#and then as soon as i started to become myself my cousin died and my aunt shot herself and i went to school and became a druggie

[mental-skillness]

im just screaming into the void

[w3bheadz]

Fishhooks

Authors Note: This chapter is a little different. It is from the perspective of Tigris Snow, and its her thoughts during some of the events up until now. Its a bit shorter the regular chapters, but next chapters will be longer :)

Tigris’ POVIf I had known what all of this would come to, I wouldn’t have been as sure of myself when I helped him. Corio was such a sweet child, and he had been my best friend. I had asked myself what had happened. What had changed in him.

 I used to have him clinging to my arm.. Hiding behind me when he got too scared of being in front of people, and now? He wouldn’t even spare a second to even look at me. I understood that losing Grandma'am hurt, especially since he was still in district 2 when it happened. I understood more than anything. 

I was alone until Corio came back to the capitol, working every day to the bone just to make ends meet and be able to feed myself. There were days I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep because I had to stay awake incase people got too close. Then, Corio came home. He wasn’t the same anymore.We moved into the flat we had all shared before, but he had the locks changed so I couldn’t get in once he finally moved up to be Doctor Gaul’s apprentice. He got me a job as a stylist for District 4 in the games, but he refused to see me.

That's when I realized something. He was just like his father, and he was no longer the boy I had protected when we grew up. That's when I started to change too. I no longer saw him as the little boy I longed to have back, but what he was truly turning into. A creature of immense hate. Of hunger for power. It wasn’t until I met Mags Flanagan that I realized just how evil he could be.

The first time I saw Mags cry was the night of the interviews. She sang a song. It was a beautiful but woeful tune that had etched its way into my brain just the year before. Lucy Gray, I remembered. The girl no one was to speak of. I had been through my fair share of breakups, but none had resulted in forcing the entirety of Panem to never mention them again.

I walked into the observation deck where I had seen the peacekeepers drag Mags into. I know I shouldn’t, but Mags had become my friend. I was worried about her. She had crumbled onto the ground, her chest rising and falling slowly. I rushed over, dropping to my knees and helping her sit up. It revealed a bright red handmark on the side of her face that set an ice cold stab into my heart. “Corio did this..?” Mags only nodded, her eyes so full of tears that it seemed she could explode if anything weren’t let out soon. Her eyes went to the screen, mine following as I saw the horrors. Mags family, all dead. From her parents to her siblings. The youngest had only been one year old, Mags told me. My heart were completely and utterly shattered as I pulled Mags into a hug, my eyes not leaving the screen. Coriolanus was just like his father now, and he was not family anymore. I think that was when the hatred started.

I knew then that I could never stand with him on things again. We’d never see eye to eye on anything again. The Corio I knew died the moment he entered that arena. My cousin died when the rebels bombed it. This Coriolanus wasn’t anyone I wanted to be associated with, and in a way? I wasn’t upset. I had never disliked him before, even though I had sacrificed everything in my being to protect him during the dark days. The nights I had gone without food just so he had enough for his stomach to not ache at night. It was like he had seen those sacrifices and spat on them. He obviously didn’t care about me, so I would learn to forget about any love I still had for him. I’d never support anyone that would kill innocent people for the fun of it. 

As I held Mags in my arms, trying desperately for her to get a solid breath in and out, I forgot how messy things could be. This had been the horrible downfall of almost an entire family line. Mags was alone now. Going into the games. With no one to trust, because I know for a fact that Dolion would betray her without a second thought, not a single thought in his tiny little mind. I had a job now, and that was to be there for Mags. We both knew that behind her bold and loud front, she was like fine china. Fragile and small. Easily breakable. She would win these games, and I would be there to pick the pieces of her up, put her back together. I had to. And if Coriolanus were to ever see a downfall like he deserved, I knew I wanted to be part of it.

I was done with being treated like that. I wouldn’t let myself be used for someone else's gain anymore. I wasn’t a pushover. Not anymore.

[daedalusdavinci]

i dont really know who or how many people check my blog for updates on where im at with my writing and stuff but in honor of starting to come out of the fog im just going to like. level, really quick. writing is a personal affair intricately tied to what were coping with at the time so as i give updates for what i have planned im also going to talk about shit im going through so heres your warning now

you might have seen it in the a/n for brothers return for the whole ten seconds it was there before i backspaced it out of existence but a family member of mine died in october and writing- living, really- has been almost impossible since. its only just now starting to get easier.

we finally spread the ashes a couple weeks ago or so now and it feels. lighter, now. easier to breathe. i have his art hanging in my bedroom and im going to see my cousins again in a week and my foot is broken so i have all new things to focus on, and its. yknow. we move forward.

ive written a couple of things between now and october but looking at them they feel... short, and hollow, and i can tell i wasnt feeling what i was writing even though i convinced myself at the time that it was good enough. theres a very good chance ill try and rewrite brothers return and the second robin (i HATE those titles btw), because i feel like theyre fics that need to happen but its also. SO hard to write about resurrection when youre grieving?? lol??? like. someone in my life died and im never getting him back and now i have to put myself in dicks shoes where he DOES get jason back and its just. thats not easy, man. its suddenly become an almost impossible topic. but im hoping, now, that maybe i can finally reconnect with it and rewrite it in a way im actually satisfied with

snow day i will straight up be dubbing noncanon from now on. i doomed myself the second i wrote son of dent and made it so harvey and bruce have to not be dating the entire fucking time jasons a kid and ive managed to keep to that pretty well so far adn find wiggle room here and there but snow day was really. sldkjfnslkdnfsdf its a plot hole. its a huge plot hole. i wrote it because i wanted to write something that felt good not something that made sense and i SUCCEEDED but man does it not make sense. so im just gonna be striking it from the canon and keeping it up regardless.

moving into future fics, though. i dunno, man. i finally plotted out that detective au ive wanted to write for ages but its gonna be long and im scared to start it.

i did read all of damians preboot comics (or at least, the ones on the list i was given) (id read some before and ive read some n52 ones already so this was just filling in the last of the gaps (mostly his origin story)) and filled in the last of the preboot timeline (post jasons resurrection, idc about anything before that) so i feel prepared to write the next installment of the jdau, whatever that is, but i havent decided exactly what that is. itll probably be al ghul centric, tho. thats all i know tho! thats all i know

but i guess. keep your expectations low. im figuring things out. might reopen prompt requests soon tho, and im trying my absolute best

[blackwitchspace]

Cw: Reflection, Meditation Afterthought, Long Post

Tw: De_th, Spirits, Veil, Supernatural

Since growing up, I didn't understand why I couldn't be up at night while everyone else was sleeping and the earth, at least on our side, was quiet and still. I would constantly ask my mother to put me in "night school" because day time really disturbed me lmao. During that particular time my premonitions were becoming more frequent, spirits revealed themselves more and downloads sounded like a static filled radio stations (on was still learning how to hone my gift) and I know people joke about "witching hours" but the energy is completely different around a certain time of night.

Witching hours, depending on who you ask, start around 1am but the Veil between life and death are it's thinnest between 3&4. Typically during this time the Spirit World is able to visit us a lot easier. The witching hour came from ppl assuming witches cast their spells in the blackness of night undetected 🙄 When certain religions like Christians refer to WH it's bc its believed that's when Christ died. Religious beliefs place his death at 3 pm, and because the "devil" works in inversions, the witching hour, or the time when we are farthest from holy power and supernatural activity is at its greatest, is 3 am.

I've had the pleasure of sitting with people as they cross over, a Death Doula of sorts, and it's usually around the 3am mark. My grandfather reached for me while taking his last breathe around 312 I was angry at him bc I'd just warmed up a quesadilla and was so looking forward to eating it. I was awaken from my sleep unable to breathe when my cousin expired from asphyxiation around 320. I thought I was having an asthma attack, we did everything I knew to do. Breathing treatment, cool air, nothing was working. I remember receiving a phone call about thirty minutes later that he was gone. He was in Cali and Me in Chicago but it felt like for that moment we were every where and no where together.

My earliest memory is of my father which I share often. Around 330 on the 4th of July. I was five. I woke from my sleep telling everyone he was about to d_e but the adults around me assumed it was a fever dream and gave me meds that put me back to sleep which I'm told it was a very active sleep. He succumbed to his injury soon after I settled. I was visiting Alabama at the time and he was in Texas.

Other than de_ath, spiritual downloads are easier to be received during this time and manifesting is also better (especially if you manifest simultaneously with a release/orgasm truthfully masturbation is a great spiritual tool).

A lot of us are doing some sort of work on ourselves that include being comfortable with yourself as your personal gifts are introduced. Till this day I surprise myself being able to tell someone what I see in front of them while being no where near them. Admittedly it used to be scary bc I thought "there's no way this is for real" or I'd be afraid that I'd get judged and talked about (which is a story for another day).

I don't know what prompted me to share any of this, as you all know I don't tell y'all my business outside of sharing my shadow work journey but it's clear one of you needed it.

So the next time you're wide awake those hours, pray (talk to the Universe), meditate (listen to the Universe), then release (let go and allow things to manifest).

This also isn't an invitation to ask my for spiritual help, I'm not an adviser just a Veiled Bae sharing experiences.

I hope today brings each of you warmth.

🌑

[write-r-die]

Fear of the Water - Chapter 1

Chunks of this were originally posted on my Hunger Games blog but I didn't keep up with posting and I figured I should keep all my writing in one place

Masterlist

(ANNIE)

“Annie,” a voice says. There’s something pressing on my shoulder. “Annie, wake up.”

I try to hide my face behind my hair. “Nooooo,” I moan, drawing out the word.

“Come on. It’s reaping day.”

I crack my eyes open. My twin brother Bosun is standing over me. He’s bathed and dressed already. Must have been awake for hours. His strawberry hair is combed for once, but bags and purple shadows hang under his blue-green eyes. I wonder if he slept at all.

He forces a smile. “I don’t know how you sleep so late. I can never sleep at all before the Reaping.”

The only reason I’m able to is because I stole a sleeping draught from our aunt’s medicine cabinet.  She doesn’t know, of course – she’d have one of her episodes. Probably threaten to send Bosun and me back to the community home. But we’re seventeen now, and we can work full time now that we’ve finished school, and I doubt she’d be willing to part with our salaries. But it also means we can live on our own. Bosun and I constantly promise ourselves that day will come soon, but people usually only move out of their family homes when they get married.

My cousins and I help each other into our dresses and comb one another’s hair. One must look their absolute best on Reaping Day in case one gets called up. Don’t want the sponsors’ first impression of you to be in swimming clothes.

Adrie ties my hair up in a ribbon as I braid Coraline’s hair from behind. Coraline is nearly eighteen; Adrie is fifteen. We all qualify for the reaping, and even though a girl named Coastia Is set to volunteer, we’re still nervous wrecks. Everybody is.

My aunt Chelsea looks us all over one more time to be sure we’re presentable.

We don’t bother with breakfast since none of us will be able to eat anything anyway. We walk toward the pavilion where the reaping is held in relative silence. I give Bosun’s hand a quick squeeze before he joins his friends on the boys’ side of the crowd.

“Dodge got his hands on a bottle of rum,” Bosun says to me. “When all this is over, we’ll get drunk and go for a swim. Okay?”

I lower my voice and try not to move my lips too much as I speak. “Do we have to bring the cousins?”

“God, no. They’d ruin it.” Bosun gives me a quick squeeze. “It’ll be you, me, Dodge, and Ondine. And Gill, I think. And maybe a couple of Dodge’s cousins, but they’ll bring their own liquor.”

“I hate most of Dodge’s cousins.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be drunk.” He goes off toward the boys’ side and I look around for Ondine. She’ll need somebody to hold her hand through all this, the awful memories it will drag up.

Ondine, who’s been with Bosun for as long as anybody can remember, is my best friend. Maybe my only proper friend – except for Dodge, I guess. Bosun’s the social one; as his twin, I can just insert myself into whatever relationships he has without putting in the work of getting to know someone and then his friends become mine.

Ondine’s sister Liffey was my proper best friend until she died of an infected cut on her arm in the arena last year. Ondine, already an orphan, is now totally alone except for Bosun, who she’ll probably marry in a few years.

“Annie!”

I turn at the sound of my name. “Ondine.”

Lithe, lovely Ondine rushes toward me and grabs my hands so hard that my knuckles crack. “Oh, I’m so glad I found you. I couldn’t stand to be alone for this.”

“Me neither.”

She talks when she’s anxious, so I’m prepared when she starts speaking a mile a minute. “We just have to remember that we’re nearly done. This is my last reaping, and you and Bosun will be done next year. And then we’ll all be safe.” Her throat bounces as she swallows back tears. “Right?”

I smile. “Right.”

She catches sight of a few of her friends and drags me over to them.

(FINNICK)

I sit with the other victors on the platform in the shade. Everybody else stands on the ground facing the stage, the sun shining directly into their eyes. They’ve probably all ruined their clothes with sweat by now.

An attendant comes around to us and offers to powder our faces so we don’t look “too damp.” Mags is the only one polite enough to say no; the rest of us just ignore the attendant altogether. I let her give me a light dusting.

Eefa is half-asleep, Mags has her hands folded in her lap, and Broadsea keeps itching his beard and occasionally baring his teeth at people who stare too long. Proteus hasn’t taken his seat yet; he’s chatting with the mayor and the harbormaster about spatchcocking, which I guess is a cooking thing since that’s his passion. Maybe ‘passion’ is too strong a word; Proteus is too apathetic to experience any strong urge or emotion. His hobby, perhaps, is a better description.

We sit in order of victory, which means that as the most recent victor, I’m at the end of the line.  I’m stuck next to damn Broadsea, and, since I sit on his left, I’m stuck looking at the mangled side of his face from the corner of my eye.

Mags is the only one I get along with. She’s the only one I like and she’s one of the only people in the world who genuinely likes me. As our district’s first victor, she’s seated at the other end of the line.

The microphone at the front of the stage shrieks as our Capitol escort adjusts it. She’s gotten even more surgery done to disguise her age since last summer, but instead of looking younger she just looks strange. She gives the introductory speech reminding us why the Hunger Games exist and what an honor it is to be chosen.

Piers Brewre volunteers for the boys.

The Career is about average height, maybe a little taller, and well-built. His muscles don’t bulge out of his body the way other Careers’ sometimes do, but they’re just big enough to see that they’re there.

Most of our tributes are Careers; regular kids get called up about a third of the time. We don’t have as many Careers as 1 and 2, but it’s practical to have a few. Careers have a real shot at winning and they save someone else’s life by volunteering to compete. I’ve always wondered why other districts don’t have this practice. It would save them a lot of heartache.

Piers takes his spot on the stage and crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for his partner to be called.

Brae clears her throat. “Now for the girls!”

There’s confusion in the crowd. An eighteen-year-old girl named Coastia was set to volunteer this year. Most people don’t change their minds about volunteering, and those who do aren’t usually allowed to withdraw. Coastia must’ve bribed somebody to get out of it.

Someone angrily shouts “Coastia! What did you do?” and a girl of about eighteen that must be her shrinks to the back of the crowd. The other girls begin to cluster into little pockets, all holding hands and whispering to each other. Other people start to scream out all sorts of horrible things, and most of the girls begin to panic. They thought, at least this year, they were safe. Now the odds are their only protection.

Brae, our escort, prances over to the other bowl and reaches in. She accidentally grabs two, and takes her sweet time choosing which to keep and which to toss back with the others. She opens the slip of paper and clears her throat before reading, “Annie Cresta!”

After a few seconds, a girl emerges from the crowd. Flowing hair. Wide eyes. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. Visibly trembling. She stumbles a few times as she climbs the steps to the stage, anxiously wiping her sweaty palms on her blue dress. Her chin quivers from the strain of holding back tears. She’s going to lose the battle.

There’s a commotion near the front of the boys’ group. A boy says something and surges forward, but another boy, who I know to be the grandson of one of our other victors, catches him by the arm and pulls him back.

Brae smiles brightly. “Ladies and gentlemen of District Four, I present to you – your tributes!”

There’s plenty of mandatory clapping, then the tributes are led into the Justice Building. The Head Peacekeeper steps to the front of the stage and starts barking instructions. “Those of you wishing to bid farewell to the tributes, line up here in order of closest relation.”

Broadsea pulls a large bottle of liquor from a hidden pocket in his coat and takes a large drink. He wakes Eefa up to offer her some.

It’s the same every year. Eefa will stay in her rooms and avoid other people at all costs, Broadsea will be drunk or high or both, Proteus will be charming and ass-kissing Capitol citizens whenever possible, and Mags and I will try to keep a pair of children alive for as long as possible.

But I've already watched eight children die in pain and fear. Why should this year be any different?

[noctisfalls]

okay..here goes nothing i guess..

(tw, mentions of r4pe, drug abuse, alcohol, burns, um abuse stuff— idk— just maybe don’t read if u get triggered easily. sorry. )

btw more- i started writing this attttt 11:47…..um i think i did well but kinda mad so..that probably helped..and i guess i’m getting better..) ANYWAY-

i think i was…5? just out of pre school, my first christmas with the body’s cousins. my first real break from pre school. i didn’t realize it would end so horribly. i never would have thought of the horrible things that would happen when i met you. i thought it would all be gone when i left. but then we kept coming back. and back and back. and soon i found myself living with them for years. 3 ish years of h e l l. and every christmas i got the same type of “gift”. a nice night out in the shed. a nice drink that makes me black out and forget where i end up. a fun run through the woods in the snow as i’m chased like a fucking animal, with promises that if i’m caught i’ll be punished. a nice time stuck in the cold cold basement, another beer glass shattered, another cigarette put out, another beating, another rape, more and more and more. until i can’t take it. and then i’m thrown away to rot, until i’ve pulled myself together enough to take it again.

i had to continue my education somehow right? that’s not a problem. all i learned in school was that the cool kids only like to play rough, that girls like to play with the boys but i got the special treatment, that i was only fun to play with if no one else was available, that all my “friends” loved to talk about me when i’m not there, that the nurses office would become my new home, that the janitors closest only locked from the outside, that bleach hurts just a bit too much, that you’re only “cute” and “interesting” if you’re covered in blood and laying on the asphalt on the playground, that even Ms___ can’t help such a hopeless student because she can’t deal with the fact the kids cut my hair and throw papers in my face. oh don’t worry i learned lots.

i died. so so many times. and those years i spent aren’t even all of it. i don’t know all of it. that’s so fucking terrifying. i’m sorry i’ve gone overboard with this. but this feels good to say. i’m fucking angry. i’m hurt i’m crying and screaming begging for someone something anything. i’m fucking angry. and i’m alive…i’m fucking alive. and i will fucking live for all though people who told me i should be dead, for all the times i told myself i should be dead. i’m going to live.

[humdelhi]

“It has been a constant battle to come to terms with my identity and sexuality. I had to gather a lot of courage since childhood to accept who I am; partly because I have had several bad phases in the beginning that have left deep scars. I don’t think I ever had the choice to be like this, but this is all I am! To be honest, the struggle is quite unending - first me convincing myself that I am gay and now convincing the world that we exist and how we too are a part of this society. We may be different but not defective, for sure!

You feel worse when your dearest ones fail to understand and make fun of you. More often than not, when they go against you! Sometimes, when I look back in time, I recall how my cousins never understood me. I was like any other kid but had a feminine side as well. I played with my mother’s saree, dupatta, heels and lipstick. I would use her makeup kit whenever I had a chance. I enjoyed it thoroughly and felt comfortable in it. My mother, father and brother were bemused but never paid much attention and brushed it off each time. However, in this process, my cousins never left a chance to tease and mock me. Soon thereafter, my neighbours also started calling me a girl because I didn’t play cricket and enjoyed girls’ company more. They gave names like, ‘Bijli’, ‘Gaddan’ & ‘Maa di Kudi’.

I had a sense of helplessness and embarrassment each time somebody ridiculed me. So to counter it, I began to show that I was nothing short of a ‘cool dude’. I could change myself outside, but inside, only I knew how I felt. I felt broken when things fell out of proportion. My school mates gave me the title of ‘hijra’. I was only 10 then. Out of constant teasing and humiliation that I had to bear at that age, I went into depression and stopped interacting with people around me. I didn’t communicate with anyone for 2 years, including my closest of cousins as well. It was a hard time, I recall. I even tried ending my life but couldn’t. However, I believe my mother figured my mental status and changed my school in 7th standard. It was a good English medium school. Since everyone was new, they didn’t harass me either. But I always lived under constant fear. I had completely become the opposite of who I was in my previous school. I used to be an active and notorious child, but in the new school I had clearly become a recluse. Nevertheless, the ‘recluse’ label was better than the uglier ones I had gotten before.

Ever since then, I have been the same. It’s been a few years since I left home but the childhood scars are still very fresh; I haven’t healed. I am still afraid of people ridiculing me. I am bold and open with my close friends, but I still prefer being the quiet person with everyone else. I hope this fear doesn’t stay with me forever.”

[zombeesknees]

found out a couple hours ago that the cousin closest to me in age died yesterday of complications from alcoholism.

he’d been in a coma for three weeks. my parents didn’t learn about ANY of this until tonight. and my dad heard it from an old work buddy -- johnny’s own mother didn’t contact us, or his siblings (which, i give little rick and stephanie more of a pass, all things considered).

i hadn’t seen him in YEARS. i wasn’t even aware that he’d become a full-blown alcoholic (not that that was all that surprising; he’s not the first family member to die of it, and while his father died of cancer, the decades of drinking and smoking definitely didn’t help). about a decade ago he got married (to a girl i actually went to college with), only to discover mere DAYS after the wedding that she’d been cheating on him for the ENTIRETY OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP, for two full years, so he immediately filed for divorce -- it seems he never really got over that/that’s when he started to drink heavily.

i definitely feel guilty for not being better at keeping in touch; johnny could be a bit much at times, but, like my uncle rick, he was a genuinely sweet, goofy guy. quite the himbo, really. as kids, at christmas and family things, we had fun together. the last time i saw him, we just happened to run into each other at red lobster -- i was treating myself to a nice lunch on my day off; he was there with the aforementioned cheater fiancee -- and he was so excited to see me. we exchanged phone numbers, chatted for a few minutes, promised we’d get together soon and catch up better... and of course nothing else came of it, because i’m absolute shit at following through on such things.

really, it’s still sinking in. mum’s gonna call when she gets details on the funeral.

[murswrites]

One in The Same ⎯ Tobias Eaton Headcanon

Pairings: Tobias Eaton x Reader Fandom: Divergent MASTERLIST Warnings: Cursing? SUMMARY: [see request] Request from anon: hiii- so um, if requests are open, could i please request a fic or a headcanon for tobias eaton?? if not that’s totally fine! so- for a headcanon/fic i was thinking something along the lines of tobias slowly becoming comfortable with the reader? like, he’ll start to share small things about him the more they hangout, and eventually he tells the reader his feelings for them?? ahh i hope this makes sense- thank you!! <3

A/N I think I’ve forgotten how to write headcanons y’all... this is deadass 1k words. Also this request is so cute, I hope this is suitable <3 Can we please normalize calling guys pretty 🥺

It started off with little things that made Four intrigued by you

Firstly, you being a transfer from Amity to Dauntless of all factions

Secondly, despite being raised to be kind, you were the most ruthless of initiates

And lastly, you had a way of drawing attention to yourself; either intentional or not that made you seem magnetic to Four

You two didn’t really meet until after you were properly welcomed as a member of the Dauntless faction

The two of you both worked in security, you weren’t a good leader and you enjoyed technology even if Amity wasn’t the most “techy” faction

It was easy working beside Four, he wasn’t annoying or arrogant which you found to be very refreshing

“All of the others here think they’re better than me, it’s crazy.” (You)

Small talk wasn’t your forte but the silence in the room was deafening

“Tell me about it,” (Four)

He knew a thing or two about arrogant assholes, one always came to mind; Eric Coulter

After that, you two began hanging out together

Sitting beside each other during meals became routine, it was convenient especially when you had to tell him something in regards to work

“I was thinking of getting a tattoo, want to join me?”  (You)

You skipped out on tattoos when the other initiates got them, it didn’t feel right at the time

“Sure, what’re you getting?” (Four)

“I dunno, it’ll be my first.” (You)

After that, Four looks at you differently

He honestly expected you to dive headfirst into “Dauntless life” to prove you were worthy because you came from Amity

The trip to the tattoo parlor was one of many times you two spent time together outside of work

“Being in Amity was so weird, I’ve always been sort of angry by nature so it was hell trying to be peaceful.” (You)

“You don’t seem angry,” (Four)

“Oh 16 years of standing in the corner will do that to a person.” (You)

Things never got that personal, but when the conversation felt too close to home (for either of you) one of you quickly switched topics

Your friendship worked well in that way

“One time I put a frog in my cousin’s bed and had to do like a hundred hours of community service. I was nine.” (You)

“My old faction as a whole wasn’t horrible. But I didn’t fit in well…” (Four)

“Same here, least we got each other right?” (You)

It became obvious to Four that you two were more alike than he originally realized

Two people from similar factions with similar upbringings… both having grown up feeling out of place

Four realized his feelings for you were turning into something more when you made him a cake for his birthday

Your bright smile and messy apron made him stop in his tracks, surprised

“Dauntless chocolate cake for my favorite person’s birthday!” (You)

“How’d you know?” (Four)

“You mentioned it when we first met, how’s it feel to be an old man, Four?” (You)

That night was something different, stargazing after watching a movie felt so intimate with Four, but so comfortable at the same time

“No one’s ever made me a cake before.” (Four)

“Not even your mom?” (You)

You found out she passed soon after and instead of asking more questions like usual, you just kept him company

“I never really considered leaving Amity until I got my aptitude test results,” (You)

“What’d you get?” (Four)

“Dauntless, duh.” (You)

Four had laughed at that, you always surprised him with your random sarcastic outbursts or remarks

“Bet it came as a surprise.” (Four)

“Not really, if anything I was thankful for a way out. Despite their appearance, Amity isn’t as beautiful as they claim to be.” (You)

Four genuinely recognized his feelings when you and some initiates from your group invited him to some shenanigans, he hadn’t done anything like that since he transferred, but you were adamant

“Come on, it’ll be fun! I did this on like my third night here and nearly died but it was so worth it!” (You)

It actually turned out to be fun, the same game of capture the flag but in a different area of the city

Four was on your team (luckily) and you two were taking people out left and right

When you saved him by taking down one of the enemies, he watched in awe at how good you were (man is WHIPPED)

That was the first night you crashed at his place because you were so tired

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow, mkay?” (You)

You made him breakfast in the morning, it wasn’t anything spectacular just something to repay him for giving up his bed

“Nobody’s made me breakfast in like ten years.” (Four)

“That sucks, but I’m glad I could be that person…” (You)

Neither of you spoke after that, it was like the energy in the air after the game of capture the flag completely changed

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… heavy… with things unsaid

I feel like Four would keep himself from being nice all of a sudden since it would be weird if he suddenly changed up on you

But he found it hard because your company made him happy

At one point he told you his real name, out of the blue, he just asked if you’d start calling him it when it was just you two

“Call me Tobias,” (Four)

“Why would I call you that, your name’s Four-- Oh... that’s your real name isn’t it? Hmm, it’s nice, serious just like you.” (You)

He would often catch himself staring at you as you spoke or enjoying the sound of your voice

“Tobias? You there?” (You)

You’d caught him staring and it made him get really embarrassed

It was weird seeing Four flustered and struggling to find the right words, you were usually the less composed one

“Are you okay? You look like you’re having an allergic reaction, staring is normal. I do it all the time.” (You)

This would confuse Four, you stared at him? No… that couldn’t be true, could it?

“What I meant to say was--” (You)

“What?” (Four)

Now things felt awkward, those unsaid words were heavy in the air; both of you knew but didn’t want to ruin a nice thing (your friendship)

“I stare at you… because you’re pretty.” (You)

“Never been called pretty before,” (Four)

“Well… you are, very pretty.” (You)

“You’re prettier but I’ll take it.” (Four)

His sudden confidence came out of nowhere but he was definitely thankful for it

“You think I’m pretty?” (You)

“I think you’re great… in general… it’s weird but I feel comfortable to be myself around you,” (Four)

“That’s not weird, I feel the same.” (You)

Things didn’t change all too much after that, neither of you wanted to rush into things because your friendship was too beautiful to ruin by making a mistake

[yunhostinyuyu]

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

[immacaria]

Prologue

  Hello! How are you? I hope all of you are alright! So, this for Beetober 2021 and since @bloody-bee-tea said we can write for it too, I wrote this little thing. This fic is based on this prompt of @mingcheng-prompts and I hope that you enjoy it! It has no ship, though one of the prompts I based myself in had this intent, but it can be read as pre-relationship sangcheng or pre relationship mingcheng. Anyways, the word count is 2746 words and I hope you enjoy this a lot! Have a good day!

________________________________________________________________

  When the news reached him, Nie Mingjue couldn’t say that it really impacted him though he was surprised by it and mourned the young life lost. Jiang Wanyin was a good kid and his brother’s friend and his death did shock him because he seemed like a promising young cultivator and a pretty strong kid even if he was so young. So, he paid his condolences to the family and moved on with his life, after all, he had a sect to conduct and a younger brother to control. 

  Months passed and people still talked about the young Jiang heir and his short life. Some said that he had taken his own life because of his mother’s constant demands and his father’s disinterest on him, others that it was his own father that arranged his death to guarantee that his first disciple would become his heir after his daughter married into the Jins and there was who believed in the official report that said that Jiang Wanyin had died in a night hunt. Not that Nie Mingjue had any motives to suspect what the Jiang clan said that happened. 

 But he couldn’t say with certainty that he held no doubts against their reports as he stared at the sword pointing at his neck. At first, he thought he was seeing a ghost, a young boy with pale robes and a bloodied sword by his side, and stayed back to see what he was going to do. And then he blinked and the boy disappeared from before his eyes, only to appear behind him with his sword pointed to his heart. 

  Nie Mingjue drew Baxia out on instinct and they fought for a good while, sometimes with him having the upper hand and sometimes with the boy. He was about to get it back when the boy ducked and swept his feet off the ground, falling over him and pressing a knee against his chest and the sword against his neck. He was wearing a mask that showed only his eyes and held half of his hair up by a pale and simple purple ribbon that matched his robes in color and discretion. It was just then that he recognized who he had been fighting against. Oh, gods, Huaisang is going to kill me., he thought as he said. “Jiang Wanyin?”

  “Nie-zongzhu?” Jiang Wanyin said, eyebrows furrowing lightly before his eyes widened and he jumped back, bowing in apology but not sheathing his sword back. “What are you doing here?” 

  “I could ask you the same. Shouldn’t you be dead?” Slowly, he got up and if he wasn’t looking so closely, he would have missed the way that his eyes trembled slightly before they narrowed angrily at him. 

  “I’ll ask you one more time. What are you doing here?” He brought his sword up, assuming a defensive stance even though he moved Baxia back to his back. 

  “Near Qinghe? I don’t know, making the rounds, maybe.” And escaping my elders., he added mentally. Not that he was going to tell him that, anyways. 

  “Oh. Oh!” He brought his sword down again and Mingjue resisted the urge to smile at the cute way he opened his mouth minutely, as if finally realizing that he was near Qinghe. “I’m just passing, sorry for trespassing.” He bowed again, bringing his hands up after he put his sword back in its sheath. “Please, don’t tell anyone you saw me.” 

  “No that anyone would ever believe me. You are dead, after all.” He said, watching as the younger boy kneeled near a tree and started pulling some plants before pressing them together until a plaster was formed. “Are you hurt?” 

  “No. I’m doing this for fun.” He moved his head to the sides quickly, his voice reaching a false and too happy tone before going back to his usual tone and this time he didn’t resist the urge to snort. “Shouldn’t you keep going? You never know what kind of creatures are waiting in the shadows while you are here with a minor ghost like me.” 

  “I don’t think you would be a minor ghost if you were really dead.” He stepped closer to him in time to see a gushing wound on his calf. “What happened?” 

  “I cut myself. Nothing more.” And it was just then that he noticed how pale Jiang Wanyin looked and how his hands were trembling as he applied the plaster over the black-rimmed wound. Nie Mingjue tried to remember what could do a wound like that as he bandaged it tightly. “Bye, Nie-zongzhu. Have a good day.” 

  “Wait, Young Master Jiang.” He grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop. “You should have a look at that, a professional look. It looks bad.” 

  “Ghosts don’t need healers, Sect Leader Nie.” He pulled his arm back, trying to get him to let go. “And don’t call me that. Young Master Jiang is dead, haven't you heard?” 

  “Then who are you?” They stared at each other for some time before he sighed and motioned for him to lead the way. 

  “Go on, let’s end this soon.” He stepped aside, stopping fighting against his hold. 

  “Alright, but what should I call you?” He pressed, letting go of his wrist and taking a step back. 

  “Ghos-...” He stated, before his eyes rolled back and he fell down to the ground, only missing hitting his head because Mingjue held him in time. Without thinking, he jumped on Baxia and fled back to Qinghe with the boy, who shouldn’t be as alive as he was, in his arms and paleing at every second that passed. His healers looked at him suspiciously and tried to fuss over him too, but nodded when he said he was fine and asked for discretion and no comments before he went to fetch his brother. 

  After he explained everything, Nie Huaisang only nodded and told him to go on with his day, that he would make sure that his friend was okay. It was well after lunch when he appeared again with a fierce look on his face and a plan at the tip of his tongue. Apparently, Jiang Wanyin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon because the wound was poisoned and the plaster had the contrary effect of what he thought it would, quickening the poisoning and because Nie Huaisang himself wasn’t letting him go anywhere. 

  “For all the effects, he is our cousin and his courtesy name is Nie Qinghua, he uses a mask because it’s tradition on that branch of the family and his passing time with us for better education.” Nie Huaisang said, opening his fan with a flick of his wrist and staring at him with what seemed a challenge. “He is not coming back, Da-ge.”

  “Alright. And I really doubt he would like to, with the way he was insisting he was dead.” Nie Mingjue said, putting the letter of the Sect Leader Yao down and his chin on his palm. “Does he agree with this? Or did you just take a half-coherent noise as agreement and follow through with your plan?” 

  “Of course he agreed with this.” His fan quickened in speed and he raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll ask him again when he’s more awake.” 

  “Good.” He smirked, getting back to the letter. “What is his given name?” 

  “The same as before. But nobody from before is getting close enough of him to call him by his given name.” His brother got up, closing his fan with a snap before pointing it at him. “He is not going back to them, Da-ge. He is not.” The challenge was still on his eyes as he walked away from the throne room and Nie Mingjue thought that everyone who ever said that he was weak and unfit for the Nie clan had never truly seen where Huaisang’s strength really stood. 

  Two days later, Jiang Wanyin - for the outsider world, Nie Qinghua now - was up and actively agreeing with Huaisang’s plan. He explained that no, he did not die or faked his death but rather got lost after a night hunt and slightly disoriented after a particularly strong hit - At this, his cheek got adorably red and Nie Mingjue smiled at that. When he finally managed to get back home, he heard the rumors that he was dead and then he left, starting to wander around as a rogue cultivator. The gushing wound was apparently the night hunt’s fault too. 

  And just like that, Wanyin started to live with them and, at some point, he became Nie Mingjue’s first adviser and Nie Huaisang’s unwilling model to everything. Slowly, he wriggled his way into Qinghe’s lifestyle, starting to advise him over his shoulder and his acid humor while join the disciples every day on their training to learn the Nie style of fighting even if both Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue said that he didn’t need to. After he recovered fully, both of them started to spare everyday, early in the morning, finishing their exercise right before Nie Huaisang woke up and claimed him fully until he was needed in a meeting or something. 

  Despite his young age, Jiang Wanyin was really smart and had good ideas to help the clan, though some did have that eager hope that everyone was better than they seemed. He liked to discuss everything about the leadership of a clan and involved himself truly with the disciple’s training, supervisioning it every time he could and always wanting to know more about everything and everyone. He was strict, though, stricter than Nie Mingjue sometimes and more times than now they would be in a situation where they would be playing the strict and relaxed parents while his disciples tried to hide their amused laughs and grins behind their sleeves and each other’s shoulders. 

  When the cultivation meeting’s happened, Jiang Wanyin always sat between him and Nie Huaisang, wearing the mask that they ordered especially for him and combined with his new robes. At first, the other Sect Leaders were suspicious of him, especially Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao, who had been recently officialized after he proved his value. They tried to discover more about his past, but they weren’t capable of passing Nie Huaisang’s schemes and the Qinghe people’s loyalty to their new second in command that somehow managed to be even more hard-headed than their Sect Leader. 

  Even though they were suspicious, none of them suspected who Nie Qinghua really was and it was obvious it got to Jiang Wanyin when he introduced himself to his shije and shige again and none of them recognized him, simply smiling politely and introducing themselves back before leaving. He tried to make it look like it didn’t affect him as much as it did, but by that time Nie Mingjue knew him a little bit better and, not for the first, he wished he could declare war against the Jiangs for making this special and sweet boy so self-conscious and afraid of love. For the looks of it, his people agreed with him. 

  Eight years passed without further incidents and Jiang Wanyin had grown up a lot since he became Nie Qinghua. He learned a lot of the Nie’s style and some of the disciples, the younger ones especially, started to pick up on some of the Jiang’s style and Nie Mingjue couldn’t say he was really angry or offended at it. Not when it not only saved some of them, but made Wanyin’s eyes light up when he noticed that they were imitating. 

  But, nothing lasts forever and though their time together wasn’t free of worries and fights, Nie Mingjue couldn’t really say that he had a bad time with him by his side. It was some months before Wanyin’s twenty-four years birthday when his first qi deviation happened and he didn’t want to think why it took longer than it should. He stayed bedridden for only four days before he was up and working again, against both Wanyin and Huaisang’s protests, right in time for the last cultivation conference that unfortunately was being held at Qinghe. 

  “Mingjue, really, you should call this off. You are in no condition to head a meeting like this.” Jiang Wanyin said, crossing his arms as Nie Mingjue finished the last of his braids. 

  “Exactly, Da-ge! If you won’t listen to me, listen to A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, passing his guan to him and hitting his shoulder weakly with his fan. “Just thought about all the bragging that Sect Leader Yao is going to do and how Sect Leader Jin is going to do whatever pleases him and nitpick everything!” He pleaded and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at them as he stood up. 

  “I did and if the Healer Zhao says I am good to go, then I’m good to go.” He tightened his belt and turned to both of them with a raised eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m going to be fine and if Sect Leader Yao starts to talk too much bullshit, I will simply throw Baxia at him and keep going.” 

  “Da-ge, do not throw Baxia at Sect Leader Yao!” Nie Huaisang said, following after him before stopping on his track with a questioning look. “Though it would be hilarious to see it and, probably, very effective. Alright, Da-ge, you can throw Baxia at Sect Leader Yao but only enough to scare him.” He nodded and Jiang Wanyin chuckled beside, his arms still crossed as he followed them a few steps behind. 

  “He would jump so high!” He chuckled, trying to hold back his smile as Nie Mingjue looked at him over his shoulder. 

  “And what about the scream he would let out?” He asked, very pleased with himself when both him and his brother started snickering like crazies. Really, he raised two monsters, he really did. “Ok, ok, control yourselves, we are here.” Two minutes passed before he stepped into the conference room and greeted all the other Sect Leaders there, sitting on his chair and trying to not let any anger settle in. It was all going fine and smooth until Jin Guangshan made an unfortunate comment and Jiang Wanyin responded it with sarcasm out of instinct. 

  “What was that, Nie-guwen?” Jin Guangshan said and Nie Mingjue immediately zoomed back in the conversation when he noticed it was to Wanyin he was talking with. 

  “Nothing, just agreeing that it's a very intelligent idea to go on with that marriage agreement when both parties are so interested in it.” He shrugged and Mingjue leaned towards Nie Huaisang with an inquisitive look. 

  “They are talking about Jiang-guniang and Jin-gongzi's marriage, Da-ge. Really, weren’t you listening?” He rolled his eyes, holding his fan higher as Jin Guangshan pointed at Wanyin and asked what the Nie clan had to do with the agreement between the clans Jin and Jiang. 

  “Nothing, Sect Leader Jin. But my cousin was only stating what everyone thinks about it and you asked him what he thought about it too, after all.” Nie Mingjue intervened when Wanyin’s shoulders tensed up. “He merely answered.” 

  “Sect Leader Nie, I know that you and your brother are very protective of your cousin, but you should really leave him to talk for himself. He is your advisor, after all.” Jiang Fengmian interjected and he saw Nie Huaisang’s fingers tightening against the fan. “I know he must be very intelligent or he wouldn’t have become your first advisor, after all.” 

  “And doesn’t show his face.” Sect Leader Yao muttered, probably thinking that nobody could hear him when it was exactly the contrary. 

  “I am, Sect Leader Jiang, but it would be very unkind to my cousin if I spoke over him every time.” Jiang Wanyin said, crossing his arms. “And I don’t show my face because of a tradition on my side of the family, Sect Leader Yao, but if my face will give you more trust in my opinions…” He lifted one of his hands, moving to remove his mask. “Then I will gladly remove it for you, Sect Leader Yao.”

  “Wait, A-Hua.” Both Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue moved to stop him, but it was too late and he had already removed it. 

  “See? Happy now?” He waved the piece of cloth to the side as Jiang Fengmian stared at him with wide eyes. 

  “Wanyin?” Fengmian said, getting up from his seat. 

  “Hi, A-Die. How are you?” 

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

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One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

[astrognossienne]

scandalous beauty - dolores del río - an analysis

“I love my native Mexico but I love Hollywood, too. It has brought me much happiness and yet, while here I have been miserably unhappy also. But through it all I have found myself, my work and my true destiny.” - Dolores del Río

Like Lupe Vélez, Dolores del Río was a pioneering Latina actress, however del Río’s reach was longer. Far from being stigmatized as a woman of colour, she was acknowledged as the epitome of beauty in the Hollywood of the 1920s and early 1930s. While she insisted upon her ethnicity, she was nevertheless coded white by the film industry and its fans, and she appeared for more than a decade as a romantic lead opposite white actors. Returning to Mexico in the early 1940s, she brought enthusiasm and prestige to the Golden Age of Mexican cinema, becoming one of the great divas of Mexican film. With struggle and perseverance, she overcame the influence of men in both countries who hoped to dominate her, ultimately controlling her own life professionally and personally. Her sophistication, style and artistry bewitched everyone from Stella Adler to John Ford, Federico Fellini, and her great friends Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, who proclaimed to be “totally in love with her, just like forty million Mexicans and one hundred and twenty million Americans who couldn’t be wrong.” She was America’s first Latina superstar, and by the early 1930s, she was one of Hollywood's ten top moneymakers. Hers was a charmed life, but not even she was without problems. A child of privilege in her native Mexico, her family’s status was destroyed in the Mexican Revolution, and her desire to restore her comfortable lifestyle inspired del Río to follow a career as an actress. Discovered and promoted by American director Edwin Carewe, her obsessive protector and Svengali, as the “female Rudolph Valentino,” del Río’s aristocratic, Spanish-European background was constantly pushed to counteract Hollywood’s racism against Mexicans; indeed she was generally thought to be one of the most beautiful actresses of her era, and was the first Latin American movie star to have international appeal. She worked for over five decades and paved the way for Latin American stars in American cinema.

Dolores del Río, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Aries moon. She was born María de los Dolores Asúnsolo López-Negrete in the Mexican town of Durango; she was an only child born to parents who belonged to the wealthy Mexican aristocracy. She was the second cousin of actor Ramón Novarro and a cousin to actress Andrea Palma. They lived the high life in the company of intellectuals and artists. Dolores attended a prestigious school but soon their world was turned upside down, threatened by an insurrection led by Pancho Villa in the region. Del Río and her mother escaped Mexico City disguised as peasants, while her father crossed the border to the United States. When the family eventually reunited in 1912, they did so under the protection of Francisco I. Madero. In 1920 she married the 18-year older attorney Jaime Martinez del Río and became a socialite. Her career got off to a good start when in 1925 when the lauded American director Edwin Carewe was invited to her home and saw her perform and dance for her family and friends. He persuaded del Río and her husband to moved to the United Sates and go to Hollywood to be in his films. While in Hollywood, del Río played a variety of leading roles, from European aristocrat to "native" girl to European peasant.

Within a few years after her arrival, she was a major hit and her appeal was astonishingly broad. She quickly came to command a substantial salary and to exercise control over her choice of films, scripts, and camera angles. Despite the fact that she did not speak English when she first began and had to have the director 's instructions delivered through interpreters, she made the transition to sound films gracefully. Her accent was deemed slight, attractive, and not specific to a particular country. As socially attractive as she was, physically and personality-wise, the truth is that a major part of del Río’s seamless transition into Hollywood is down to racism and white supremacy. While her contemporary (and nemesis) Lupe Vélez was viewed as the "bad Mexican wildcat" (to be fair, her temperament didn’t help this stereotype), Dolores was viewed as the "good Spanish lady." The contrast between the two stars and their degrees of acceptance reflected society’s stereotypical dichotomy between "good" Spanish and "bad" Mexican images– which has its roots in U.S. history. While most Mexicans were perceived as racially inferior, the elite Hispanic Californianas were deemed European and superior while the mass of Mexican women were viewed as Indian and inferior. Californiana women who possessed land and intermarried with Anglo men were depicted positively; they were represented as aristocratic and virtuous and they epitomized "good" women; but this was at the price of denying their racial identity, and being treated as racially superior to Californiano males and the rest of their people. So as such, she soon divorced her Mexican husband Jaime in 1928 and two years later married MGM art director Cedric Gibbons (who happened to be Gary Cooper’s wife’s uncle).

Soon after her marriage, she was romantically linked with actor Errol Flynn, filmmaker John Farrow, writer Erich Maria Remarque, film producer Archibaldo Burns, and actor Tito Junco. However, it was her affair with Orson Welles, who considered her the love of his life, that was arguably her most high profile relationship. She and Welles met at a party hosted by director Darryl Zanuck. The couple felt a mutual attraction and began a discreet affair, which upon eventual discovery caused the divorce between Dolores and Gibbons. Their relationship lasted for 4 years; she ended it when she got word of Welles cheating on her. She decided to end her relationship with Welles through a telegram that he never answered. According to his daughter, Rebecca, until the end of his life, Welles felt for del Río a kind of obsession. Weeks later, her father died in Mexico. With these personal and professional downturns, Dolores del Río returned to Mexico in the 1940s and became a significant part of the Mexican film industry’s Golden Era. She was the muse of director Emilio Fernández and starred most notably in Las Abandonadas (1944) and La Malquerida (1949). On a national and even international level though, Dolores del Río will perhaps always be best remembered for her role in the 1946 classic María Candelaría, which is said to be the film of which she was most proud. It also marked the first tentative steps of the Mexican film industry into the world of serious cinema and was the first Latin American film to be screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 1946, where it won the Grand Prix (now known as the Palme d’Or) for Best Picture. After her triumph in her native homeland, she returned to Hollywood and played opposite Henry Fonda in The Fugitive (1947). She continued to work steadily, starring in various TV shows and films until retiring in 1978. On April 11, 1983, del Río died from liver failure at the age of 78 in Newport Beach, California.

Next week, I’ll focus on her one-time lover, an iconoclastic disruptor who took on the conventions of Hollywood and won: the amazing Taurus Orson Welles.

Stats

birthdate: August 3, 1904

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Aries

Rising: Leo

Mercury: Virgo

Venus: Leo

Mars: Cancer

Midheaven: Taurus

Jupiter: Aries

Saturn: Aquarius

Uranus: Sagittarius

Neptune: Cancer

Pluto: Gemini

Overall personality snapshot:  She had a large, warm-hearted, extroverted personality that was always eager to embrace life, love and success – in big doses. There was something about her that assumed the divine right to live life to the full, and her intensity and impatience, along with her personal ambitions, pulled her ever onwards into new projects, fresh relationships and greater challenges. She was something of a gambler and had a daring and dramatic spirit which propelled her forward to make her mark, a sense of personal destiny which can only be exciting and noble. And she was prepared to fight for that glorious destiny if she had to, although she would rather simply steal the show and convince everyone with her intelligence, originality, courage and fabulous style. One of her most beguiling qualities is that she was totally lacking in guile and pretense. Although her own personal destiny was what interested her, paradoxically she at first looked for people she could admire and make into personal heroes. Strongly influenced by a favourite teacher, friend, poet, sports champion or movie star, she could then emulate them and learn through experience how to be great.

She loved the process of creating, as well as the applause that came at the end. Indeed, she relied on those adoring strokes and affirmative responses more than she liked to admit. Life without people would be colourless and boring for her. Social interaction was her life-blood – she could be the life of the party, a real ham and an eccentric, ready to take up the most outrageous dare. But when her extrovert escapades dry up, so did she. She may have, in fact, driven herself to exhaustion and then collapse like a child, home from an all-night rave-up. Yet despite her headlong rush into the experience of life, she was not necessarily irresponsible. Daring and highly idealistic dreams worked away inside her and made her want to improve things, to show people the way, and she may have simply taken charge – for a while. Intensely self-motivated, she did not respond well to orders from others, even though she could be quite bossy herself. There is a touch of the preacher inside her, and she approached her work with great enthusiasm and commitment. She needed space to do her own thing, to learn from her own mistakes, and to learn how to impose her own brand of self-discipline. Her innate self-dramatizing tendencies made her a natural for the theater, business, lecturing, the media – areas that involved group interaction and provided scope for her original and iconoclastic ideas.

She had great presence with a strong-featured face and a sunny glow of inner self-confidence and displayed a regal quality in her posture and carriage; was definitely well-built. She sought perfection in whatever she did and could be very critical of herself and her own efforts. In this way, she often became overly critical and pedantic, especially under stress. She was basically an honest person, and it disturbed her greatly when she had to deal with people who were not. Anyone who violated her sense of trust had a very hard time getting it back. It was very important for her to know that she had the security of a guaranteed paycheck coming in regularly. She had an artistic side to her that obviously influenced her choice of career as an actor. Once she had decided upon her career, she was able to (and most certainly did) pursue it with great determination. She had boundless enthusiasm and big ideas coupled with high expectations of succeeding. She was also self-sufficient and broad-minded. Her genuine pioneering spirit, positive outlook and large-scale personal ambitions led her right to the top. She needed to learn to think before you take on a challenge, and all risks should have been carefully considered. She needed to learn to relax and slow down. She was anxious to prove herself both to others and to herself. If anyone said that she couldn’t do something, she defied them to try and stop her. As long as she felt that she was the one in control, she had a high degree of optimism and was fun-loving, loving to play at life. 

She had an original mind and used every skill she possessed to gain control of her affairs. She found it hard to let go of the past, and it would have been good if she did so that she could grow. She was willing to tolerate austerity for as long as it was justified. She respected institutions for as long as they served her purpose. She had the ability to judge what was viable or important. She belonged to a generation with fiery enthusiasm for new and innovative ideas and concepts. Rejecting the past and its mistakes, she sought new ideals and people to believe in. As a member of this generation, she felt restless and adventurous, and was attracted towards foreign people, places and cultures. She was part of an emotionally sensitive generation that was extremely conscious of the domestic environment and the atmosphere surrounding their home place and home country. In fact, she could be quite nostalgic about her homeland, religion and traditions, often seeing them in a romantic light. She felt a degree of escapism from everyday reality, and was very sensitive to the moods of those around him. Dolores embodied all of these Cancer Neptunian ideals, when she returned to her native Mexico in 1943, a country of which she was very proud, her decision to return to her roots changed her career. As a Gemini Plutonian, she was mentally restless and willing to examine and change old doctrines, ideas and ways of thinking. As a member of this generation, she showed an enormous amount of mental vitality, originality and perception. Traditional customs and taboos were examined and rejected for newer and more original ways of doing things. As opportunities with education expanded, she questioned more and learned more.

Love/sex life: She had a heroic conception of herself as a lover. She saw herself as strong and in control, the protector of the weak and the saviour of the desperate. Unfortunately, the realities of her love life didn’t always support this notion. Often it was her tender feelings that required protection and her desperate plunges in and out of love that called for a saviour. In order to justify this discrepancy, she often had to be less than honest, both with her lover and herself. The person most likely to win her heart would have been that individual who made it appear as if  she was the champion when, in fact, she was the one crying for help. Her tendency toward self-deception often extended to a failure to admit to her very natural emotionalism and sexual passivity. Unfortunately, there always came a day of reckoning when she had to “own” her emotional susceptibility and capitulate to her sloppy feelings of dependency and her deep-seated need for affection. The good news was that surrendering everything for love wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought it was. She may have lost her dignity but what she got in return made it all worth while.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Virgo

Lilith: Pisces

Vertex: Sagittarius

Fortune: Taurus

East Point: Leo

These points in her chart, however minor, packed a major punch in her sex appeal as well. Her North Node in Virgo dictated that her tendency to dream and be disorganized needed to be tempered by developing more practical and down-to-earth attitudes. Her Lilith in Pisces meant that she was a woman who was a natural born mystic and cultivated her own myth. Her Part of Fortune in Taurus and Part of Spirit in Scorpio dictated that her destiny lay in attaining personal freedom through seeking material security and comfort. Happiness and good fortune came through tangible and practical results that had a solid foundation. Her soul’s purpose lay in delving fearlessly into the unknown. She felt spiritual connections and saw the spark of the divine when she could strip away the outer layers of experiences and get to the core of a situation. East Point in Leo dictated that she was more likely to identify with the need for pleasure (including the potential of liking herself) and comfort. Vertex in Sagittarius, 4th house reveals that she dreamt of the pinnacle of adventure when it came to mating. Her psyche yearned to be carried away to the ends of the earth or to be exposed to every manner of religious and/or philosophical theory known to man and then some. Her yearning was strong and really deep when it came to rarefied experiences of any sort. Encountering and wanting to join with her demanded that she always had an itinerary that will provide her with the maps to explore the roads that they have not yet traveled, to say nothing of the different worlds they have dreamed of but not yet experienced. She had a childlike orientation, in all of its manifestations, toward relationships on an internal level. That implicit dependency and impressionable nature that was instilled in her childhood persisted far into maturity. The concomitant explosions and occasional tantrums when these constructs are violated also accompany this position. She had a need for emotional security and comfort in a committed relationship, no matter how many years it has endured. She often had deep fears, typical of children, of abandonment, as well as a need for protection and universal acceptance, no matter how she acted, which she needed her partner to respect and nurture, rather than rebuke, especially in adulthood.

elemental dominance:

fire

earth

She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was a practical, reliable man and could provide structure and protection. She was oriented toward practical experience and thought in terms of doing rather than thinking, feeling, or imagining. Could be materialistic, unimaginative, and resistant to change. But at her best, she provided the practical resources, analysis, and leadership to make dreams come true.

modality dominance:

fixed

She liked the challenge of managing existing routines with ever more efficiency, rather than starting new enterprises or finding new ways of doing things. She likely had trouble delegating duties and had a very hard time seeing other points of view; she tried to implement the human need to create stability and order in the wake of change.      

house dominants:

12th

9th

1st

She had great interest in the unconscious, and indulged in a lot of hidden and secret affairs. Her life was defined by seclusion and escapism. She had a certain mysticism and hidden sensitivity, as well as an intense need for privacy. Traveling, whether physically across the globe, on a mental plane or expanding through study was a major theme in her life. She was not only concerned with learning facts, but also wanted to understand the connections formed between them and the philosophies and concepts they stood for. Her conscience, as well as foreign travel, people and places was also of paramount importance in her life. Her personality, disposition and temperament was highlighted in her life. The manner in which she expressed herself and the way she approached other people is also highlighted. The way she approached new situations and circumstances contributed to show how she set about her life’s goals. Early childhood experiences also factored in her life as well.

planet dominants:

Mercury

Sun

Venus

She was intelligent, mentally quick, and had excellent verbal acuity. She dealt in terms of logic and reasoning. It is likely that she was left-brained. She was restless, craved movement, newness, and the bright hope of undiscovered terrains. She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was romantic, attractive and valued  beauty, had an artistic instinct, and was sociable. She had an easy ability to create close personal relationships, for better or worse, and to form business partnerships.

sign dominants:

Leo

Aries

Virgo

She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely her stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. As a Leo dominant, she was, at her best, optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She was a physically oriented individual who took pride in her body. She was bold, courageous, and resourceful. She always seemed to know what she believed, what she wanted from life, and where she was going. She could be dynamic and aggressive (sometimes, to a fault) in pursuing her goals—whatever they might be. Could be argumentative, lacked tact, and had a bad temper. On the other hand, her anger rarely lasted long, and she could be warm and loving with those she cared about. She was a discriminating, attractive, thorough, scientific, hygienic, humane, scientific woman and had the highest standards. Her attention to detail was second to none and she had a deeply penetrative and investigative mind.

Read more about her under the cut.

Dolores del Rio was the one of the first Mexican movie stars with international appeal and who had meteoric career in the 1920s/1930s Hollywood. Del Rio came from an aristocratic family in Durango. In the Mexican revolution of 1916, however, the family lost everything and emigrated to Mexico City, where Dolores became a socialite. In 1921 she married Jaime Del Río (also known as Jaime Martínez Del Río), a wealthy Mexican, and the two became friends with Hollywood producer/director Edwin Carewe, who "discovered" del Rio and invited the couple to move to Hollywood where they launched careers in the movie business (she as an actress, Jaime as a screenwriter). Eventually they divorced after Carewe cast her in her first film Joanna (1925), followed by High Steppers (1926), and Pals First (1926). She had her first leading role in Carewe's silent version of Pals First (1926) and soared to stardom in 1928 with Carewe's Ramona (1928). The film was a success and del Rio was hailed as a female Rudolph Valentino. Her career continued to rise with the arrival of sound in the drama/romance Bird of Paradise (1932) and hit musical Flying Down to Rio (1933). She later married Cedric Gibbons, the well-known art director and production designer at MGM studios. Dolores returned to Mexico in 1942. Her Hollywood career was over, and a romance with Orson Welles--who later called her "the most exciting woman I've ever met"--caused her second divorce. Mexican director Emilio Fernández offered her the lead in his film Wild Flower (1943), with a wholly unexpected result: at age 37, Dolores del Río became the most famous movie star in her country, filming in Spanish for the first time. Her association with Fernández' team (cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa, writer Mauricio Magdaleno and actor Pedro Armendáriz) was mainly responsible for creating what has been called the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. With such pictures as Maria Candelaria (1944), The Abandoned (1945) and Bugambilia (1945), del Río became the prototypical Mexican beauty. career included film, theater and television. In her last years she received accolades because of her work for orphaned children. Her last film was The Children of Sanchez (1978). (x)

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Two

Following a typically chaotic opener, Episode Two of Season Two strikes a far more sombre tone. The arrival of Henry Lang as Robert’s valet brings the first of this episode’s three plot points that address the impact of WW1 on the mental health of its soldiers. There is nothing funny to say about either shell-shock or suicidal ideation both of which are vast, complex issues that, for my money, Downton Abbey isn’t the vehicle explore in (because they require more time and depth than the pace of the plot in Season Two affords) and it certainly isn’t my place to make light of them in this rather irreverent corner of the internet. So I’m going to have a go at treading a fine line here. Forgive me if I stumble. 

Lang is clearly in the grips of something awful and yet in an attempt to avoid the indignity of having maids in the dining room, he is bumped up to footman duty. He struggles throughout, culminating in him depositing his cargo on Edith’s dress. Mrs O’Brein has firmly taken Lang under her wing, recognising that he is struggling and offers him assurance and comfort that she has never gifted to Thomas. 

Across the Village, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay is in the hospital having been blinded by gas. The use of gas (both chlorine and mustard) had a devastating impact on soldiers in WW1 but was also the root of the development of Zyklon B. Frtiz Haber, a German Jewish chemist, enabled chlorine gas to be used a weapon in WW1 and his research was later developed into the Zyklon process which was used by the Nazis to murder millions, including his own family. This is only one of a dizzying number of appalling ironies to be found in the World Wars but as I said last episode, I’m not a military historian so I’m going to leave it there. Edward had plans to return to the country after his graduation from Oxford to pursue the simple life (although one gets the feeling that his idea of the pursuit of a simple life will still be one that is very well upholstered). Thomas has taken it upon himself to read Edward’s letters to him and  together with Sybil is helping him to adjust to living life with a different set of parameters. But growing pressure on the hospital’s limited capacity means that he is to be transferred elsewhere. All three voice their dissent at varying volumes to Major Clarkson who falls back on the very real backlog of wounded men. After Edward has died, Major Clarkson, Isobel and Sybil talk about a renewed need for the Abbey to become a convalescent home, an idea that has been bubbling under the surface for a while now. Meanwhile, Thomas has been left on his own to process both Edward’s death and the implications of witnessing a lack of support given by his own physician to those with depression.  

The usually reliably jovial Mrs Patmore also has a more somber episode with her pursuit for the truth about the death of her nephew Archie. Robert finds that he has been shot for cowardice. Not only does this mean that her family is in mourning but they will now have to navigate the stigma and undue shame that came with having a relative die in this way. So entrenched in British life was the derision levelled at those who were shot for cowardice or desertion that it was only in 2006 that pardons were offered by Britain for 309 of those that were executed by firing squad during WW1. I know I said I’d leave it there with the military history, but that felt like an important bit of context. 

We are now in 1917 and Matthew is still in the same trench that he was in 1916 (a detail I hadn’t actually noticed until I got the screen cap for this) so it looks like his strategy of downing tools mid-fight and continuously popping back to Blighty for important plot developments isn’t really paying dividends. Perhaps the addition of William to the ranks will help him? William certainly seems to think so and if the speed at which he moves through the various stages of his ‘relationship’ with Daisy is any indication of his tactical prowess, the British Front will not only be well within Germany’s borders but will be breathing down Russia’s neck in a fortnight. In any other episode, this would certainly get the award for oddest relationship dynamic but Sir Richard Carlisle exists. 

Sir Richard makes his debut at Downton, having been introduced in name only in the previous episode. He and Mary met at Cliveden which is a regular haunt of mine, giving me hope that one day I too will from a strategic alliance with a newspaper magnate. He may know how to talk his way around a boardroom but he is lacking in the sartorial department. Whilst Sir Richard manages to avoid catching fire in his tweed, Lavinia is not free from the heat as he threatens her with his connection to her uncle. He may not know much about navigating the niceties of Downton, but at least he has cottoned on to the fact that any major disagreement should occur under a specific tree. Whilst Mary’s signature move is weeping into her gloves, Sir Richard’s is grabbing women by the forearm. A female friend of mine told me that one of her favourite things about the pandemic and the compulsion to keep 2m away from anyone (and not just emotionally) is that she has not been ’steered’ by a male hand on her lower back since 2019. It turns out that she can enter and exit rooms just fine on her own and I get the impression that Lavinia could get the gist of Sir Richard’s rage without the vice like grip of a man probably about twice her age. 

Twinned with the ’tree of emotional conflict’, the ‘platform of romantic uncertainty’ provides the backdrop for Sir Richard’s proposal of marriage to Mary which is a declaration that really feels like it should come with a series of well-formatted charts. Mary’s heart, however, is still very much with Cousin Matthew. After being counselled by Carson in a type of conversation I cannot imagine her ever having with her father, she is on the verge of coming clean with Matthew. But in the second round of Lavinia vs. Mary, Lavinia declares that she ‘could not go on living’ without Matthew and Mary winds her neck in. 

Also having a romantic entanglement this episode is Edith. Drake, previously of dropsy fame, has lost his farm hands and Edith turns up to offer her help in a wildly unsuitable trouser and heeled boot combo. But she soon gets down to it by pulling up a tree stump and flirting in a barn whilst a rather lovely border collie looks on (I’m currently trying to talk myself out of getting a border collie and this incident has done nothing to help things). After showing Drake that she can drink from a bottle like literally every single other human on the planet, the two share a kiss and some highly awkward dialogue that only slightly resembles ‘Carry on Downton’. 

Whilst Edith is more than happy to crack on in a barn, Mr Molesley is much more backwards about coming forwards. Apparently having predicted the creation of ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, he figures that a book is the perfect kindling for romance when you exist in a glossy depiction of the past. Sadly neither Elizabeth nor her German garden can lure Anna from Bates who is fast shaping up to be schrodinger’s boyfriend. Anna proceeds to make some odd analogy where she compares Mr Bates to her moon-based child, revealing a rather unhealthy amount of codependency in that particular relationship. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Again, it feels like anyone but Sybil and Branson should get this but I am an agent of chaos and here we are. Branson defends Sybil’s will to work and has ample opportunity to see her shine in her chosen field. The admission that she will not be returning to her old life is a little chink of light that Branson basks in. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

I nominate Carson’s entire face when he realises that he has taken on too much and goes an impressive shade of red. As Carson frets about spoons, sauce, and something I can’t quite fathom, he starts to resemble a man who is re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Carson’s battle to get a cork out of a bottle and knocking into chairs is a warm up to his rather dramatic collapse which is accompanied by a pretty disturbing groan. Sybil springs to action and he is soon efficiently ensconced in his own quarters. 

Wait, what? 

“I got a lot done on the train” Clearly Richard was on a train that was unencumbered with the wifi issues that plague the Pendolino.  

“It takes a good deal more than that to shock me.” Mary’s shock-o-meter is a pretty odd instrument. It is unresponsive to corpses of diplomats but goes into absolute meltdown at the notion that she might have to live in a cottage. 

“Let's hope my reputation will survive it.” I’ve not checked (and I categorically never will) but I would put money on the fact that someone has created a rarepair out of this. 

“How can Matthew have chosen that little blonde piece?” Is Lavinia blonde? Women’s hair is not really my forte but I would have thought she was more akin to Tim Minchin than 1998 Justin Timberlake. 

“I believe in this war. I believe in what we are fighting for.” William seems to have a better grip on what all of this is about than I ever did in high school history. The ‘A’ that eluded me is heading his way. 

“I thought he might've died for love of you.” How I love snipey Thomas. It’s good to have him back. To borrow a quote from Bottas (another man who is currently living a life in which his destiny is his own demise) ‘traditions’. 

“Fold it in, don’t slap it” The more season two goes on, the more I think that Moira is just an amalgamation of some choice elements of Julian’s kingdom. 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Love... and a soft place to land.

Request: Hey! can I request a Harry x reader where the reader finds out she's pregnant and going through the pregnancy with Harry? It can even be when they're still at Hogwarts if you want!

A/N: Thank you for the request!! I’ve written this post!Hogwarts as I don’t feel comfortable writing teen pregnancy (I hope you understand!) but nevertheless I hope you enjoy! The title is a quote from A Discovery of Witches, I use the full quote in the fic and I have put that in bold so you’re all aware. There’s loads of cute moments in this; I wrote it in one sitting and made myself cry at one point.

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, odd cravings, she/her pronouns, FLUFF - ALL THE FLUFF.

Word count: 2.3k

The two lines staring back you confirmed your suspicions.

The nausea being the main symptom that had you counting back the days to your last cycle. Realising the lateness had you leaving Harry in bed while your rushed to a muggle chemist, buying three tests. The chemist gave you soft smile as she rang them up, asking whether you’d be paying by cash or card. You tried to return the smile, but knew it was a watery one.

It wasn’t as if you and Harry were actively trying to avoid pregnancy, you just hoped you’d have a little more time to have him to yourself before sharing him with a son or daughter.

Rushing home, you find Harry still in bed, snoring away and utterly oblivious to the world.

You shut the door to the bathroom quietly in the hopes of not waking your husband. You’d have woken him sooner, but the idea of getting his hopes up for something he had wanted since he slid the golden ring onto your finger, only spurred you on to make sure you were pregnant.

Your heart soared and your stomach dropped as the two lines appeared on each test.

A knock on the bathroom door has you dropping the test still held in your hands.

“Love, you’ve been in there a while, is everything okay?”

You clear your throat, swallowing around the lump there, “I’m fine, love. I didn’t wake you did I?”

Harry chuckles, “No, I woke up when I rolled onto an empty side of bed. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You pick up the dropped test, placing it next to the others. Unlocking the door, you say, “You better come in.”

Harry wastes no time entering the bathroom. He scans the room quickly, checking for whatever the problem could be.

He does a double take at the sight of the pregnancy tests laid next to the sink.

His eyes do a circuit; the pregnancy tests, your face, then dropping to your stomach.

His eyes do this three times before he whispers, “Are you pregnant?”

You grin, handing him one of the tests, “It seems I am.”

“You’re really pregnant?” He asks again; disbelief lacing his voice.

“Yes Harry. I’m pregnant – you’re going to be a father.”

“How far along are you?”

“I’m not sure, I need to make an appointment with a Healer to make sure.”

Harry nods; the smile never leaving his face. He drops the test into the sink; his arms circling around you. “You make me unbelievably happy; you know that?”

You laugh, letting some tears fall. Harry kisses them away, “I think you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. I thought nothing could rival what I felt when I saw you walking down the aisle to marry me, but this. This is something else.”

“Harry Potter, you are a sap.”

He kisses you; long and languid – his happiness pouring into it. He pulls away; the both of you breathless. He drops to his knees before you, pressing kiss after kiss to your stomach. The sight of it has you crying again. Harry stands back up, pecking your lips once more before rushing out of the bathroom, “I’m going to make you an appointment at St. Mungo’s, I’ll be right back.”

You laugh to yourself; your hand dropping to curl around your lower abdomen where in nine months, a bump will be sitting.

You grin as you hear Harry’s excited chatter on the phone; ever grateful that St. Mungo’s installed phones a few years ago to make the booking of appointments easier.

You pass by him on your way to the kitchen to begin breakfast. Your hand runs across his shoulder, and the smile he gives you in reply is breathtaking.

Your earlier worry about this being too early in your marriage has now dissipated.

Now, you couldn’t wait to begin this journey.

--------------

Two months after you tell Harry your news and the elation has worn off, the panic begins to set in. You work through it logically; borrowing book after book from your local library, setting up appointments at St. Mungo’s with the help of Draco who offered as much advice as he could give – he’d had his son almost a year ago now; he was happy to help in any way he could.

Harry took it in his stride; coming to every appointment, following the progress of his unborn son or daughter. From the moment you told him, his heart had stretched wider to be able to fit the love he already felt for his unborn child. Harry thought it would burst the moment he heard his child’s heartbeat on the ultrasound. However, he couldn’t help but feel panicked. This baby was going to be loved, there was no doubt about it – it would have enough aunts, uncles, and cousins to never be bored and Harry already adored the baby with his whole being.

But he couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt stemming from the little voice in the back of his head. The voice had him doubting his abilities to be a father; after all, his own had died when he was fifteen months old and then Sirius was ripped from him at the Department of Mysteries – he had never gotten to truly know his godfather who was supposed to guide him through life in the absence of his own father. Every chance to have a father figure was ripped away by death, and it led Harry to question his abilities and his readiness.

--------------

It comes to ahead on blustery night in March, four months into your pregnancy. Harry lays beside you in bed; propping himself up on his elbow as he watches you eat your latest craving – cheese and onion crisps with a bar of Cadbury’s chocolate. His nose crinkles as he continues to watch you eat, but he’d make sure it was always available at a moment’s notice.

The room is quiet save for the rustling of the crisp packet. Harry runs a hand over his face; he hadn’t been sleeping well these past few night – his doubts keeping him awake until the early hours of the morning.

It’s hard to miss the panic settling in his blue eyes. You run a hand through his hair, asking, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Harry blinks away the tears forming, whispering, “What if I’m not a good father? I’ve never had a father figure to guide me.”

Your hand falls from his hair to his chin, where you grasp it, keeping his eyes on you. “You’re going to be a wonderful father, I know it in my bones,” You hum, “All children need is love, a grown-up to take responsibility for them, and a soft place to land. I know for a fact you can offer all three.”

He buries his face in your stomach, where a small bump has started to form, “I can’t be sure though,” he mumbles.

“Well, I’ll be sure enough for the both of us.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“If I remember correctly, you tripped me up in the corridor. Sent me flying into a statue.”

Harry snorts, thinking of the memory, “It was love at first sight.”

“More like I wanted to throttle you.”

“But you soon fell for my charms,” He flirts.

“How could I not? You were so apologetic, and you carried my books for the rest of the day – meeting me outside my classrooms. I’d fallen in love with you by the end of the day.”

“I could tell. I felt like the king of the world.”

“I bet,” You chuckle, “I knew Ron took the mick though didn’t he?”

“Of course, but I shut him up when I told him to make a move on ‘Mione.”

You laugh again; lapsing back into silence as you both return to thinking of the same memory.

“Are you feeling any better?” You murmur after the bout of silence, referring to his earlier panic.

He nods, shifting his position from laying on his side to sitting up against the headboard next to you. “We have each other through this.”

You take is hand, tangling your fingers together. “We have each other through this.”

------------

Arthur Weasley is the one who takes Harry aside on a random Sunday in June.

At this point, you’re seven months along in your pregnancy and your son is making every effort to squeeze your bladder to the point it bursts. Harry isn’t ashamed to admit that he shed a few tears when told he was going to have a boy; it meant that he could take the reins his father and Sirius had left behind.

As you’re waddling to the bathroom at the Burrow, you overhear the conversation between Harry and Arthur.

“How are you feeling, Harry? How is (Y/N)?” Arthur asks. From your spot on the stairs, you can see through the railing that Arthur has his hand on Harry’s shoulder and a caring expression on his face.

“(Y/N) is great; taking it all gracefully.”

“And you?”

Harry sighs, “I don’t know how I feel. The closer we get to the due date, the more nervous I become.”

Arthur chuckles lightly, “I felt the same way with Bill… I felt the same with all of them.”

“Does it ever go away?”

Arthur shakes his head at your husband, “No, it doesn’t. You find new things to be worried about. But Harry, I’m here to help you. I know I’m not your father or your godfather, but I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Harry pulls Arthur into a long hug; surprising the patriarch of the Weasley family. When Harry pulls away, you can see the tell-tale signs of tears.

Harry sniffles, “You’re as good as, Mr. Weasley.”

Arthur sniffles too, “You’ve become a great man, Harry. You’re going to be a great father too. Molly is beside herself with excitement to meet the little one.”

You wipe the tears running down your own face, taking the final few steps to the bathroom where you blow your nose on some tissue.

Harry was going to be just fine.

-------------

The labour is long and intense, and for a while, there’s the worry that you’ll need to have an emergency c-section. Harry is by your side through it all; he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He wipes your forehead with a cool cloth after each contraction; he holds your through each push – bones be damned if they break.

With a loud cry, your son enters the world just after midnight on a quiet night in August.

There are no words to accurately describe the feelings that coursed through his body when the midwife asked him to cut the cord. It was the first look at his son, and then and there, Harry made a silent vow to never let his son question his talents and abilities whatever they may be.

Wrapped in a pale blue blanket, he’s placed onto your chest with a cry. Immediately, the tears begin to fall down Harry’s face. Nine long months and his son has arrived; and you, you took it all so gracefully, sniffling slightly as you welcomed him into the world.

You hand Harry his son; being careful to make sure that the head is stable before letting yourself relax slightly into the hospital bed. The midwife hands you a cup of tea and a slice of toast, and you thank her gratefully for all that she has done for your new family. She pats you on the head before leaving, letting the new family have time to themselves.

You watch Harry with a tender expression on your face. He had been so worried for so long, but as you watch him walk his son around the room, murmuring to him absentmindedly, you know that he’s going to make a wonderful father. You never had any doubt about it.

-------------

A few hours later, there’s a small knock on the door and Hermione’s voice rings out, “Harry, (Y/N), it’s us. Do you mind if we come in?”

You nod at Harry, adjusting the babe at your chest. He opens to the door, being pulled into a hug immediately by Ron. Hermione enters the room with a bouquet of pale pink roses; your favourites. She sits the vase down on the other side of the room so as to not disturb the baby too much with the new smell.

Hermione tiptoes over to you, “I’m sorry we didn’t send an owl.”

You shake your head, “I wouldn’t want you stay away anyway.”

Tears line her eyes as Ron and Harry join you at your bedside. Your son gurgles, shifting in your arms, aware of the visitors here to see him. Hermione holds a hand to her mouth, eyes flickering to Harry, “He’s got your eyes, Harry.”

Harry nods, “I know. But he has his mother’s hair, and her mouth and nose.”

You hush your husband, “He’ll be the carbon copy of you, I know it.”

Silence falls in the room as the four adults continue to watch the new life slumber in his mother’s arms. He shuffles for a minute, finding a comfier position before settling back into his dreams.

You shift your gaze to Hermione, silent tears falling down her face. “Would you like to hold your godson?”

“Godson?” She whisper-asks, “Me?”

Harry places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing, “We want you and Ron to be godparents.”

Ron sniffles, reaching a hand up to wipe at his eyes. “Harry, mate, we’d be honoured.”

At those words, you hand your new-born son to his godmother who holds him like a pro. She dips her head down to sniff at his head; smiling at the new-born smell.

Hermione lets her tears continue to fall as she stares down at her new godson in awe. Ron’s arm is tight around her waist as he asks, “What name did you decide on?”

Harry’s voice breaks as he replies, “James Sirius Arthur Potter.”

*******

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[vivian24l]

Dream

“I remember that day clearly, my last birthday with them. Father knows I hate large gatherings, yet he threw me a big party anyways. Everyone showed up. The Leaguers, the original Leaguers, the Titans, my friends and family.

I didn’t appreciate it back then. Now I can only look back and wish I could experience it once more. Wish I could see them once more, happy, together, not having to worry about an ongoing war.

I remember racing my cousins. I wish I hadn’t cheated in that race. Uncle Jon said Mother had used the same trick when they were kids. I practiced magic with Tiago and the Constantines. I remember Aunt Kori pulling me into an unbreakable hug. She had told me I’m growing to be just like my mother.

I used to look like her. Both with purple eyes and purple hair. My skin had more color. Now I look nothing like her. I no longer have her purple eyes, but green like Father’s, my hair has become a brighter shade of purple.

I miss them. Father gave me a silver dagger that day. He never lets me play with sharp objects, we only used wooden sticks when training. Mother gifted me with a spell book, it contained a vast collection of spells ranging from beginners to highly advanced. I lost both of them. The only things I have left of my parents, lost, gone forever. I long for them to return. My parents and their gifts.

I wish for all of them to return. Not just my parents but everyone. I wished this never happened, I wish the war never started. I wish I had been more grateful for all that they have done for me.”

“Do you remember the day they left you at that place? That place that was supposed to be remote, guarded, and free of any upcoming parademon attack?” he asked the young girl.

“How could I not? That was the day I lost them. That was the day they left.

Grandmother Talia greeted us at the harbor of Infinity Island. I didn’t know, back then, that it was the last time I'd see them. They told me I’ll be staying with Grandmother for a while, I didn’t think of asking how long. Then they hugged me. I missed that. I missed the way they’d cover me in their warm embrace. The way Father wraps his arm around both me and mother. I caught a shimmer of a tear from the corner of Mother's eyes. I felt their sadness. It was when I saw that tear slip, that I knew something was wrong. When I felt Father fighting to keep his posture, his stoic manner, that was when I knew I would be there for longer than ‘a while’. I wish I could’ve told them how much I loved them, I wished I could’ve given them one last hug,” she closed her eyes. “But I didn’t. I didn’t because I was a dumb eight year old who didn’t know what to do.”

“Do you remember the day you died? The day those hybrids took you down? The day you visited me in my realm and left to rejoin the living? The day you left something very valuable behind?” he asked.

“Why are you asking me these questions?” she asked miserably.

He smiled. “Because Granddaughter, it is good to learn from the past, to take the pain and turn it into strength. Now, tell me of that day.”

“I-I remember running to the courtyard. There were screams coming from outside. An assassin crashed through the window, his legs were gone. I was...horrified, yet I kept going. I was stupid, thinking I could help. When I reached the courtyard, I saw corpses everywhere. Ripped up and severed. Grandmother and her elite archers were shooting down the creatures. My uncle calls them Paradooms. Parademons mixed with Kryptonian DNA. Grandmother’s supply of kryptonite-infused weapons was running low. I thought I was strong enough. I summoned beams of energy. I kept using magic until I had no energy left. I kept going. I should’ve stopped. I continued to fight. Picking up a stray sword with a kryptonite blade. It cut through plenty of monsters. Then Grandmother called my name. It was as if time slowed down. Her face contorted to horror, an emotion I have never seen her express. I felt a wave of emotions coming from her. Yet, nothing from myself. The pain was so bad, it felt like nothing. My vision had begun to blur when I noticed the sharp point of a claw emerging from my chest. I remember the paradoom falling as I laid on the ground. Grandmother rushed to my side. She told me not to worry. Then I came here. To this place you call home.”

“I never see this hellish realm as home. I am a conqueror of worlds, I focus on establishing and controlling new frontiers.”

“TT. We can agree that we have very different interests, Grandfather.”

“Indeed.”

“Now, I must ask. Why are you here? Why am I here? Why have you called upon me?”

“I am here to remind you. It takes a lot of energy to escape that prison in your mother’s head to visit you in your dream. This location is where your subconscious wants you to be, because deep down you know where to go. You know how to end this. You blame the Lazarus Pit for your loss of powers, but have you really lost your powers?” He gave her an amused smile, knowing the young girl was conflicted.

“Yes. No! I don’t know! I can still feel emotions, I can feel energy within me, but I can’t access it. I can’t perform a single spell, not even the simplest,” she confessed.

“The Pit is supposed to revive and strengthen the one of dips in it, that is if they are able to control the evil temptations of the Pit. You, Granddaughter, were already powerful. You still are. The Pit boosted your abilities, but you haven’t brought them back with you.”

“You’re saying...that I left my powers in Hell?” Rashida asked skeptically.

“What else could I be saying, dear?”

“What’s it in for you? Why are you helping me?”

“Because I would like to conquer Earth. I shall not let that weak, ‘New God’ destroy this planet before I do. Besides, I need a body to inhabit once I break free. Your mother won’t last, she is already weak.”

This got Rashida’s attention. “Then how do I get my powers back? How can I get to Hell without dying?”

“Hm. I’m sure that spellbook of yours would be useful. Once the proper ritual is performed, you should be able to enter and exit that realm.”

“But, I’ve lost it. The book was burned during the first paradoom attack.”

“You are the granddaughter of Trigon. The granddaughter of the first Batman, Bruce Wayne. The great granddaughter of Ra’s Al Ghul. The granddaughter of Talia Al Ghul. The daughter of Raven, the Queen of Hell. The daughter of Damian Al Ghul Wayne, the current Batman. You have a powerful heritage. I expect you to live up to your blood.” He gave her an expectant look. “And let’s not forget that family that took in your mother when you first came to Earth, the Kryptionians,” he added.

“Bart explained this to me the other day, something about a multiverse. The book is lost in this world. It no longer exists in this universe. However, there are many alternate universes, different worlds out there. If I’m able to locate the right one, I should be able to get that book”

Trigon smiled. “Correct, my dear. Now, time is running short. I suggest you make haste.”

Rashida looked up from her internal thoughts. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

But it was too late. Her surroundings have begun to shift. Trigon had swirled into a translucent black shadow and disappeared through the cracks of the room. She no longer sat in the obsidian chair in the Underworld’s throne room. Instead Rashida sat up with a jolt in her uncle’s base. Her head was beaded with sweat. She left the little room, which she had claimed to be her sleeping quarter. Jason was still asleep in front of his computer. Judging by the position of the sun in the cloudy red sky, it was late in the morning.

Artemis looked up from her daily ritual of sword sharpening. “Good morning, kid.”

“Why did you let me sleep in?” asked Rashida.

“Last night was rough. I thought you needed the rest,” she glanced at Jason and Roy, who was still asleep on the worn down couch. Artemis held up a tin can. “Pineapples?”

Rashida accepted the fruit. “How did you get your hands on pineapples?”

Artemis shrugged. “Oh, you know. Quinn and her buddies were in the area.”

Rashida took a bite of the diced pineapples. “I have to say, I envy them. They get to do the cool stuff like infiltrating LexCorp. While, we’re stuck fighting off the parademons and thugs.”

“This’ll be over soon. And then, you can do the cool “infiltrating” stuff as well,” assured the Amazon.