#and the complicated relationship the children he abused have with him

[skateintoawall]

sometimes I think about Q and their design and skill and how I think I could make an argument for them representing many characters childhoods and how the trauma from when they were kids impacts them as adults.

[arolesbianism]

I should rly start eternal gales posting again I need to make sure the ppl who follow me know how much Tali and Aris make me to insane so that the isat au can have its full effect but alas I am allergic to drawing the human eg cast like 99% of the time and rn the only thing stopping that from being 100% is that I like fucking around with different art styles sometimes

[gallierhouse]

One of my favorite things about IWTV is its critique of the patriarchal family structure through vampirism. The maker functions as both father and husband, and the maker-fledgling relationship is analogous to a parent-child relationship (the maker makes the fledging, then nurtures them and teaches them about vampirism). This is then complicated by the fact that makers are often engaged in romantic or sexual relationships with their fledglings (Lestat and Louis, Marius and Armand). So the fledgling is permanently tied to their father-husband (or if they’re lucky, just their father). So far both makers have been abusive. Lestat is violent, controlling, possessive, and also loving, dedicated, and responsible for the welfare of his two fledglings. As cruel as he is to Louis and Claudia, he fulfills his function as a father by 1) teaching them to hunt 2) protecting them from the outside world 3) enacting punishment when they defy him. I know he fails Claudia with regards to Bruce, but he doesn’t save her because he’s punishing her for leaving (he could hear Bruce’s thoughts, so he probably knew what was happening, and chose not to go). This is the classical mold of a father. Both protecter and punisher, who has dominion over his family and is justified in expecting obedience. He is a good father. Not by modern standards, but he’s a good father according to the patriarchal idea that fathers should discipline, teach, protect, and yes, control (see: daughters first belonging to their fathers then to their husbands, child abuse being implicitly sanctioned as corporal punishment, etc.). He fulfills being a father the way he fulfills being a patriarch. It’s very traditional. Similarly, Armand functions as the patriarch of the coven, which Claudia identifies as a family. He enacts his authority through violence, and demands coven members follow a strict set of rules. When coven members step out of line, he punishes them, drags them home, demands they follow coven rules, etc. (See: Lestat’s father dragging him home from the seminary, Lestat dragging Claudia home when she tries to run away, etc.) It’s not exactly 1:1 because the coven is also a cult (and I have things to say about how the coven exists to critique not only cults but the nature of theatre troupes, which are commonly abusive and hierarchical…) but Armand does function as the patriarch and acts accordingly as an enforcer. Santiago even reminds Claudia that “tender can turn to tinder,” reminding her that as while affection within the coven (or, you know, families) exists, it’s secondary to the fundamental nature of the coven, which is hierarchical, obedience demanding, and enforced by the patriarch, who, within the rules of a coven or a traditional family, is justified in enacting violence. On top of that, it’s interesting that Claudia and Louis’ crime isn’t just killing a vampire. It’s killing their maker. When Armand abuses Claudia, he reminds her about what she did to her maker, not what she did to Lestat. Claudia and Louis have committed patricide. Bad enough to commit murder, worse to commit patricide, and flout the natural order and hierarchy of the family completely. Patricide has historically been punished much more harshly than murder for this reason. It was the only crime for which a death sentence could be given in the Roman Republic, and we all know about the myths (Oedipus, Cronus overthrew his father and then got overthrew by his son, the cycles cycle, etc.) that state that patricide is the worst possible crime.

All this is to say is that a recurring idea in IWTV is that abuse within the patriarchal family structure isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. Wives and children (Louis and Claudia) are meant to submit to fathers and husbands and father-husbands (Lestat and Armand). It’s not supposed to be an equal relationship. It’s hierarchical, and if you step out of line, you “deserve” to be punished (Louis refusing Lestat sex, Louis not allowing Lestat to cheat since wives, historically, are expected to tolerate infidelity from husbands via concubines, mistresses, maids, etc., Claudia defending herself and Louis from Lestat, Claudia daring to not want to wear a stupid blue dress, Louis not going home to Armand on time, etc.). I really like the way IWTV explores this, because not only does it cue us to see Lestat’s and Armand’s actions as abhorrent and abusive, cueing us to see it doesn’t spare Louis or Claudia from the abuse. The narrative respects Louis and Claudia, but Lestat and Armand don’t, and so even as the audience roots for Louis and Claudia, they have to recognize that they’re trapped in a cycle enabled by patriarchal structures of abuse, and the tyranny of the family.

[kirain]

Sigh....Galemancers really love to move the goal post when it comes to the grooming accusations huh? You found out Gale was a fully grown MAN when Mystra slept with him so now you have to say, "Well then he was emotionally groomed and the power dynamic is too vast." Mystra is a neutral good goddess because she's Midnight, who was a neutral good human. She hates that her magic has to be used for good and evil. Ao makes her share it evenly but she'd rather not. She would never do anything to hurt Gale. The writers of the game even confirmed she's not a groomer. People like you also downplay the point of Gale's entire story arc, which is he should've listened to Mystra! The whole point of his personal quest is he needs to learn to humble himself and listen to his goddess! He has no one to blame for his downfall but himself.

There's no "post" to move, anon. The game and lore give us all the context we need. Grooming doesn't only apply to children, and people have proven right and left that Mystra is terrible at relationships. She's petty and abusive when she isn't obeyed by her partners, and that's been the case with all of her iterations. Even the narrator describes her as a "jealous goddess" when you visit her shrine. Plus, your information is wrong on many accounts; the most pertinent being that the Mystra of BG3/5E isn't technically Midnight. Cyric and Shar killed her, reducing her to her godly essence (lore-wise that means she died). The current Mystra is an amalgamation of the vestiges of Mystryl, Mystra, and Midnight, as told in the novel Elminster Enraged.

Now, this is about to get complicated, as it always does with Mystra, so from here on out I'll be referring to Mystra #1 as Mystryl, Mystra #2 as Mystra #2, Mystra #3 as Midnight, and Mystra #4 as 5E Mystra. Alright, let's get started.

Elminster had to reform the fallen goddess by giving her fragments of all three iterations of Mystra. Since all three iterations are combined, our current 5E Mystra embodies the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. There's even a conversation with The Simbul (one of the Seven Sisters and a Chosen of Mystra) where the newly reformed 5E Mystra speaks of Elminster as her "longest lover". This puzzles The Simbul because that was something of the old Mystra (Mystra #2), not Midnight. The new 5E Mystra replies that she has become a combination of the memories of Mystryl, Mystra #2, and Midnight. This is all in chapter 25-30 of Elminster Enraged. I know it's confusing, but in short: 5E Mystra is not Midnight anymore, and the leading mind is clearly that of Mystra #2, hence her extremely poor judgement—a recurring theme with her character.

Mystryl and Mystra #2 were originally lawful neutral. The alignment changed to neutral good when Midnight took up the mantle, because Midnight herself was a neutral good person. But now it seems 5E Mystra is true neutral, because you are right, anon; Ao won't allow her to do whatever she wants. Midnight tried and was forbidden. 5E Mystra absolutely does not have the same level of humanity or kindness as Midnight, and that may be because Mystryl had no human consciousness and Mystra #2 was a mess.

Regardless of her alignment, she must embody her domain by Ao's decree, which means she needs to spread magic across all Realmspace. Since she has to maintain the balance, she approaches good, neutral, and evil mages with potential opportunities. This isn't a criticism (that's just how godhood works), but rather proof that Mystra is absolutely capable of good and bad. I don't want to hear any more of this "she's a precious little bean and Gale's victim" nonsense. Even if she wants to be, she's not. As Kikitakite said in their post, she's done some fucked up things.

Whether or not the writers intended to make Mystra a groomer, that's exactly what they did. Sometimes writers don't realise they've written an abusive character until they're criticised. Take writer of The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks, for example. He didn't realise he'd written Noah to be an abusive piece of shit until Ryan Gosling pointed it out himself. Gosling has gone on record many times to say he hates Noah, and experts have labeled him an unrealistic and emotionally abusive/manipulative character. The same can be said for Stephenie Meyer, who wrote some of the most celebrated toxic relationships in recent media—with a dash of borderline pedophilia on the side. Therapists have weighed in extensively to tell people that Bella and Edward's relationship isn't healthy and shouldn't be emulated in real life. Indeed, perhaps the best thing to come out of the entire franchise is Robert Pattinson's hatred of Edward and the series as a whole. Jacob's actor, Taylor Lautner, even argued with Meyer's on set because of how weird the "imprinting" segment was and he didn't want to come off as predatory. Meyer argued it was "romantic". 😕

Even if you don't agree Gale was groomed, Mystra is flagrantly responsible for his insecurities and she never should've put her hands on him. The power dynamic is too vast, and even god Gale (conceited as he is) realises it by the end. He only stays in a relationship with Tav if they allow him to ascend them alongside him as his equal. He recognises that anything else would be unhealthy and unacceptable. Also, I researched high and low regarding your claim, but none of the devs have dispelled the idea that Mystra is a groomer. In fact, the most I could find was one dev simply saying, "To Gale it was love, but he didn't know any better." If anything, that only confirms he was confused and didn't know what to do. Their "relationship" was a stunningly horrible idea from the start and that's not on Gale, it's on the literal cosmic being who initiated it.

Moreover, Gale was very likely 17 when Mystra revealed herself to him. This perfectly fits into the 5E Forgotten Realms timeline. If so, no, he absolutely wasn't a grown man. He was a teenager. Mystra may not have slept with him until he was in his 20's, but that still makes it a disgusting teacher-turned-lover situation. Gale even tells us he was "young" when she took him into her fold, and he was only eight years old when Elminster started their lessons. Remember, Elminster is Mystra's biggest apologist. He would've taught Gale to revere her, which means there was almost never a point in his life when Mystra wasn't the main focus. You can tell by the way he speaks about her in Act 1. He's in awe, he's excited, he's proud she chose him. That does something to a child. Something irreversible. If anything, Elminster is complicit in what happened. I've said this before, but he couldn't even be bothered to visit Gale himself. He sent a simulacrum.

As for your accusation that I'm "downplaying" Gale's story arc—you're damn right I am, because the writers made me! Most D&D players I know aren't very happy with how Mystra is portrayed in the game, and that's probably because even they know she isn't presented in a very flattering light. If you really think about it, it's obvious what the writers were going for, but they failed. For example, you said Gale should've listened to Mystra, right? Well, in Act 1 he admits his ambition was his undoing, blames himself for his downfall, and by Act 2 he's literally ready to off himself for her. In fact, he's the only one who sees her ultimatum as justified. Every other companion says she's being cruel and unreasonable. If Gale actually blows himself up at the end of Act 2, the results are catastrophic. The brain is destroyed, yes, but the tadpoles, free of the Absolute's control, complete their transformation and infect/enslave the entire Sword Coast. Anon. She. Is. Stupid. Even the Narrator is like, "You wanna ... you wanna try that again?"

The entirety of Act 2 is Gale learning he shouldn't listen to Mystra. And then she has the audacity to lecture him in Act 3? If he'd listened, it would've been the end of everything. Maybe if Mystra was as infallible as she pretends to be, she would've put her three brains together and came up with a better, less vindictive plan. Because make no mistake, she wanted Gale to blow up in Act 2, which is ridiculous. I know this is an uncomfortable topic for some people, but gods aren't perfect, especially in fiction. They're flawed. They're selfish. Some of them are straight up assholes. The real irony of Gale's arc isn't that he has no one to blame but himself, it's that Mystra should blame herself. At no point does she even consider if she's being unreasonable or unfair. There's no self reflection whatsoever. And the writers expect me to think Gale's full of himself? I wonder where he got it.

Probably from his teacher. ✋🎤

[bohoteacher]

Navigating Betrayal: Reconciling Admiration with Disillusionment

Like many Neil Gaiman fans this month, I've been shocked and distressed by the news regarding the SA allegations. I won't go over the details, as they're readily available online. I'll start by saying that I believe the accusers, and even the most lenient interpretation of events is still troubling enough to discredit Gaiman. For a long time, I didn't know what to say. I was just shocked and, somewhat naively, felt betrayed. I don't typically idolize actors, authors, or other public figures—I'm here for the characters, they're who I love and believe in. So, how did I end up believing in this man and his rhetoric?

I only had a parasocial relationship with him, which is to say no real relationship at all. But I took his Masterclass on writing, spent hours taking notes, and learned from him. I feel betrayed by someone I saw as a beloved teacher. I know this is insignificant compared to what the women who came forward experienced, but it's a valid feeling, and I needed time to process it. My initial reaction was to throw out and discount everything he’s ever written or done—of course it was.

This isn't just about my love for Good Omens, although how can it not be? I learned so much from this man—about writing, about not being too hard on myself, about the creative process. I read his books to my middle school classes, and we all learned how to be better people from them. Today, I saw and bought Instructions, a children’s book by Neil Gaiman illustrated by Charles Vess, from the used bookstore where I volunteer. It was a used copy, so no royalties will go to him. It’s a beautifully illustrated book where the main character walks through a land that clearly symbolizes life, learning lessons like saying please and "if any creature cries to you that it hurts, if you can, ease its pain." How could someone write this and then do what he did? I asked myself. "What an evil hypocrite," was my first thought. But then I recalled a line from another author, Stephen King. In The Stand, a character is described as "awake at the lectern, but asleep at the switch," meaning they know the right thing to do and can talk about it, but in the moment of choice, they act without integrity.

I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I think it’s too easy to label Gaiman as simply evil, as if he intentionally manipulated us by saying the right things just to make us read or watch his creations. The reality is likely far more complicated. Within this man is the amazing, thought-provoking, life-affirming wisdom that many of us have tried to live by, but also the hard, thoughtless, selfish cruelty that led him to abuse young, vulnerable women. The wisdom does not justify the abuse, and the abuse does not nullify the wisdom.

I think it's too simplistic to say Gaiman is despicable and always has been, hiding it from us all along. This doesn't acknowledge the complexity of human nature—that there is potential for both good and bad within us all. As it’s said, possibly by Terry Pratchett or possibly by Neil Gaiman, “It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Gaiman is a man who has done some fundamentally good things and some fundamentally bad things. I can’t forget either one.

This is just my opinion. I know some people want to cancel him, while others want to exonerate him. You do you. As for me, I will continue to love Aziraphale and Crowley. I will continue to read and create fan-fiction. I will continue to find comfort and wisdom in books that have meant so much to me over the years. But I will also remember that they were created by a very flawed man whom I can no longer trust.

I understand that opinions on this matter vary widely. I know some people might feel that not discarding everything associated with him is wrong, but this is where I stand. I’m not looking to debate this or be told how I should react. I just needed to process my thoughts in writing and move forward in the way that feels right for me.

[bitterrobin]

you, batman/batfamily fan, can you be normal about parents and their flaws without making them exaggerated abusers?

can you absorb the fact that Jack and Janet Drake were not perfect parents, but they still loved Tim? and that Tim loved them enough that he tried to tear a razor sharp boomerang out of his father's corpse with his bare hands? that the Drakes were not millionaires who forced high society values onto their son for the sake of a public image? (that they weren't even rich for that long of a time?)

can you be normal about how the deep recesses of poverty affect a family unit while allowing a parent nuance? can you write Willis Todd without making him a classist caricature of an abuser? can you write Catherine Todd and Crystal Brown without portraying their drug addictions as fodder for their children's whump? (I added in Crystal bc she canonically suffered from drug addiction, but I haven't seen much of her in fics tbh)

can you accept that as much an abuser David Cain was, he still loved Cassandra enough that he utterly fell apart when she left him? That he was genuinely astonished/proud of her when she spoke to him for the first time even as she threatened him? he still sucks majorly, but you can't deny that he loved her. that's what makes their relationship so painful.

can you be normal about Talia al Ghul? can you write her without making her an ooc rapist or child abuser or cold dragon lady? can you acknowledge that every ounce of her characterization surrounding Damian is vastly different from her original pre-Morrison personality to the extent that og Talia would never even have a child in the League?

can you pick apart when a parents portrayal is out of character, that a writer made them hit or neglect their child because above all else they exist for drama and action? that you can find DC characters who actually had traumatic childhoods instead of grafting them onto a Bat-character? (> this last sentence is mostly about Tim btw)

Exploring a character's parents and how they affected them is always interesting, but I've seen fics that genuinely steer towards character assassination rather than an exploration of events written in the comics. They exaggerate a parent's portrayal not to write about a complicated parent-child dynamic but so they can have Bruce or Jason rushing in to comfort them (yes, this is about the Tim Drake shrimp fic). Idk, I think most of my ire just stems from the fact that content about Mia Dearden or Todd Rice or Grant Emerson aren't widespread, Mia specifically always gets explored in Bat-circles as someone that just adds to Jason's character rather than analyzing her on her own, in addition to the constant hell that Talia goes through in both canon and fanon.

[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

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***

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!

[sluttysnowangel666]

Home Is Where the Heart Is - jace velaryon x reader (request)

summary: in a modern au, jacaerys must return home from studying at uni to help his stepsister care for his younger siblings when their parents and brother die. The step-siblings already complicated relationship grows more and more tense given the circumstances, and they find themselves being each other’s source of comfort in hard times.

cw: stepsiblings, death, angst, grief, emetophobia warning, childhood trauma, modern au, modern!jace, smut, idiots in love, mutual pining, slow burn, talks of abusive/ unhealthy relationships, jealous jace, NO INCEST(except daenyra but like not really bc it’s au) not entirely canon, drinking, use of Y/N

this one was hard to write for me, given i’ve experienced parent loss. i put a lot of emotion and personal experience into this one so pls be gentle with this one if you don’t like it.

I - The Leave

To say you and your step brother had tragic lives was a bit of an understatement.

Jace’s father, Harwin, had died in a fire when he was a young boy. Your mother had died in her birthing chambers having you. The paths your lives had been on as children shifted, leaving your parents to remarry when you and Jace were both only 15.

You initially did not get along. Jace did not like your father Daemon, and you did not like Jace’s mother Rhaenyra.

Over time though, you both acclimated to each other. You grew closer as the years aged you. By the time you both turned 19, you were thick as thieves. You had comforted each other through heartbreaks, similar childhood trauma, navigated what it meant to grow and change as people, and protected each other from the rest of the world.

Jacaerys was your best friend, and you were his. In another universe maybe, you could’ve been more than that. But it seemed in this world you were only meant to remain as blended family.

So when Jacaerys told you he was leaving to go across the country to Uni, your heart nearly split in two.

“What’s in Manchester?” You ask him.

“A school.” He replies sarcastically. You throw a pillow from his bed at him.

“No shit.” You say as he throws it back. “But why’d you pick one so far?”

He pauses, not wanting to reveal the honest answer. Truth be told, he found it more and more difficult to keep his secret around you. He needed to go simply for the fact he was falling in too deep, deeper than a stepbrother should fall for his sister.

It was hard seeing you every day of his life yet never being able to be with you. He saw you with other men, which ignited a jealousy in him he didn’t even know that he had. He couldn’t stand being around it, couldn’t stand lying to your parents when you snuck out of his bedroom window, couldn’t stand watching you allow yourself to get treated like shit by men who provided nothing. If you had been his… in another life… things would be different.

“I just think I’ve outgrown London.” He says, continuing to pack his clothes.

“I hope you love it.” You tell him. You were so sweet, so kind to everyone. You hadn’t deserved the hand life had dealt you. He only wished you could see the love you deserved, he wished he could show you.

He felt sad leaving you, but he felt better knowing you would be safe with mom and Daemon. He knew you would take good care Aegon and Viserys. He knew you would care for Joffrey and Luke too. Even though they weren’t your blood you loved them like they were.

“When do you go to get your rental car?” You ask him.

“In the morning. Then I’ll drive non stop to Manchester.”

“Hm.” You hum while petting his cat, Vermax. “He will miss you.”

“I trust you’ll take care of him for me.” Jace says.

“I will, besides he’ll have Arrax and Syrax to keep him company.”

“And what about you? Who will keep you company?”

“Don’t you worry about me, Jacaerys. I will get by.” You say. He looks at you, comfortable on his bed with Vermax on your lap. “Perhaps you’ll even meet a girl in Manchester.”

“Perhaps you’ll meet someone who won’t cheat on you.” He says, a random anger appearing out of nowhere.

“Don’t be fuckin’ rude, Jacaerys.” You say. “I’ve done nothing to anger you.”

“No, you’ve just allowed yourself to be treated like shit by men and I know you will continue to when I leave.”

“I don’t see how it’s your business anyway.” You say. “But be like that if you wish. I have a tampon I can throw in your bag if it’s that time of the month.”

He sneers at you, waving you away with his hand. You stand to leave. “Goodnight, Jacaerys.”

“Wait.” He says, grabbing your wrist as you open the door. “I’m sorry… I’m just… scared. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“You have nothing to worry about Jacaerys.” You say, taking his hands in yours. “You’re gonna do great.”

You look into his eyes, but he looks past you at the door. His hand pushes it shut, and you look at it, then back at him. “Jace?”

He presses his lips onto yours and you pull away, shocked. You both stare into each other’s eyes in silence, both of you gasping in shock at what just happened.

Neither of you had any idea what to say to each other, so you pressed your lips back onto his. His hands rested on your waist, pulling you into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he backed you onto his bed. You landed on the pile of clothes on his bed, letting him in between your legs while playing with his pretty brown curls.

“Bubby!” Viserys yells, coming into Jace’s room. You practically kick Jacaerys onto the floor. Viserys doesn’t seem to notice what you two were both up to, too distracted with his mission. “Have you seen Aegon? We’re playing hide and seek, mommy said check in here.”

“No, Viserys! Get out.” Jace says on the floor. Viserys sticks his tongue out at him.

Your heart was racing from the fear of getting caught by your sibling, clarity hitting you in the face.

“I’ll help you find him, Vis.” You say, standing and leaving Jace’s room, avoiding Jace’s eyes that were pleading for you to stay.

The next morning you all woke early to say goodbye to Jacaerys. He’d wanted to text you during the night and ask you to come to his room so you both could talk, but he gave you your space.

Your family all said goodbye to Jace, helping him bring his bags to the car and giving him a tearful goodbye.

You waited by the car door and he walked over to you with a gentle smile. You both stared into each others eyes, pleading.

Tell me to stay. I’ll stay. His eyes begged yours.

Stay. Your eyes begged.

But in the end neither of you said a word. Instead you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, and he did the same.

He moved you by your hips away from the car door, getting inside and avoiding your eyes. Your family all waved goodbye to him, saying they loved and were proud of him.

He drove off, staring at you in the rear view mirror.

That was the last time your family was all together.

II - The Photo

A few months had gone by since Jace left, and neither of you had spoken. You occasionally stalked his Instagram to see how he was doing though. He had been traveling, getting sunburnt, clubbing, DJing apparently. A hobby you hadn’t expected him to pick up, but one he had nonetheless. He had made two friends you noticed often, Cregan and Benjicot.

He was doing good. He was handsome, growing into a man. You missed him, in ways a stepsister shouldn’t miss her stepbrother. You dreamed of him often, even sneaking into his room at night every once in a while just because you missed his smell.

You stole oversized shirts he left behind, sleeping in them. You messed around on his PC, playing games like Roblox knowing he would get home and think it was Luke.

One day you had been mindlessly scrolling on Instagram when you saw Jace was tagged in a post by Cregan.

It was the two of them… and a girl. Jace’s arm was wrapped around her and they were practically connected at the hip. You gasped softly, trying to find who the girl was.

Her name was Sara, and she was obviously Cregan’s sister. They had the same sharp features.

“Slut.” You mumbled to yourself. You liked the post to be petty.

Jace’s heart dropped at the notification. It was the first interaction, if you could even call it that, that you two had shared since he left.

He wondered if you were jealous.

You were. You wondered if they were hooking up, or even dating.

They weren’t, she was a lesbian, but he knew the photo would get your attention.

Jace had told Cregan about your kiss, and Cregan wanting to be a wingman posted the photo in an attempt to get you to message Jace.

It didn’t work, and slowly you both started to move on from each other. You never exchanged any texts or calls or letters, and another year and a half would go by before you would reunite under the most unfortunate circumstances.

III - The Loss

You’d awoke in the middle of the night to a frightening knock on your door, a knock that only comes when there is bad news.

And bad news had come indeed.

Rhaenyra and your father Daemon, as well as Lucerys died in a car accident.

The news was debilitating for you and your walls had broke down.

You called Jacaerys in the middle of the night, and when he seen that call he knew only the worst had happened.

He answered, his voice shaking. “Y/N?”

“Jacaerys.” You sobbed into the phone hysterically. “Jacaerys, come home please. You have to come home now.”

“Y/N, I’m on my way. Y/N, please please calm down, you’re scaring me. I’ll be there in the morning. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No, Jacaerys, just please get home as soon as you can.” You sobbed, and he heard your brothers crying in the background too.

“Okay, okay.” He said, beginning to cry. Cregan heard the commotion and awoke from his side of the dorm.

“Are you alright, brother?” He asked, his voice groggy with sleep.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Y/N called me freaking out, the twins and Joff were crying too. I don’t know what’s going on. I think it’s my parents.” Jace said crying.

“I’ll drive you to London.” Cregan said, immediately dressing.

“You-sob-don’t-sob-have to.” Jace cries.

“Dude, you’re in no condition to drive. Don’t worry about it.”

“B-But it’s a four hour drive and there’s-sob-classes-“

“Dude. It’s fine. Alpha Drac for life, right? I’ve gotchu.”

Cregan drove them to London without stopping once, speeding 15 over the limit the whole time. Jacaerys cried half the car ride, then fell asleep the second half.

Cregan pulled down your street, waking Jacaerys before reaching the driveway.

“Be safe. Call me when you can.” Cregan says, but Jace was already sprinting out of the car door and tripping up the stairs.

He burst into the door, saying your name, mom, luke, anyone.

He ran into the living room, waking you from the couch where you had pulled out the hide-a-bed and were sleeping with the twins and Joffrey.

You immediately started crying when you saw him, trying to stay quiet so you didn’t wake the boys.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You pulled him into a hug, and you both sobbed into each other.

“Is it mom and Daemon?” He asked, knowing the answer but fearing the worst.

You nodded. “And Lucerys.”

Jace pulled away from you. “You’re lying.” He said in a whisper.

“No, Jacaerys, please listen-“ He turned and walked away from you upstairs. You followed right behind him as he turned into Luke’s empty room.

He fell onto Luke’s bed, screaming into the pillows. You laid behind him, rubbing his arm and sobbing into his back. You kissed his shoulders, quietly saying a prayer for your broken family.

He sat up, “Oh my god, I think I’m gonna be sick.” He said, leaving to the bathroom.

You followed again, holding his hair back as he got sick into the toilet and sobbed. You sat on the edge of the tub, and when he was done he rested his head onto your thighs continuously sobbing while you rubbed his hair and sobbed with him.

You eventually walked downstairs when the sun began to rise, and you both laid down and fell asleep next to your brothers, not letting go of each other once.

You both only slept for a few hours before you woke up, seeing your brothers awake and sitting in silence.

“Jace.” Joffrey said, and he and the twins all moved to lay on Jacaerys. He held them, wanting to cry more but there was nothing left.

“Kids?” The door opened and Rhaenyra’s aunt and uncle Rhaenys and Corlys, her cousin Laena, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena walked in.

Rhaenys and Corlys were also Jace, Joffrey and Luke’s godparents. Joffrey and Jace immediately greeted them, while you and the twins remained seated. They were not your family, and you had only met them a few times.

Your father could be an ass, so he had a lot of enemies you could say, including majority of Rhaenyra’s family.

Thankfully they had been kind and sympathetic of your grief and the twins as well, knowing you all were now also without a father and mother. They were your father’s enemies, but not yours.

Corlys and Rhaenys pleaded with you and Jace to foster Joffrey so they could teach him about the Velaryon family business in overseas trading, as they had done with Lucerys.

You wanted the best life for your siblings, so you let Jacaerys decide for his blood brother. You knew Joffrey would be better off with them and his older cousins, but Jace said no.

“Our family is here. We need to stay together from now on.” He told his aunt.

“Jacaerys, you’ll have to return to Uni at some point. You’re so close to being done. How do you expect Y/N to raise three children on her own so young?”

“I’m not going back.”

“Jacaerys!” You yelled at him. “You have to finish school.”

“No. My decision is final. We’re staying together. Nobody raise the matter again.”

The funeral was a few days after that, and it had brought all of Rhaenyra’s family as well as Daemon’s weird and mysterious friends from all over the world.

People gave you and Jace their condolences, as well as tons of money. You knew Rhaenyra was rich from inheriting her father Viserys’ estate, which Jace would now inherit in turn, but Rhaenyra’s cousins and aunts and uncles and friends wanted to make sure you both were well set on top of that inheritance so that you and Jace could take care of your siblings with no trouble.

It was a generous thing, money, but it didn’t bring your family back. It didn’t matter how many checks they wrote, you couldn’t cash them to heaven.

“Brother.” A deep voice said.

You and Jace turn your heads to see Cregan and his sister approaching you.

“Cregan?” Jace embraced him in a hug, both of them holding each other for a moment.

“Hi, I’m Sara.” Sara said, taking the moment to introduce herself. “I’ve heard nice things about you.”

You turned your nose up at her, thinking she was being sarcastic. She wasn’t but despite your attitude she was polite to you anyway, knowing you were heavy with grief.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.” Cregan says to you, hugging you as well. You appreciated them coming, knowing it meant a lot to Jacaerys to have them there.

Jace took your hand in his, both of you in all black, staring at the three caskets. You thought he held your hand for your comfort, but it was for his.

The guilt Jace felt was huge. He hadn’t been there, he had left to Uni for his own selfish reasons. It didn’t matter how many people told him it was okay, he was trying to get an education, it wasn’t the real reason he was there. He left to get away from you.

And that own selfish reason he had for leaving… he thought it could be the reason why your parents and brother were now in the ground. If he had stayed, they might have too.

“Jace?” Your voice was muffled. “Jacaerys?”

“Hm?” He asked, your voice pulling him back to reality.

“They want you to say a few words.” You said. He looked around, noticing his family was looking to him to say the final goodbyes.

“Will you come with me?” He asked. You nodded, standing with him to look over the caskets.

He said a few words of love and praise to his now lost family, holding your hand the whole time. You both couldn’t recall what he said, only having said it for the others around you.

You both grabbed a pile of dirt, throwing it onto the caskets. Jace winced when it landed on Luke’s.

“Are you okay?” You asked, rubbing his arm. He shook his head no. You brought his head to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple. “Me either. But we’ll be okay… someday.”

He liked to believe that what you were saying was true.

IIII - The Recovery

Jacaerys moved home, taking a leave of absence from Uni. They were more than generous with him, giving him as much time as he wanted to decide when to return. You begged him to reconsider, but he was set in his decision.

You both stepped into a parental role, playing mommy and daddy 24/7. And by god’s grace for some reason those kids to listened to you.

You did everything Rhaenyra and Daemon had done like bathing, cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc. You and Jace had become a power duo at the household chores just like they had.

Neither of you worked, taking time off to grieve and you also really didn’t need to work due to Jace’s inheritance.

You both contemplated moving. The house held bad memories for you both, but you dared not touch your parents and Luke’s room. Neither of you had the strength to even go in the rooms anymore, nor uproot your little brother’s lives by making them move from the house they were raised in.

You and Jace never talked about the night before he left, instead focusing on the chaos of two teenagers raising three young, rambunctious boys.

A year went by of this lifestyle, making it three years since your initial kiss and a year of your parent’s and brother’s passing.

In a way, you both had moved on. You were older, forced to mature quicker than you’d have liked, raising three kids, unable to focus on the past of what once could have been.

Cregan and Sara moved down to London following their final year at Uni, requesting you both to come out and celebrate their birthday.

You both hesitantly agreed, given the boys had all just left a day before to be with Rhaenys and Corlys for the summer, and you had not experienced what it was like to still be a young adult in almost a year.

You had nearly forgot life could be fun when you weren’t being a parent.

You all met up at a sports bar since Cregan had wanted to watch a soccer game, and it was packed.

You managed to find a table, but it did hardly anything. Bodies were packed in there like sardines to see the world cup final.

You and Sara both sat, sipping on a cocktail while the boys got more drinks. You weren’t particularly keen on being left there alone with her, given you hadn’t cared for her since you didn’t know what had gone on between her and Jace when they were at Uni.

You made polite small talk, but Sara was a certified yapper. She’d find anything to keep the dying conversation going.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Sara asked.

“Uh, nah. Haven’t really had the time nor the want with the kids and all.” You said, sipping your drink.

“Maybe you ought give girls a try.” She said. “I did once and I’ve never gone back since.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You chuckled. “Wait, what?”

“What?”

“You’re… a lesbian?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” She said.

“Well, I thought you and Jacaerys-“

She spit her drink out onto you, laughing at even the idea. You wiped your face off with a napkin, trying not to smash your drink upside her head.

“And this whole time I had no idea why you hated me.” She sat back, crossing her arms and smirking. “No wonder… This whole time you thought I was in love with Jacaerys.”

You couldn’t hide the little smile that crept on your face.

“Oh, sweet thing… Jacaerys is all yours.” She looked over at him at the bar. “I think he always has been.”

“So… were there any girls at Uni?” You asked.

“A few.” She mumbled, hesitant on telling you. “I’m sure you had a few back here as well.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it still hurt knowing Jace had moved on too during the time. It hurt knowing girls were getting his love that you desperately craved.

“He told me and Cregan about your kiss.”

“That was a long time ago.” You say. “We both have bigger things to worry about now rather than a moment in time three years ago.”

“I know you love your brothers, Y/N. I know Jace does too.” Sara says. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.”

You looked at Jace, who was making his way back to your table with more drinks. His eyes caught yours, and he smiled at you. He didn’t do that a lot anymore since they died.

“I got you a negroni, my lady.” Jace says, setting your drink in front of you. You roll your eyes with a smirk.

The four of you drank all night while watching the game, you and Jace loosening up the more alcohol you consumed.

The night had spiraled out of control, the four of you separating from each other.

You found yourself at the bar, ordering more drinks, Sara was in the bathroom with a girl, Cregan was busy arguing and growing closer to a fist fight with Germany fans, and Jacaerys was busy searching for you on the wrong side of the bar.

A man sat beside you by the bar while you waited.

“Her next drink’s on me.” He said to the bartender.

“No, that’s fine actually. I’ve got a tab open. My drunk friends will find out in the morning they paid for it.”

He laughed, and a blush creeped across your cheeks. “What if I had been ordering 15 shots? Then what would you have done?”

“I would have paid for 15 shots.” It was your turn to laugh now.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Jason Lannister.”

“Nice to meet you.” You say. He was kinda cute, and the thought made Sara’s words from earlier echo in your head.

It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.

“Actually, you can pay for my drink.” You say.

He smirks, pulling out his wallet. “What’s your poison?”

“Surprise me.”

He bought you both a few rounds of shots, and you grew more confident and more drunk with each one.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom.” You drunkenly slur.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks. You say yes, taking his hand and dragging him along behind you.

You got lost on the way to the bathroom, instead ending up dancing in the middle of the floor.

You were chest to chest with him, his hand on your lower back as you leaned up to kiss him. Your hands held tight onto the collar of his shirt, which was keeping you from falling. He matched your energy with the kiss, his hand tangling in your hair.

His other hand snaked its way to your inner thigh, his fingers tickling the skin under your skirt.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Huh?” You pulled away to ask Jason, drunkenly wondering how he was able to talk while kissing you.

But it wasn’t him yelling, it was Jace.

Time slowed down for a second, and it all happened in slow motion as you watched Jace swing his arm to hit Jason in the jaw.

Jason stumbled, holding his jaw and glancing back and forth between you, Jace, and Cregan who had noticed the commotion and came to back up Jace.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” Jason yelled at you, pushing your shoulder lightly, but you were drunk and uncoordinated so you fell.

Jacaerys practically jumped on Jason after that, punching him over and over in the face.

“Jacaerys, stop, now!” You yelled. “Cregan, stop him!”

Cregan didn’t help the situation, only helping Jacaerys jump Jason.

“Oh my fuckjng God.” You yelled to yourself, trying to pull Cregan and Jacaerys off of Jason.

Bar security came, kicking you all out and banning you forever. You didn’t care about that though, you were just pissed at Jace for embarrassing you like that.

You, Cregan, Jace, and Sara took the taxi home in silence.

Cregan and Sara had immediately went to bed downstairs, while you angrily stormed up to your room.

“Are you seriously angry with me?” Jace asked, following you into your room and closing the door.

“Get out, Jacaerys.” You said, both of you sober by this point from all the adrenaline of the last hour of events.

“I was just protecting you!”

“From what?” You laugh, frustrated.

He had no answer. He knew he had only attacked the guy out of jealously, seeing you kiss a man that should have been him.

“Why would you do that?” He asks, his voice laced with sadness.

“Do what?” You ask, rubbing your eyes as you felt a headache forming.

“Kiss him.” He said. You sighed.

“Because I wanted to. I don’t need you protecting me.” You looked at Jace, his signature pout forming. You glanced down to his hands, which were bloody and bruised.

“Jesus.” You mumbled. “Come on.”

You pulled him to the bathroom, making him sit on the toilet while you cleaned and bandaged his hand. He watched you the whole time, your eyebrows knit together as you focused on his wounds.

It was there it hit him, that he loved you. He was tired of burying that feeling. He loved you. He loved how you took care of your siblings, he loved how you immediately stepped into the role of a mother without ever complaining, he loved his life with you.

His hand caressed your cheek.

“Stop, I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore than you have.” You say. His fingers were gently gliding over your jaw, eventually taking a hold of it to make you look at him.

Your heart was racing, you knew what he was feeling because you felt it too.

“You’re mine.” He said, and without even thinking you smashed your lips onto his. He pulled you onto his lap, his damaged hands loosely resting on your waist.

Three years it had been since your first kiss, three years of longing and aching for him, trying to let the feeling go for the sake of your children.

It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.

You pulled him into his room, kicking the door shut as you fell onto his bed, just like the first time.

He nestled between your legs, kissing you intently. He moved his lips down, pressing kisses on your neck and chest.

You whimpered, your fingers toying in his hair.

“I need you, Jacaerys.” You whisper.

“Fuck, I need you more.” He whispers back.

You sit up on your knees as Jacaerys stands. You pull his shirt gently off him, avoiding his hands, and move to helping him undo his belt and pants until he’s in only his boxers.

You undress your torso, then wiggling to kick off your skirt to reveal your thin little panties.

“You might have thought you had a mission but really you had a death wish going out in those.” Jace said, pressing his lips onto the thin black lace. He kisses your wetness, moving your panties to the side so he can eat. His tongue glides into your cunt, making sure to lick and taste the sweetest parts.

“So possessive, and for what?” You moan, your fingers gripping his curls.

“Because you’re mine.” He says into your heat, and you moan at his voice.

He eats you with a burning desire, a taste he had dreamt about for years. He’s messy, yet coordinated, kissing and sucking just the right spots to make you melt onto his tongue. He was starved for you, and now he eats as if he’ll never eat again.

You chase the release, grinding your hips into his face.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” You whine, your hand trembling in his curls. He moans into your heat, pushing you over the edge. You spill onto his tongue, and he doesn’t miss a drop, licking as long as he can until you’re shaking.

You go to kiss him, but he pulls away. “I’ve still got you on my lips, I wanna savor it as long as I can.”

“You can’t share?” You tease.

He shivers at your words. “Ooh, don’t test me.”

You settle for kissing his neck instead, pulling him by his hips between your legs to make him grind onto you.

You feel his length inside his boxers against your heat, and you shiver at the size.

“Don’t keep me waiting any longer, Jace.”

“How long have you been waiting exactly?” He teases.

“A long time. Longer than three years.” You say. He finally presses his lips back onto yours, his hand weakly kneading your breast. You gently take his hand in yours, guiding his weak fingers.

“I wish my hands weren’t numb.” He moans between kisses.

“What-“

“Sh, it’s fine, just keep kissing me.” He says, refusing to let you break away. His tongue plays with yours, and your lips are bruised and swollen from the eagerness of his.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” You moan, trying to push down his boxers to rub his length.

“Just like you were at the bar, walking around in that tight little black skirt, kissing on guys who had no business even breathing the same air as you.

You finally reach your hand in his boxers, eliciting a gasp from him as you rub his length. You push his boxers down, and he pulls your panties off you.

You rub his length against your wet slit, moaning as you guide him inside you.

“Baby.” He moans. You shiver at the pet name, wanting to hear more of his sweet voice. He rests his weight on his fore arms, kissing and sucking on your neck to leave marks. His thrusts are fueled with love, unlike ones you’ve felt before from others.

He fucks you so sweetly, pulling away your neck so he can look in your eyes. He holds your hips into the bed, fucking you. You moan and whine, gripping his wrists for support.

“Say you’re mine.” He moans.

“I’m yours. Fuck, Jace, I’m all yours.”

“Yes, my girl. Fuck, you’re so wet.” He says, his words sultry and low.

“I’m so in love with you.” You moan, lost in lust.

“I wish I could fuck you all night long.”

“Don’t worry.” You moan. “We’ve got a lifetime to do that.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Jace moans. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

He nestles into your neck, and you hold him close to you, moaning in his ear.

You feel his thrusts grow sloppy, and he shakes as he grows close to his release. He fucks you so deep his pelvic bone rubs your clit, drawing you closer too.

You pull him by his neck into your lips again as you both cum. He fills you up, warm and deep inside your stomach as he moans into your lips.

“Fuck, fuck.” He pulls out, gasping. He looks into your eyes, both of you catching your breath and coming down from what just happened.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, still shaking him his release.

“No, Jace.” You say, tucking a curl behind his ear. “You were perfect.”

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He lays beside you, resting his head on your shoulder. “What happens now?”

“We…” You say, not knowing where to start.

Your whole life had been uprooted. Both of you had done nothing for yourselves, until now. You both had a choice to make. You could quit living half a life, one foot in one foot out the door, doing your duty yet nothing for yourself. Or, you could get busy living. Take care of your brothers, love each other endlessly, make the most out of your life and your love like your parents would have wished for you both.

“I think we just start enjoying it.”

“Enjoying what?”

“Our lives.” You look at him, and you take his bruised hand in yours.

“Together.”

[barrenclan]

Ok so I adore basically everything about the most recent issue but my absolute favoritest thing is Slugpelt's section because like. Despite everything a part of her is still grieving over him. It doesn't undermine her anger if anything it probably adds to it but it still hurts so much more than if the betrayal wasn't there

There's a lot of loaded behavior in four short panels for Slugpelt and Rainhaze. He betrayed her horribly, murdered her daughter, and joined the villains attacking her. But he is never going to stop being her brother, no matter how much she wishes he could be. He's never going to stop being the person who held her when she was little while she cried. It's completely impossible for her to separate those two parts of him in her mind. Pinepaw also struggles with this;

Because Rainhaze was such a different person in very formative parts of both of their lives, there is just a part of them that will never be able to fully let that image of him go. And being aware of that is horribly painful, because they want to hate him so badly and simply for what he's done.

Slugpelt also has extra complicated feelings because of her relationship to Dustfeather and Rainhaze. Without going off on rambling tangents, the emotional abuse she endured while growing up led her to form an idea in her head of herself as the "broken one", while Rainhaze was the "good one". Despite how fragile she felt herself, she could always rely on him to be the one who had everything together - no matter if she resented or appreciated him for it, depending on what she was going through. But if Rainhaze was actually just as "broken", what does that make her?

Slugpelt doesn't think of herself as good, or whole, or happy. Dustfeather's parenting constantly posed them as opposites to each other, Rainhaze doing everything "good" while she did everything "bad". That dichotomy became a part of her fundamental understanding of who she is as a person. But if things have been so rapidly, utterly destroyed, she's left on shaky foundations while still trying to build and mend relationships with other people, like her children. Rainhaze was such an importat part of her life that him being torn out of it leaves her unsure of what to even think. Does that make both of them "broken"? Who's she supposed to be now?

[ceruleanwhore]

Sariel is also a victim of the late king but no one talks about it

⚠ TW: Talking about grooming plus mentions of rape and suicide ⚠

(Also, heads up that there will be spoilers for Sariel's route in here.)

I haven't seen anyone talk about how Sariel was literally groomed by the late king yet, so I decided to just go ahead and do that. Please skip this post if this topic is something that could hurt you to read about.

First off, let's talk power imbalance. The previous king was, well, a king and, at the time he first met Sariel, Sariel was a poor 10 year old child whose sole source of income was crime. As a king, prev king was always going to have a power imbalance with just about anyone he ever met, but the power imbalance between him and Sariel is literally as skewed as it can get at the time they meet. Then, when you add in the part where one of the few and most important aspects of Sariel's backstory that we get in his route is how his dad just disappeared one day, it gets even worse and more complicated.

When the king met Sariel, the only appropriate thing he could've done would've been to find him a home and get him adopted or fostered or something, not bring him into the palace and give him a job with tons of responsibility at the ripe old age of ten. That choice was bad enough but it's worse because the job in question was to take care of this man's children and also do a shitload of emotional labor for him. The way the king used child!Sariel like a therapist and shared all his mental, emotional, and relationship issues with this child is a textbook example of grooming. Not to mention that this guy also gave Sariel whole identity so, for the rest of his life, Sariel's abuser is entwined with most aspects of his life, including something as simple as his name.

Somehow, this horrible situation got even worse because prev king attempted suicide and Sariel was the one who found him when he did that. I understand very well that suicide is not a choice and I would never blame someone for attempting suicide or dying that way, but when the person in question has already groomed the fuck out of the person who ends up finding them after their suicide attempt, that makes things quite complicated. Because of how the king had already groomed Sariel and, more specifically, dumped his mental and emotional problems on him, I think it's inevitable that Sariel would've felt responsible for that suicide attempt. After however long of being that sole confidant to the king, I can't imagine he wouldn't feel personally responsible for the king's mental and emotional struggles, up to and including suicide.

Another factor here that further complicates things is the complicated (read: shitty) nature of the king and his actions. We all know by now that two of the eight princes were conceived by rape, and Sariel knows that too but, in spite of that, we regularly get to see him defend this horrible king, insisting that he was complicated and that he never would've hurt anyone if it weren't for the one singular loss he suffered in his life. What this means is that we, the audience, have full knowledge of how horrible the previous king was and that he was a literal rapist and, therefore, it's in character for him to also be a groomer, but Sariel is in the thick of it and can't fully perceive or understand what happened to him. Instead, he continues to view the king as his "special friend" who was widely misunderstood and whom only Sariel was able to fully understand, so he continues to defend his abuser.

The other thing is what we see in Sariel's full ending bonus story about the journal that the king gave him on Bloodstained Rose Day. We know from the rest of his route and two endings that, as a child, he somehow ended up on the run/living a vagrant lifestyle with his father until that father disappeared one day but, otherwise, he has no clue who he is, where he comes from, or what the tattoo on his hand even was. This undoubtedly was a source of significant trauma and turmoil for him so, by having a lot of that information and being able to give it to him, the king had yet even more fucking power over Sariel. The worst part is that, when he gives Sariel the diary, the king even outright admits that he had this all along and chose to withhold it from Sariel to deliberately keep him from leaving the palace. He literally tells us directly that he's been abusing his power over this literal fucking child since he was ten fucking years old.

I know Ikemen never intended for us to see prev king's character this way and, like how we were supposed to look at Licht and Nokto's mother being an abusive cunt and instead somehow see a situation where there was no clear bad guy, Sariel is meant to tell us how to feel about the king. However, I think they accidentally set up a very clear case of grooming instead and it's all there in the text. I'm sure it won't happen, but I fucking wish that Sariel's sequel would include him realizing all of this, working through the trauma, and finally denouncing the late king, at least in private. I'd also love to see the sequel take Sariel and Emma to Obsidian and for them to get more info about his identity and family from Gilbert, since the kingdom he comes from was taken over by Obsidian.

[rainylana]

Preachers daughter

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie is becoming obsessed with “plain jane”.

warnings: based around the character/artist of ethel cain. language, reader is described as thin, brown hair/eyes and very plain and boring. eddie describes her as “ditzy” and “weird”. hints of physical abuse/bruising. talk of religion and christianity, church. reader is starved of attention. some angsty shadows around the edges, some fluff here and there. Slight smut, reader tries to give Eddie a blowjob, hints of sexual abuse.

a/n: my first fic in months!! leave me some love and let me know what you think!! also, if this gets enough love and positive feedback i might make another part!

You never spoke unless spoken to, had a plus marks in grades. You never smiled. You had few friends, a couple girls you sat with a lunch, but no one you hung out with outside of school. Eddie had started watching you when senior year came along. He didn’t know why. You hadn’t changed that much. You looked the same, acted the same. You were the same boring, plain Jane. That was what everyone called you. Plain Jane. You tried to not let it hurt your feelings.

Eddie hadn’t interacted with you much. Nodding a hi in class, waving at you on the bus once or twice. Offering an apology if he’d ran into you in the hall. But never really a conversation. He’d spoken a full sentence to you once in the nurses office. His nose had been bleeding from a punch, while you had been in there from a stomach ache. You both had sat in that little room with ice packs and a mint.

He was starting to become obsessed with you, the gang pestered him about it, laughing at him. He always talked about how mysterious you were, wondering why you never spoke. “It’s like she’s amish or something? Did she used to be amish?” He’d asked one day.

He wanted to know more about you, but how? He couldn’t exactly strike up a conversation with you. You barely reciprocated back the words. When the day came when you both finally had an actual interaction, it fueled the fire in his belly, his growing desire to get to know you, to understand why he liked you so much. Right now, he still didn’t know.

On the way back from Hellfire, it was starting to cloud up very darkly. A storm was brewing, and from the looks of it, a bad one. Eddie’s radio was cranked to the max, a new single out by a band he had yet to know the name. He wondered if other people would discover his songs like that one day, by a band they had no idea who’s name belonged to it.

That’s when he saw you, on the side of the road. He knew it was you from the long, brown dress that fell down to your calves, black flats and hair laid straight down your back. Plain Jane. “The hell?” He muttered under his breath, pulling up slowly and rolling down his window.

You stopped abruptly, startled by the oncoming vehicle, looking up to the window, the driver, with wild brown eyes.

“Need a ride, y/n?” His hand laid on the crank of the window. “Looks like we got a hell of a storm coming.”

You looked up to the sky, the wind blowing hair into your mouth. “I’m not supposed to ride with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers.” He chuckled. “You’ve known me since second grade.”

You gave him a look, a long one, holding your gold cross necklace before you eventually nodded, opening up his van door and climbing inside. He offered a hand to you, but you managed inside fine without it.

You lived about five miles north of his place on the outskirts of town, the baptist church, your fathers church, also being a mile from town. Your father was the only preacher in town to have children. The relationship with your parents was complicated. You idolized your mother, loved your father and brother. At the end of the day, that’s what was important and nothing else.

Three minutes into driving. Eddie couldn’t take the silence anymore. “So strangers, huh?” He forced a laugh to break the silence. “You consider me a stranger?”

You looked over at him, confused and in a daze. “No. But you don’t go to church.”

“So?”

“Daddy doesn’t want me to associate with people who don’t believe in God.”

“Who says I don’t believe in God?” He defended, hand on the wheel and other lighting a cigarette. “Just because I don’t go to church doesn’t mean I don’t believe in God, Y/n.”

“Do you?” You said curiously, eyes on the cigarette.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders, blowing smoke out the window. “I don’t not believe in God. I have bad luck as is. I don’t need God pissed at me for not believing in em’, ya know?”

His words didn’t make much sense to you, but regardless, you nodded and kept quiet. It wasn’t in your best interest to pry uncomfortable conversations. However, being the daughter of a preacher meant that students, your peers, liked to confess to you when they had problems. One day, Chrissy Cunningham had needed to get something off her chest, worried she was going to go to hell for smoking weed under the bleachers. You didn’t feel like Eddie needed this kind of treatment; counseling.

Eddie held out the cigarette for you to take, to which you politely accepted. It didn’t surprise him. He knew you smoked. He caught you one day underneath the large oak tree by lovers lake. He’d shocked him almost to his knees. He figured it was your only source of rebellion. He didn’t tease you for it.

You inhaled and exhaled, feeling ten times more relaxed as you breathed in the smoke. You handed it back to him. “Thank you.” You said softly. “It’s nice of you to take me home.”

He waved his hand nonchalantly. “I’m not gonna let the reverend’s daughter walk home in a storm. I probably wouldn’t get into heaven, would I?” He smirked over at you.

You couldn’t help but smile, tucking a hair behind your hair. The corner of his eye caught your hands, purple bruising around your knuckles. He stared at them for a moment, eyes bouncing between you, your hands and the road. They were angry and red, dark around the bone. It looked painful. He gave you one last look, a confused, strange one, before turning his eyes back to the road. How did you hurt your hands so badly? It looked like you’d been beating a punching bag all night long. He forced it out of his mind to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t his business.

“So,” Eddie cleared his throat. “You got big plans this weekend?”

“I’m going to read.” You answered plainly.

“Fun.”

He was kicking himself for being so awkward. He’d been thinking of you for months now, wanting to get you alone so he could understand why you had gotten under his skin. It’s not like you were drop dead gorgeous. You weren’t ugly by any means. You were pretty. But pretty like other girls he went to school with? It’s not like you shared similar interests. Hell, he wouldn’t know. You’d never share your interests with anyone anyways. Your hobbies consisted of reading the bible and sewing on the front porch.

Thunder began rolling in, rain hitting the window shield. Eddie turned on his wipers, quickly rolling up the drivers side window to avoid getting wet. You were looking out your window to the sky, bringing up a nail to bite.

“Scared of storms.” He noticed your habit of anxiety.

“No.” You shook your head. “I love them. I’m hoping for a tornado.”

He gave you a weird look, nodding. “Okay.”

You hoped the storm would destroy your home and everyone in it.

You swallowed back bile and pushed the sinful thoughts from your young mind, taking away your finger and down to your lap. Lightening struck.

“Shit.” Eddie cursed. “Maybe we should pull over. Shouldn’t drive in this.”

You stayed quiet, fingers mentally crossed the storm would worsen. You loved storms, the danger of it all. It could end your life and that excited you. It was up to mother nature whether you lived or died.

“There’s a boat dock with a shack up ahead. Reefer Rick’s place. He’s outta town.” Eddie spoke louder over the pelting rain, which was turning to hail. You both ran to the shack, your feet splashing in muddy puddles that dirtied up your pale legs.

You both panted when you got inside safely. You were cold, wrapping your arms around your freezing body. It was dark and musty, covered in cobwebs and mold, empty paint cans and boxes ruined from the leaky roof. You were warmer running out in the rain.

“Here.” Eddie held out his hellfire jacket to you.

You shook your head. “No, thank you.”

“You’re gonna get yourself a cold.” He kept his arm out stretched. “Come on, you’ve got less layers on than I do.”

“No, thank you.” You repeated. “I don’t like the…well, the logo of your club on the back.” Your cheeks blushed red in embarrassment, hoping not to hurt his feelings after saving you from the icy storm.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Eddie fixed himself comfortably against the wall, huddled up in a little corner, breathing into his hands to warm himself up. You shivered in your spot, arms crossed and feet shuffling to stay warm yourself. “How long do you think the storm will last?”

“Thought you liked storms?” He didn’t look up at you, yet he still smirked slightly.

You swallowed and turned away to look around some more, hoping the movement would keep you from going into hypothermic shock.

An hour later and Eddie had managed to build a fire in a metal trash can that was cut in half. Rick had kept some wood and news papers in the closet, so Eddie used that until he had a descent fire roaring to give off satisfying warmth. The storm really wasn’t letting up. Eddie, was beginning to grow agitated. He’d been waiting months to spend time with you, understand you, and you would barely speak to him.

“How’d you do on the english test?”

It was hypocritical of him to talk about, or show interest in grades when he was riding the fine line of a D and F, but he was tired of the silence.

You sat a few feet away from him, curled up in yourself, his jacket thrown over your shoulders. He insisted you wear it when he heard your teeth start to chatter. Your dress was slightly damp, but growing more dry by the second, your hair ratted.

“I did okay.” You said meekly.

Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You sure don’t say much, do you?”

You looked up to find him staring at you inquisitively. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“I think you have plenty to say, actually.” He corrected you, pointing a mud clad finger. “I think you’re just afraid of what people will think.”

“I know what people think of me.” You clasped your cross necklace. “They call me “plain Jane”.” I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

He had in fact, yes. Even called you the term before, several times.

“It doesn’t matter to me, though.” You shook your head. “Only one person really judges us in the end.”

Eddie looked uneasy at the thought of being judged by…God. He looked you over, swallowing as he shook his head. “Fuckin’ hell.”

His language startled you. “What is it?”

He laughed, shaking a hand. “It’s just…I don’t know. I thought maybe it was fate that I got to pick you up today, so you know…we could get to know each other better.”

You gave him a strange look. “But you already know who I am.”

“I mean,” He stressed in annoyance. “I don’t know, take you out on a date or something? Damn.” He cursed, shaking his head like this was the absolute worst thing he’d ever done.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted. “Me?”

He nodded, leaning back and crossing his arms. He looked like he was a five year old pouting. “I get it if you’re not interested. Just tell me rather than sit there with your mouth hangin’ open.”

You closed it automatically, swallowing nervously. You were completely astonished. You never knew that Eddie had those kinds of feelings for you. Eddie was just…Eddie. He was always there causing mischief and trouble, picking fights here and there. But now that you sat and thought about it, there were many of times you recalled catching his eye in the hallway or the cafeteria. He was handsome. You liked his hair, though you knew your father wouldn’t approve of how long it was.

Your father wouldn’t like this, but he didn’t like you either. There wouldn’t be any chance of being able to go out with Eddie, not being able to risk him seeing the both of you together.

“Maybe,” You started, taking his jacket off your shoulders. “Maybe we could have our date here.”

“Here?” He craned a brow. “In this shack? Would be the cheapest date I’ve ever been on.” He chuckled, scratching above his eyebrow. “So you’re interested then? You’ll go out with me?”

Your smile turned into a frown, your guilt and fear sinking in. Eddie was a man, and just like any man, only wanted one thing. Surely a date was not a date. It was a date. You supposed you didn’t mind, after thinking about it for a moment. You didn’t mind the idea of sleeping with him. It excited you actually, but not anymore than the idea of being taken out, treated like a real lady.

“Alright.” You nodded.

He smiled, clapping his hands together. “Good.”

Five minutes past. No one had said anything. You assumed he wanted you to make the move. You startled him when you crawled over to him. “What are-” Was all he’d gotten out before you were climbing into his lap to roughly kiss him. It was all so sudden, and his body was having a hard time registering what happened. He couldn’t keep up with you.

When he did, he cupped the back of your head and slipped his tongue into your mouth, your own saliva dripping down his chin. Your hand slipped from his chest to his belt, but before you could undue it, Eddie’s eyes opened and narrowed. “Whoa, now,” He chuckled, pushing you back gently. “Slow down.”

“You don’t like it?” You looked hurt. “I thought-”

“Well, yeah,” He chuckled. “I liked what you were doing, but all in good time sweetheart.”

It was so fast and so sudden, everything that had happened. Your heart was still racing from making out, your body still wracking with building pleasure. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” He scooted up against the wall. “It’s okay. I just want to take you out on an actual date. I didn’t mean I just wanted to fuck you in this old shack.” He snorted, teeth shining in the dark. He looked so amused, so interested in you.

“O-oh.” You stammered. “I didn’t know.”

“Is that okay?” He asked you.

“Oh, yes, yes,” You rushed, glowing red. You didn’t know how dates worked. You didn’t go on them. You weren’t allowed to leave the house very much anyways. You weren’t sure what excuse you’d be able to come up with to get away, but surely you’d come up with something. You were sneaky, after all. Had to be.

Eddie could tell by your body language that you’d never been asked out before. As dirty as it was, that excited him. When the rain stopped, he helped you up, put out the fire and drove you him. He never stopped thinking about your hand on his chest, and neither did you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Realized upon that hometown events' guest characters are those who are close with SSR card main characters. And I'm not saying because they are family or close friends.

Jamil - They could picked either of Jamil's parents yet decided upon Najma. Why? Because he and his parents' relationship are complicated and Najma is someone that he is close to the most and can be himself without worried about hierarchy. They even have typically sibling relationship where Najma mess with him but never outright cruel to him. (Love how she stole the shawarma)

Epel - Well Epel is a family man and he is close with each of the family relatives. I'm sure the reason it's Marja is because she is involved with the sled competition more than his family even looks like her the most (once he gets old). I mean it's hilarious how Idia fangirls Marja because she is inspiration of his favorite character.

Leona - they could have picked Farena since Cheka was already present but they picked Kifaji which is surprising given the last two are family members yet the guest character is the Twisted version of Zazu (but still interesting to have another twisted version of a Disney character). The reason is probably because he isn't close with Farena despite his brother caring about Leona that much but knowing his overblot backstory, he despise him since he is the heir and how people praise him while they badmouthed Leona. While Kifaji and Leona aren't really close, he is one of the few that Kifaji treated him well without discriminating him especially from the chess game. Kifaji is basically like a parent or an uncle to Leona and given Leona's family issues, he is close to someone than any of his family.

Deuce - knowing well about what he said about his mother, it's obvious that his mother is the guest character. Not to mentioned, the only person he is close to the most. Since he left the gang to leave a better life and how he treated everyone disrespectful and no known relatives except for his grandmother, his mother is closest person he has and how he'll do everything for his mother.

Vil - so far one of the two overblot boys (with Azul being the other one) are the ones without family problems (Idia seems to have caring parents but the family business is complicated for chapter 6 and 7 reasons). Obviously Vil will have his own father be the guest character because he is a great dad to Vil who doesn't abuse nor neglect him. Vil even talks proudly about his father.

So based on that, it's not just relationship towards the SSR but also how they are close to one another without ill-intentions nor trauma. So I have feeling the next hometown events will be similar to which the SSR closest to be the guest character.

Like for example, Azul's guest character could be his mother because he proudly talks about his mother and how he is happy that he married her divorce lawyer. I can picture tweels' guest character to be either their parents.

Now the only issues on who is closest to are the Lilia, Silver, Riddle's, Shroud brothers', and Malleus'.

Lilia and Silver are eachother's relatives and doesn't seem to have anyone they talk to outside of the family (Baul and Zigvolt don't really count especially when Baul ready debuted and felt they would be Sebek's guest characters). We already seen through the Shroud's parents and I doubt that Idia has someone close and Ortho is extroverted but I'm not sure what their hometown is like besides Styx. Do they have other children or anyone close to?

Malleus's family is complicated and we know about Senate. So he would likely have his grandmother.

Riddle for obvious reasons...

So this is just my speculation.

I believe it has been stated that the manga intentionally blacks out the face of Mrs. Rosehearts because she is viewed as the source of Riddle’s trauma. It keeps her in this shadowy, untouchable status and maintains the idea that the darkness of the past still impacts us in present day. I anticipate that this will hold and become the pattern for each OB boy’s flashback sequences. (We’ll soon see!)

If that’s the case for the manga, then it makes sense for the game to do something similar by purposefully keeping the faces of figures who play a significant role in each OB boy’s trauma a secret. That means likely no Mrs. Rosehearts, similar to how we did not meet the Viper parents in A Firelit Sky nor Farena/Falena in Tamashina Mina. However, some parents are clearly still fair game since they do have a good relationship with their son (Mrs. Ashengrotto and Azul, for example.). We see an example of this with Eric Venue showing up in Tapis Rouge.

It makes sense to meet family members whom the SSR boy has a good relationship with; running into a family member that stresses them out would kill the fun and easygoing vibes of the hometown event and would instead present an interpersonal issue that runs too deep to be resolved in a satisfying way before the event’s conclusion. Imagine a hometown event in which we have to stay over in Riddle’s home and we witness his parents fighting?? 😔 I don’t think that’s something that could be “fixed” in like 5 parts… Of course, not every family is perfect and that’s valid. It’s just not the scope or the perspective that TWST hometown events want or are equipped to deal with.

I feel like any of the Ocatrio’s family are pretty fair game? Despite how sketchy they are, Azul, Floyd, and Jade seem to be on good terms with all of their family members (well, maybe excluding Azul’s biological father) and learned many important things from them. I am, once again, asking TWST for a Coral Sea hometown event… 🤚 ✋ *holds out hands*

I’m sure that the characters who don’t have obvious family members to meet/yet to be revealed will have some other substitution? Probably a new character that’s twisted from another Disney character (similar to Kifaji). Maybe we’ll see a new noble fae that Lilia knows, Silver’s guardian fae that blessed him at birth, or prominent STYX staff (like maybe twisted Pain or Panic?).

For Malleus, his only living relative is his grandmother, sooo… I guess he’ll introduce us to the reigning monarch if he’s the SSR of a Briar Valley hometown event 😂 Malleus does what Leona won’t…

[alicentofficial]

re: my last post about jaime and alicent being parallels, i got an anon claiming they couldn't be similar because jaime as a man is privileged in ways alicent isn't since westeros is a patriarchy. this fact is correct! however! characters can have shared experiences, internal conflicts and dare i say, even themes, despite the fact that they are in different situations. let me explain why jaime and (show)alicent are similar characters.

rape/sa mentions below the cut

(1) okay so fundamentally jaime's thing is that he views himself as being sworn to so many conflicting ideals that he will never be able to uphold all of them. he is essentially in debt to so many people that anything he does will make him an oathbreaker. i think alicent views herself in a kind of similar way, only its through loyalty rather than oaths. hence that "i have endeavoured to serve both my house and my country etc" line because alicent basically FEELS like she has sworn conflicting oaths to everyone and everything around her - her father, her children, viserys, rhaenyra, the gods, the ideals of house targaryen, the abstract concept of what it means to be a "good woman" in society, and the list goes on, they don't call her Alicent "Where is Duty Where is Sacrifice" Hightower for nothing! both alicent and jaime see themselves trapped in moral paralysis because they are so concerned with what they are or should be loyal to, and as a result they are both constantly being eaten alive by guilt and self-loathing.

(2) both became deeply entrenched with the royal family at young ages whilst simultaneously living under their extremely ambitious hand of the king fathers. both fathers basically do not care who their children turn out to be and are only concerned with them as far as they can aid in his own ambitions. in jaime's case this was lessened by the fact that it was essentially divided between him and cersei, but tywin aggressively only gives a fuck about jaime as being the heir to casterly rock (hence his underlying insistence that jaime will do this despite the fact that he has sworn an eternal oath preventing it) - jaime does everything else to become tywin's lion-of-lannister golden boy but he will still never truly have tywin's love or affection or approval because tywin is incapable of that. otto basically pimped out his teenage daughter to viserys, and then after she spent 20+ years doing whatever he wanted he STILL doesn't respect about her, firstly because shes a woman, and secondly because he doesn't view her as a person, he views her as a political tool. and both of them are intensely loyal to said fathers and compulsively seek the approval which they know (on some level) is never coming.

(3) both of them have extremely complicated relationships with parenthood - alicent because her children are all products of her sexually abusive marriage, because she essentially grew up alongside them, and because they too are viewed as political tools more so than as people. as a result she's pretty emotionally cut off from them (struggling to connect with helaena, the unhealthy dynamic with aemond etc) meanwhile jaime can't ever openly acknowledge his children or act like a father to them and sees them as an extension of his relationship with cersei. alicent's feelings about aegon (and to a lesser extent aemond) are this weird dynamic where she loves him a lot and wants to protect him but is also aware that he's an abusive monster. in asos there's a jaime chapter after joffrey dies where he has this moment of awareness that joffrey is his firstborn son, and he kind of wonders if he should feel anything, but he can't bring himself to, basically because joffrey is also an abusive monster. he kind of awkwardly tried to bond with tommen at one point and seems vaguely fond of myrcella but can't really get himself to properly contemplate his feelings towards them either. for both of them parenthood is so wrapped up in all these other layers of pain and guilt that they struggle to have healthy, loving relationships with any of their kids.

(4) they both use copes - alicent with religion and jaime with dissociation - to essentially avoid engaging with their inner conflicts. jaime started dissociating to avoid having to deal with any of the injustices he saw around him i.e. listening to aerys raping rhaella and deciding he could absolve himself of his bystander guilt by "going away inside". meanwhile alicent uses religion as an outlet for her rage because when she throws herself fully into religion and convinces herself that she hates things because they're sacrilegious she doesn't have to confront her own trauma and anger. like a big part of why she hates rhaenyra's children is because they're physical manifestations of the freedoms rhaenyra has which alicent doesn't, but she's not emotionally equipped to deal with that, so the only option is to really really REALLY convinces herself that they're abominations cursed by the gods and thus she is justified in how she feels.

(5) okay here's where you have to hear me out. i think, narratively, jaime sees cersei's role towards him in a similar way to how alicent views criston. cersei and jaime's relationship is obviously built on the recurring themes of lannister exceptionalism and pseudo-incest within their house, but i also think jaime holds on to cersei as this symbol of pre-kingslayer him. she is his other half so when he knows that he's failed and become a terrible person, he can just hardcore project all his hopes of what he could have been onto her and see her as this paragon of beauty and love and nobility. and because of this he spends a lot of the series wilfully blind to the fact that their codependent relationship has turned them both into extremely violent and unstable people. to a certain extent alicent also projects a lot of her own childhood idealism onto both criston and rhaenyra - rhaenyra is literally her childhood girlfriend companion and i think because she's so emotionally stunted she's still obsessed with their relationship as like, the simplicity and tenderness of childhood before her marriage. hence why she seems so in denial about the fact that the war is about more than just their their relationship - but more so i think her relationship with criston is similar to that of jaime and cersei. (up until recently lol) i think she also saw criston as this white knight tragic courtly love figure because theyre BOTH still obsessed with the ideals of chivalry and knighthood and can reflect it back onto one another, whilst at the same time continuing to practice their own hypocrisy. she is basically (in a very jaime fashion) sticking her fingers in her ears to the fact that criston is deeply unstable and and punches people to death when he gets angry. both cersei and jaime's relationship and alicent and criston's relationship are essentially echo chambers that make them both worse while allowing them to view themselves and each other as idealised figures of the white knight and the noblewoman.

[heliza24]

No Children, etc in ep 2.6 of IWTV

This episode is all about children and women, isn’t it? And how difficult and painful having a child as a vampire is.

Misogyny is big theme in the episode: way the plot moves around Claudia and Madeline, Madeline’s almost rape, her abuse at the hands of the mob. The women are cut out of waiting for Godot; if Godot is hope, and never arrived for the pair on stage, it never arrives for Claudia and Madeline either.

It also makes Armand exposed because it lets the coven plot around him. His kind of feminized role and his trauma leaves him exposed too, torn between Louis and the coven. Armand is the wife being asked to reproduce here. The way he reacts to Louis asking him to turn Madeline is so interesting. He doesn’t even want to watch Madeline’s turning, and the only way he would have conceded to that was if Louis had stepped into the dom role (the “masculine” role, if you will indulge outdated gender roles in order for me to make thematic point) to make him. This is likely based on his own trauma of his turning and his relationship with Marius, but maybe also because he’s already torn between loyalties to the coven and Louis by then.

The way his refusal to turn someone plays in Dubai is so fascinating. In some ways Daniel reacts to Armand like some people react to women without kids. He’s just totally shocked about how it could be possible that Armand has never made a fledgling. (of course this whole interaction is complicated and given layers by any history Armand and Daniel had together, including times that Daniel may have asked to be turned. I am sure that is playing on Armand’s mind; he’s delivering everything in that scene directly to Daniel. Daniel used to know, extremely intimately, all of Armand’s hang ups about creating a fledgling. And there’s still grief and bitterness tied up in that conversation for Armand.)

The fact that the magnolia tree in the Dubai penthouse could have been propagated from a cutting taken by Armand in Paris is so interesting. I think that can symbolize a lot of things: the hope that Louis feels in their relationship, the intertwining of New Orleans and Paris, Armand’s own sentimental attachments (to Louis and the world) that he rarely lets himself vocalize. It’s even in some ways a painful reminder of Armand’s betrayal of Louis and Claudia, a monument to his false promises. There’s also the fact that he was intentionally growing the tree in Paris, giving it new life in a way he won’t give a fledgling life, and that if the tree in Dubai is related it was propagated, artificially replicated, and not grown from a seed. But I also think it’s fascinating that we find this out in the same episode that Armand is inserted into a scene that has strong Adam and Eve symbolism. In his interaction with Madeline, Armand is the unwilling serpent, trying to scare Eve out of eating the apple she’s taken from the sacred tree of knowledge. So his connection to the tree feels important! And here’s that theme of misogyny again. Even though the roles are somewhat inverted here, Eve still gets punished for her acceptance of vampirism and of Claudia.

I do love that Madeline is the first person to make Armand question- even just for a second- his certainty that he knows exactly how Claudia will end. Nothing is prewritten according to her, and of course she’s right. But it’s not enough to shake Armand out of his other biblical role this episode. He still plays Judas, and self fulfills the prophecy he created for Claudia, and all child vampires, in the process.

I think it’s so fascinating that Louis’s one fledgling is not his child, but a partner for his child. Turning Madeline is like walking Claudia down the aisle at her wedding. It simultaneously reinforces how distant he is from Claudia (they didn’t have this turning experience together) and how much he would do for her. And there’s something so painful about how deadened he is to everything afterwards. Something about seeing the true love between the women and of letting go of Claudia takes the last pieces of feeling out of him. It’s what makes it so uncomfortable for him when Madeline still senses the love he has for Armand/Lestat (I do think she was feeling both in that scene, in a complicated way).

In this episode that’s all about children and the characters’ complicated relationship to them, it feels significant that Claudia is seen, really and truly, as an adult for the first time. As much as Louis has claimed to be thinking of her as a sister, he can never really let go of her as a daughter. I think it’s really beautiful the way that Madeline sees her. Claudia’s younger body isn’t a forbidden subject between them; they discuss it in one of the earlier episodes. But Madeline sees her agency and her joy and her hard won wisdom before anything else. I’m so glad we got to see Claudia through Madeline’s eyes, as she would like to be seen, at least once before next weeks’s episode.

@bluedalahorse and I have talked a lot about the queer phenomenon that sometimes happens, when someone’s lover also becomes their mentor and maybe even parental figure, guiding them into queer culture and making up for nuclear family that may have rejected them. I think this is hard coded into the concept of makers and fledglings, and is a big part of why vampirism works so well as a metaphor for queerness, amongst other things. I think this episode did a really good job of exploring the complications of those type of relationships.

[itsmoonpeaches]

On Medusa from the PJO TV Show: A Survivor and complicated antagonist

I'm not the only one obsessed with the version of Medusa and I know it.

She's beautiful, she's eerily calm, she says, "I am a survivor," and you feel that. She is the symbol for women out there who don't want to be bullied anymore, and more recently Medusa's head has become a symbol of women fighting back with the #MeToo movement.

But I'm not writing this to talk about Medusa as the Gorgon from the Greek mythos. I'm here to talk about how she was written in the PJO TV Show. So let's get into it, shall we?

Note that some ideas from this meta are expanded on from this Variety article where the writers of the show and Rick and Rebecca Riordan, speak about the changes they made from the book to show adaptation.

A victim of an abuse of power

In the Variety article, Rick says, “There are many versions from ancient times of what happened in that temple with Medusa and Poseidon and Athena. Who’s to blame? Who’s the abuser? What’s the real story? It’s fiction, but it certainly is important to acknowledge that there is abuse involved here. Abuse of power.”

Like in all Greek myths, there is never exactly one "correct" version of a story. In many, Medusa and Poseidon basically have a one-night stand. In some, they have a mutual affair. In others, it's Poseidon who seduces Medusa into Athena's temple, and in others still, Medusa is a victim of assault.

What most versions of the myths do have in common is the fact that Medusa and Poseidon had some sort of relationship that produced at least two children (Pegasus and Chrysaor). Most versions (both Greek and Roman) also depict her as a tragic figure and a beautiful maiden.

Athena is involved in earlier myths as the goddess who put her head onto the shield that averts the gaze of enemies. In later myths, she is the one who curses Medusa to transform into what we know of her today after Athena discovers her relationship with Poseidon on her sacred ground. Poseidon, of course, gets let off scot-free.

Depending on how you read into the myths, there could be a variety of different things happening here. So, I like what the show did. They made it vague enough that this is still middle-grade level like the books, but they also expanded on what the books couldn't because they are originally written from 12-year-old Percy's POV.

They basically keep nearly all aspects of the story and original myth possible. But in the end, Medusa is indeed a victim of abuse.

Her real curse is not that she is hideous and turns people who look into her eyes into stone, but that she is made invisible by the curse and she is not heard. Not one person can look her in the eye and live to tell the tale. She can't show her beauty, so she chooses to live with what she has. Even with a slanted hat covering half her face and eyes, you can tell she's statuesque (see what I did there?) and a beauty.

She chooses elegant clothes, pretty jewelry, a neat hairstyle, a hat that accents what you can see of her features, and red lipstick that makes you think she could be desirable.

But it doesn't change the fact that Poseidon had his way with her, told her he loved her, and then she was the only one left with the punishment for what happened between them. Athena cursed her out of anger.

Medusa revered Athena who is a virgin goddess, and of course, Athena would be upset when one of her devout followers is suddenly not a virgin too. Yet, Medusa mentioned earlier in her narrative in episode 3 that Athena never answered her prayers at all and never gave an indication that she was listening. So out of all the times she pays attention, it's to curse her for something she doesn't like?

Athena paid attention to Medusa when it was convenient to her and Poseidon left her when Medusa was no longer useful to him after she was cursed.

This version of Medusa is left to the wolves to defend herself and live with herself, a victim of abuse of power from multiple ends and from gods she thought she could trust.

Medusa and Sally Jackson

What I found the most interesting in episode 3 was the fact that Medusa sprinkles the seeds of doubt into Percy's mind that maybe the loving relationship he thought his mother had with Poseidon was not what actually happened.

In the Variety article, Rebecca Riordan says, that Percy has to think ‘What has my father done? Has he changed? How do I see myself in relationship to that?' while Rick says that “Percy can only judge his father by the wreckage he has left behind."

The fact of the matter is, Percy is 12. The book series is for a middle-grade audience, and the show is too. So people out there thinking "This could've been darker!" need to calm down and take a back seat. The books always did a good job of introducing deeper, darker topics to children. The show should stick to the same strategy to keep what made the original story so good.

But, what the show does here is make you think. If Poseidon could abandon Medusa like that, use her like that, then maybe Sally Jackson was abandoned and used too.

Her show story does a good job of connecting two women who had a relationship with the same god, connecting women who thought they could trust someone but were left to fend for themselves.

Look at where Sally Jackson is now at this point in the story. Not only was she forced to marry Gabe Ugliano to use his stench to protect her son who attracts monsters, but he is an abusive man both to her and to her son at least verbally. In the books, it's not suggested until the very end of The Lightning Thief that Gabe has been hitting her outside of Percy's POV. I've seen people forget that and immediately write off that Gabe wasn't "abusive enough". C'mon people. Just because Sally fights back verbally doesn't mean he wasn't still abusive in his actions in the first two episodes. Even if they decide not to suggest that he was also physically abusive to Sally, doesn't make him sneakily using her phone, demanding to ask why she has to use his car, and demanding for her to make food for him any less abusive.

Sally chose that life because the most important person in the world to her is her son, and even though Gabe is a total jerk, she convinced herself that she could take what he gave her because what he did to her was better than having her son being hunted and maimed by a bunch of Greek monsters because of who he is. To top it all off, now Hades stole her away into the Underworld.

Medusa, in a similar way, was left to fend for herself. She chose what was best for her, and lived in her new form because she could not change what had happened. She wants to save Sally too because she sees Percy as a boy whose mom was abused the same way she was.

Medusa's brilliant role as an antagonist

Now we're here, the main reason I wanted to write this giant thing. I saw a weird take on Twitter saying that Medusa in the show should not have been beheaded like she was in the books because then that negates her whole story and what she stood for.

Well, in my opinion, that is a shallow take on what the show's Medusa is trying to portray.

Medusa is an antagonist. In the myths, she is an antagonist. In the books, she is an antagonist. In the show, she is an antagonist. She gets in the way of Percy's path for his quest, she suggests that he doesn't need Annabeth and Grover, and that only she can save his mom with him.

In both the books and the show, there are hundreds of statues of people she had turned. Sure, some of them could've been attacking her, but there were a lot of people there who were victims too. I'm sure that screaming lady didn't mean to do something to Medusa, and Grover's Uncle Ferdinand? He was the only statue who appeared calm and collected and there was nothing to suggest that he was out to get her. He was only on his journey to find Pan.

Medusa has killed people, and innocent people at that. For thousands of years. And not just people she had to, and not a small amount. Then, she suggests that Percy let her kill his two friends who are children.

To her, Annabeth and Grover are dead weight because of their loyalty to the gods. Annabeth wants to be noticed by her mother. Grover wants to make sure the world doesn't end. I mean, they all don't want the world to end but I digress.

Medusa hates the gods. She wants to save a woman who is like her. She will protect that woman's child. But she will do anything and destroy anyone to get that end result.

A victim is still a victim even if they are a villain or an antagonist. Her methods don't make her any less of a victim of abuse. But that doesn't mean they are right.

So yes, when Percy runs away from her to keep his friends alive and she takes off her hat to stalk them around the room to turn them into stone, she does indeed need to be beheaded. There is literally no other way to defeat her. They can't look at her or they die. So they have to make her stop moving.

Unfortunately, a person like her with deep and complicated motivations would never change their mind when they feel they are betrayed. So, Percy did what he could to protect himself and his friends from dying.

Still, it's a poetic death as it is in the books. He mails her head to the gods and mentions Athena specifically for her punishment of Medusa. He's impertinent.

Medusa didn't deserve to be punished. But it's been millennia and she made her choices. The abusers did not get the punishment they deserved, but maybe now they will. Medusa's head in her (temporary) death, will be a testament to her victory, but also a testament to her downfall.

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]