#clue what I’m doing with my life and that I’m a complete failure

[madigoround]

🌱

[madschiavelique]

AAAA this idea has been on my mind for months now and i simply need to share it with y’all

it’s a raphael x reader fic idea that i had a bit ago, and as i am uncertain as to whether or not i will ever write it, i’m throwing this idea in the wild hoping a writer on the platform will have a better determination than me at writing multiple chapters fics ✨(if u do write it i’d love to be tagged to read it or to be credited pls !)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : raphael x reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warnings : boss x employee, oblivious reader, female!reader (but if u want to picture it as gender neutral or differently it’s up to you i’m just throwing the idea out there!), tiny bit of explicit content

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

so

we have two possibilities for the start :

raphael made a contract a while ago with a mortal that he thought was pretty much impossible for them to fulfil, yet for some reason, they did manage to complete it, and now raphael had to oblige in whatever wish they had. let's picture it maybe as a person with few remaining options in life and that wants whatever remains of them to be inscribed in the family lineage as absolutely incredible. so imagine the surprise when raphael hears that the person wants their daughter to be the devil's assistant.

OR because i like having a wide choice of possibilities (and this idea came afterwards and i prefer it) :

Raphael lost a bet and has to deal with a human as their apprentice or archivist or scrib or whatever activity that necessitates to have them by his side most of the time.

imagine an oblivious reader, doesn't know much bout the hells except that you have to be wary of it, finding themselves in it directly with no friends, no directions, just in the house of Hope

imagine the scowl of raphael when he sees her arriving, the way his lower lips hems in anticipation of how he'll have to endure her presence during the upcoming weeks, months, maybe even years of apprenticeship if reader's lucky enough to hang in there

there's a bit of an urge to make her life difficult, but most of all to keep her away from him because he has no time to babysit a simple human in his home.

somehow seeing her in the face reminds him of his failure, of how a mere mortal fulfilled a contract he had so perfectly made (as he always does) and that brings him an absolute feeling of frustration

so maybe he assigns her to the archives, so that she can lose herself in books to, as he says "learn about the habits and customs of the hells", but it is mostly a pretext to occupy her so that she’s not following them around like a duckling following their mom

inevitably however (when we follow the track of the-bet-he-lost version) he has to prove to his other allies that he is fulfilling this forfeit, and thus bring reader to some diners or events with him

picture this whole thing kinda like miranda (raphael) and andrea's (reader) dynamic in the devil wears prada, just pushing her under a mountain of work that tires her the fuck out but then somehow reader becomes less insufferable and hardworking and adapts to her environment

who knows maybe she finally got used to his habits, knew what dishes, drinks, clothes he'd prefer. knew who he had positive ties with, who he loathed, who he had to keep an eye on, and who he could close his eyes around

which obviously brought reader to harleep

maybe reader has just never picked up on social cues (yes at this point i'm making reader autistic because yes.) and doesn't have a single fucking clue about flirting, so she just thinks harleep is being very very nice to her c: it'd be hilarious like

harleep: haven't you got a pretty garment today, but you might make the hells hotter if you removed a few layers of it

reader: how can one make a place hotter by removing clothes ? that's a silly suggestion

told you

✨ OBLIVIOUS✨

harleep and reader do become friends though, maybe harleep even teaches her a bit about the malicious art of flirting while refraining himself to just fuck her - still teaching her in his own way of course

raphael doesn't spend his time wondering what his incubus spends his time doing, because if he did he would know pretty quickly whatever he does anyway. but now that he's starting to feel less bitter about reader and actually is able to be in the same room as her without his nose hitching up like he is smelling something that reeks, he does have an interest to know a bit about what her activities are in the house of hope

because consider it, he never shares diner with her, barely exchanges a few words per day with her, and tries to stay the furthest away from her possible by adding piles of documents, lists and whatever books reader needs to read for him so that all these centuries of knowledge can repress her to come to him

imagine if haarlep, just to mess with raphael, tells reader to use any flirting lessons he has given her so far on him - whether it be the brush of a hand or flaming hot words that'll make the devil's skin ran with goosebumps

and that when she does use it, actually unconsciously, reader and raph both surprised

what the hell is that thing that raphael is feeling ?

he knows who's behind this little joke, obviously, but still there's a sort of lingering truth in these words

maybe reader has noticed how she herself has just started anticipating whenever he comes back, whenever she shares a moment with him in any room of the house of hope, whenever he gives a confirming hum or the single word "good" when she does a proper job that she made look natural and intuitive when she’s been working her soul out to make it look perfect and effortless in advance

she expects him

imagine how one day, she does everything absolutely perfectly, even goes out of her way to impress him in the hopes of receiving even just a smile about it, but nothing. raphael hides the way he's impressed with her, because... why actually?

to keep his image of irascible boss that doesn't give a shit about his apprentice human? i mean he could've dropped this kind of act probably, but making an effort for a human that doesn't owe him anything ? that's another feat he's not sure how to handle yet

so reader goes to haarlep, who's become her confident, her kind of only friend in the house of hope, and shares her frustration

maybe she just takes them in her arms, starts crying a bit as they caresses her hair sofity hushing her down

"nothing i do is ever good enough, even perfect is not enough for him! why does he have to be this way..." and maybe just maybe

haarlep suggests a way to make her feel better and ends up sleeping with her

they comforts her a bit more, and tell her that if she ever needs to feel "better" again, she can just come to them. if not, they still are her friend

things go on, and raphael's personal frustration grows, because his mind keeps going to reader

what is it about her that makes him want to think about her? certainly not the way she always knows what to bring him if he needs even the slightest thing, or how she suggests point of views and ideas he had not though of from his perspective, or how she's so pretty when she's serious and reading silently, or how he even finds beauty in her writing, or how...

the list goes on, this man is silently obsessed with you, and he doesn't know how to shake away this feeling

imagine one night of pure frustration he calls in haarlep, and as they’re deeply in the middle of it, he feels as though he's not getting satisfaction. his thoughts are oriented towards you and only you, maybe the way you brushed the feather of your quill on your nose today while reading and writing notes on whatever book on cambions raphael had commanded you to read, or how your sigh of relief sounded when you had stretched after a long while of being sat at your desk, or how your tongue had lingered on your spoon tonight at diner after finishing your yogurt

that's when the cocky bastard (haarlep) smirks, asking "what's wrong? do you wish tonight for me not to be you, but to be..." before changing in your shape and seeing how raphael's eyes widen in surprise, "her ?"

he just gets up from bed, screaming at harleep “how could you touch her? i gave you no right to touch her” but harleep just answers something like "how could i not ? you certainly know of The Scorpion and the Frog don't you? It's in my nature."

of course raphael knows of it (lemme insert the explanation: A scorpion wants to cross a river but cannot swim, so it asks a frog to carry it across. The frog hesitates, afraid that the scorpion might sting it, but the scorpion promises not to, pointing out that it would drown if it killed the frog in the middle of the river. The frog considers this argument sensible and agrees to transport the scorpion. Midway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog anyway, dooming them both. The dying frog asks the scorpion why it stung despite knowing the consequence, to which the scorpion replies: "I am sorry, but I couldn't resist the urge. It's my nature."), and knows that harleep would've probably tried to get your body sooner or later, but still he feels the sting in his heart

URGH i have lots of thoughts about this so if ur interested pls don’t hesitate to drop smth in my inbox !!

[moonstruckme]

Okay sorry I don’t want to burden anyone I know irl so rant below ! Cw for anxiety maybe? Please feel no need to read, everything is fine in my part of the world :)

I’m graduating on Saturday and that’s already more scary than exciting unfortunately, but a couple of days ago I got turned down for the only position I wanted in the city I live in now, so I’ll officially be moving away at the end of the summer. The thing is, I have no idea where !! I’ve always wanted to move out of my home state so it was never the plan to stay here, but there was a weird sense of comfort in the idea that I could potentially just stay where I am right now, continue to hang out with my friends who are doing grad school, kinda sorta pretend to just still be in college for another year or so. Which maybe wasn’t the best idea, but the familiarity was like a security blanket. Now, I cannot stop thinking about how I have no idea what I’m going to do.

I really hoped I’d have a job lined up by now, but as it stands it seems like I’m going to be working 3 jobs until my lease ends in August and after that I have no clue where I’m going. Jobs in my industry are worryingly scant and while I’m trying to make my peace with working in like a coffee shop or a bookstore or something (which I think I would be perfectly content with, at least for a while) the amount of decisions that leaves me with is stressing me out so bad. I have to figure out where I want to live, get a job there, go and find an apartment with some roommates, make all new friends, etc, etc. I’m terrified.

I have literally one friend who isn’t going on to some kind of higher education and she’s already gotten her dream job after applying to two (2) places, and I’m genuinely happy for her but it makes me feel like such a failure that I’ve applied to dozens and not even gotten an interview. I want so badly to just do something I care about but I feel like soon I’m going to have to settle for whatever pays rent. I keep telling myself that that’s fine, because plenty of people live that way and I’m sure that so long as I keep writing and have some good people in my life I’ll be happy, but it’s so so scary to know that in a couple of months I’ll be leaving all my friends and family behind but have no idea where I’ll be going.

I’m really not trying to whine, I know that I’ve been extremely lucky to go to college and enjoy barely paying for anything the last few years (I have a scholarship that pays for most of my rent and my parents help me with grocery money). There are genuinely awful things happening all over the world right now, and I live in a country that affords me a good amount of safety and have parents who I know would step in to help me if I were literally starving. I’m just sort of coming to terms with this being the first time in my life that I’m completely on my own. I’m confident that I can find something to keep myself alive, but I’ve been very lucky to have great friends and a very contented life so far, and I’m both grateful for that and terrified it’s going to end soon.

I can sort of feel myself on the edge of a wee breakdown and that really cannot happen right now because my family and my long-distance bestie get here tomorrow for graduation so I’m going to have to be very smiley and confident for at least the next few days ! And anyone I shared this with would be taking on the burden of feeling some kind of guilt, which of course I don’t want to put on anyone. So yeah. Sorry to do this here, but I really felt like I had to externalize this somehow and you guys are my unfortunate victims!

[theautisticdoctor]

Have you ever been screened for adhd? I see that there is a lot of overlap in adhd and autism diagnosis. How was it for you?

Autism and ADHD do have a lot of similarities, as well as ADHD and (c)PTSD. I am officially diagnosed with autism and cPTSD, but I do also score very high on the ADHD spectrum. I got asked once if I wanted to get officially tested, but I refused because at that time my brain just couldn’t handle another label. I absolutely despise labels and getting them put on me gives me massive stress, because I feel so inadequate and as a failure (I’m still working on that). My autism also got kind of buried under all the other labels that got put on me, and I felt like it was going to happen with this again. I don’t do well in adjusting or acknowledging new things and it takes ages for me to accept these labels.

Just like autism, ADHD is also a neurodevelopment disorder, which means it would have been there in my childhood, so for me it is most useful to look how I was as a child. As a child I was not hyperactive at all, only disorganised with a lot of executive dysfunction, impulsivity when high stress levels occurred and easily distracted with bursts of hyperfocus and -fixation. My brother however has always been hyperactive, impulsive, and easily distracted (although he’s also diagnosed with cPTSD). He for example as a 2 year old managed to jump out of the high chair more often than actually sit in it or rock and bounce it back and forth so hard that he would flip over with chair and all. So he is definitely an ADHD’er. Me you could have put in a corner of the room and completely forget I even existed, which therefore also happened, because I wouldn’t make a sound, wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t crawl away from my designated space. You could give me a toy and I would be satisfied with it all day, figuring out all ins and outs, when I was done playing I would start taking it apart and would put it back together, over and over again. Where my brother would throw his toys through the frontwindow of the car (literally) because he was just bored with them and needed more stimuli. My cPTSD diagnosis makes it very complicated to distinguish what symptoms are from traumatic stress and what has been there since before the structural stress (because the structural stress also started in very early childhood) from ADHD or autism.

For me I think it is more helpful to look at it from a holistic perspective instead of adding more quite meaningless labels for a group of symptoms that one might have, I just have a neurodevelopment disorder with a spectrum of symptoms. I have made an inventory of those symptoms and the scope of these symptoms is already a huge disability for which I need to make adjustments to my life. Labels should be used as a tool to help people and their support system understand, figure out and learning to cope with their symptoms. The label is solely there to serve a purpose, but it doesn’t give you any clue about the extent, severity or suffering of the person. In my practice I always tell my patients that I’m treating a person, not just the lab results or diagnoses, and I expect others to do the same with me. I hate it when people only look at results or labels and create their entire treatment plan based on that, you should look at the human that’s sitting in front of you.

The autism spectrum has a major overlap with the ADHD spectrum. This overlap includes things like sensory issues, stimming, emotional regulation difficulties, impulse control difficulties, executive dysfunction, interest-based nervous system, interconnected thought processes and patterns, hyperfixations and -focus or special interests, social differences and difficulties, communicative difficulties, rejection-sensitivity dysphoria, and making eye contact difficulties. In both disorders the amount of stress or overwhelm is what can make the symptoms worse. Some specific symptoms to ADHD are the cravings to new things and experiences, attention and focus regulating difficulties, which could make it harder to read social cues, inhibition difficulties, hyperactivity, and impulsiveness. Whereas some of the specific symptoms to autism are the cravings to routine, order and familiarity, with craving for strict adherence, intuitive disability to read social cues, self soothing through repetitive behaviour, thoughts and routines. When my stress levels rise I tend to move towards the ADHD spectrum, but it keeps contributing to my rising stress levels, so I am thinking it is more masking / coping than actually ADHD. I think, I therefore really fit the autism spectrum better than the ADHD spectrum. But I don’t know, maybe I’ll be ready one day to get myself actually tested, because it also wouldn’t really surprise me if I was.

[writingaustin]

Going through and reposting old stories I wrote for Reddit. This one's called Puzzled Reaper. Guess the story prompt.

“Wait, I died? How?”

“Listen guy, I’m just as baffled by this as you are.”

“So you don’t know how I died? But aren’t you the Grim Reaper?” I heaved a weary sigh. This was my first ever client, and it was already going poorly. I held back the urge to curl up in a ball and start crying. That probably wouldn’t be very respectful of me, seeing as I was standing over this man’s corpse.

I shouldn’t have taken this job from the temp agency. The pay was too good, but I thought that was just because I would be on call 24/7. I sure as hell should’ve said no when they sent me this scythe in the mail.

“No, I’m the Puzzled Reaper.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

“Is this some sort of joke?”

“Oh god, I wish.”

“…” The man (or the soul, I guess?) bent over and covered his face, making a sort of sound that reminded me of a dying animal. I gently patted him on the back.

“No, it’s okay. Dying’s not so bad, bud. There’s no reason to get frustrated about it.”

“I’m mad at you! Aren’t you supposed to be helping me with this?! Explaining that I died, where I go from here…” He slapped my hand away, rearing on me with a red face. It soon paled, however, as his own words hit him. Now he was looking as lifeless as his corpse.

That sounds kind of redundant. He is a corpse. A soul? Some sort of…ethereal ghost-creature? A jerk who yells at hardworking customer service agents?

“Where will I go…?”

“Probably Hell for yelling at me on my first day.”

“What?!”

“No, look, I don’t actually know. I just take the souls to the place where they are…uh…” I paused and fumbled in my dark-as-night robes. Didn’t they give me a manual? I winced as my scythe fell away from me as I looked for that little booklet, clanging pitifully on the ground.

Look, everyone has a rough first day. Just keep it cool, and you got this. I took a deep breath to steady myself, repeating the mantra my yoga teacher taught me.

“You are one with the universe…loved by the universe…”

“You really have no clue, do you?” “No, of course I do. Look, it’s all in this manual here.” I flourished the tiny little pamphlet that had been sent with my work clothes and scythe. The title, in easy to read bold lettering, said, ‘So You Want to Reap Souls.’ The title was incorrect, as I didn’t actually want to, but a job was a job.

“Did you not receive any training?”

“I received a manual?”

“Ugggggggggh.”

“Let’s see…ah, yes. The Puzzled Reaper. See? That’s me.”

“What. Does. It. Say.”

“Hey, relax. You gotta take life slowly sometimes…oops. Sorry.”

“WHAT. DOES. IT. SAY.”

“Sheesh. Alright, ‘The Puzzled Reaper is the reaper that takes care of souls that perished in mysterious circumstances. It is the job of the Puzzled Reaper to illuminate…’, wow, this sounds kind of pompous.”

“Keep. Reading.”

“Alright, alright. ‘To illuminate the soul as to the cause of their death so that they may pass on safely to the underworld. Only by understanding how and why they died can a human’s spirit find solace and move on. Failure to do so will result in…’”

“In…?”

“’In the human soul turning into a revenant that will forever haunt the earth.’”

“So, if I’m to understand…”

“We need to figure out how you died so you can pass on safely to Hell.”

“I’m screwed.”

“Hey, bud, we got this. I may be new to the job, but I love detective stories. That’s just what this is, right? We’re like detectives! Well, I’m the detective. You’re my Watson!”

“I’m completely and utterly screwed.”

“Let’s examine the crime scene, Watson!” I kneeled down and began to examine the body for clues.

“Undeniably, irrevocably, doubtlessly screwed.”

~-~

“Using my extensive experience of the past twenty minutes as both a detective and a ferryman of souls, I deduce this man with an incurable case of no longer breathing.” I knelt before the corpse, gingerly jabbing at it with the non-pokey end of my scythe.

The man himself (that is, his soul) was now quietly sobbing in a corner of his office, face completely pressed against the wall as I made my expert diagnosis.

“Now, what sort of assistant are you? Shouldn’t you be taking notes, or making snarky remarks?”

“Just leave…”

“That’s no way to treat a friend.”

“I don’t even know who you are…” He glanced back at me, his eyes suspiciously dry.

“Oh, actually, I suppose it’s not like you can actually cry. I mean, you don’t even have a body anymore. Physically, that is.” He turned back and started to sob again.

“Jeez, come on. Alright, look. What’s your name?” If a look could kill, I would need a Grim Reaper. But I suppose him glaring at me was preferable to the fake crying.

“Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan, alright, like Swift.”

“It’s Herrick, actually.” That’s some progress. Jonathan Herrick, my aspiring assistant detective and present corpse on the ground.

“Alright, Jonathan Herrick. You can call me Reaper, or detective.”

“You aren’t a detective!”

“Ye of little faith.” I stood up, taking a seat atop the oak desk in the middle of the room as I reached to grab the now cold mug of coffee beside me.

We were in Herrick’s (former) home office and current tomb, his lifeless body collapsed beside an old leather chair behind me. The only light in the room came from a laptop still running beside me on the desk, its harsh and electronic radiance providing no favors for Herrick’s (his body’s) appearance. Though it should be midday outside, the curtains were tightly drawn. Herrick’s soul was now pacing in front of me, with an expression that couldn’t seem to decide between homicidal rage and self-pity.

“I’ve already deduced that you were murdered using some sort of poison.”

“What?” Oh, self-pity it is then.

“Hmhm, yes, what sort of genius was lurking underneath this cloak indeed, dear Herrick.” I sniffed, pretending to hold a pipe. My dream of being a veritable Holmes elucidating the secrets of the world for my own dear Watson was already coming true.

“No, what do you mean by murdered?”

“By poison?”

“Who?”

“You?”

“What? Why would you think I was murdered?”

“Because I’m here.”

“But you’re just here to figure out how I died…”

“Remember what I said earlier about dying in mysterious circumstances? Well, it seems obvious that I was sent here because that happened to you. You were murdered, and now we need to find out who killed you so you can find peace in Hell.” Hahah! We’ll catch this criminal in time for dinner at this rate.

Herrick’s eyes went blank as I graciously waited for him to agree on how clever I was. Forget rage or self-pity, he looked like someone grasping the truly inconsequential nature of humanity in the grand scale of the infinity that was time. Or, I don’t know, a comparison for suitable for normal humans…he looked like a man who had looked up one day to find that the sky was pink, despite it being blue all his life before that moment.

Cut me some slack, I don’t know what normal human things are, I’m an embodiment of death for goodness sake.

Anyway.

We stayed like that for a few minutes; I sitting on his (former) desk, and him standing there in front of the door, staring at some point beyond this world. But slowly, and surely, I could see the gears turning in his mind. The confusing slowly giving way under the power of anger and indignation as ‘Why was I murdered?’ slowly turned into ‘Who was the bastard that did this?’

“And why do you think it was poison?”

“Well, there’s no actual damage to your body. I mean, let’s be honest, you’ve got on a bit of that winter weight, clearly took your fair share of Santa’s cookies during the holidays. But, the fact I’m here seems to suggest that we can rule out natural causes like a heart-attack.”

“Hey…that’s true, but hurtful.”

“Yet, there doesn’t seem to be a single mark on your corpse. No wounds of any sort.”

“So…it can’t be natural causes, yet it doesn’t seem like I was attacked. So the way I died…”

“Must’ve been something you drank.” I took a big swig of the cold coffee.

“Hey, wait-!” He held up a hand to stop me, but I was already finishing off the dregs at the bottom of the mug.

[justineps]

“To the most quiet but biggest hearted teacher assistant any teacher could ask for,

Justin Santos, write.

If there is any farewell advice I could give to you, please write, write, write. I have graded your essays for two years, and I have been observant in your ability to speak your thoughts through debates or even presentations and they just do not correlate whatsoever. But did you know? Some of the best writers and also my favorite authors are unable to speak what is on their mind. When I asked the class to write which book they enjoyed the most out of all our assigned readings, many chose The Great Gatsby, East of Eden, but you were the only one to choose, Into the Wild. This book was not part of the school’s academic curriculum and actually a personal recommendation I chose to insert to entertain the spirits who wish to wander and feel like they have no direct path in life. Your major for CSUF is Business Administration but I believe this is just a choice based on your academic gradings. There may be some daunted trauma that lies within you that prevents your nerves from flowing free into the air allowing your mind to be in synchronization with your verbal thoughts, but on paper, I felt as if there were so many to you that you wanted to let out but you were always one to do the minimum in order to get through the next stage. You may have not noticed but I observed how quickly you graded my students’ papers, used the red pen to correct any grammatical errors and fixate them without any doubt that I would reprimand you for doing so. One day, I wish to hopefully see some article, book, paper, written by Justin Santos so that I would be able to gleefully be proud of myself that my intuition about your mind was rightfully so. Thank you for being modest and shy and always smiling if you made a mistake, I could not have asked for a better student assistant to have observed over the past two years. Please keep in touch, and remember the memories our AP English homeroom has shared.

P.S. I know you did not read East of Eden, but have no clue how you managed to receive a passing grade, let alone for the written test questions, which is why I hope to see a book by Justin Santos before our time together passes.

Always with a “plethora” of love,

Ms. Linda Bush.”

My mother had kept this and after years gave it back to me. What did Ms. Bush see in me? Should I reach out to her? Or should I let her know I actually have been writing in a journal everyday. I’ve died two years ago, figuratively, and semi-literally. I say semi-literally because I believe I had a heart failure for about 3 hours, I went outside to get air and I woke up on the floor 3 hours later, thinking I was on my bed. If that was the closest thing to what death feels like, its a bit surreal. There’s no last few seconds, no “wait, I want to say..” it just.. kind of happens. You lose consciousness. And the reason I woke up 3 hours later? I still dont know why. I’m too stubborn to get it checked up. I’m too .. myself to feel like a bother to anyone and think that no one would really care because in the end, no one really does. And I’ve learned to grow completely fine with this over the two years. It has been the loneliest two two years of my life, but I needed it. i dont have any animosity in my heart towards anyone, I dont think i am nearly the same person I was two years ago and as cliche as that sounds, only those that wish to find out and meet me once again will be the judge of that. Theres so many hatred and malicious intentions that humans bear out there in the world, that I really aim to spread the opposite.

I turn 32 in a week, and although my name is still the same, I would gladly like to meet anyone in my past and reintroduce myself.

My name is Justin Santos, and for some reason through the thick of it all, and lonely countless crying nights, am still here.

I am someone who dreams with his eyes open.

[motleymedley]

The Social Problem in Media

At the risk of sounding like a boomer, the concept of social media has gone too far. Before you ask, the year I was born does start with a “19” but since I’m on the tail end of 99, I hardly think that should count. I grew up with Gen Z, feeling like some sort of undercover boomer agent. Or perhaps most Gen Z feel this way, looking at everyone on social media acting completely okay with broadcasting their lives. 

There is no way to know for sure. I come from a generation steeped in tech- we know who you are, what you’re up to and what your family did last weekend. This is seemingly an age without privacy and without time to disconnect. In previous generations, when you would leave work for the day that would be it. Hasta la vista, baby, I’m going home to stare at drywall all weekend and cry into the cool side of my pillow- but that is not the case anymore.

Now, more than ever, people are broadcasting their lives. Just last week I was in a gynaecology department and they were talking about doing a video on the latest TikTok trend while I was sat waiting for what was sure to be a super awkward experience.

It is not my business to determine what they do with their time. Quite frankly it’s nice to see the world relax a bit and try to have more fun— but it got me thinking. The social media is impossible to avoid. I’ve been told time and time again, I will get nowhere in life without a social media presence; that there are people half my age making double my wage dancing online and all vying for the same five seconds of the audiences attention span.

This got me thinking. In order to make money in life, do I have to do the same? Am I doomed to failure unless I take to social media to express myself and capture the attention of the masses. This brings yet another problem. How am I, to attain the attention of the masses? To do so would require me to compete with an infinite market.

To come up with an original idea? That’s already been done. Even if you write an original idea someone somewhere will surely recognise its taste and offer several other examples of it having been done before. If you try to sing, others will sing it better. If you market my looks, other people will be prettier. As the philosopher Qui-Gon Jinn once said, “there’s always a bigger fish”. So how do we, the average populous, navigate this social media saturated world? For those curious, listen carefully to what I will say next.

I don’t know.

Not a clue.

Nada— and it’s stressing me out.

As someone who’s horrendously socially inept, this is a painful realisation. There is no social life without media. Not anymore. Gone are the days when people would ask for phone numbers, all my (admittedly limited number of) friends communicate through instagram, meaning I too have to communicate through instagram and risk getting stuck in reels for hours on end.

Since then I have had to set a limit for how long I can go on instagram (something that was painfully needed, congratulations to those who are able to practice self-control, I salute you), I have had more time to do things. Conversely, I have also missed out on more. Without social media informing me and everyone else of what everyone and everything is doing, I have lost friends and contacts alike.

This may be hyperbolic. I haven’t lost them. I didn’t misplace them under the cushions of the sofa, never to be seen again— but we are less connected now. Almost as though, through severing my connection to social media I became untethered and slowly drifted away. This isn’t a bad thing. Nor is it a good thing. Drifting to and from people is all a part of life and yet it seems easier to do so these days than when ease of communication was difficult to come by.

Theoretically this is easy to explain, if you cannot keep up with the fast-paced world of socialisation and media you become less relevant. It’s a simple and easy notion that all of us can understand.

There are many people who struggle with navigating social media; just because it seems as though everyone is inclined to share their lives online doesn’t mean it’s unusual to not want to. Granted, much of the time, you may not be able to avoid the demanding world online but it is okay to get overwhelmed. This is a new phenomenon. You are not alone.

[killaaaakham]

I hurt myself by hurting someone I love…

A couple of days ago, I exploded viciously at my best friend. I said a lot of mean and hurtful stuff and I feel horrible about it. It’s not the first time I’ve lashed out, but it’s the first time it’s been THIS bad! To give context to my personal recent struggles, I recently suffered a house fire (with said friend), repeatedly saw my abuser hanging out with who I thought was a friend (triggering), living from a friend’s house to a hotel and now an Airbnb. There’s been constant chaos since the fire. I had never been in that situation and was unaware as to how I should react or even process it. I chose the strong friend role, catering to her every need. A tiny argument last Wednesday turned into the biggest blow up of my life. To hold myself fully accountable, drinking alcohol during this time was probably not a great idea as well as my unresolved trauma. I could not fight the anger/frustration festering inside of me that later became rage. I’d lost control. Because of the alcohol, I don’t remember about 95% of what happened. I remember violating her property and calling her out of her name. She recently sent me a detailed list of everything I said. She’s let me know that she can’t forgive me for this. I didn’t mean any of it. In fact, I didn’t feel in control of my body or mind AT ALL. No excuse. I just had no clue what I was really doing. I immediately felt repentant towards her. How did my emotions turn off so quickly? How did I go from 100 to 0 so fast? Well, I sought help to make me understand. I met a woman [who’s a licensed therapist] at a wedding in September of last year and needed her unbiased opinion, assistance, and potential diagnosis. Turns out, intermittent explosive disorder is what I most likely suffer from. I’m scared to be honest. I’m glad to have a reason for my abrupt mood changes, my failure to accurately identify and process social cues, and my intense anger that was completely disproportionate to the situation that it started from. I just… I wish I didn’t have to hurt her so badly in order to learn. I love her deeply.

[purpledazzleroot]

I’m starting my new job on Monday and the last 48 hours, everything that could go wrong, has. First I got a 10 day shut off notice for my water/sewage, then one of my cats, I think, had a stroke and can’t move his back legs and finally, there was a bad storm and the electric has been off since early Friday morning. I have no money to pay the water/sewage bill because I’ve been out of work since the beginning of June. My cat is about 14 years old and now he’s having accidents because he can’t walk and he’s in pain. My mom thinks I should put him down, which more than anything I don’t want him to be in pain and suffer. I can’t get him to eat or drink today at all. He just lays there and looks around. It’s like he’s not my Oscar anymore. I don’t think I have a choice now but I’ll have to borrow money from my mom to do it. And it’s so freaking hot without the AC, the electric company has an estimated turn on time of 6pm tomorrow.

I’m just very overwhelmed right now because I honestly have no clue what direction to go. The heat is getting to me and my cats. I keep trying to cool them down with cool washcloths but they run because water. I need to do laundry for Monday and I can’t without electricity. I have to be up at 5am on Monday with a commute of over an hour because of traffic and I don’t know where I’m going on Monday.

Life is truly testing me and I’m failing right now. This whole summer has been test after test of my mental health and just everything. I feel like a complete failure at life. This is not where I thought I’d be at 37.

[cigvrettedvet]

charlotte & margot.

      “that’s something i won’t object to,” margot attempted to tone down the grin forming at the thought of it, not wanting to give away how much the playful possibility meant to her. she’d never wanted to bank on someone, never wanted to cling to their presence so hard and beg them not to leave her, not like she did with charlotte. she’d always been looking to run away and escape, so feeling this way about a person was exhilaratingly brand new and she wasn’t quite sure how to navigate the giddiness of it all. “i wish i stuck around a little more, maybe i could’ve turned you into someone who enjoyed going out. maybe even get you to crack a few smiles amongst a crowded bar or something.” when did this turn into a conversation about doing what she could to make charlotte happy, she wasn’t sure, but margot let it continue nonetheless. “i wouldn’t really use ‘wise’ as a go to descriptor — i mean, just ask me anything about current events, pop culture, or how to work anything more than your basic electronics and i’m a dud. not really sure if wise or smart are the right words for me.” but she appreciated the woman’s efforts. even if she was embarrassingly offended at the implication that she didn’t know how to flirt. “what do you mean? i can flirt, charlotte! i’m totally capable of flirting, oh my god.” she could feel her cheeks burning what was surely a bright shade of red, unsure why she was even so disappointed in the call out, but she wanted it to be quite clear she could flirt when she intended to. “who cares about a good life after such a blow to my fucking ego, holy shit… i mean, how can i go on after such a sucker punch? after that, i should just get you to pull over and i can flag down the cult myself. you can hand me over and they can do what they want with me so that i don’t have to live this ultimate failure down forever.” yes, it was completely dramatic, but margot had to draw the attention away from her very apparent humiliation somehow.

                charlotte chuckles at margot’s words, wondering if that was even possible for her. “i’d love to see you try. i don’t know if you’ve noticed but i can be incredibly stubborn when i want to be.” her tone’s only half teasing but charlotte’s convinced that margot has a clue about her stubbornness, given her determination to be with margot even after she had so many chances to leave. “you’re a lot wiser than me when it comes to advice though. i’m just as clueless as you when it comes to technology. i’m only good with my laptop.” and that was for the most basic functions. even though margot was clearly embarrassed with charlotte messing with her and even doubting her flirting skills, she couldn’t help but be amused by it. and it was definitely adorable to see margot blush like that. “i’m sure you are more than capable of flirting,” charlotte replied, practically challenging margot at this point. it was almost easy to forget the intent of their road trip until margot rambled on in an ultimately dramatic fashion. “well, i can’t have you doing that,” the author chuckled with a shake of her head, “i am terribly sorry for offending you. tell me what i have to do to make it up to you so you know i’m sincere.”

[blamebrampton]

One line, any fic

I am an absolute shambles when it comes to Tumblr challenges (I don’t ignore them, I just first overthink and then forget them) but dearest @magpiefngrl tagged me in on this one and I am in a Get Things Done mood, so here we go!

Pick any 10 fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

1. From And On The Other Side A Welcoming Voice (https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892007 H/D, 38K)

Draco shook his head ruefully. 'Turns out twenty years is long enough to start missing you,' he said, though it was a lie, he had missed Potter from the first instant.

2. From Of Great Price (https://archiveofourown.org/works/119133, Remus/Sirius and James/Lily, 30K) (slight cheat as these lines have to go together)

'Do you mind?' I asked.

'Oh no,' said Myrtle, earnestly. 'It's quite all right. You can come here whenever you like, I'll not tell a soul. Hardly anyone else ever comes here, it'll be completely secret, I'll even keep the floors dry.'

And I meant to take umbrage, but really, I was in a terribly good mood, and I did have Remus shaking with silent laughter against me, so I accepted the offer with good grace.

3. From And Save Me From Bloody Men (https://archiveofourown.org/works/118676, H/D, 10K)

It was absurd how reassuring I found him. But I had seen my father and Voldemort afraid of this man when he was still a boy. All of that symbolism was still there. Even the Muggles had wanted to touch him this morning. He was on our side and we would win.

4. From Little Red Courgette (https://archiveofourown.org/works/118431, H/D, 30K)

Draco glared at him for a long moment. When he spoke, it was with cool deliberation. 'I am willing to bet several Galleons that you have the full set of Potter posable action figures at home, don't you, Smythe?'

5. From All the Important Words Unspoken (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494034, H/D, 73K)

Draco suppressed the urge to ask where the other half wanted to poke him.

6. From On the Turning Away (https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854709, H/D, 26K)

He shrugged. 'Maybe not. But if I don't want to go through my life defined by things that happened to me as a child, I am very much convinced that you shouldn't have to, either.'

7. From A Young Radical’s Guide To Love (https://archiveofourown.org/works/643932, H/D, 66K)

And Pansy looked completely nonplussed when Granger spontaneously hugged her. Draco smiled. He didn’t mind it when Granger and Potter treated them as though they were a little simple on some matters. They did the same with Ron, after all.

8. From Doing the Lambeth Walk (https://archiveofourown.org/works/387467, H/D, 26K)

There were excuses for why it took so long. You couldn’t walk up to a man and ask for the details of the worst day of his life. Well, unless you were Rita Skeeter …

9. From Marginal Notes (https://archiveofourown.org/works/136329, H/D, 9.4K)

‘Steady on,’ Draco pushed her back with a gentle hand to her belligerent forehead. ‘Three important failures of logic there: firstly, Potter saved my life in that battle, so it would be ridiculous for him to turn around and bop me on the head. Secondly, Potter is the one person worse than me at killing people in the entire school, he defeated He Who Must Not Be Named with an Expelliarmus for Merlin’s sake. Thirdly, why am I arguing with a foetus? Get outside and pursue The Chosen One if you must, I saw him headed down to the Herbology Greenhouses.’

10. From For The Public Good (https://archiveofourown.org/works/123322 (H/D, 23.5K)

Harry raised his hands helplessly. 'Normally we have clues. Or at least obvious motivations. What do we have here? Someone who doesn't like the Statute of Secrecy? About the only person I can leave out of the investigation is your father, he loves it.'

I’m meant to tag other people but due to the aforementioned lack of organisation, I have no idea who has and hasn’t already done this. You should if you haven’t! @raitala and @tackytigerfic, you two in particular as I am reasonably sure I’ve not seen either of you do this wee beastie

[go-hux-yourself]

Taste of Fear

I’m getting through my backlog of half-finished WIPs and tricking myself into feeling productive haha Gird your loins.

See also on my ao3 here (heed the tags). My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. :D

--

Hux was scared.

No one here would speak for him. No one would show mercy. It was deemed what he deserved for what happened to Starkiller base, but Hux was not going to submit to it.

Stamina and skill he had, but not for six on one and taken by surprise. High Command had had it out for him for some time, his failures deemed as catastrophically unforgivable. His many technological advancements might have spared him Snoke’s wrath for what had happened to Starkiller, but following that loss with the loss of a dreadnought and its fifty-three-thousand officers alone, his command was brought into question and found wanting. So many lost man-hours and resources, years of planning, all gone under his command.

Snoke wouldn’t do anything about the way the Order decided to punish one of their own. He was already disappointed with Hux beyond summoning him in person. Whatever happened to Hux for his failures was no concern to him, and there would be no intervention on his behalf.

The present members of High Command sneered at the invocation of the Supreme Leader’s name as Hux fought; they’d been given permission to punish his failure in any way fit. No consequences would come down for what they were going to do to him. Hux needed a reminder of his position in the command chain now that their largest weapon and part of their fleet was destroyed.

Hux still fought, though, but he was overpowered, bent over the table and held down on his front. His limbs hurt from resisting so hard. Hands squeezed in threat of further harm, nails digging into his skin as he struggled to escape.

His nose and lip were bleeding, and he had a black eye and possible fractures. His ribs hurt where he’d been punched in the torso, and he was struggling to pull in breath over the pain of being held down flat. Fear threatened to engulf and immobilize him, and even the pain of his injuries couldn’t distract from what was about to happen.

The hands touching to restrain or tug at his clothing stopped so abruptly that Hux looked up. His heart-rate spiked in a mix of primal fear and desperate hope as this punishment was paused for only a moment.

There was Ren. Walked right into the meeting room as if he belonged there. Which he didn’t. The man never came to meetings if he could avoid it. What he was doing here now could be either good or bad.

Hux was terrified.

“What are you doing?” Ren’s voice came through the vocoder, its mechanical-acoustics not betraying any clue of emotion under his level tone as he stood there surveying the lot. Hux wasn’t the only one with blood on his face, evidence of the struggle he’d put up.

“Lord Ren, the General is receiving his due punishment for his failures of the First Order. You need not concern yourself.”

Ren turned his masked face to look at Hux.

There was no way Hux could actually tell if he was looking at him or not, but he was terrified and desperate enough to plead. He couldn’t take this. Not this. He’d always thought he could take any punishment dished out, whatever was necessary to retain his station in life, but he’d severely underestimated his resolve. This was a price he didn’t want to pay, and badly enough to beg his co-commander and sometime-rival for the mercy he wouldn’t be receiving from these men.

“Ren… please.”

“This has been cleared by High Command and Leader Snoke as well, Lord Ren,” one of the officers spoke up with authority. “It’s legal.”

“Is it?”

If there was any other blood left in Hux’s face, that, too, drained at Ren’s reply.

He was going to leave him to them. Walk away, allow it to happen, take full control of the Finalizer with Hux out of the way, disgraced and defiled for all his efforts. There would be no stopping any of them to render Hux completely powerless, stripping him of more than command and dignity.

Hux begged again, Ren’s name the only thing on his lips. One of the officers backhanded him to shut up.

Kylo raised a hand, and suddenly Hux wasn’t pinned any longer as everyone in the room grasped at their throats for breath. One reached for a blaster, but it flew from him before he could even draw it.

Hux scrambled off the table as soon as he was free, ducking beneath it out of some instinctual need to try and hide, so utterly shaken that he wasn’t even ashamed of the childishness of his actions; hiding now instead of fighting. He’d tried to fight already, and the uselessness of being outnumbered and weaponless had shaken him. If Ren hadn’t interrupted, he’d still be on the table.

Hux listened to the gasping above him, waiting for sounds of blaster fire or other resistance, only to hear the muted curses against force users, and a sound like an exhale from Kylo’s mask.

Ren snapped everyone’s necks, and let the bodies drop unceremoniously to the floor. Hux’s eyes widened as he looked into the faces of those dropped nearest him. Threats neutralized, dead. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, shaking slightly as he realized he’d been saved, but to what end he didn’t know.

Hux didn’t move from where he was. He had no weapons left to him, his body protesting his movements in pain all over, and he trembled a bit uncontrollably. Was he safe? Should he flee? Flee to where?

There were other members of High Command who hadn’t been present for this meeting… was he safe at all? Would it happen again, this time when he was in too much pain to fight back? No, it would be worse. It was always worse when attempting to avoid punishment.

“Hux.”

There was no vocoder interference to Ren’s voice; the younger man had taken his helmet off. Ren moved around the table to stand before Hux’s hiding spot, legs and cloak visible only.

“Hux…?” Ren dropped down gracefully onto one knee, looking under to see the general holding himself with a haunted look on his face. He didn’t meet Kylo’s gaze.

“…You shouldn’t have done that,” Hux spoke a bit hollowly, trapped as far as he was concerned with no way out. Trying to avoid a punishment always made it worse, and Hux’s mind spun horrific ideas of what could possibly be worse without simply killing him. “High Command will still--”

“Hux, kriff your High Command. Are you alright?”

Hux’s attention shifted directly to Kylo’s eyes, inhaling a bit deeper as the other man looked at him with that deceptively-beautiful face. It was always a shock to see Ren’s youthful face. There was a world of things in Ren’s eyes as he studied Hux, and an unfamiliar wave of gratitude came over him as he was watched with surprising patience.

Ren was full of surprises today. Hux didn’t know why Ren cared, but he was so grateful in that moment that his voice broke. “I’m glad you did it,” he nearly gasped. “...But still, you shouldn’t have done that… they’ll only punish you as well.” Or maybe not. Who could punish a force user anyway? Would Snoke do such a thing to his own apprentice? Ren probably knew better than Hux did.

His eyes showed no fear at least, and Hux stared back at him as if he could capture some of that for himself.

Kylo regarded him for a moment as he crouched there still. “…You don’t know what they were going to do to you, Hux.”

“Yes I do,” Hux said. “They told me exactly what they were going to do. Leader Snoke signed off on it.” Hux’s eyes looked away and then met Ren’s again, his co-commander still crouched there and frowning. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Ren’s face was so intense regardless of what expression he wore. Anger, impatience, it all looked too soft on his face considering the violence that had just transpired. It occurred to Hux that without the helmet masking him, the younger man was probably never taken seriously on features alone. Hux appreciated it more than he could put into words at that moment. Definitely not considered a threat when he looked like this.

He was capable of a lot more than Hux certainly had assumed, even if, ultimately, Hux would still have to meet his fate.

In a much softer voice which wavered, he added, “...Thank you.”

Kylo extended his hand beneath the table, and Hux took it after a moment. He helped him to his feet, and Hux surveyed the bodies around them with a grimace of pain, wrapping an arm around his torso. His ribs and face throbbed, and his skin was clammy beneath the uniform. He felt unsteady on his feet, and untethered to a solution.

High Command might have been Hux’s master, but ultimately, they all answered to Snoke. What to do with the bodies… He didn’t know what would happen to them next, but a cover-up seemed extremely unlikely given the circumstances.

Kylo had come to the same conclusion on his own.

“We should leave.”

“Yes,” Hux agreed on a shaky breath.

Ren looked at him. “I mean the fleet.” Hux turned his face to look at Kylo, hearing but not comprehending his words. He latently realized he was probably in shock. Ren was still holding his hand. “The Order. All of it. Beyond the reach of my master.”

Hux’s eyes snapped to Kylo’s own with comprehension. “The- The Order, Ren? Are you mad?”

“They’ll complete what they started,” Ren told him, and Hux tensed. “They’ll send others, Hux.”

“…Leader Snoke, Ren—”

“Is hiding things from me,” Kylo interrupted. “Things the force has revealed; things he doesn’t want me to know that would increase my power.” Kylo realized he was still holding Hux’s hand, and that Hux hadn’t shunted him off. He gave their hands a look, chewing his lips before meeting Hux’s gaze again. “It’s safe.”

“Ren, this is— The reach of the Order-”

“It doesn’t reach as far as the force.” Hux exhaled shakily, and Ren turned his attention to the bodies on the floor. “We’re meant for greater things. The force confirmed it.”

Hux’s mind was slowly thawing from its fugue, working quickly as he considered what he knew, what he thought he knew, and what Ren might know. The consequences of staying were something he wouldn’t live through, one way or another. That much was certain. “…why did you come here, Ren?”

“I heard you in the force.”

Hux hadn’t cried out once as he’d been attacked and subjugated. Angry curses and grunts of pain as he’d counter-attacked, yes. But he hadn’t called for help when he knew it was pointless. His brows stitched together.

“It called to me,” Ren continued. He squeezed the hand he was still holding. “I’ve been lied to all my life by those I should’ve been able to trust. You’ve never lied to me.”

Hux’s ribs hurt too much to debate force nonsense, and his head pounded in the attempt. He honestly couldn’t say if he’d ever lied to his co-commander or not, or why it even mattered as much as Ren was making it out to. “…How can you be sure of that...”

“I am.”

He was still holding his hand, and Hux didn’t think he intended to let go. It was an odd comfort, and one he wasn’t going to break first.

Hux felt a bit dumbfounded, detached from his reality and what he knew. “Why? …you don’t even like me, Ren.”

“I do like you. You just piss me off sometimes when you go against my plans.” That might’ve been an attempt at a joke, but neither of them were laughing, and Kylo was giving him a solemn look. It was Ren or nothing, and right now, Hux couldn’t count too many allies who would do for him what Kylo had just done.

“…don’t expect that to change.”

Ren nodded. “I can accept those terms.” He surveyed the bodies on the floor. They could lock this room to buy some time. It wouldn’t be very long, though. “We stand better chances together.”

Hux sneered at the dead officers, disgust and relief in his tone. “…we need a plan.”

“I have one.”

Hux met Ren’s eyes, then looked at their joined hands. He met Ren’s gaze again. “Okay.”

Ren gave his hand a squeeze, and Hux returned it.

–

my kofi | ao3 main |  my fic archive masterpost

[krispytidalwavesheep]

Hopes and Dreams III

.I am not entirely sure about this chapter, if I’m completely honest, so I’ll probably rewrite it at a later time. If you want to get added to the taglist just let me know! Thanks for your continuos support with this fic, it honestly gives me so much life right now! *** Chapter 3

“There seem to still be a few things you haven’t seen.” Lady Dimitrescu stated after you reached the sitting room.

“It’s not everyday that you see girls turn into a swarm of bugs. I’ve seen a lot, but I never said I have seen everything.”

“Which brings me to the question that I want answered. What are you? My first guess would be that you are a vampire, like me and my daughters, but I have a feeling that that isn’t true. Sit down please, so that I can take a look at your wound.” Her tone brooked no argument, so you did as you were told and rolled up the leg of your pants. You winced when you saw the true extend of the damage. Even with enhanced healing it would take a few hours to properly heal.

“My biological father was a scientist, who researched a lot of occult and supernatural topics. He was also a massive asshole who thought it okay to experiment on his own baby daughter, so there’s that. I don’t know how, but someone he got his hands on the DNA of some creature no one really has a name for, but I have a guess. The only thing he really knew, was that they are like Vampires, but much more powerful.

He injected me with the DNA when I was four, but nothing happened, so I was deemed a failure. He did all kinds of tests on me, to see if the DNA would activate, but it didn’t. At least not until he tried to kill me. I was no stranger to torture after he failed, but that night I knew he came to finish it. I was 10, and I was scared and angry, so much so, that something in me broke. There wasn’t much left of him after I was finished. 

I’ll spare you most of the details of what happened after, since it is not relevant for what you want to know, and I hate the feeling of being exposed when I don’t know if I can trust the person in front of me. I ran away and my benefactor found me and took me in. I don’t know how, but somehow, he knew what I had become, and he took it upon himself to make sure that I got the best training I could get. I can somewhat use my enhanced abilities, but I am not completely awakened. I’ll get to that part shortly. 

After 6 years I was deemed ready to repay the favor and got sent on a hunt for rare artifacts, as I mentioned earlier. I was free to research my condition whenever the opportunity arose, and I did. I traveled the whole world, met all kinds of creatures and people, yet no one could help me with my predicament. That was until 8 months ago, when I found the first real clue. But that clue came with a price and I have been cursed. 

I still don’t have a name for the creature that I have become, but I found an old text that explained a lot to me. My kind won’t fully awaken until they bond themselves to another being, that has roughly the same power that we have. That’s where the curse made things more complicated: If I try to bond with anyone that isn’t my destined mate, I will die. Slowly and painfully. 

And if that isn’t enough, the curse took the ability to sense my mate away from me, at least in the traditional sense. Usually, we will know our mate by smell alone, for their blood will sing to us like nothing else ever could. We would feel a strong pull towards them, and they to us, for our blood will be just as exquisite to them, as theirs is to us. The curse took that ability away from me, and now I am destined to walk the earth, waiting for my mate to find me. 

Another side effect is what I call ‘boiling blood’. When I feel threatened enough it will activate and temporarily awaken me. I can’t control it though, and that is the problem. It only happened once so far, and that was when someone I care a great deal for, got hurt. But I have it under control for the most part. I just don’t like it when people I care about get hurt, I lost myself even before the curse happened. And I do understand if you deem me to dangerous and kick me out of the castle. You wouldn’t be the first one.” You ended lamely and sighed. It always took a lot out of you when you talked about the past. 

“You mentioned that you have a theory about what exactly you are?” Alcina asked and gently patted your dressed wound. You suppressed the gentle shiver that wanted to roll down your body and said, “I think I am a Vampire, but one of the first generation.”

***

“And what makes you think that?” Alcina asked carefully. You pondered that for a moment, her eyes never leaving you. She could see that it took a toll on you to tell her all that, and she could understand that. Admitting what had happened couldn’t be easy, especially when there was the possibility that you would be thrown out or worse. Alcina didn’t plan on doing either of those things though, and she would tell you soon enough. An idea was forming in her head.

“I read a lot about vampires and had my fair share of encounters, none of them as nice as the one with you, so I figured it must be something like that. Whenever a Vampire turns someone, a miniscule part of their DNA gets implanted in the one they’ve turned. That is why your Maker will always be stronger than you. But since I got way more DNA with fathers’ experiments, it could mean that I am the first person who got turned into a Vampire of the first generation. And if not first, then second, which would still be infinitely more powerful than a Vampire of third or fourth generation. Although I can’t be sure, since I destroyed everything that could give me a clue, when I killed my father.” You said silently, looking at the floor. Alcina couldn’t help but feel pity for you. A bad hand was dealt to you, and you just tried to live your life. She also admired how strong and confident you were, even after all that had happened.

“I have an offer for you.” Alcina said and put two fingers under your chin to make you look at her, ignoring your blush.

“Stay here. You have nowhere else to go, right? You fascinate me and I want to know more about your abilities if you are willing to show me. And I could use a hand to help me in the castle’s upkeep. But make no mistake, my dear. As soon as you show me that you become a threat, I will dispose of you. What do you say?” Alcina asked, but she knew your answer already. She could see it in the softening of your eyes and the spark of hope that flickered in your eyes. You gently nodded and gave her the most brilliant smile she had ever seen. Both of you briefly wondered where that feeling of trust came from, you more than Alcina, but for the moment it was enough.

***

A weird sense of coming home fell over you, when you looked into her eyes, that had gentled with your consent. She could probably kill you with a snap of her fingers, but somehow you got the feeling that she wouldn’t. Most people feared you when you told them what you were, not all of them humans either. But she gave you the feeling of safety, no matter what your nature was, and you wondered. Could she be the one that was fated to be with you? Or was that just wishful thinking, because she showed you kindness where everybody else would only show you fear and hatred? You were immensely attracted to her, that’s for sure, but could she be the one? 

“I want to see the full extend of your abilities as fast as possible if you don’t mind. If it is alright with you, I would arrange a little sparring session between you and my daughters.” Lady Dimitrescu said and took a seat on the chaise lounge in front of you. 

“I wouldn’t mind. It has been far too long since someone has offered me a challenge, so I will gladly accept, my Lady. My wound should be fully healed by tomorrow, so we can start first thing if you’d like,” you offered, eager to show her what you were capable of. Maybe she will keep you around for longer if you show her that you would be a valuable asset to her castle.

“I would like that very much, my dear. But now is time for you to eat and rest, as it is rather late. The day has been rather long and eventful, not just for you.”

“Of course, my Lady,” you smile and as if on cue, the door to the sitting room opened and one of the daughters entered the room with two plates. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until the smell of the food hit your nostrils. The two of you ate in companionable silence, and soon enough it was time to leave her presence for the night. 

The guest room she showed you was like nothing you have ever slept in before. You were used to all sorts of places to sleep, but never have you seen a bed so big and comfortable looking.

“Good Night, my dear. I hope you sleep well,” Lady Dimitrescu said and left you to your own devices before you could answer her. You dressed down to your tank top and shorts and fell into a peaceful slumber as soon as your head hit the pillow.

***

When you next opened your eyes, you were surrounded by the familiar darkness of your dreamscape, yet something felt different. You could sense a presence at the edge pf your consciousness and soon enough, a gentle voice spoke to you “So you finally found her.”

“Huh?” you asked into the darkness, chills running down your spine. The voice giggled and a shadow crept into the edge of your vision, which soon turned into a girl, that oddly enough, had somewhat of a resemblance to you.

“Who are you?”

“You’ll have to find that our for yourself. But what matters is, that you have finally found her. My Alcina,” the girl said and looked close to tears, although she was still smiling.

“Don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think that Lady Dimitrescu belongs to anyone.” You said, defensive of the Lady. That made the girl laugh again, and you couldn’t get over the fact that she looked so much like yourself.

“You are right. But she was mine, as I was hers, a long time ago. Listen, the castle’s magic is strong, but not strong enough to give me enough time to explain everything. Just trust me, okay? Stay by her side, no matter what. Protect her. But most important: Take care of yourself. She lost us too many times already, but maybe you are the one that will break this hellish circle.” 

“I-I don’t understand!” you said desperately, trying to reach for the girl, but she was already fading.

“We will speak to each other again when the time is right. Until then, remember my words. Please protect her. Do what we couldn’t do and survive.” Were her parting words before you awoke, drenched in cold sweat. What the fuck was that?

But no matter how hard you tried to grasp at your dream and its implications, you felt your consciousness fading and fell back into a deep slumber.

***** Taglist: @imdreamingblo @x-x-trixxster-k-m-w-x-x

[sketching-shark]

I think it's the ironic fact that JTTW fans already know how DBK and Sun Wukong's friendship broke apart but are more curious on LMK versions of Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque were friends alongside falling out.

HA! Well, while it often does seem that way, I'm going to go ahead and be a complete snob in a Journey to the West purist kind of way by wondering how many Six Eared Macaque fans would consider themselves more JTTW fans or more Monkie Kid fans, or if they feel they're a mix of both...

I've seen a lot of people argue that these two works of fiction are their own thing and that as such Monkie Kid (and associated fanworks) shouldn't be expected to follow the canon of JTTW, and fair enough for some parts. I've also, however, seen people who argue for this complete separation seeming to use it as an excuse to not acknowledge or learn about ANY original aspects of characters such as Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King, or even very important deities such as Guanyin and the Jade Emperor, and who as such end up making some pretty gross generalizations/assumptions about them even though they are of great religious and cultural importance.

For example (and while I know a lot of the fun people get from fan works is in exaggerating certain traits), Sun Wukong seems to often be presented with an "inherently" evil/thoughtless/chaotic character, while his intelligence, deep love of his family, genuine efforts to become a better person, & many acts of saving lives, as presented in JTTW, aren't even mentioned. I feel like a lot of this is due to the way he acts in Monkie Kid (while I maintain that this version of Sun Wukong seems to be Bad End Monkey King, he does do a lot of deflecting his issues with a show of humor/a carefree attitude & does seem really bad at communicating due to a fear of making things worse). Even so, the popularity of Thoughtless/Evil/Selfish Sun Wukong that doesn’t really allow for any of the nuance or a display of his beneficial traits as shown in JTTW does make me wonder how many people have been exposed to a good translation of og classic Sun Wukong...As I've said before, I've noted that a number of Chinese people on this site have expressed frustration with the fact that a good chunk of the monkey king’s Western audience seems to be getting their impressions about Sun Wukong, the Demon Bull King, the Six Eared Macaque, etc. from some mix of Overly Sarcastic Productions, Monkie Kid, and social media instead of from at least a translation of the original text, and it is true that a LOT of the nuance of these work and these characters can be very easily lost, especially if your drawing your information of them primarily from a cartoony version of the original source. 

That would be an interesting poll though...out of curiosity, how many of you fine folk have read the break-up & fight between Sun Wukong and the Demon Bull King either in the original text or in a translation, or is your exposure to them primarily through Monkie Kid? 

Again, I need to make it clear that I'm not Chinese & didn't grow up with the story, but I will admit for my own part that reading the DBK/SWK break-up in the Yu translation actually made me more curious about how their dynamic is going to play out in Monkie Kid than I am curious about what's going to happen with Mr. Macaque. 

This is primarily because besides SWK’s fight with Princess Iron Fan and DBK being given a LOT of page space in JTTW, there seems to have been some serious stuff that went down between the three of them in the events post-JTTW and pre-the main plot of Monkie Kid...the last we see of DBK in JTTW (if memory serves correctly) was him being hauled off by a host of heavenly warriors to be judged for his crimes of not giving SWK the palm leaf fan & also eating humans. When Monkie Kid starts, however, we are told that DBK had emerged “from the Netherworld” & immediately starts wrecking everything around him. What this suggests--if Monkie Kid is something of a fan continuation of JTTW--is that DBK ended up being executed by the heavenly forces, but managed to fight his way out of the underworld in a manner somewhat similar to SWK, who we are told he is equal in strength to in JTTW. In that beginning fight of Monkie Kid DBK is also shown as so enraged that he won’t stop his path of destruction until SWK buries him under a mountain for 500 years. It’s never said in the show, but--and this is important--this is basically exactly what Buddha did to SWK to start him on the path of atonement. So there seems to be some very intentional parallels between SWK’s havoc in heaven & DBK’s havoc on earth, which may suggest that one of the things Monkie Kid SWK really wants is for his former dear friend, his sworn brother, to find a way like him to be less violent and thus ultimately less vulnerable to destructive and self-destructive behavior, and that the way he tried to start this was by giving DBK the same treatment he got when he was a raging warlord. 

We are furthermore told that it was right after DBK was sealed that SWK disappeared for all those centuries, and while the impulse may be to write it off as him just wanting to enjoy himself (given a lot of his behavior in the show’s timeline), given the indications that this SWK may be deeply depressed, I feel like the answer could be something a lot more tragic...there seem to be a number of clues in Monkie Kid that while the journey of JTTW happened, something made it end disastrously, with SWK either assuming or knowing that Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, Tang Sanzang, and Bai Longma are dead. And per JTTW, this wouldn’t be the first time that he’s experienced a horrific loss, given the war with heaven and the burning of Flower-Fruit Mountain. And then right after THAT, it seems DBK emerged from the underworld, and so Sun Wukong was put into a horrific position: either murder his sworn brother, or let him continue to rampage & harm and/or kill who knows how many humans. SWK ultimately gives up his staff to do the repeat of “500 years under a mountain in solitary confinement route,” which as per JTTW he considers better than the alternative, but he immediately follows that by exiling himself. In JTTW SWK is a really sociable person who makes friends wherever he goes, but man, for this SWK...his life must at that point just feel like one failure after another, that in spite of all his best efforts he wasn’t able to save anyone he really cared about, and now he just trapped someone who was so important to him under a mountain & fated him to suffer the same things he had when he was in that position. How much more does he have to hurt his fellow yaoguai? How many more times does he have to choose between yaoguai and humans, feeling like no matter what he decides it’s just going to result in pain for him and/or his loved ones? I can easily imagine super sociable & easily upset (he cries a LOT in JTTW) SWK feeling like after sealing DBK, he just can’t do this any more. He just...can’t. 

This is all just speculation, but knowing the JTTW backstory between SWK and DBK does, at least for me, make their Monkie Kid relationship a lot more intriguing than it might be otherwise. Especially now that DBK seems to actually be making some small steps to quell his constant rage & lust for power. He even saves SWK and Qi Xiaotian from an explosion/nasty fall in the season 2 special! The Bull family weren’t really present in season 2, but I really hope they make a comeback in season 3 (if/when we get it) precisely because Red Son, Princess Iron Fan, and especially DBK have such an involved history with SWK. Plus it would be really fun to see two old warlords trying to awkwardly make amends with each other & struggle to be good teachers & positive role models to their student & son. 

In any case I feel this potential is more interesting than whatever fanfic The Six Eared “I’mma Plagiarize The Demon Bull King’s Backstory Of Being Best Friends with Sun Wukong” Macaque is creating lol. 

[sweetestlamb]

I've Got You Under My Skin Part 2

Author's note: Can you tell I'm inspired? A double fic post who is she? Dedicated to @serxeins because I know I can always count on you to read and comment and give me some good vibes.

Summary: She's not jealous.

He's not there the next day and it puts her in another foul mood, honestly who was he to invade her life like this and then leave as he pleased? She would be the one to send him away not the other way around, she was the one in control here.

She goes all the way to his house after work to inform him of this, slightly more prepared for his state of dress- he's only wearing a thin white shirt and flowy pants, both made of soft looking cotton.

"No wonder you're still sick. Look at you're wearing." She rolls her eyes at him not waiting to be invited in, he never waits for her and ignores her when she tells him to go away. It's their thing. Blatant disregard.

"That's shaming, that's no way to speak to a sick person. What medical school did you go to?"

"One that taught me to prioritize honesty over niceties."

She has more porridge but it's her mom's recipe the one she used to make when she was feeling sick and it was hard to keep anything down. She had suddenly remembered it the night before and woke up early to prepare it from sensory memory alone, she was hardly a chef but this was the only meal she could make without fail. If her eyes had prickled with instead tears as she stirred the pot that was no one's business but her own. She hadn't been able to make it for years now but for some reason she couldn't stop herself this morning.

"What's this?" He asks curious over her shoulder, his chin barely grazing her skin. She doesn't move away ignoring the thrumming his closeness elicits.

"Porridge."

"It smells good. It doesn't look like grandma's porridge. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." It's embarrassing admitting that she made anything for him, she feels like she's showing her hand far too much but can't get her mouth to stop revealing her heart.

"You're full of surprises. Let's heat it up."

He looks better now, no longer flushed and sweaty. The fever must have broken over night, he looks rejuvenated scooping the food into a pot and warming it up.

His house looks a bit cleaner today as well, the windows are open allowing a wonderful breeze to fill the space and sweep away the stench of sick in the air. She walks aimlessly until she sees a bit of material on the floor, bending to pick it up she glares at the material in her hand. It's a light pink scarf, thin and almost sheer. He has an eclectic style but this is indubitably a woman's scarf, she almost throws it on the ground in a fit.

"What are you doing?" He breaks her from her shock, walking towards her with twin bowls in his hands.

She almost hides the scarf away feeling ashamed of the searing hotness that rips through her chest like a current. But foolishly she swings her hand up presenting the offending item instead, narrowing her eyes as she peers at him.

"What's this?" She challenges, a voice in the back of her mind begs her to shut the fuck up but her anger pushes her forward recklessly.

He tilts his head looking intensely at the item before pursing his lips and answering, "I think it's a scarf."

No fucking shit Sherlock.

She looks at him unimpressed and unamused not quite understanding why she cares so much that there's a scarf- a feminine nother scarf in his house.

"I had a guest earlier. She probably left it." He replies lightly sitting their food down on the table and she follows him briskly still not satisfied with his answers.

"Give me back my porridge." She says childishly snatching away his bowl just as he's about to eat, the look of annoyance on his face brings her nothing but pure joy.

"What's your problem now?" He argues reaching for the bowl but she tugs it further out of his reach. With a long suffering sigh he stands up, stepping closer to retrieve the bowl but that move brings them chest to chest and she stares up at his bright eyes.

Bringing his hands up he touches the scarf in her hand, she drops it abruptly not wanting him to touch it at all now.

"Don't."

He stares at her long and hard, Adam's apple bobbing as their eyes lock. He shakes his head a tight smile on his face now and she wants to kiss that smug look right off his face. Wait.

What. What am I thinking?

The sound of his doorbell chiming breaks them free of this heated staring match, but not immediately he looks at her puzzled and is that something hotter, before slowly turning and walking towards the door.

"Hey, I think I left my scarf--"

A decidedly female voice sounds from the door and before she can second guess herself she grabs the discarded scarf from the ground and sashays over to the door. He looks completely surprised to see her walking over but barely reacts when she barrels next time, pulling the door open wider to see who's here to see them.

It's the new teacher that just moved into town, she hadn't yet been introduced to her but she'd heard nothing but bad things from the landlord. She was supposedly a man stealer.

"Oh! I didn't know you had a guest." The woman's gentle voice lifts in awe at her sudden arrival at the door.

"Here's your scarf." She thrusts the item fiercely at her, watching as the other woman jolts in surprise.

Du-sik looks curiously between the two seeming to feel the weird energy surging in the air.

"Miss Yoon this is--"

"Was that all you needed? We were in the middle of eating. He needs to regain his energy." She cuts him off, having no desire to be introduced to the other woman. The school teacher glances between the two of them being nodding slowly as if realizing something.

"Yes that was all. I'll leave you to your meals."

She watches as the school teacher disappears from sight, turning to walk back to the table.

"That was rude. Do you two have a problem with each other?"

Shrugging non-committally she pushes his porridge back across the space already digging into her own.

"Your meal will get cold. Stop saying nonsense and come eat."

He stares at her for a long time before retaking his seat and tasting the thick broth, she tries not to watch and wait for his reaction but it's probably a failure.

"It's delicious. I can't believe you made this."

Overlooking the backhanded compliment she hides her smile behind her spoon before looking up with a glare, "I'll never make it for you again." But it's an empty threat because she already made three containers worth in case he falls ill again.

"I'll turn off your electricity until you do."

She guffaws at the threat, grabbing the closest thing (a pen) and throwing it at him. It pings off his forehead and falls to the ground.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, no doubt her roommate asking about her whereabouts she had just suddenly disappeared out of nowhere after running out of the office. Swiping to open the phone she prepares for the onslaught of messages.

"---kiss it better."

She freezes at the words, dragging her eyes from the phone back up to his steady gaze. He's staring brazenly seemingly unashamed but the tint of red on his ears give him away, he's not at confident as he's pretending to be.

"What did you say?"

"I.....said you should kiss it better."

She has no clue what he's talking about but instinctively her eyes move down to his lips, blush pink and tempting they stand out on his pale skin. She wonders how they would feel under her own, if they would pucker up and press or bloom open giving her their sweet nectar. She wonders how many women he's kissed and if he's ever thought about kissing her.

"My forehead. I meant my forehead... because of the pen. I was just joking." He looks dazed now, still under her appraising gaze and she coughs swiftly moving her eyes and staring out the window.

"Mi-seon's looking for me. I should go."

Thankfully he doesn't comment on her running away again, he merely nods and collects their bowls.

"Thank you for the meal." She nods in response, her voice lost at the moment terrified of why she keeps coming here, what could she possibly want?

He walks her to the door, both of them dragging their feet and taking their sweet time.

"That was the worst part about not having parents."

She halts at his sudden confession, squeezing her fists tightly as she glances over at him.

"Not having anyone who cared when I was sick. It was never clearer how alone I was until those fleeting moments, there was no one to pat my back or bring me food or tell me I would be okay."

It's an ache she's used up, the ache of wanting something she'll never have. Years spent pretending she didn't miss her mother everyday. His honesty forces her own to the surface.

"That porridge was the one my mom used to make for me. I haven't made it since she...."

She doesn't finish her sentence but the look in his eyes tell her that she doesn't need to, he understands loud and clear.

"Thank you for making it for me. I'm honored." There is reverence in his voice as if he's never meant anything more in his life, it makes her heart tremble.

They don't speak anymore as she puts on her shoes and lays her bag across her body, reaching behind her he tugs the door open for her.

With a solemn nod she turns around ready to leave but a moment of temporary insanity makes her turn back and grab his shoulder for support, there's a look of genuine shock of his face before she leans onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his forehead.

Her cheeks are on fire as she draws back and his face looks painful from his red it is.

"You're going to be alright." With her last strand of courage she wraps her arm around and pats him on the back in comfort, his eyes are glossy and he looks years younger.

"I'm going."

She's aching to run but she walks away calmly until she's out of sight, throwing herself to the ground as soon as she turns the corner grabbing handfuls of her hair.

So much for being in control. Fuck.

[dancing-under-the-moon]

You Can Let Them Go:

A/N: This fan fic is based on the song matilda by harry styles. I think this song perfectly fits Gabriel and his journey as he learns to move on from his broken family with the help of his brother and friends. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!

Gabriel cried out in frustration as he crumpled up another piece of paper. He had been in the study all day trying to write a letter to his sister Tatiana. He wanted to invite his sister to his wedding to Cecily Herondale, which was to take place next month. He wanted to send a personal and heartfelt letter inviting her to the wedding instead of just some impersonal invitation. The only issue was Tatiana seemed determined to rip Gabriel and their brother Gideon from her permanently, so it seemed impossible to write any letter to his sister that might be strong enough to convince her to come. Still he replaced the crumpled piece of paper with a new one and tried again.

Dearest Sister,

I would like to formally invite you to my wedding to Cecily Herondale. I know we haven’t spoken in what feels like ages, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would attend our wedding. I would very much like to make amends of our past and perhaps rebuild the relationship we once had. I would also like to extend the invitation to young Jesse as well. I’m sure he has grown a lot since I saw him last at Will’s wedding, and I would be ecstatic to see my nephew again. You could even meet the newest addition to the Lightwood family, Gideon’s daughter Barbara. She is nearly one year old and yet when I look at her I am reminded of mother everytime I look at her. Tati our family is not complete without you in our lives and I would greatly like to have my sister back in my life again. Please consider attending. I will leave a seat open for you and Jesse at the wedding. Seats I hope will be filled by the two of you. I love you, Tati.

Sincerely, Your Brother, Gabriel

Gabriel crumpled the piece of paper once more, letting his head fall onto the desk as he gave up. No matter what he said, it would never be good enough for Tatiana. He knew she blamed him for the death of their father and her husband, Rupert Blackthorn.

Gabriel didn’t even bother to look up as he heard the door creak open. He had no clue who might be at the door, but at that moment he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was to hide from the world.

“What’s wrong brother?” He heard a voice ask him. Gideon, he thought as he closed his eyes, sighing audibly. Gabriel didn’t want to explain his horrendous failure to his brother. Especially not when this was meant to be the happiest months of his life. After all, he was getting married to the woman of his dreams in mere weeks.

Gabriel could feel Gideon drawing nearer. He then heard the sound of rustling paper and looked up as Gideon opened the latest of Gabriel’s failed letters.

“‘Dearest Sister, I would like to formally invite you to my wedding to Cecily Herondale. I know we haven’t spoken in-’” Gideon cut off abruptly from the letter. “Oh Gabriel.” he said, now understanding the pain in Gabriel’s expression.

“I just wanted her to come, but nothing I write seems to be good enough.” Gabriel said, his voice shaky as he let the tears fall from his face.

“This letter is not the issue, brother,” he started. “Unfortunately our reality is just that father raised us all to be loyal to a fault. A loyalty that Tatiana has twisted to fit her own narrative. We may never change her mind.”

“I want our sister back, Gideon.”

“I do too. That is why I shall never stop reaching out to her, even if she never responds. And you shouldn’t either. One day she may realize we have always been here for her. Perhaps one day she may seek our help just as you sought out my help once.”

“You mean the day I killed father?”

“You didn’t kill father Gabriel.” Gideon knelt to meet Gabriel at eye-level. “The only thing that killed him was his own selfish and ambitious nature.”

Gabriel reached out as his brother wrapped him up in a tight embrace. Gabriel stayed there for a long time, just crying in Gideon’s arms as he reassured him that everything would be alright.

Eventually Gabriel sent a letter to Tatiana, inviting her to the wedding, and to his surprise, she responded. She requested to meet him at Hyde Park a week before his wedding. So now here Gabriel sat in the middle of Hyde Park, trying as hard as he could to calm the anxiety he felt building up inside him.

His breath caught as he saw her. She was still wearing the same pink dress she had worn the day of their father’s death. She was holding a sleeping boy on her hip, Jesse.

“Hello Tati,” Gabriel smiled.

“Hello Gabriel.” Tatiana said bitterly, her mouth formed in a straight line. The smile quickly faded from Gabriel’s face as he saw the disdain on his sister’s face. “So am I to understand that you are marrying William’s younger sister and you wish for me to come?”

“Yes. I would love nothing more than for you to be there.”

“Well, I regret to inform you that I have no interest in going to the wedding of a traitor of my family, seeing as you are responsible for the death of everyone I have ever held dear to me.”

“Tatiana, please, I didn’t kill Rupert, or father for that matter,” Gabriel pleaded. “Please come to my wedding. Meet Cecily and Sophie, Gideon’s wife. Meet Barbara. Let me and Gideon have the chance to meet our nephew. Let us make amends with you.”

“Well perhaps I will consider going but let me make it clear, I have no intention of making amends with you or your brother. I despise you Gabriel, so never for a second believe that I will do anything for the benefit of you or your family or your friends. You are all dead to me.” And with that Tatiana stormed away, leaving Gabriel alone.

Gabriel now sat in the drawing room with an expression one could only describe as pure anguish. He had failed, his sister hated him. He thought perhaps that the conversation would have gone well and he could have a future with his sister in it, but now he realized Gideon was the only one from his family he had left.

“I didn’t know you were home!” He heard an excited Cecily say. He didn’t even realize she had come in, but as soon as he heard her he turned to her. He saw as her face turned from one of joy to one of deep concern as she gasped, “Oh Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

Gabriel began to cry and Cecily immediately ran to him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him in a tight embrace until he was able to calm down. She drew circles on his back with her fingertips and whispered various I love you’s and You’re okay’s in his ear.

As soon as he had stopped crying, she pulled back, looking into his still bright green eyes and she smiled sweetly before pulling his face to hers and gently kissing him. He immediately melted into the kiss. He let his fingers bury themselves into her dark locks of hair. Her small hands on his cheeks, her thumb idly brushing against his cheekbone.

It was in that moment, for the first time that day, that Gabriel felt loved. Gabriel finally felt as though he belonged to someone. It was then that he realized he wouldn’t be alone because he had Cecily. Cecily was his family. In just one week they would be married and she would be a Lightwood and his life would feel complete because he had Cecily and his brother to help him.

Gabriel pulled away from the kiss first. He had a small smile on his face as he whispered, “I love you more than anything in this world Cecily Herondale.”

“I love you too cariad.”

Later that night, Gabriel sat in his room reading the mundane papers. He heard a knock from the door and shouted, “Come in!”

Gideon appeared through the doorway. “I heard things didn’t go the best with Tatiana this morning. Are you alright?”

“I’m getting there. I guess I’m just starting to realize how different my definition of family has become these days. We lost our mother, father and now Tatiana. I used to believe that that’s what family was. Flesh and blood. And I suppose I am still having trouble seeing it as anything different.”

“It is a hard lesson to learn Gabriel. To let go of the things we were once taught to be true. But you must. Family is not blood, it’s love, which is a thing that our family hasn’t shown in a long time. Father and Tatiana never showed us love. Especially not you. You were raised on the values of loyalty to those you’re related to, but you never were taught the true meaning of family. Brother, you are loyal to a fault. It’s one of your best traits. But father was not loyal and neither was Tatiana. We must find a way to grow past the faults of our family and start anew.”

“I don’t think I know how to let go, Gideon.” Gabriel’s head fell.

“It’s not easy by any means. But you mustn’t be sorry for growing up. You don’t have to stay the young boy you once were. You have grown so much and as you continue to grow I don't think time will change how you feel about father or Tatiana. They can’t hurt you anymore so long as you can learn to let go of the past that holds you captive. You have talked of you’re trauma’s for so long as if they are alright, but you don’t have to accept it. I know that a piece of you died with our family, so rather than dwell in the pain of what might have been, start a new family. One that will always show you love and loyalty. That is something you never should feel sorry about.” Gideon smiled at his brother, and Gabriel smiled back. He finally realized he never lost his family, he simply gained a new one.

“You’re right brother. You are my family, and I will always love you. But now I have so much more. Sophie is your wife and therefore my family. A woman who has shown me so much kindness and love despite knowing my past. Tessa is my family. She has shown me mercy when I have not deserved it. Charlotte and Henry are my family. They are the people who took me in when I had nowhere else to go. Cecily is my family. She is the woman I love and will soon marry. She has loved all of my flaws and has always encouraged me to grow. Hell, even Will is my family. He hated me and somehow we have found a way to work past our differences.” Gabriel laughed. He was truly happy with the family he had let into his life and couldn’t wait to marry Cecily and build a family with her in it.

Once Gideon left the room Gabriel finally allowed himself to dream of the family he would build with Cecily one day. A family built on love and loyalty, not fear. He imagined what their kids might look like. He hoped his kids would come to him when they needed him. That they would feel loved by him and that they would build a relationship off of mutual respect and love. And in that moment, Gabriel learned to let go of his past.