it yearly for many years, and always come away with new thoughts. As I grow older, and see more of the world, I relate and understand more, and another level of the book is discovered.

The setting—a small P.E.I. town carrying on through WWI. I’m pretty tough when it comes to war books, but I have to take breaks from this one because it is so raw and real. The agony is intense. I cannot even cry over it—my heart hurts too much for tears. This shows exactly what the Great War was for people. You sway back and forth, feeling the dread and terror. You know how it ends but you are broken anyhow. And when the end comes, you too can only rejoice softly. You feel as if you have paid part of the price yourself.

“‘We’re in a new world,’ Jem says, ‘and we’ve got to make it a better one than the old. That isn’t done yet, though some folks seem to think it ought to be. The job isn’t finished—it isn’t really begun. The old world is destroyed and we must build up the new one. It will be the task of years. I’ve seen enough of war to realize that we’ve got to make a world where wars can’t happen. We’ve given Prussianism its mortal wound but it isn’t dead yet and it isn’t confined to Germany either. It isn’t enough to drive out the old spirit—we’ve got to bring in the new.’”

The characters in this book—they are alive. Splendid Jem, brave and merry and true; Jerry, steady and dutiful; Walter, sensitive and courageous; Carl, cheerful and fearless; Shirley, honest and reliable; Nan and Di and Anne, all heart-wrung and smiling; Gertrude, tragic and grasping for hope; the Doctor, determined and self-sacrificing; Susan, simple and true—and Rilla, who starts out a silly, frivolous girl and ends a strong, mature woman. Then there are all the minor and side characters—the Merediths, Cousin Sophia, Jimsy, Ken, Irene, Whiskers-on-the-Moon & his family, Mary and the Elliotts, Norman + Ellen, and everyone else. They’re all so alive, so real, so funny and terrible and beautiful—I swear Glen St. Mary exists and all the inhabitants thereof.

The story follows the Great War, from the first days in August 1914 to the bitter Summer of 1919, where peace has come but normal will never return. As a child, this story was simply World War One—a faraway, long-ago grief and horror and agony. Now, in 2024, as a woman, I have experienced a slight taste of what the people of 1914 felt, and it has humanized the story of the War. This, more than any other book I have read, brings the War and the world of 1914-1918 to life, showing how they were people just like us. The heart is wrung by their suffering, and there is no escape, for the war must drag on for long bitter years. And the price! Walter has become the face of unknown, forgotten heroes, and Jem has become that of the scarred heroes who returned. Every November we grieve the young men who never came home, and for the ones who came home missing a part of themselves, physical or otherwise. I have wept thinking of the children of Rilla, Ken, Faith, Jem, and the others—children who fought in WWII and whose parents were forced to relive the horrible conflict of mankind.

“It has been such a dreadful week,” she wrote, “and even though it is over and we know that it was all a mistake that does not seem to do away with the bruises left by it. And yet it has in some ways been a very wonderful week and I have had some glimpses of things I never realized before—of how fine and brave people can be even in the midst of horrible suffering.”

And yet the book overflows with humour—real laugh-out-loud scenes and witty, clever banter on princes and politics. It is another aspect of the humanity—the part that cannot fully let go of laughing despite the drain. Another angle is the shrewd commentary on principalities and powers, nations and cultures, is thought-provoking, as is the remarks that show us how the war truly changed the world.

“There was a time,” she said sorrowfully, “when I did not care what happened outside of P.E. Island, and now a king cannot have a toothache in Russia or China but it worries me. It may be broadening to the mind, as the doctor said, but it is very painful to the feelings.”

But the biggest things to me is the SPIRIT of this book. The spirit of perseverance, endurance, courage, and love. Of course, man is man, and there is suspicion, contempt, and a feeling of superiority—but this is not exclusive only to Anglo-Saxons. As someone who isn’t Anglo-Saxon myself, and actually of mixed cultures, I can attest every nation is guilty of such. World War One was a battle of good vs. evil—not of man vs. man, but Idea against Idea—the idea of civilization against militarism. Perhaps not on the part of the leaders—but when one studies the writings, letters, poems, and speeches of the everyday folks caught up in the war, one sees this distinction plainly. It was not a war of European against European, Anglo-Saxon against German—it was a war between an old, terrible Idea of Prussianism (Frederick the Great, anyone?) and the Idea of Respect and Peace.

“And you will tell your children of the Idea we fought and died for—teach them it must be lived for as well as died for, else the price paid for it will have been given for nought.”

May we never forget.

A REMARK: I discovered that Rilla of Ingleside was abridged by about 4,300 words (~14 pages), so I searched for an unabridged copy. I definitely encourage you to take the extra trouble to find an *unabridged* copy. It is SO worth it! I’ve read both versions and the unabridged is so much fuller, with a great deal more humour and fun.

I just have to pick out my favourite quotes, too…

“We all come back to God in these days of soul-sifting,” said Gertrude to John Meredith. “There have been many days in the past when I didn't believe in God—not as God—only as the impersonal Great First Cause of the scientists. I believe in Him now—I have to—there's nothing else to fall back on but God—humbly, starkly, unconditionally.”

“‘Our help in ages past’—‘the same yesterday, to-day and for ever,’ said the minister gently. ‘When we forget God—He remembers us.’”

Below her [window] was a big apple-tree, a great swelling cone of rosy blossom.... Beyond Rainbow Valley there was a cloudy shore of morning with little ripples of sunrise breaking over it. The far, cold beauty of a lingering star shone above it. Why, in this world of springtime loveliness, must hearts break?

And I can’t leave without some humour:

“‘The Germans have recaptured Premysl,’ said Susan despairingly… ‘and now I suppose we will have to begin calling it by that uncivilized name again. Cousin Sophia was in when the mail came and when she heard the news she hove a sigh up from the depths of her stomach, Mrs. Dr. dear, and said, ‘Ah yes, and they will get Petrograd next I have no doubt.’ I said to her, ‘My knowledge of geography is not so profound as I wish it was but I have an idea that it is quite a walk from Premysl to Petrograd.’ Cousin Sophia sighed again and said, ‘The Grand Duke Nicholas is not the man I took him to be.’ ‘Do not let him know that,’ said I. ‘It might hurt his feelings and he has likely enough to worry him as it is.’ But you cannot cheer Cousin Sophia up, no matter how sarcastic you are, Mrs. Dr. dear. She sighed for the third time and groaned out, ‘But the Russians are retreating fast,’ and I said, ‘Well, what of it? They have plenty of room for retreating, have they not?’ But all the same, Mrs. Dr. dear, though I would never admit it to Cousin Sophia, I do not like the situation on the eastern front. [But] Grand Duke Nicholas, though he may have been a disappointment to us in some respects, knows how to run away decently and in order, and that is a very useful knowledge when Germans are chasing you. Norman Douglas declares he is just luring them on and killing ten of them to one he loses. But I am of the opinion he cannot help himself and is just doing the best he can under the circumstances, the same as the rest of us.’”

[egirling]

one direction.

i think i’m still grieving what happened; ever since liam has passed there’s not been a single day where i haven’t thought about the 5 boys that overtook my life when i was 12. i was a diehard fan, still am. if it wasn’t for them; i wouldn’t of met my closest friend. they had such an impact on my life and i genuinely cannot process what happened.

i never thought that i would be this sad at a member passing; but i also think that i never ever thought to fully understand that it’ll happen one day. i handle death well but for some reason this death has struck me.

as a 24 year old, i feel for the 12 year old girl who started liking them. who had her walls covered in posters, wrote fanfiction, ran a 1D fan page on facebook and twitter, the one who cried when zayn left and when they all unfortunately split away from the band. i remember the little girl who would get salty when people typed ‘1d’ instead of of ‘1D’, the girl who stayed up late to watch songs be released, the girl who truly thought these 5 guys were the best thing to happen to her.

i remember listening to up all night and getting sad when stole my heart came on; because i knew the album was ending. but luckily i was fortune enough to own the physical album so i could just rewind it. i did that for years since i never owned another album on cd.

i also feel for that little girl; i remember being sad when i saw people attending 1D concerts knowing i never got the opportunity to as a child. as an adult; sure but… a reunion is unspoken for currently. i get sad when i realize that i’ll never see 5/5 live, but i saw a tiktok comment saying that i at least experienced the fandom at its prime and that i lived during it, and that’s enough for me to feel a connection to them. it makes me feel better.

i know that death is natural and happens to everyone, but i was not expecting to handle the loss of someone i worshiped as a child. i know he’s just a celebrity, would never know i existed and all of that but genuinely this has struck me in a way i never expected. it’s like part of my childhood has been torn away from me; like my younger self is heartbroken by liam and what happened. (maybe this has to do with the trauma ive dealt with in my life? but that’s something i gotta discuss with my psychiatrist.)

1D and all the members will always have a spot in my heart and soul for the chapter of my life that they were in, i’m genuinely so grateful for them in multiple ways. i remember when little things came out and that was in my peak of my self harming, and hearing them sing about things i hated about myself struck me when i was younger. obviously, when i was a child it felt more personal compared to being an adult, but it still helped. i don’t think i self harmed for awhile after that song.

i love the fact that i got to experience them as a band, and the fact that im living in a life with their solo careers as well. i’m ever so proud of them and how they’ve grown.

as for liam, i do miss him as weird as it might be. i never knew him, never would but he was … almost a positive influence on me and my younger self. i didn’t have much direction growing up, but i knew listening to their songs or watching videos of them that i would feel content. an escape maybe.

i don’t know. i can’t sleep and it’s almost midnight and i needed to get this off my chest. i think i just needed to vent and say my peace and words to accept what’s happened.

this blog started as a 1D blog 💀

i know there’s millions of fans who are deeply affected by this as well, and if anyone even reads this i just want you to know your feelings and thoughts are completely valid, grief affects everyone differently. he was a huge part of life for MANY people out there. take care of yourself. listen to some songs and cry; everything will be okay.

(i don’t think i can do this 4 more times)

there’s a day i’ll be older than him and that’s weird… i don’t like that thought. it was never supposed to be that.

i would like to believe that liam is content wherever he is right now.

all the love, sarah / egirling