#his inclination to be stern but caring and nurturing

[sins-of-the-sea]

Somewhere at the Piazza San Marco in Venice, Palm Sunday, before 1498....

"Oooohh! Pigeons! So many of them! I can chase them off!"

"JOSEP, NO-"

It didn't take long for the pigeons decide Josep should gfto, so they chase after him in droves. "AAAAAAAAAH!! CARLES, HEEEEEEEELP!!"

The older brother sighs as he swings a stick at the flock chasing after the boy. "And this was after that incident with the chickens, when will you learn, little brother?!"

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Smut prompt ❛ was it good for you too? it's never been like that before. you've never been like this before. ❜ where Aegons fucking his favourite girl and she takes the lead for the first time? Calling him her bratty prince???

Aegon ii SMUT Prompt #7

pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

warnings: reader is a sex worker, mentions of an affair/adultery, swearing, brat!Aegon, male oral receiving, edging, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse.

Being a young Targaryen Prince’s paramour, was no rarity in Westeros, however being the whore of the heir to be was a unholy. Nonetheless, you found yourself being actively sought by Prince Aegon, himself, the Second of his Name. At first you were just a fuck toy for him, obedient at his hands, there was scarcely any talk, for most of the time the Prince was too intoxicated to coherently speak. Gradually though, you noticed a change…

He became more aware, less slurred and aggressive, he was rather meek and mindful of his grip and hands. Even going as far to ask if you were okay, with the tip of cock just grazing over your folds, before slowly plunging himself in, painfully stretching you out.

And eventually, he began to talk. Endlessly about his sorrows and woes as Prince, the impossible expectations bearing on his shoulders, and how his family despised his entire being, purely on the basis of just existing.

You felt for Aegon, feeling inclined to listen, nurture and care for him, you eventually began to develop feelings as did he with you. He sought no other companion in the night but you, and soon enough, the ladies of the brothel knew you were snagged by the Prince himself, “set for life you are… or doomed” are you’d be dimly told.

It did not worry you however, Aegon swore to protect you, “the day they crown me King, is the day I make you mine.”

****

Stumbling in, during the late hour of the night, you had convinced yourself Aegon would miss tonight's rendezvous, caught up in some royal duty, however here he stood.

Although the sour, sad look on his face spoke a thousand words.

"Tough day, my love?" You whisper, as you extend your hand, gripping his firmly as you tug him into the small, old bed.

"Insufferable... Mother and grandsire have been chewing my ear off all day. I do nothing and they have something to complain about. They wanted me to attend the royal feast with my elder sister, I did. They wanted me to mingle with some maidens of various houses, I did but reluctantly so. They wanted me to stop from skulling a glass of wine, well that- That I couldn't... I just wanted to be with you."

You sigh at Aegon's complaints as he lays himself down on the bed, you seated by his side. One hand still held in yours, as your thub gently caresses his palm, whilst his other head massages the temple of his forehead, as though the torture of the night's mischief was physically unbearable.

"Poor baby- Such a shame you had to eat such a delectable meal, drink the finest wine and converse with highest borne women of praised, ancient houses. It must be awfully dreadful!"

The thick sarcasm in your voice Aegon had sensed immediately, flashing a stern look across at you.

"Do not toy with me, Y/N."

"Toy with you? Now why would I do that? I'm going to discipline you, you bratty Prince."

Before Aegon could formulate the words, you saddle his waist, your entrance just seated above his cock, which you could feel beginning to twitch and stir below.

"All I ever hear about, is you complain about your hard life... What hard life? You obviously have never been a whore in King's Landing-"

Pinning his arms to his sides by his head, your gaze remained fixated on him solely. Leaning over his chest, your lips just grazing over his as you whispered your final words, "-but tonight I'll make you mine..."

You start off grinding on Aegon's hardening bulge beneath, the throb of your cunt and twitching of his cock, almost in sync. Feeling his hips buck up, you take the advantage to pull his trousers down, exposing his thick, fat cock, the tip already glistening with his cum. Not sparing a single second, your tongue begins to lap and lick at its circumference, taking in his musky taste, before driving it in further, deeper into your mouth. His whimpering echoing louder in the room, the panting and heaving of his chest matching.

"T-That's it, baby. Just like that, l-little more deeper-"

Pulling his cock out in a haste, the suddenness causing him to moan painfully, your grip over it subtly firm.

"No-No, you don't get to tell me what to do, I'll take it how I fucking well will take it. You're just a whore, what would you know?"

Cursing beneath his breath, Aegon relaxed his head back down against the hard mattress, defeated against you. Too inconsolable, you presumed taking his cock, slow, paced sucking, as your mouth caressed its girth.

"Fuck-Y/N I-I think I'm going to cum but-"

As if that were the cue, feeling the tensity build in his tip with your tongue, you pull it back out. The exasperated relief, caused his hot seed to spill, though not enough to get off.

"Such a shame you can't... Not just yet."

You move repositioning yourself, your back facing towards him, easing yourself back down, as you steady his cock enough to thrust it deep inside of you.

“Oh how I’ve always wanted to ride a dragon! Mayhaps I finally have one to myself-”

Rocking yourself backwards and forwards with little care, the intensity of your movements causing Aegon to moan and grown in painful pleasure, as your tight walls clench down at his throbbing cock. Jerking himself up to your stern command “Sit up!”, you snake his arms around your tightly, as though embracing you in a hug from behind. Guiding his hands to your tits, each palm kneading and squeezing at your sensitive flesh, causing you to helplessly moan for more, as Aegon harshly pecked at your neck.

“Work for me, Aegon- Make me scream for all the realm and the Seven Hells to hear… Make me.”

****

“Was it good for you too? It’s never been like that before… You’ve never been like this before,” Aegon heaved, chest panting visibly as you both laid sprawled on the bed, your head resting against his sweaty mass.

“It was… Amazing, should definitely keep up the act. Keep the complaints coming.”

[wri0thesley]

oh oh can i request something like what jjk men would be like as fathers? just soft and domestic thoughts these days <3

happy fathers day its time to sigh dreamily about jjk dilfs, future dilfs and dilfs that could have been

ft: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, naoya, sukuna, mahito, toji, yuuji, megumi, toge

♡ Gojo is determined to be as good at raising his children as he is at almost everything he turns his hand at; unfortunately, he’s not the most responsible adult there’s ever been. He’s certainly a fun father - he likes taking the children places, likes keeping them on their toes with surprises and laughter and smiles - but he’s never been good at boring, normal, day-to-day tasks. He may very well end up hiring a cook and a cleaner just so he doesn’t have to - and so he has more time to spend with you and the kids, of course, it’s not that he’s lazy when it comes to chores--. Your children adore him, though, with wide smiles and bright eyes as he launches into another story about how he is the greatest jujutsu sorcerer of all time. Despite his sunshine bright aura, though, everybody knows the truth: if anything threatened the careful balance of happiness that your little family has created, Gojo would raze the world to the ground. 

♡ Geto is already a father; after raising his two girls, he can’t help but think raising the child you two have created will be a breeze. And, honestly? For him, it is. Beneath the determination to create the perfect world for he and the people he loves is love - and he has it in spades, for you and for your miracle. Mimiko and Nanako are doting, adoring big sisters - they would do anything for the baby, and Geto looks at all three of the children with a smile on his face. He’s perhaps a little overprotective, because he has seen the cruellest parts of mankind - but it’s made up for in the tender way he kisses tiny foreheads and reads bedtime stories and cuddles with you and all three of the children. He’s a perfect father; he bakes, he cooks, he does their hair and chooses clothes and he always manages to look perfectly unruffled whilst he’s doing it. When you wrap your arms around him and kiss him and mention it, he simply laughs lowly and murmurs; “I just want the best for us.”

♡ Nanami is a perfect father. He’s perhaps a little stern, but that’s because he has seen the ills of the world and he wants to protect his family from it. He cooks for the family and keeps the house in perfect condition and swings his kids onto his shoulders with strong arms, nurturing in them a desire to help other people for nothing more than a thank you. His occasional pessimism is tampered by your presence, reminding him that there are good things in the world and that he has all of them, and he is so lucky to do so. He does have a surprising tendency to spoil; all it takes is a child to wobble their lip at him with a soft, wheedling ‘but, daddy--’ and he is putty in their hands. 

♡ Choso is amazed by everything about his child. He rests his head on your shoulder and cannot quite believe that he had a hand in creating something so perfect. He did not have a normal childhood, so he goes about ensuring that his child has everything he was never able to (and he would dearly like to provide them siblings, if you’re so inclined). Choso’s nervous about it, but he throws himself into learning all of the games that children play, into reading classic children’s books, into camping and football and children’s birthday parties and the school PTA. He often cannot quite believe this is his life. If anything, his flaw as a father is that he is too enthusiastic - too wrapped up in giving them the idyllic childhood that he thinks they deserve to sometimes notice when his child needs a moment and a break to recharge. It’s a good job, then, that he has you to remind him of that. 

♡ Naoya . . . is a surprisingly good father, actually. Oh, he certainly has his issues - but he was raised by nannies more than his own family, and he wants to ensure that his child doesn’t have the same treatment. So he’s incredibly present in their lives, making sure that he knows the things his own father never remembered about him. He’s also incredibly encouraging; he has his talents, and he wants his children to have theirs. So the children you and he produce are a little spoilt (they take after their father, in their occasionally uppity drawl, after being born with a silver spoon in their life), but full of grit and determination - with a whole host of talents that even Naoya himself is impressed by. If you occasionally walk into the bedroom to see the children have fallen asleep on top of your husband and they all look adorable and domestic, you keep your mouth shut and merely smile as you give every single family member a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

♡ Sukuna is . . . also a much better father than one would expect. He wants his children to be perfect, but he’s smart enough to realise that forcing perfection isn’t the way to go about things. So he spends a lot of time with them, hoping his influence will make them want to be better - he lets them pick themselves up when they fall, but he’s willing to fight for them tooth and nail when it’s expected. Honestly, he loves having a big family of adoring children who run to him crying ‘papa!’ - it makes him feel worshiped, the head of the family as he ought to be. He’s also a wonderful cook and much smarter than people realise, so the children grow up very clever and well-read and capable of supporting themselves - if a little brash and arrogant about it. 

♡ Mahito . . . is curious about childhood, and about what outside influences might do to his own child’s soul. He insists to you that his interest in you and the baby that he helped create is merely scientific, as he occasionally drops into your home to see what is happening with you - but you also watch how he is with the child, the excitement that leaks into his voice as he reads to him and watches television, and you know that Mahito would kill for the child without a second thought. Curses don’t have human emotions, not really - but whatever Mahito does have for your child goes far beyond surface level fondness. 

♡ Toji is . . . trying his best. He’s not exactly made for fatherhood; he’s never imagined himself settling down. But you, with a baby in your arms and a smile at him as if he could actually be something important, makes him want to try. He’s not good at talking to the kid - he treats it more like a friend than anything else. He’s not the most safety-conscious guy; he thinks nothing of handing a baby a screwdriver to hold whilst he’s building something. But he’s got a soft, domestic side and he’s willing to try his best - you just have to put up with bumps and scrapes (and some absolutely hideous meals whilst he’s trying out recipes) whilst he’s on the way there. 

♡ Yuuji is soppier than people realise. The first time he holds your child, he cries because he cannot believe how tiny and perfect the baby is. He shows it off to everybody; even as the child gets older, Yuuji has a concertina fold of hundreds of pictures in his wallet. He thinks his child is a genius at everything and does not hesitate to loudly extol said virtues - he’s physical, cuddling and snuggling and kissing both chubby cheeks of the child. He loves it when you all wear cheesy matching outfits. He wants to do all of the family things; you think that the baby was barely a month old the first time Yuuji dragged you all to Tokyo Disney (and you can track the child’s height in photographs of the three of you with Mickey Mouse). He gets really into everything. He ends up coaching a children’s soccer team, pumping the air excitedly and being, in general, a favourite father of all of the little friends your kid makes. 

♡ Megumi is a little baffled at the idea that he’s a father, now. He doesn’t have much to go on - his own father left whilst he was still too young to remember much, and Gojo was his surrogate father figure. Megumi is determined that he will be a better father than either of them - and it does not take long for the child to have him wrapped around their little finger. He’s quiet and loving in his own way, spending time with them, playing with his remaining Demon Dog with them and secretly capturing every smile and laugh that they emit to keep close to his heart. When they tell him they love him, Megumi feels . . . like this is the right place for him to be. 

♡ Toge hopes and prays that his child won’t inherit his cursed technique; but when he does, his eyes set very seriously as he puts his hand on your arm and murmurs a reassuring “salmon” into your ear. He’s even more careful, now - but that doesn’t stop him being the best father he can be. After all, he remembers how he grew up - children don’t need words to be able to let people know how they’re feeling. He’s adoring, excited by every new development, taking photographs constantly. He’s another who would protect his child with his life - because of he and the child’s shared burden of cursed speech, he becomes an expert at reading body language and the kid’s eyes until sometimes you feel like they’re two extensions of the same body. You have hundreds of photos of them curled around each other, Toge playing games with them, sleeping and laughing and smiling - and every time Toge sees one, he hums happily in the back of his throat and kisses your cheek with a soft, happy ‘tuna tuna!’.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Your Hand - (aka Ahsoka and Anakin/Vader meet up three years post RotS (AU oneshot))

“It is too late.”

Ahsoka shook her head vehemently, refusing to accept the montone delivery of what was doubtless the truth. He sounded nothing like the Anakin she’d known, even as she reached out with the Force, searching for him - sensing only cold; a juxtaposition between the burning hatred and the freezing tendrils of the Dark Side coiling around him like treacherous, lethal serpents, ready to strike and deliver their venom straight into her bloodstream. Ready to watch her writhe, screaming in pain, pleading for mercy. She should be terrified, yet all she felt was numbness. Empty, null, void. 

Palpative, making her throat burn and her eyes water. Refusing to budge, she took a tentative step towards the man she had once called master, the man who had taught her all she knew; all she cared to remember, harkening back to a past too painful to hold on to. Her older brother, her best friend, her anchor to her family.

“It’s not,” she persisted, ragged hands balled into tight fists; her face displaying what she hoped to be a determinate defiance.

He had taught her to fight back, taught her to be stubborn, to be relentless. Perhaps it may be the end of her, but if so, at least she would suffer no more. Besides, dying by his hand would be an honour. Swallowing hard; she locked her eyes onto the beeping red and green lights of his chest box. Monitoring his respiratory system mechanically, sustaining the suit keeping him alive. With his reputation, she should be terrified of him. Still, she felt an odd, eerie calm. No dread, no unease. No jittery nerves, only a solemn serenity. Only understanding, and a foreboding acceptance. Without thinking, she raised her left hand. She tugged with an invisible extension of her graceful fingers, manipulating the Force carrying her unspoken plea his way as a silent whisper; a demand. He flinched, and she knew he received it.

“You do not comprehend the things I have done,” he stated; but despite his resolute, booming profession that came off as more machine than human - enhanced by the vocoder aiding his feeble, scarred vocal cords - Ahsoka sensed his hesitance, his wavering emotions; his conflict.

Frowning, she doubled down on her efforts; scowling as she poured all her good will and intent into what had once been a powerful connection between them. She understood now that Anakin had severed it willingly, perhaps to spare himself from any painful reminders of the past. Perhaps, believing her dead but refusing to obtain concrete proof of his suspicion. Perhaps, he had simply wished to shield her if she were alive; despite all odds. Perhaps, he had known even through the foggy haze of the Dark Side that his fall would destroy her. Ahsoka held onto that thought, however wistful it may be. It reinvigorated her hope.

“I know what you’ve done,” she said; barely realizing she had spoken until he turned to face her.

She could not see his face; the familiar boyish features she knew so well concealed by a skullesque face plate. Jetblack, with large, hollow eye holes covered by semi opaque, red tinted lenses. She met those dead sockets without hesitation; unable to glimpse his pale blue eyes, but feeling them on hers. Unyielding. Were they even blue anymore? She remembered Maul’s eyes, and their sickly, yellowish glow - the bloodshot, crazed stare. If Anakin removed his mask, would he too sport the golden eyes of a predator; out for blood? 

Ahsoka would not relent, she would not give in. He had believed in her when no one else had, and she felt indebted to him - obliged to offer him the same benefit of doubt. Her hand was still hovering mid air; slender fingers outstretched; trembling with the effort as each second of rejection dragged on. She felt the buzzing tingles of his aura, of his Force signature. So different. Maimed, twisted, tormented and warped. Both decimated and accentuated at once. Less powerful than she remembered it, and yet more powerful than she could ever recall it. He was a riddle, a contradiction. Part of him seemed to want to tear her to pieces, the other more inclined to dive into her open embrace.

“Then you understand what I must do,” Anakin stated.

Ahsoka shuddered; sensing his malicious intent, and the blame. His spite, his envy, his hatred; his rage. But there was more. Sorrow, confusion, fear, guilt. A guilt so raw, so heavy, so thorough it made her bones ache; settling like a sodden weight at the pit of her stomach. Churning; gnawing, weary, sullen. 

Nodding, she shut her eyes with a soft sigh. For a moment her fingers trembled, and she considered giving up. Perhaps he was too far gone, perhaps there was no salvation. She shouldn’t offer him forgiveness, it was a selfish wish for a long since forsaken reconciliation. Still, when she once again met his stare; her resolve returned full throttle. She clenched her jaw and held her head high with a stern vigor; sending another compelling plea his way. She noted his shoulders were quivering, and realized he was beginning to buckle under the pressure of her quiet request.

“You don’t have to. You still have a choice.”

Anakin did not reply; the heavy cloth of his black cape, his robes dancing in the soft twilight breeze. Three years ago, he had left to save the Chancellor from General Grievous. Three years ago, she had been sent to liberate Mandalore from Maul’s puppet regime. Three years ago, the Republic had fallen. Three years now felt like a lifetime. 

Ahsoka had thought him dead - suspecting Maul’s cryptic prophecy may carry more weight than she cared to admit. He had sewn the seeds of doubt, and though she’d proclaimed him a liar - that uneasy, bitter feeling had never waned. Now, that she knew every word was true, she wasn’t sure what scared her more - the fact that she was so willing to blindly forgive Anakin for his crimes, or the fact that it mattered little to her at all what he had done. He was her brother, and she would not abandon him. Somewhere deep down, a small voice at the back of her mind nagged that this was her fault. If she had stayed behind, perhaps his undoing could have been prevented. If she had stayed, perhaps she could have done more for him.

“No, not anymore,” he shook his helmeted head; large gloved hands falling slack to his sides but he made no attempt to back away when Ahsoka took another slow, cautious step towards him. 

He smelled of synthetic materials, of bacta fluids, of sanitizers, of durasteel, of ashes and smoke and the cool, piercing winter air. The sound of his breathing was rhythmic; slow, and manufactured, and beyond his control. 

Ahsoka pitied him; and she knew he could sense it. He deserved the punishment he had brought upon himself; they both acknowledged that. Still, she wished to see him freed from his makeshift shackles. She took a deep breath, her now limp hand lingering between them. As soon as it fell, his time was up. She felt the lump grow in her throat, the telltale burning of tears prickling behind her eyes. She would not lose him again, he needed her as she needed him. She felt as if an invisible wall stood erected between them, preventing her from closing the figurative distance. She was already resigning herself to a reality in which she had failed. A reality in which Anakin was truly lost. 

He would never renege, never accept defeat, never admit his guilt. The power, Palpatine, the Empire. The Dark Side. It all had gone to his head. Ahsoka licked her lips, mouth dry, and spoke one last time.

“You always have a choice, but you’ve never made one for yourself. You’ve always allowed everyone around you to make up your mind for you. You’re only here, because of Palpatine’s choices. His lies. But his decisions don’t have to be yours. What does your heart tell you, Anakin?”

At the sound of his long since discarded name; he once more closed his large hands into tight fists - the power of the utterance, of those three syllables, immeasurable. Ahsoka feared she had made a mistake; that she had crossed the final line. That she had banished the remnants of the man she’d known, rather than saving him. Her arm trembled, remembering how Maul had offered her his tutelage with a similar, grand gesture. She, too, had made a choice then. Anakin was beyond her reach, the vicious; sneering jeers of her doubt taunted - and as tears blurred her vision, she almost believed it. 

Then, rough leather covered fingers brushed hers. Feigning off her tears; eyes stinging, Ahsoka stared at the large, gloved hand whose fingertips brushed hers in a shy; wary greeting. Wavering, uncertain, frightened. Unable to quite allow her to fully touch it; even as she turned her hand over, the palm facing downwards. She was offering him the chance to rebuild their relationship, to rebuild what semblance of his past he may. To make himself a new name, a new future, a new identity. Far away from the Emperor, out of sight and mind - free. Liberated from his chains, from his torments. 

Anakin’s shoulders trembled; his steadfast mechanical breathing and the chirping crickets the only noise in the early evening - apart from her stilted, sniffling hiccups. In the end, Ahsoka gasped as he finally grasped her hand tight; making the choice she had prayed but never dared hope for. His grip was firm, and harsh, and awkward - as if he’d forgotten how to be tender or gentle, how to nurture. He clung desperately to her; her own joints winging and protesting from the painful grip. Still, she held on as if her life depended on it. Perhaps it did. 

In the end, it didn’t matter.

Ahsoka felt scalding tears trickle down her smudged, ashen cheeks, but was unable to restrain the wide warm smile that spread across her face - tugging at the corners of her scabbed lips. Relief flooded her soul; and she poured it into Anakin’s end of their Force bond. It came back cautious, weary - but genuine. 

"Thank you," somebody said - be it Anakin, or herself, Ahsoka couldn't tell. Either way, it meant the same thing. It was all the reassurance she needed.

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

Just an idea I had, because it’s been nagging at the back of my mind - and I’m a sucker for Ahsoka and Anakin/Vader angst. So, here, at least it has a nicer ending that canon does for the two of them! Hope you enjoy. :3

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979074

[dakotafoster]

Werewolf Bakugou x reader!! I’d like it if there was a lot of his wolf form!! Maybe the reader is a mage as well!! Perhaps there’s a war happening and they got separated in the midst of battle and one gets slightly injured. I know you said no gore. Sorry this is so all over the place!!

Thank you for requesting! This is my first request on this blog and I tried my best with this one-shot to meet it to your expectations so I hope you like it ♡ I went for a sort of forbidden fantasy love narrative if that’s alright.

ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ

ραιяιиg : werewolf! katsuki bakugou x fem! mage! reader

ɢɛռʀɛ : fluff, a tiny bit of angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs : none

աօʀɖ ƈօʊռȶ : 4.2k

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : Amidst a raging war between your fellow sorcerers and the Werewolves, you find yourself unexpectedly in love with their Alpha.

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

It was an absolute nightmare. It was not how you wanted to use the gifts you had been given, you didn’t want this. Your refused to use your grandmothers teaching of spells and magic for carnage and murder, you wanted to help and save, to nurture those who could not help themselves. You had been sent to fight a pointless war, driven by null excuses. Dragged and thrown into confrontation by your father and mother, who seemed to care little or not at all about your say in the matter. Everyone in your village, every sorcerer and mage believed that such beasts shouldn’t exist, that lycanthropy was nothing more than a demon’s stunt to lure you to Hell, going so far as to say their leader or Alpha was their term, was the embodiment of Lucifer himself.

You on the other hand, you thought that they were a misunderstood species. You wished to simply understand them, to perceive their culture and recognize them for who they truly are. Not based on some silly rumor to terrify children into being proper. You abandoned your family and left to start a life of your own, where you had the privilege to make your own choices. Though, nothing went according to plan. Third night of being in complete solitude, with nothing but the faint pale light of a full moon to keep you company, you had found yourself surrounded by beasts of the night. Ghouls and vampires alike, all frothing at the mouth like rabid animals.

You were sure you had met your maker, when out of the same obscurity appeared a small pack of wolves. Leaping from the wilderness both beautiful and utterly massive. Your saviors had either chased or mauled your captors, only when they turned to you snarling and barking you began to realize your relief was short-lived. At the head of the band, an enormous golden wolf with pearly grand canines and vibrant scarlet eyes. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at how bulky he was compared to the other wolves surrounding him, and how gorgeous he looked under the silver moon. His frame hunched as he gradually made his way toward you, lips pulled back with a thunderous snarl.

“W-Wait! Please!”

Your voice was hoarse with dehydration, your body shivered from the bitting cold and eyes swollen with how many tears you had shed throughout the whole night. You didn’t want to die like this, you refused to give up, even if you were far to frail to fight back. Your prayers must’ve been answered because before the blonde creature could pounce, a second voice boomed from afar.

“Bakugou wait.”

A crimson brute stepped around the blonde and stood in front of your trembling form. His audits pulled back in a pleading manner. Bakugou—was his name— was far from pleased.

“Move aside now Kirishima. Do not make me ask again. She’s a fucking wizard, she has to die.”

“Bakugou look at her, she’s dying. There’s no way she could cast a simple spell without killing herself. Spare her and let us help her.”

Bakugou sneered at his right hand man. Deep down he knew he had a valid reason, and when he peeked around his friends shoulder. You looked horrible, your clothes barely clinging to your rather boney frame, and you appeared to be severely malnourished. He couldn’t help but feel small pang of remorse just with a short glance.

“Please Bakugou, She needs help. Don’t be the monster they say you are. Prove them wrong.”

His scowl worsened, enraged by the Beta’s comment and his pack mates hostile and dissatisfied with the cardinal male. He jumped the at the male, puffing out his chest in a dominating manner and gave him a throaty growl. “You think I give a shit? Let them think what they want of me. Merciful or not, I’m doing it to protect you and the damn pack. My answer is final. No.” With a final snap of his jaws at Kirishima he turned his back on him, a deafening bark commanding the additional wolves to follow.

“No! I beg of you don’t leave! P-please..!”

The Alpha froze. Audits no longer dragged behind him in irritation but now rather set vertically upon his heavy cranium, clearly interested at the sound of your abused voice.

“I-I’ll help your pack. I can use my magic for harvest, livestock. I-I can heal your comrades! I’ll do anything! Just please... Don’t l-leave me to rot away here...” The other wolves became suddenly interested at your proposal, giving each other quick glimpses in question to whether or not you were trust worthy. Even so it was eerily silent with nothing but the weak chirps of crickets filling the void. For a moment everything seemed to freeze before Bakugou promptly padded toward your paltry physique, large paws mere centimeters from you when you felt his hot exhale on your cheeks. You gazed up at him locking into those bloody visionaries, pupils nothing but thin slits.

“Mark my words sorcerer. Attempt anything to harm me or my pack, and I’ll leave you to vampires to properly feast on. Do I make myself clear?” The emphasis he used on each word sent chills down your arms leaving you covered in goosebumps. You hastily nodded, receiving nothing but a firm grunt. Bakugou swiveled around once more and turned his attention to Kirishima, getting uncomfortably adjacent with his companion and repeating the same actions he had done with you.

“And you will be held accountable.”

Without so much as a second glance he sauntered away, his intimidating aura and the other wolves following along behind him. Kirishima assisted you as you climbed onto his woolly back and silently rested while you both made your way to what seemed to be a lions den. The clan was hostile and cruel towards you, you were certain that Bakugou would throw you to them like a damn bone once he was through with you.

You would have laughed if fate told you he would mark you as his mate and lover just weeks later.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Bakugou!”

You and Katsuki both bolted from slumber at the frantic yelp coming from outside the cozy teepee, small flickers of the flame lanterns shone through. You looked over at Bakugou who was adorned with nothing but coal cotton trousers, and you in a simple nightgown. He caught your gaze with tired yet alarmed optics, molding his large calloused palm into your slim silky hand tenderly. Giving your fingers a gentle squeeze he swiftly removed the fur blankets from his body and made his way to the the broad curtain and heaved it open. Revealing a bruised and evidently exhausted Kirishima, you and Katsuki gazed wide eyed at the male. It only took you a second to quickly scamper to your lovers side. Katsuki grabbed a hold of the red-head’s arm, who you now had the privilege to call a dear friend. “Kirishima? What the hell happened to you?”

“Bakugou... It’s the sorcerer’s village. They’ve come. Oh god Bakugou... They have killed so many of our own.”Kirishima wailed, heaving feeling as though his lungs would collapse any second. Your heart seemed to be running a marathon in your chest, terrified for what was to come between your former folk, your former family. Katsuki growled lowly, pivoting on his heel aggressively and stomping his way to seize his fiery red cloak. You sweat dropped with every action he took, you felt like bauling your eyes out when you came to the awareness of what Katsuki was going to do. He was making his past you before you roughly grasping his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

What a stupid question. You knew better than to be so simpleminded. You knew exactly what he was planning, but you wouldn’t let yourself believe it for even a second. The look he gave you said it all, it let you know that you were at the point where you could lose him. He was at his wits end with this war, and he was going to put an end to it once and for all. Even if it meant laying down his own life. You sobbed, squeezing his wrist impossibly tighter, praying that if you did he wouldn’t be able to leave, to leave you behind. Katsuki released a shaky sigh, he let himself incline down to your level and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. It was short, but by the way his eyes were clenched shut you could see he was resisting the urge to ravish himself in your beauty. He exhaled through his nose, nostrils flared when he turned away from you, lips tight lipped as he began to regain composure. He refused to meet your scrutiny, afraid that if he examine your beauty for a second longer he would have second thoughts.

“I love you (y/n). Please forgive me.”

“...What?”

He untangled his wrist from your sweaty palms, his once raging stare occupied with nothing but heartache and heavy sorrow. That all disappeared when he met Kirishima’s optics with a scowl and a stern nod. You trembled when you watched Katsuki clap his grip onto Kirishima’s shoulders, the former stumbling slightly at the impact.

“Take her as far away from here as you can, and if I don’t come back... You take care of my girl you hear me?” His profound voice trembled, and as soon he received a nod of affirmation from his friend he turned his back on him and you. Without so much as a sparing glance, and your heart dropped 50 feet below you.

“No! Katsuki no!”

You whimpered. You instantly made a run for your lover but before you get too far Kirishima grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled to back whilst you writhed in his arms, howling and sobbing after Katsuki.

“No! No! Let me go Kirishima! Let me go! Katsuki come back! KATSUKI! ”

Tears flowed your face without remorse, your throat ached as you screamed at the figure that disappeared into the trees, the silver beam of moonlight that broke through the tree line outlined powerful structure splendidly. Kirishima whimpered beside you, struggling to persevere in keeping you back as you howled and weeped after his friend. You eventually fell limp in his grasp, too weak to resist him any longer and only containing the energy to wail in agony. Kirishima’s knees wobbled, stifling his own cries he struggled to keep you upright and move. He failed. Falling to his knees all he could do now was mourn with you and whisper his apologies.

“Come.... We must leave before they get any closer.” Kirishima whispered after a few prolonged moments, his voice nasally and gruff. He carefully rose from his knees—which still trembled terribly— and grasped your elbows to assist you as well, but he froze when he saw he look on your face. An expression of renewed vigor and determination.

“(y/n)? What are yo—“

It was a plain graze to his bicep, but it was enough to send a sudden pulse through his body and his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he fell limp. A simple sleeping spell you had learned at a young age, yet it’s effects last only 10 minutes before he would awaken.

“I’m sorry Kirishima. I refuse to run from this.” You scanned his unconscious form a moment, and made a mad dash into the trees in the direction you last saw Katsuki. The bare soles of your feet ached, sprinting over twigs and sharp rocks. You would only falter when you got deep enough into the forest in which you began to hear the howls and hollers of both man and wolf, occasional screams and yelps as well. You kept running until you found yourself in a large clearing at the mountain side, and just a couple meters ahead you could make out the shapes of some senior mages you knew and wolves who seemed to be outnumbering their foes quite drastically, but were at a disadvantage in terms of power.

Cautiously, you made your way around the commotion and squatting behind the thickets. you had been an apprentice under your grandmother to become a storm mage like her, but even if you knew some fairly powerful spells it wasn’t going to be enough to take on a handful of far more experienced sorcerers. Adrenaline flowing through your system, pounding about in your chest and head as you struggled to come up with a plan of action. Your legs throbbed but you couldn’t remain hidden forever, peered over the small sprigs and leaves to search for a specific golden canine.

It was moments before you finally spotted him, farther into the clearing he was evading the attacks of a elder mage. Large orbs of energy being thrown at the Alpha male proved futile when he practically sidestepped each one, and the sorcerer was growing quite frustrated and desperate. Katsuki was too occupied with the man in front of him he failed to noticed another approach him from behind, bright amber flames flickering across his palm and a devilish grin across his lips as he got increasingly closer to the Alpha. In a split-second you took one great leap from out of the vegetation and sprinted in his route, the adrenaline surges through your body so fast you could feel bile rise to your throat and the sailva thicken on your tongue. But not for a second did you hesistate, as you got closer you flexed your fingers, feeling a piercing heat spread from your fingertips to your forearms. Once you had gotten close enough you pounced and tackled the fire mage to the ground.

You both fumbled, twisting your body so you straddled the man and before he could counter you gripped his head between your hands and let an intense wave of electricity through your palms. The male in return shrieked, falling comatose in your grasp in mere seconds. You unfurled your fingers from his cranium, taking quick huffs and slowly standing to your feet. You gawked down at the mage, your muscles slightly sore and weak from the exertion.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

A booming growl broke your trance, pivoting on your heels to look at the wolf who marched toward you furiously, the elder sorcerer lay mutilated behind him. “You shouldn’t be here! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He snarled breathily, you appeared so frail in comparison to him, he towered over you even in his wolf form though he hunched over slightly to meet your (e/c) visionaries. You met his own crimson ones, completely livid. “You’re a fool if you really thought I’d let you turn your back on me like that. You’re a complete asshole!”

You pushed a finger to his woolly chest, your movements frantic as you hollered. Katsuki could only stand there dumbfounded, startled by your unexpected outburst. However he just wasn’t capable of resisting a smirk as you kept up your rambling about how selfish and moronic the ruffian was.

“Are you even listening to a single thing I’m saying Katsuki?” You finally ask and in response he unleashed a deep chuckle “Not a single word princess.” You growled and promptly pinched his blonde audit roughly which left Katsuki to jerk away from your grip with a small yelp. “What the fuck, you shitty woman?! The hell was the for? You know how much that shit hurts!”

You watched in amusement at such a dominant figure pussy away from a small nip, his ear now lopsided as he hopelessly to try and remove the stinging throb. You carefully amble toward him and seize his soft cheeks into your hands. “Because Katsuki, the fact that you sincerely thought you could just leave like that.. It breaks my heart. You do not get to abandon me once everything goes to shit, you chose me as your mate. I am not going to run, not from this and certainly not from you. Argue with me all you want, be a stubborn ass. I don’t care, I’m with you through it all.” You whisper, Katsuki huffed in defeat at your declaration and decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Threading your digits through the wild tufts of fur. Katsuki emitted a heavy purr at the action, his eyelids fluttered close.

His lids flew back open and his nostrils flared. The faint aroma of an unreleaved individual left him stiff, on instinct he sunk his canines into your night gown and launched you to the side. In an instant, all too familiar splinters of ice striked Katsuki head on, his form colliding violently at the base of a tree. “Katsuki!” You hollered after him, appalled at the motionless bundle of blonde laying in the fields of grass. You didn’t have the time to check if he was still alive when a figure stepped from the shadows.

“Mother?” You gaped at the woman in front of you, her once calm nature gone. She glares at you like an absolute savage, her mouth agape in a silent scream and her hands covered in frost from the use of her magic. Your mind all but clear, frozen to any movement you begged to take so all you could do was speak. “Mother.” you repeated and curled your lip, never had you thought you could so much resentment toward someone who had once meant so much to you, that was until now. Her scowl intensified at this, sneering in disgust as she began to circle you.

“Your judgement has been tainted by that demon! That... Devil! You’re not my daughter. My daughter would never allow herself to manipulated by such a beast. Allow me to be so kind and put an end to your misery!”

Her palms aimed toward you, a slew of words spilled from her lips and another wave of ice raced towards you. You still couldn’t move, and even if you could the rate the icicles we’re reaching you wouldn’t be able to evade it in time. On impulse, you raised your own hands. The same heat and prickles coarsing through your veins, and with your own mumbled words an enormous discharge of lightning boomed through the ice, tearing it in half and send shards flying all around you. The bolt of lightning didn’t seem to cease in momentum, charging rapidly toward your mother. All she could do was watch as the powerful fulmination surged toward her, and with a final screech it striked devastating blow to her chest. She soared backwards, her body disappearing back into the darkness of the forest. You stood triumphant, but in a great deal of pain.

Your arms where left severely burned and a furious red, the dull pounding made your head spin. Though you ignored the aching and immediately sprinted to Katsuki’s unconscious frame, small crystals of ice clung to his fur on the side of impact. As you neared his body you just about cried when you heard the heavy breaths that left his mouth, labored and raspy but a clear indication that he was still alive. You maneuvered tourist his large cranium upon your lap and assessed the damage done to him. You reached out to caress his coated chest, around the location the ice rammed into him. Katsuki began to whimper in response and you quickly retracted your hand. You choked on your sobs as you stared at him, you were far too weak to perform any healing spells on him. Even if you tried you would kill yourself before you would even be able to mend a single bone in his body. With that the tears broke out like water from a dam, you had never felt so powerless in your life, so weak. You knew you could’ve done more to insure his saftey but you simply were not strong enough.

Loud and boisterous howls sounded off behind you almost in a cheering manner in the direction of the clearing. You smiled crookedly, turning back to the wolf in your lap you cupped his cheeks once again threaded your insensate digits gingerly through the blonde pelt. “Katsuki, wake up. They did it. We did it. Wake up so you can see! Please..” You pleaded in a whisper to the unconscious male, fruitless attempts to soothe him through his suffering. Your heart clenched painfully with every passing second “I’m sorry Katsuki.. I’m so sorry..” You sounded like a fucking child , you were crying hysterically as you continued to observe your love’s trembling and broken form.

Thunderous pounding resonated behind you, gradually getting closer and without hesitation you roared in the direction of the sound.

“Over here! Katsuki’s badly hurt!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

His voice was as inticing as ever, his hand outstretched for you to take. You gave him a gentle smile and intertwined his fingers into yours, peering back to examine the three miniature silhouettes outlined by the candlight covered in pelt and wool blankets.

“They’ll be fine, they’re heavy sleepers.”

You snorted at this, rolled your eyes dramatically as Katsuki led out out of the comfortable teepee and into the woodlands. “I wonder where that got it from.” You squeezed his palm teasingly, Katsuki grumbled lowly in reply. He escorted you through the forest, the warm milky glow of the moon lighting the way. “Where are we going?” You finally asked, huddling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his bicep . “Weren’t you ever told that patience is a virtue? We’re almost there.” He stated with a click of his tongue, his stride never stalled for a moment as he continued to lead you through the trees.

It was minutes when he then guided you through some brambles and bushes, and the sight you had been graced with was absolutely breathtaking. There you stood on a grassy cliff side by the sea, the ocean vast and wide. The waves boldly clapped against the boulders and stones below and wafted the briny aroma to your nostrils. You could almost taste the salt on your chapped lips, though that wasn’t even the best part. The Moon was the utter show-stopper. The Moon stood enormously in the sky, hovering just over the sea and seemed like a mere arm stretch away.

“Do you like it?” Katsuki broke your attention on the scene in front of you, tenderly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his firm chest. You found yourself so entranced with the view it was getting increasingly harder to focus on anything else. “It’s incredible Katsuki… I love it.” You murmured, tracing soft lines on the arms that trapped you and relaxing in his hold. He ran the tips of his calloused fingers up and down your hips “I’m glad. It’s called a Super Moon, it only happens every couple of years, and I’ve been planning to show you this for some time.” You cackled, giving a small pinch to the mucle on his right forearm. “Wow, I’m impressed Katsuki. Who knew you could be so romantic.” You could almost feel the blood rush to his face, a crimson tint decorating his handsome face. “Tch, shut up.. It’s just my way of saying thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” You brows furrowed in confusion, you focused your regard onto the the smooth ripples of the water. You felt Katsuki rest his chin on your dome, his pecs expanding on your shoulder blade when he sighed. “For everything. For saving me my ass, for giving me a couple of rebels for kids, and for loving me despite my reputation. You gave me something to live and strive for, so thank you.”

You grinned from ear to ear at his confession, biting your lip to suppress the intensity of your love for him. “I suppose I should be thanking you too. You gave me something to live for as well.” Katsuki gave a heavy chortle, leaning down slightly to indulge himself in your neck. His fiery breath against your artery sent tremors down your spine, nose nudging vertically up your collar.

Times changed, people along with it. His arrival in your life was unexpected and yet fulfilling to a great extent. You found each other in a place where darkness resides in, and together you and Katsuki illuminated a future you had both been blind to. You felt as though your eyes had been opened to new side of life. Surrounded in clarity, fullness and most of all, the beauty in love.

So you both stood embraced on the cliff side bathing in the pure rays of the Moon, who seemed to shine brighter than the brother Sun. Blessing the sky with her divine presence and joining the stars that freckled the black sky, the navy ocean acting as a mirror, reflecting the Moon flawlessly. She was the mother of the night sky, a goddess watching over every beating heart, because she is always there, close to our earth to keep us company while she can.

“I love you Katsuki.”

“I love you too princess.”

.•° ✿ °•.

“ тнe мoon тeacнeѕ υѕ тнaт darĸneѕѕ can’т нιde тнe вeaυтy oғ lιғe, ιғ we ĸnow нow тo reғlecт тнaт вeaυтy. “

- ᴅᴇʙᴀsɪsʜ ᴍʀɪᴅʜᴀ

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

Tumblr really likes to test my patience (≧Д≦) I kept forgetting to save the draft and lost about 1,000 words each time, I honestly thought about deleting it out of frustration. That and I’m not really that proud with how it turned out. But here it is! Thank you for reading and requesting. You are more than welcome to leave feedback on my works. ♡

- 𝖑𝖎𝖟 ☾ ✩

𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 : (𝟔/𝟐𝟑/𝟐𝟎 - 𝟕:𝟓𝟖 𝐩.𝐦.)

[mollymauk-teafleak]

that thunder in your lungs

A valentines day present for @spiky-lesbian, love you so much, glad you like this! From our Jupeter dads au but a little bit in the future 

Also on Ao3 where you can find the other fics featuring their daughter

-----------

Nureyev rarely felt so free as he did on a job.

It was almost giddying, wearing someone else’s face and someone else’s name, knowing that in a few hours he wouldn’t exist and could do anything he liked until then completely free of consequences. The waiting between jobs, the planning, that was the hard part, where he could only be himself- something that had never been an entirely safe haven. When he worked, he was unstoppable.

Or he had been. This time was proving to be very, very different.

Nureyev was dressed to the nines, armoured in makeup and jewels that weren’t his own, wearing a pretty, airy, glittery name and a life to match. His brightly painted nails were filed to points and his fingers had that greedy, confident itch to them, the security in knowing they would soon be holding something that didn’t belong to them. He should be having fun.

But he wasn’t. He carried a knot of anxiety inside him, one that refused to shift even as the plans came together and clicked comfortably into place.

Because across the almost sickeningly fancy party, a stunningly beautiful young woman moved through the crowd, looking devastating in her sharp tuxedo, hair pulled back into twin clouds of curls behind both of her heavily pierced ears. She was turning heads left, right and centre, pulling people’s gazes into her orbit as she sipped champagne and breezed through circles of young socialites like some glittering comet.

Which was not exactly great. Given that she had just as little right to be here as Nureyev did.

He stifled a sigh and made some excuse to the gaggle of people he’d been keeping at the edges of, leaving them to their idle and irritatingly wrong chatter about modern art. He made for the drinks table, meeting the young woman’s eyes and giving her a brief, stern look, giving her little choice but to head that way too.

Once there, he poured himself a tall flute of blue champagne and took a long pull until she appeared, leaning casually near him, enough that they could have an inconspicuous conversation under the lilting music.

“Having fun, daddy?” she hummed softly, eyes shining with innocence, “Your dress is very pretty.”

“I’d be having more fun if you were sticking a little closer to our directive, sweetling,” he muttered with what he thought was rather impressive patience, “...and thank you.”

Bianca tilted her head so the fine threads of gossamer thin gold that she’d weaved into her curls shone, “I don’t know what you mean, daddy. Seems like everything’s going well to me.”

He took a long, slow breath, “Darling, no one whose met you tonight is going to forget your face in a hurry. And seeing as we’re here to steal a necklace off the neck of the host, that isn’t a good thing. We need to be inconspicuous.”

“In that dress? Aw, daddy,” Bianca rolled her eyes in that infuriating way she’d inherited from her mother, like Nureyev had no idea what he was talking about, “I’m only having fun. This is my first proper run out, I’m just looking to enjoy myself. There’s so many pretty girls...”

“As long as it’s not at the expense of your safety, that’s fine,” Nureyev frowned, rolling his eyes and making a show of refilling his glass so the irritated note in his voice would be covered by the trickle of the drink.

“You’re so silly, daddy,” Bianca grinned playfully, “You told me all the time how much fun you had at places like this!”

Nureyev knew she was right and it only made his mouth set tighter, “Just...just be careful. We have to grab the jewels and be gone in another hour.”

“Of course I’ll be careful, daddy,” Bianca stood up straight, her gaze already roving over the crowds, her deep brown eyes lighting up with a mischief he knew all too well, “That’s what you taught me, right?”

And then she was off, she’d caught the eye of a young woman her age who was already smiling in welcoming anticipation. Nureyev was left to fume silently while letting none of it touch his face. He couldn’t decide which of the two of them she was being irritatingly similar to, himself or Juno, but it was raising his blood pressure to unsafe levels. Likely they were both partly to blame.

There was nothing for it then but to make his usual sweeping circles of the party- fortunately these private orbital stations had large, open rooms with few places to conceal nasty surprises- and be as twice as alert as he normally would be.

If you’re this bad now, how on earth are you ever going to let her go out on her own? A voice that sounded like his wife questioned in a voice that wasn’t unkind. Nureyev frowned and let his eyes pass lightly over her again, catching the moment as the latest girl who’d fallen into her orbit touched her hair and complimented it in a way that made his daughter grin dazzlingly.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew his daughter wouldn’t be content to stay with them on the Carte Blanche forever, only pulling jobs with one of her parents or her aunts watching like hawks from the opposite corner. She was too good for it and he was very aware of that, recognising the hunger in her eyes and the sparks of her brilliant mind. One thing Nureyev was certain of, he would nurture her talent and he would be ready to let her go.

It was just so hard.

Looking at her now, he couldn’t help but think of the very first job he’d ever taken her out on. She’d only been a few weeks old, small enough that he could hold her in one hand. Driven to desperation by only having one craft he was truly good at and now needing to feed two people rather than one, he’d strapped her to sling across his chest, made sure her face would always be covered by his own body and planned a very simple heist. It had only been breaking and entering to pilfer the jewellery box of some fabulously rich socialite without the sense to even post a proper guard, it was as easy to him as going to the supermarket would have been for someone else.

But still, Nureyev had been more terrified for that job than he had been to steal his very first apple from a street cart on a Brahman street at just five years old. He’d checked, double checked, triple checked every possible facet of the task and still it hadn’t felt like enough, his heart had been in his mouth every moment of the simple, smooth as silk job.

It had all fallen into sharp relief then, as Nureyev had agonised and fretted over things he’d been certain of how to do since before his twelfth birthday. He wasn’t just one man anymore, with only himself to look out for and worry about. There had been that second heartbeat, just a flicker against his own, stronger one, leaning towards his for support and comfort. There was his daughter.

Nureyev hadn’t run away from the change then and he wouldn't now. He’d gotten very good at accepting it but he didn’t have to like it.

So rather than giving his daughter another stern reminder to stay inconspicuous, he let her have her night. He got himself another glass of champagne and leaned against one wall to watch her sparkle, tasting pride with each sip of her drink. Melancholy too, but he could put that to one side for now, save it for a good, long cry in his wife’s arms when they got back to the ship. All part of being a father, he supposed.

Though time was soon ticking on, it always seemed to go so fast when wrapped in sparkling lights and fine drinks and dancing. Nureyev knew the telling off they’d get if they went back to the Carte Blanche without this necklace, seeing as it had the map to the family’s personal safe engraved in it’s stones. They couldn’t exactly drain the thing if they didn’t know where it was.

Bianca had been dancing with a succession of beautiful young ladies and as soon as she whirled out of the arms of the latest, Nureyev gave her another steady look and inclined his head. She pulled a bit of a face but was back in their same position at the drinks table before too long.

“Do we have to go already?” she murmured in a regretful tone, swirling her glass to watch the glitter dance inside the liquid.

“Go?” Nureyev gave her an uncomprehending look, “We haven’t even done what we came here to do! Would you like to go back to your Auntie Buddy empty handed and tell her you spent the whole party socialising, sweetling?”

His daughter gave him another smug smile and this time he knew it was all his traitorous genes at work, “Oh sorry, I tried to be obvious. Check your pockets, daddy.”

Nureyev did, as subtle as he could be, sinking his hand into the pockets of his sleek figure hugging dress and finding cold, square cut stones. He didn’t need to bring them out to know it was exactly the necklace they were here to acquire.

“I...how…” he could only stand and blink, not really caring how idiotic he looked.

Bianca grinned, clearly delighted with herself, “Careful, daddy, you’re being rather conspicuous.”

He quickly rearranged his face into indifference, though his daughter clearly knew him well enough to read the mix of shock, awe and incredulousness in his posture and keep grinning into her drink.

“Well. In that case, yes, we really do need to make a sharp exit. Any goodbyes you’d like to make before we do that?”

“Oh, I got all their numbers, don’t worry. Shuttle in five minutes?”

She didn’t wait for his reply, sauntering off into the crowd.

The trip back to the ship was a quick one, the Carte Blanche hovered behind one of Jupiter’s moons just a little ways away from the private station, happily cloaked in one of Rita’s shields. Bianca sat in the passenger seat, looking a little shamefaced now she was out of the music and the glitter, like she expected a telling off.

Instead, Nureyev waited until they’d passed out of any possible signal range the station might have and turned to her, reaching over and tucking a curl of hair behind her ear.

“You did very well tonight, darling,” he smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Bianca’s whole face illuminated, her smile returning.

“Of course. You did magnificently. And…” he cleared his throat and swallowed, “If I seemed a little...hard on you, I apologise. I suppose it’s hard for me not to worry about you. Please don’t take it as me thinking less of your skills, I just…”

“I get it, daddy,” Bianca’s voice softened and she leaned into his hand, “It’s okay.”

“Yes,” Nureyev smiled tiredly and nodded gratefully, “And whenever you choose to go out on your own, you will be amazing. I know you will.”

Bianca’s cheeks darkened and she smiled coyly, “I mean...I’m not in any rush, right? There’s still a lot I need to learn. Mama still says my aim needs work sometimes and Auntie Rita’s only just started showing me how to take down firewalls and Auntie Vespa said she’d teach me how to set a bone…”

“Of course,” Nureyev couldn’t help but feel a wash of relief as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, “Of course, my darling.”

But the day would come. And Nureyev would be ready, as ready as he had been to turn his life upside down and inside out for the tiny baby she used to be.

He could never stop worrying about his Bianca. But he would never stop being proud of her either.

[carnistcervine]

My Take- Ozai and Kuei Roleswap

Idea borrowed from the lovely @attackfish​

Aight, let's do dis.

Okay, I figure that I should probably at least preface this with some of my own beliefs about the whole nature vs nurture debate. Like, I think it's a mix honestly. You can have a very positive upbringing, surrounded by the most warm and loving of people and be a complete asshole. You can grow up in a terrible household surrounded by hateful people and become a very kind and generous person. But there is also truth and merit to the fact that abuse often happens in cycles, a father abuses a son, who becomes a father that abuses his son. Growing up surrounded by hate makes it harder to open up to others, and often leads to psychological issues that plague one for the rest of their life. You grow up to think that kindness is weakness and that weakness deserves punishment.

Personally, I think we all have an inherent nature that we're born with. Some are more naturally inclined to being bold and brash, some are more inclined to being soft and timid. This nature is like the base, the scaffolding that our personalities are built on. The environments we grow up in, the people we meet, they are all like clay that's added onto the scaffolding. They change the shape and overall look of the sculpture, but cannot change the bases of what lies beneath. And yes, with great effort, one can make vast changes as a person. We are not static beings. A person who's naturally timid can learn to be more confident, but being naturally timid makes it so much harder. There are things about ourselves that we cannot change, the scaffolding of our souls. Instead of changing it, we must learn to work with what we are given and shape ourselves from there.

Now, that only really applies to personality. When it comes to morality; nature, nurture, neither of those matter nearly as much as choice. Ultimately good and evil are choices. We /choose/ to do the right thing. We /choose/ to do what we know is wrong. I firmly do not believe that anyone is born good or evil. I do think that most people try to do what they think is right, there are people who do evil and carry evil intent. Genuinely evil people choose to be evil. People forced into terrible paths by circumstance may be bad people, but any person who would choose the right thing if given the ability is not evil. Again, I don't think evil is an inherent thing, it is a consequence of free will, some people simply choose to be evil.

-Prince Kuei is the second born son to Fire Lord Azulon and his wife Fire Lady Ilah.

-Kuei is a firebender like both of his parents, gifted with some of Agni's life like all the rest of the royal line.

-However, his fire is dim and weak, he is much more timid in nature than his bold older brother Iroh, stern father Azulon, and fierce mother Ilah.

-Some of the sages fear for his health, but physically he is perfectly healthy. And grows up into a fine young man.

-Agni's flame burns ferociously within him, but he fears it, rather embracing it.

-This leads to control issues, and a worsening fear of his own fire.

-Azulon simply ignores him in favor of his fiery older brother.

-While Kuei is sad to be ignored by his parents, he's also thankful for the load taken off his shoulders.

-Without the pressure of Azulon constantly leering over him, he's allowed to fallow in his bending and secretly suppress it.

-However, the personality of a firebender and the power of their flame are not one in the same. And while a strong personality can boost firebending power, a softer one will not dampen a flame. Only limit one's ability to use it.

-As Kuei ages, his inner fire will only grow stronger and hotter.

-And his avoidance of firebending quickly developed into a gradually worsening pyrophobia that further weakens his control of his bending.

-In the absence of a strong parental presence, Crown Prince Iroh looks out for the young Prince Kuei.

-He is warm and welcoming, where Azulon and Ilah are cold and imperious.

-The two grow to be very close, but Iroh is unable to ease Kuei's pyrophobia.

-Especially with Azulon's harsh and cold stance on Kuei's condition.

-To Azulon, and a lesser extant Ilah, Kuei is just a useless second born son who will likely never amount to anything. Better left to wither behind closed doors where he cannot embarrass the family.

-Kuei does eventually find love in the form of Ursa, and they have two kids, Zuko and Azula.

-Zuko is favored by his father, a tamer flame that Kuei can handle.

-However, Azula? He fears her. Plain and simple.

-She is a flame that burns too bright and too hot for him, he doesn't know what to do with her.

-She takes much more after her grandparents.

-She doesn't care for Ursa, and finds her father to be a spineless coward.

-Needless to say, Azula doesn't much care for Iroh either, but doesn't mention as much when she butters up grandfather.

-To Azulon and Ilah, Azula is what Kuei should have been.

-A strong and fierce firebender. A warrior of flame. Not a dim, flickering ember scared of it's own burning heat.

-There is a burning ambition in Azula's eyes. And in her mind, the weariness to be mindful a she carries it out.

-Lu Ten dies just like in canon, and Iroh is reduced to a broken and depressed man.

-Much how Iroh loved and doted on Kuei's son Zuko, Kuei loved and doted on Iroh's son Lu Ten.

-The news of his death crushes him.

-And somewhere deep in the darker corners of his mind, he thinks: if he had been bolder, tougher, meaner, this wouldn't have happened.

-Had Kuei been a ferocious warrior, a soldier fit to conquer, Ba Sing Se would have come down and Lu Ten would have come home alive and well.

-But instead, he is nothing more than a wilting flower sitting in the shadow of firebenders much more powerful and dutiful than he.

-The thoughts, they trouble him, they poison him.

-But he dare not share his turmoil with another soul.

-And you know how he’s slowly loosing control of his firebending? Well, someone will get burned.

-Badly.

-(Probably needless to say, but Kuei doesn't have it in him to assassinate Azulon, and he never bothers the old Fire Lord with any kind of ambitions, so Azulon never orders the death of his children meaning Ursa has no reason either)

-In the Earth Kingdom, deep within the orderly walls of Ba Sing Se, Prince Ozai is born an only child and heir to the earthen throne.

-Strong in both mind and body, he easily masters the element of earth. Only further cementing his place as rightful king of the Earth Kingdom.

-Long Feng is proud of his pupil, he showers him in praise, feeding his overfed ego.

-There is a terrible ambition alight in Ozai's eyes, but being first in line for the throne seems to satisfy it.

-On the surface at least.

-Long Feng sees to it that all of Ozai's wants and needs are met, he's spoiled rotten and acts accordingly.

-He is vain, and proud. Not that his pride is necessarily undeserved, he is also quite possibly the most powerful earthbender alive.

-With the rare ability to silence the earth itself, quelling even the most subtle of vibrations that travel through the ground.

-(And yes, I think that given the right upbringing Ozai could be an absurdly powerful earthbender. He could possibly be a master waterbender even, but he'd struggle with air no matter what, he's too arrogant. Too proud.)

-One of the things that King Ozai gets is an absurdly rare, magnificent, strange, and seemingly impossible creature... a lion. Not dragon lion, not lion turtle, not even bear lion. Just. Lion.

-He names the lion Brutus.

-Brutus is big and scary, but he's actually just a big softie who loves tummy rubs.

-In contrast to Ozai who looks like an ordinary man, but can and will make the earth itself swallow you whole.

-Learning from his mentor, Ozai figures out how to read and manipulate others.

-Long Feng teaches Ozai how to appear like a kind and reasonable ruler while still ruling with an iron fist.

-How to make others think that they want to do what you want them to do.

-Long Feng makes a great chessmaster out of Ozai, who's ambition blinds him to one important fact.

-As big and powerful as Ozai is, Long Feng has been doing this far longer.

-And as is whispered among the Dai Li, he is the King who gives the invitations.

-Maybe it is better this way, after all, a terrible beast of ambition lies behind Ozai's eyes. And an unstable world, ravaged by war, lies beyond the walls and beyond his knowledge.

[slaapkat]

Green Lantern + ISA - MR. BIG - "When Larry said his biggest enemy was Green Lantern, they didn't think he meant literally..." [Where rest of the ISA are floored at how GIGANTIC he is irl. Except Brainwave. He is jelly he ain't the tallest no more]

(set very early ISA)

---

We’re going to die, aren’t we?

It’s hard not to react at the thought that gets pushed into his head, courtesy of Henry. Impossibly, Jordan manages to keep a straight face throughout it all, even as Larry continues excitedly chattering away as though this were the first time he’s had a captive audience in ages. Though, given Larry’s entire demeanor, maybe just the first time it’s been a willing one. 

They’ve all gathered in Larry’s apartment, for once. The drive from New York City to Gotham had been nothing short of arduous, with Henry’s insistence on the radio being permanently set to NPR, and the frankly indecipherable directions Larry had sent them to navigate the labyrinthian streets of inner-city Gotham.  

All for a heist Larry had promised was going to be well worth it. The city was full of easy marks, he said. Barely anyone around to stop you, he said. Half the time the cops will even help, he said. 

Henry still wasn’t buying it, sat on the sidelines on the edge of a very beat-up couch, arms crossed with a deepening frown, openly projecting his disapproval at having been talked into this every chance he got. Larry, for his part, is completely oblivious, grinning brightly as he eagerly shows off his proudly curated wall of weapons-- by all accounts just a fancy collection of sports equipment. The key difference, however, being Larry’s showing off amounting to pointing out every piece and explaining in graphic detail exactly how he got kicked out of that particular sport for killing or otherwise maiming someone without sparing a single gorey thing. 

Jordan, sure to Henry’s extreme displeasure, is unfortunately fascinated with it all, eyes wide and bright and listening intently, utterly absorbed. He remembers researching Sportsmaster for weeks before finally seeking him out, carefully nurturing the idea of the new ISA all the while in the hopes that he’d finally get a bite. It must mean something that Larry had invited them all the way back to his home turf to share on a score, surly.

Because he’s going to kill us.

It’s now Jordan finally frowns, turning to face Henry with a stern, “He’s not.”

“Hah?” Larry’s looking at him, confused, brows furrowed and head tilted, grin still plastered on but for a second seeming vaguely threatening instead of manically excited.

Jordan startles, scrambling for a distraction and pointing at the first thing he sees, a long-handled wooden mallet with a narrow-tipped head still hanging on the wall. “I-- I mean, what’s that?”

It’s a sufficient enough distraction, apparently. Larry’s eyes light up in an instant when he sees, grinning brightly as he pulls the object down and looks down at it with a dreamy sigh. 

“My polo mallet,” he declares proudly. “I’ll be taking this baby with me, tonight.” 

“That?” Henry scoffs, finally taking a stand and gesturing disbelievingly at the mallet. “What use could that possibly be to us? And since when do you play polo?”

“Not since I caved a man’s head in on the field with this ol’ beauty here,” Larry states much too casually, his tone taking on an oddly wistful note as he strokes the head of it. If there’s a threat carried in there, it’s buried deep enough not to be obvious, though the suspicious stains that Jordan notices in the wood of the mallet certainly make Larry’s point well enough known. Henry’s eyes narrow, and Jordan feels a pressure on his temples usually indicative of Henry flexing his powers without strict care of a specific target, but whatever Henry sees is apparent enough not to make him press further. His lips press into a thin line and he relinquishes the point, however reluctantly. Jordan inserts himself more obviously in between the two of them and attempts an encouraging smile.

“Henry, it’s made of wood,” Jordan points out helpfully, like it’s supposed to explain everything-- because, well, it is. It evidently doesn’t. Henry’s frown only deepens and Jordan finds himself struggling for an explanation that didn’t sound completely ridiculous, all the while Larry whistles uncaringly and picks various other wooden implements off the wall in preparation for that night. “Because-- Because. Gotham has a superhero who is… weak to wood.”

Jordan sighs and cringes as soon as he says it, cringing again when Larry chirps “It’s true!” over his shoulder. It does not help his case in the slightest. Henry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, as though staving off a fast-rising headache. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Do we even have a plan to deal with him if he shows up?”

“Don’t get your snuggie in a twist, Brainy,” Larry says brightly, laughing as he hefts a cricket bat of all things onto his shoulder and wrangles Jordan in close with an arm thrown around his. “Of course we have a plan! Classic smash and grab! We get in and get out before the Big Guy ever knows what’s up!” 

Wrong answer, apparently, as evidenced by Henry running a hand down his face in exasperation and groaning, with an added little oh, so we are going to die projected mentally for Jordan’s benefit. Jordan smiles rather terribly. Larry seems to take it all as signs of encouragement. 

“Alright then, bud, alright!” Larry lets out with a whoop, and plants a sloppy wet kiss on Jordan’s cheek with an audible smack; subsequently, the temperature of the room drops ten degrees in an instant. Nobody seems to notice. “It’s game time, baby!”

---

Heists in Gotham apparently don’t amount to much. Larry’s big score turns out to be a slightly upscale jewelry store right on the edge of the Diamond District. Henry’s car is stashed in a nearby alleyway in case of a quick getaway after several earnest promises (by Jordan) that it won’t get stolen and easy assurances (by Larry) that the job will be quick enough that they’ll be back before that even happens. 

“Is it always this easy in Gotham?” Jordan asks, having dutifully frozen solid all the alarms and cameras to allow for Larry to go to town on the window with his bat and an excited hyena-like cackle; Henry stands watch, having been designated as the lookout due to his adamant refusal to partake in any actual smashing until it came time for the grabbing, though Jordan can sense him rolling his eyes even while turned away. 

“Sure is!” Larry replies, vaulting through the destroyed window and wasting no time in driving his fist through the nearest glass display case and grabbing a fistful of jeweled necklaces, stuffing them in his pack and immediately moving on to the next one. “Do you know how many other places are being robbed at this exact moment? They can’t catch all of us!”

Jordan makes a face, but nonetheless climbs in and joins Larry in gathering as many priceless jewels as he could get his hands on; Henry lingers just outside, watching them with shrewd disapproval until his face screws up in confusion, nose wrinkling. 

“Is something… burning?”

That’s enough to give Jordan pause, halfway through driving an ice spike into a safe. The entire store had been dusted with a coating of frost, logically nothing should be getting hot enough to even make a spark. Sure enough, he smells it too-- that unmistakable scent of something on fire, intermixed with the distinct smell of ozone. That couldn’t be right--

Jordan has just enough time to hear Larry’s little ruh-oh before the wall to the side of them suddenly erupts in stunningly bright, green flames. Henry swears aloud, and Jordan feels inclined to join him when the flames unfurl to reveal an outright giant of a man, eyes alight in burning fury and nearly outright snarling at the lot of them. Green Lantern, Jordan knows immediately, remembers him from his first meeting with Larry, but seeing someone in flight is leagues different from seeing it right in front of you, a brick wall of a man emerging like a demon from Hell. Jordan feels himself sweating, actually sweating-- or was he melting? All he knows is that this man is terrifyingly huge, and Larry seemed the only one utterly unconcerned by it. 

“Greenie!” Larry greets enthusiastically, arms spread wide as though expecting a hug, and though his mask hides his face Jordan can hear his exuberant and manic grin loud and clear though his voice. “Where ya been, huh? How’s it going?”

“I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL!” comes the roared reply, a shot of flaming green energy launched in his direction, swiftly deflected with a swing of Larry’s bat and an excited laugh.

“Aww, I missed you too!”

Jordan finds himself slowly backing away as Larry barks out another laugh and launches himself, bat swinging, at Green Lantern with seemingly little care to himself or others, and even less care to just how much Green Lantern seems to dwarf all of them combined. 

“That’s Green Lantern?” Henry hisses through clenched teeth when Jordan returns to his side. “That’s Green Lantern, and we let Larry bring a polo mallet and a baseball bat?”

“He’s weak to wood!”

A plume of emerald flame explodes out the store window, ejecting an airborne Larry along with it, signed Sportsmaster mask and all. He skids and rolls along the street until he comes to a stop and jumps up, wild-eyed.

“Start the car!” He shouts, then unsheathes the mallet and dives right back in without hesitation. Another roar is heard and the foundation quakes faintly beneath their feet. Jordan wilts just slightly. Henry turns with an annoyed hmph and Jordan finds himself trailing after, not quite trusting his powers in the face of the broiling heat inside.

“That’s Green Lantern,” Henry repeats, seemingly to himself, scoffing. “Good lord. Even his presence gives me a headache. And he’s taller than me. Remind me never to set foot in Gotham again.”

Jordan, despite everything, finds himself agreeing.

[naly1109]

Your Lovely Wicked Soul

Witch au, Reader X Bang Chan feat. Stray Kids (Narrator's POV)

Summary: Y/N is well known and beloved amongst the people of her home village. Being a powerful Witch, she helps the people using her Gifts to increase crops, heal the sick, and protect the townsfolk and other favors. When her Grandfather sends her away to save her from the misfortune of becoming the awful King’s bride, he sends her across worlds into the hands of a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the tyrant King.

Dhornna= Familiar of a Witch that manifests from the Witches powers in the form of an animal. They speak only when they deem necessary.

~Prologue~

“Take this twice daily to increase your vitamin intake. You’re with a child, so it's important that you stay healthy for the baby as well. I know it does not taste to your liking, but you cannot keep ‘forgetting’ to take it just because you don’t like it.” Y/N hands the mother-to-be the herbal mix with a stern look as she walks her to the exit of the small clinic that has doubled as her’s and her Grandfather’s home for the last nearly 21 years. On Y/N’s first birthday, her parents were killed by bandits while traveling to visit a neighboring village. Her Grandfather then took her in to raise her in her parents stead, training her to become the amazing Witch she is today.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! I feel so much more at ease knowing that you’re here to help me through these trying times.” The woman, named Gailee, responds with absolute relief. She is only two years older than Y/N, but she is already married and expecting her third child. She turns to put down Y/N’s Cat Dhornna, Nolai, and grabs the medicine pouch from her hands.

“I’m glad that you find comfort in my care this time around as well,” Y/N smiles, “I can’t wait to meet this little one! Something tells me you’ll be getting that little girl you’ve wanted.” Y/N giggles at the older woman’s reaction, her eyes going wide with glee and excitement. Being a Witch ment Y/N’s gender predictions were always correct, so the woman knows there is truth to the statement.

“REALLY!” Gailee exclaims. “Oh thank the stars! My little Ramson and Lornick are so rambunctious! I was worried I would be stuck with another boy just like them! Now I’ll have a little girl who will be soft with me!” Gaile embraces Y/N with appreciation, then turns to stroke Nolai’s head, and leaves.

Y/N sighs as she closes the door behind the pregnant woman. She turns and looks at her Cat Dhornna with a small smile and asks him, “Do you think I’ll be married soon, Nolai?” The Dhornna simply blinks at his master and gives a small, uninterested meow. Y/N shakes her head at the Cat, not surprised by his response, and heads to the kitchen to begin preparing for dinner. 

Y/N is grinding up some herbs for the chicken when she hears her Grandfather coming in from the back garden. “I’m here in the kitchen, Gaba!” she calls out.

“How was the appointment?” he asks with a conversational tone, walking into the kitchen sink to clean the dirt off his arms.

“Gailee is doing great, and her baby is healthy also, you can feel her kick in there!” Y/N says with a small smile on her face. Her Grandfather watches her happily as she goes on about how soon the village will see the joy of yet another baby this year. He absolutely adores his Granddaughter, for she is all he has left. He watches the light of the setting Sunstar from the window play with her eyes, her unusually colored eyes, the only visible indication of how powerful a Witch she really is.

“You do such a great job, Y/N. I’m sure your parents are beaming with pride amongst the stars at how wonderfully you’ve grown.” He steps forward to embrace her. Y/N never knew her parents, but according to her Grandfather, they were very powerful Witches as well, and held great standing amongst the Witch community. Witches are not common but are well known, and villages often rely on the help of a Witch’s Gifts for crops, medicine, protection, and other favors they may be inclined to request, although some Witches powers can go above and beyond those capabilities. “I have received a letter from the Royal Circle to inform us that someone from the Circle will be visiting us tomorrow at evetime. I think they are coming here to seek you out to be part of the Witch Society.” he finishes before stepping back and placing his hands on Y/N’s shoulders with a distraught look on his face.

The Witch Society is a group of the seven most influential and powerful Witches in the Kingdom, assigned by the King when he is crowned. The current King, unfortunately, is a tyrant who finds enjoyment in taking lands for himself and killing anyone who denies him anything he wants. Despite knowing this, many Witches still covet the positions of the Witch Society. Y/N is not one who is willing to follow the malicious King, for she knows that the King is demanding that the Witches of the Society use their Gifts to practice in the Dark Spells. The Dark Spells are a dangerous thing to practice, and each Spell casted from the Dark Spells shortens a Witch's lifespan, if it doesn’t kill them right then. Which is why King Talmas is looking for his fourth replacement since the start of his reign eight years ago.

Y/N shakes her head in denial, defiance in her features, “No! I will never work for that nasty tyrant who is unworthy of being called King!” Y/N’s Grandfather knows she hates the idea of working for a man willing to hurt his own subjects for his own personal gain, but he still convinces her to be cordial with their guest for tomorrow evening. Even so, he already has an idea for if things go as bad as he had foreseen for tomorrow.

~

The next morning, Y/N and her Grandfather wake with the rising Sunstar, and begin to prepare for the expected guest to arrive. While Y/N leaves to get what will be needed for dinner, her Grandfather stays behind to “tidy up the clutter of their home”. What he is really doing is preparing for what he knows is to come. Y/N’s 22nd birthday is in only 89 days, and on that day, a truth will be revealed to her that will put into motion a grand change to their world. He knows that she will be mad at him for a while, but she will come to forgive him when she understands the necessity of his actions. 

Y/N’s Grandfather, Lessio, is a rarity amongst his kind, a male Witch. Of the small population in the Kingdom of Trysolia, only six percent are Witch, and of that six percent, less than about one percent is male. And Lessio’s son, Alstar, was also a Witch. Alstar fell in love with Y/N’s mother, Ailynn, another Witch, who possessed vast power and knowledge of Spells. The pairing was rare due to the sheer number of female Witches to the small number of male Witches, and most, like Lessio, married regular human women in hopes to increase the chances of a son, even a non-Gifted one. Lessio was one of the lucky few. As a result of the pairing, Y/N was born to become one of the most powerful Witches in history, although she has yet to fully come into her powers, Lessio knows it’s only a matter of time. So he knew this day was coming. The day when members of the Royal Circle would seek her out. Lessio tried his best to postpone this inevitable event by moving Y/N to the small village called Old Stone Village, on the outskirts of the Kingdom, and raising her incognito. Being a Foreseer Witch, he knew what was to come, just like with his son and daughter-in-law. But this time he wasn’t going to be too late.

Y/N arrives back from town with what she needs for dinner, and a light lunch for her and her Grandfather, a little before noontime. She calls her Grandfather to come in from the back entrance to eat. After eating, they finish up the house work and Y/N goes out to meet her best friend since they were toddlers. Ember is a Witch as well, her mother is Witch and her father a human.

“Y/N!” Ember calls out when she sees her approaching the makeshift shelter they made using the trees when they were eight. Truthfully, Y/N did most of the hard work, much to Ember’s disdain.

“Ember!” Y/N runs up to her friend, Nolai running ahead to greet Ember’s Rabbit Dhornna, Makil. Y/N always loves spending time with her only friend growing up. Being the only Witch children in the village, they could understand each other how no one else could. So many memories made here in the trees they grew together. They had used their Gifts to intertwine the branches together well above their heads and around them, to shield from the Sun and harsh weather. Y/N hugs her friend and stands back with a smile. “I brought some of the herbal fruit tea blend your mother loves. I know your parents anniversary is in a few days, so your mother can make this for your father.” Y/N finishes with a bright look in her eyes, handing her the large jar of ground up, dried herbs and fruits she pulled from her Storage Cloak. The Autumn weather is cold so both girls have on cloaks and fur boots over their lady pants.

“Oh, Y/N,” she giggles, “you’re always so thoughtful! I’m so thankful to have you as my friend!” Ember pulls Y/N in for another hug. The girls then walk into the shelter to sit and converse comfortably, while their Dhornnas play together.

“How are you enjoying working with children?” Y/N asks her friend. Ember began working in the school to help nurture the minds of the children by making learning more entertaining for them using Spells. It was an idea presented by Ember at the community meet earlier this year to improve the learning rate of the children who seemed to be having trouble focusing. Many of the community members agreed instantly, but a plan needed to be established on how to use Spells to aid in the learning process for the children.

“It's going great! Now that we finally got our plan into motion, we are seeing great results!” She beams.

“Our plan?” Y/N’s brow raises questionably at her friend.

“Oh. Um... Erinnek and myself. He’s a brilliant man with revolutionary ideas. We’ve been working hard to get this idea in motion and we’re both really proud!” Ember finishes quickly with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Uh-huh. And could the reason my best friend is getting flustered over mentioning this ‘Erinnek’ man be because she has developed somewhat of a liking for said man?” Y/N asks, her voice going up in octaves at the end to taunt her friend. Ember’s violet eyes go wide, and her face and neck flush scarlet at the mention of her possible feelings towards the older man she has been working closely with these last several weeks. Ember blushing was always Y/N's favorite Ember face, because it always highlighted the freckles on her face, lighter in color now due to the Autumn season. Y/N always envied Ember her freckles.

“I’ve told you! It's not like that! I simply have a deep respect for his intellectual outlook on matters!” Y/N can’t help but laugh out at her friend's reaction, making her friend chant a quick Spell to send a brief gust of wind just strong enough to ruffle up Y/N’s long, silky tresses.

“Hey!” Y/N laughs, wordlessly returning the gesture in kind. Y/N’s Gifts advanced beyond needing to use a chant to cast Spells a few years back. An astonishing feat which few Witches accomplish, and it gathered the attention of some of the Witches from the neighboring villages.

Ember laughs, and asks, “Is there anyone you like, Y/N?”

Y/N stops to consider her friend’s question. As she thinks about it, she realises that she has never really developed that sort of relationship with anyone of the opposite sex. She was always so busy helping with the sick and tending to the lands with the villagers and helping her Grandfather with any crazy, new Spells he wanted to try. And of course training. Y/N was already very powerful by any standards, but her Grandfather always told her that she has so much more potential than even he could imagine. She went along with it, even though she thought he lost his mind while trying to count the stars.

“No.” Y/N finally answers after a few moments of silence had passed while she pondered her answer. “I haven’t really interacted with anyone in that manner so I can’t say that I see myself with anyone in that sort of setting.”

Ember watches her friend and feels sad for her that her life has not been her own. “Well, I’m sure there is some handsome man out there waiting to capture your heart, Y/N. Look at you! You’re Stunning!” Ember arms gesture towards her friend in a wordless attempt to help her see her beauty. Y/N is tall for their kind, but still small by normal human standards. Her curvy body is slim and toned in all the right places from the multiple jobs she takes on, working her body in different ways. She has long, thick, flowy hair that reaches her hips and frames her form wonderfully. She has beautifully shaped lips, and delicately arched brows set above striking and unusually colored eyes. Ember sometimes envied Y/N for her eyes.

Y/N lets out a snort. She was always told that she is beautiful, that she looks exactly like her mother but with different eyes. “We’ll see how your theory plays out after tonight.” Y/N then turns to her friend with a serious face, “Gaba received a letter yesterday informing him that we are to be welcoming members of the Royal Circle. It does not state specifically who we are to be expecting or for what reason they come, simply that they will be here this eve.” Y/N finishes when she sees the questioning look on her friend's face.

Ember inhales and exhales audibly. She knows her best friend’s views on how the Royal Circle is currently operating. And Y/N would rather take her own life than to be forced to work for the awful and selfish King. “What are you going to do?” she asks, “You can’t decline him. Everyone knows what happens when he is denied what he wants.”

Y/N hangs her head, her heart feeling heavy. “I don’t know.” she states, sounding slightly defeated. “I know of all the things he has done, but I fear what will happen to Gaba if I run away. He is too old to go on the run and go into hiding.”

Ember hugs her friend in an attempt to comfort her, her heart reaching out to her best friend. She cannot imagine the turmoil Y/N is feeling at this moment, nor did she envy her in this instant, for she shares Y/N’s views on the corrupt Members and their King.

Ember finally releases Y/N and looks her in the eye, “I’m absolutely positive that your Gaba has something planned so you don’t have to live that awful fate.” she states reassuringly, stroking back some of Y/N’s hair. “Your Grandfather cherishes you too much to allow you to burden yourself with the weight of someone else’s malicious will.” Y/N looks up and smiles at her friend. Before she has the chance to respond to her encouraging words, the sound of a horn pierces the early evening air, indicating that the members of the Royal Circle have arrived in the village.

“Well that’s my sign telling me to head home before the Members arrive at my door.” Y/N stands and readjusts her cloak around her. Ember stands up to embrace her friend, then it dawns on Y/N. “This may be the last time I see you for a while,” She whispers to her friend. Both their hearts clench in pain at the idea and they tighten the embrace.

Ember is the first to reluctantly break the hug. With teary eyes, she looks at the greatest friend in the world and says, “I don’t think so. You’ve been stuck with me for almost 20 years, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She attempts to laugh but it comes out as a soft sob.

Y/N strokes her friend’s cheek and smiles warmly. “I’m absolutely sure about that as well. You’re my Star Mate.” With that, the girls say their farewells and head to their respective homes. Y/N runs all the way and makes it in time for the Members to arrive.

Y/N and her Grandfather both wait in their front lawn walkway while the carriage comes to a complete stop and is prepared for the members of the Royal Circle to exit. While it is being prepared, a man on a black stallion rides up to them and dismounts.

“Where shall we store our horses?” the man asks Lessio. Y/N’s Grandfather guides the man and a few others with horses to the small stalls that housed your horse and Grandfather’s Horse Dhornna, Maize, and helps them get their animals situated and returns in just in time for the Announcer to make the introductions.

“Announcing the King of Trysolia, His Royal Highness Talmas!” the man in royal red announces as the King descends the steps of the coach. Y/N eyes widen at the announcer's words.

‘What is the King doing here himself? Just for me?’ Y/N thinks to herself. It was almost never heard of for the King to leave his castle. It's unnerving for Y/N to see the King here himself, and it is her first time meeting him. He is young, only having been 15 when he ascended the throne, and undoubtedly, very handsome, with thick, curly locks of dark hair styled back to reveal a strong brow over piercing, brown eyes. He has a sharp, prominent nose and full lips with a perfect Cupid’s bow. Y/N may have fallen for him based on looks alone if she wasn’t already aware of his horrid personality.

The King steps away from the coach to allow three other persons to exit, three women. The man in red announces that they were Members of the Witches Society, Y/N forgets their names as soon as they are spoken. She is too focused on trying to keep her mind from wondering and thinking up worst-case scenarios.

After the Announcer finishes the introductions of each person in the coach, Y/N’s Grandfather steps forward to speak, “Welcome, Your Highness. This is quite the unexpected visit, to what do we owe the honor?” Y/N’s Grandfather speaks the question circling her head as well.

“Well, I heard that there was an extremely powerful Witch living on the outskirts of my kingdom and decided to have a look myself.” he says in an irritably attractive voice. He turns his head toward Y/N and looks her up and down. “And I’m glad I did. This little Witch is quite stunning.” he finishes with a dimpled smirk that Y/N would’ve found attractive if it were not for the words that accompanied it or the man who wore it. “I see the tales I’ve heard about your eyes are true. Although seeing them for myself, I’m still in disbelief at how strikingly beautiful they are to behold. You must be a very powerful Witch indeed to have eyes this rare in color.” His voice laced with something Y/N could not identify.

Y/N clears her throat to speak, “Thank you. I have dinner prepared for you and your party if you would like to eat. I made duck with potatoes, carrots, and onions with an autumn themed sauce.” She tries her hardest to hide the discomfort the King gives her with his leering eyes.

“I would be more than honored to eat your home cooked meal. We have been on the road now for three days to reach this village. I’m sure our stomachs will be appreciative.” The King states. Y/N nods and ushers the King and his entourage into her small home followed by her Grandfather.

Y/N’s Grandfather allows for the King to take his seat at the head of the table and takes the one on the other end. His party takes seats around the table, a guard on either side of the King, two of the females on one side and the other on the other side. Y/N is thankful that there is enough seating, with eight people to seat, one more person and someone would be stuck standing while eating. Y/N takes the duck and vegetables out to the table and goes back for the bread rolls and chilled tea she made earlier that day, then takes her seat on her Grandfather’s right. After dinner, the King requests that the business they came for be conducted in the sitting room. Everyone follows Y/N’s Grandfather out of the dining hall and into the sitting room. 

Once everyone is seated, one of the members of the Witch Society begins to explain their reasoning for their visit so far out from the comforts of the capitol. “We came here today to recruit Y/N into the Witch Society. We’ve heard many stories about what she has accomplished and, knowing her lineage, we know she would make a great addition to the Society in serving the King to better our Kingdom.”

“How would you know if I would be a great addition if you are not even certain of what Gifts I possess? For all you know, I could simply be able to communicate with animals or make plants grow.” Y/N states with purpose, her stubborn streak showing. “And in what ways, pray tell, are you and the King improving our kingdom? By denying the people the medicine that they need? By demanding they turn over all their crops and animals and leaving them starving through the winter?” Y/N finishes with heavy sarcasm lacing her tone and a fake smile on her face.

The King simply smiles at Y/N’s display at stubbornness, seeing it as a challenge he will gladly accept. “Y/N, I’m simply doing what I see fit to make sure my kingdom profits.” he states nonchalantly, like he is making a comment on the weather, then adds with more interest, “Plus, anyone could tell just by looking at the unusual color of your eyes that you’re no ordinary Witch, but one who possesses tremendous power. And I fully intend on having you as part of the Society,” King Talmas smirks upon seeing Y/N’s glare fully focus on him, “or as my wife.” he adds before she can respond, chuckling when her expression changes to one of complete shock.

“Your Highness, is that an offer?” one of the Members asks, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

“Oh, I never say what I don’t mean and always want what I say, especially on my birthday.” King Talmas says, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as she throws mental daggers at him. “The Kingdom doesn’t have a Queen, why shouldn’t it be a powerful Witch like Y/N? With a Witch like you by my side, I could expand my rule beyond the current borders with little resistance. And you could help me further by expanding my life span.” He finishes with a cocky tone.

“I do believe I will have to decline your offer. I have no interest in being a member of your corrupt Witch Society, nor do I desire to be married to a tyrant that plays with the well being of his people for his own personal gain. And lastly, I will not allow you to stay in my home and continue to speak to me as though I am an object to be used at your disposal. So I suggest you leave while I am asking kindly.” Y/N manages to maintain a steady tone despite her inner fury.

Everyone in the room is taken aback at Y/N tone towards the King. There are murmured responses from the other guest like “Is she stupid?” or “The audacity to deny the King in such a manner!”

The King narrows his eyes at Y/N, clenching his jaw and flexing it to show his distaste with her response. “Very well. I have no second thoughts on doing this the hard way. Forcing you should be easy enough. Take her.” the King demands of the guards.

Before they can complete their first step toward Y/N, her Grandfather casts a Spell to bring everyone in the room to a stand still to buy time to get his granddaughter out of there. “Hurry, Y/N! It won't take long for the Members to break the Spell and come after us!” He grabs her arm and leads her out the back door, Nolai following close behind. Lessio is one of the other few Witches of their time that is able to cast Spells without the use of a chant.

“Gaba? Where are we going?” Y/N questions when she sees her Grandfather leading them into the woods. The cold air makes their breaths visible in the waning light of the LunarEarth. Y/N is thankful she remembered to grab her Cloak before being led out the back door.

“Just trust me, Y/N. I’ve planned for this.” is all he responds. Y/N is slightly shocked at his response but doesn’t press further while he leads her through the woods. They walk for several minutes before coming to a clearing. The clearing seems to have an odd pattern at the center of it. “Take this book.” Lessio hands her a large book wrapped in elk skin. Y/N’s eyes widen when she realizes that it is his Grimoire. “Please stand in the center of the clearing, and grab your Dhornna.” Y/N places the Grimoire in her Storage Cloak and does as he asks. Picking up Nolai, she quickly walks to the center of the odd patterns. As she walks through, she attempts to make out the patterns she sees on the ground, but in all her studies, she’s never seen this combination.

Once at the center, she turns to face her Grandfather. As soon as she makes eye contact with his steel grey eyes, he puts up a barrier around her to keep her there. 

“What?!” Y/N exclaims, reaching her hand out towards the barrier, only to have it push her hand back. “What are you doing, Gaba? I’m scared!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N!” her Grandfather calls from the edge of the circular pattern, “I have to do this. This is the only way I can protect you and put you on the right path. I’ve always known you were destined for great and amazing things, but not here while that tyrant is after you. I hope you know I’ll always love you.”

Y/N eyes begin tearing up as realization dawns on her. He is sending her away. Away from her home, from her friends, from her life, and, worst of all, from him. Her only living kin. The one person she could always rely on. She fights back her tears and asks, “Where are you sending me to?”

Her Grandfather shakes his head, “I cannot say, only two people have travelled there before but didn’t live to tell of what was there. But I know I'm sending you to someone I know can help you.” Before Y/N could ask more questions, they heard the voices of the guards and Members approaching them. “We’re out of time! I’m going to begin the Spell!” Her Grandfather begins the Spell and light starts to come out of the patterns, which, unfortunately, helps lead the King and his entourage to find them.

“HERE THEY ARE!” One of the guards shouts. Soon the whole squad is surrounding them, followed by the Members and, lastly, the King.

“Thought you could get away did you, little Witch?” the King says with disdain in his voice. “You’re not being as obedient as I had originally hoped you’d be, but that's fine, I like a challenge.” King Talmas then instructs the head of the guard to command them to shoot down Y/N’s Grandfather.

Y/N sees the guards all raise their bows with arrows and aim them towards her Grandfather. “NO!” she exclaims, then wordlessly casts a protection barrier around her Grandfather, just in time to deflect the arrows already flying at him. “Gaba, let down the barrier! I’ll go with him!” Lessio ignores her and continues the Spell, even as arrows hit the barrier Y/N has up. “GABA! DON’T! HE’LL KILL YOU! I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN!” Y/N shouts out, tears beginning to overflow freely. The pattern begins to glow brighter, indicating that the Spell has been initiated.

Lessio turns to his beloved Granddaughter to look at her one last time, giving her a smile filled with all the love and warmth he holds for her, “I will always love you, Y/N. I’m proud of who you have become. And I know you’ll change the world.” Y/N feels her barrier falter as the Spell begins to pull her away, giving out just before it can stop an arrow from hitting her Grandfather in the chest. The Spell finally pulls her through with great force, but not before she witnesses two more arrows hit her beloved Grandfather.

“NO! GABA!” Y/N yells just as everything goes black.

Only a brief moment passes before Y/N feels her body thrown down onto a hard surface, it gives out and collapses beneath her, causing her body to hit another surface just as hard. Y/N groans and sits up, rubbing her backside. She opens her eyes to be met with eight curious faces staring at her.

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

A/N: Hi! I really hope you all enjoyed this Prologue to my first fanfic! There is so much more to look forward to, so I hope you all stay until the end!

[annoyedfanfiction]

Callida

obi-wan kenobi x ambassador!reader (1)

requested by @ladylizziesficsaves

“Master Jinn, a pleasure.” You greeted the Jedi, politely. At 17, responsibility weighed heavy on your shoulders, though Obi-Wan was inclined to wonder whether the death of your parents held heavier. “It has been too long.” “That time has not treated you most kindly,” Qui-Gon replied, sympathetically. “May your wounds heal.” The Jedha words fell from his tongue with the familiar ease Obi-Wan’s 6 years of studying ancient Jedha texts still had yet to pass on to him.  “Thank you.” Your eyes fixed on Obi-Wan – a slight figure beside his master, short and lean, almost hidden in the swamping robes. “And this must be the Padawan I have heard so much about.” You offered him a warm smile, mischief briefly dancing through your solemnity. “Master Jinn can be a stern teacher, as you have no doubt discovered, Padawan Kenobi. But he is not so subtle about his pride in you when he is in other company.” Something thrilled around him then, warm and gentle. He wondered if this was what Qui-Gon had meant when he’d said that Jedha was more home to the Force than the Temple would ever be. You glanced back at Qui-Gon, who was now watching the two of you with amusement. “Would you care for refreshments, or is it straight to the Temple for you both?”

“If not as a personal friend, then as Ambassador of the Jedha–” The voice trilling through the Council rooms was cutting, even as the familiar Jedha lilt soothed his frayed nerves. “–I have a right to know the status of the Queen of Naboo and her companions, Masters Jedi.” Qui-Gon pushed the doors open and led the way in, cutting off Mace’s reply as the room turned to them. “Master Jinn.” Obi-Wan was impressed at your easy composure, even as relief splintered through your tone. “Padawan Kenobi. Are you both quite well? Is Queen Amidala safe?” Obi-Wan did not hear Qui-Gon’s response as you searched him for any harm, gaze lingering on the small wounds and days-old dust that marked his skin.

“I will train Anakin.” Obi-Wan wondered how long it had been since the Council last cast a Jedi into exile. “Without the approval of the Council if I must.” “Qui-Gon’s defiance I sense in you.” The condemnation was clear in Yoda’s words. “Need that you do not.” “Be careful that your tongue does not disgrace those who died with dignity, Grand Master.” You had changed since you were seventeen, but then Obi-Wan had no doubt that he too had changed in those four long years. “A matter of the Jedi Order this is, Ambassador,” he scolded, thoughtfully. “No, it is a matter of the Force.” The grief in your eyes was familiar, though this time Obi-Wan wondered if you could also see it in his own. “The Jedha and the Jedi both have a responsibility to seek balance. If the Skywalker boy will bring balance, then we have a duty to nurture his skill.”

“I didn’t need your help!” Obi-Wan didn’t know where this bitterness came from, why this anger burned you from his tongue. “And I don’t need your pity!” “I would never assume to offer you pity, Obi-Wan.” Your calmness did nothing but salt the wound of his heart. “Oh, so waltzing in here with your sad eyes and your “understanding” and your Jedha wisdom isn’t pity, then?” he snarled, and though you didn’t flinch, he felt his words hitting sharply home. “How can you understand? You’re no warrior, and certainly no Jedi! You didn’t lose him!” “He was my teacher.” You cut him off, voice walled and sharp. “Qui-Gon. As I taught him the ways of the Whills, he taught me the ways of the Jedi. He helped me assemble a lightsaber, I helped him learn the Jedha oaths. Seven years he stayed with us in mourning.” Your words bled with grief, but your face was cold to him. “May your wounds heal, Knight Kenobi.” The title fell hollow from your tongue, all the sweat and blood he had given for it meaningless in the face of these wounds.

It was over Qui-Gon’s grave that he saw you again, firelight dancing in your darkened eyes. For the first time, the single small braid – almost a Padawan’s braid, tucked behind your left ear – was untied. You worked deftly to weave it back into place, a third new strand mingling with your own hair and the ties of your parents’ locks, a familiar silvering brown. 

[skyphile]

👄 tell us about your parents

this one also took a while, because i am still not sure how much of it i want to air out to all hellsite to see, but.... idk, i think i am happy sharing some of it too, especially if it has the chance to help even one person out there, and i trust all my friends.

my parents were... basically forced into an arranged marriage. my grandfather, my dad’s father, is the result of eons of warped traditions, expectations, stern rules and consequences, which are rooted into what white colonialism did to the culture and customs of india, our home country.

my parents had me in response to those ties and heavy burdens, even if my dad was not interested in any sort of romantic relationship, even if my mother was so young and absolutely terrified of being a parent. don’t get me wrong, they cared about each other immensely, they were each other’s solace and sympathizers in many ways... they were just not meant to be married, yknow?

when i was born, my mother went to a very bad place with how anxious and depressed she was. my dad was pressured by his father to cover it up, to do something about it to further push this facade of control and power, but my dad had had enough. he basically said fuck you to the old man and brought my mother somewhere safe, where she’d be able to pursue her own life from the beginning, free at last, while my dad felt... naturally inclined to raise me, even if all by himself.

... i’d be lying if i said it didn’t take me a while to fully understand these things and come to terms with it. it was hard to see the other kids with “whole” families and wonder why was it, that my own mother didn’t want to live with me and raise me. some kids made it particularly worse to live with my situation, as i’m sure you can imagine.

but my dad has only ever been the absolute best at instilling compassion, of making the absolute best out of every situation, for everyone. i have never felt any remote shortage of love, and the more i heard him speak, and the more he tentatively brought me to meet my mother sometimes, the more i understood that it was nothing to do with me being less loved, and more about... us three being free to nurture all the love we had for each other, in our own way.

and i am so happy she is SO far away from my grandfather’s clutches now. she’s pursuing her third art degree now, currently dating a very nice lady and she likes playing the video games i make. i don’t see her often, but i always look forward to it, even if our relationship is more like a very old friendship.

and i adore my dad with my whole fucking heart, man. i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him, i wouldn’t be like this, i wouldn’t be myself. he’s always had the courage and the heart to do what is right and good for all no matter how hard, and i always want to follow that example... 

[sagittariusboyfriend]

im gonna do a "how i see the signs" as well!!

traditionally masculine aries: a force of creativity. oftentimes politically correct. very friendly and easy to talk to, but will shift in temper and energy depending on whether or not he is in focus. musically inclined.

traditionally feminine aries: also a force of creativity. a kind of jittery energy that cant really be contained. might go up and down in volume a lot depending on social context but is always bursting to have a conversation. very awake and with fire in her eyes. openminded and wouldnt hurt a fly. artistically inclined.

trad. masc taurus: ugh horrible. forcefully straight forward, blunt in an unsensitive way, not that good at picking up on social cues because he is convinced of his reality. might be pompous and pretentious, even bitter. the flip side of venusian traits - pretty uncharming. snarky. way better at group/professional relationships than personal relationships. assertive in the workplace and is doing his job better than anyone else could.

trad. fem taurus: intelligent and an intellectual. sensual, assertive, has such a presence that people are in awe most of the time. might be pretentious but its actually genuine and doesnt come off as a negative trait. powerful.

trad. masc gemini: ahh gemini. witty, quick, reactive. genuine, but in short bursts. his intuition is based upon HOW he feels at any given moment, however he has no clue WHAT he feels. scared of emotions. might have a tendency to gaslight. obviously prone to communication and loves learning from history, but has a hard time seeing the bigger picture over the details. small things make or break him... for a week or so. then its forgotten, until something stirs it up 6 months later, and his emotions are all over the place; its like they get tossed up in the air and love might stick to the ceiling and pride to the wall and fear to that person over there and he has no idea where to start to assemble. charmingly childish, prone to grumpyness. social artisan regardless of controversial values or not. needs constant intellectual stimuli.

trad. fem gemini: does not need romantic relationships to feel like a complete person! prefers friendships over love relationships, and can usually pick and choose between lovers if on a romantic whim. not always even interested in shacking up with anyone, makes a happy independent single household. that "fun" friend. self-confident, quick, witty, might have a sharp tongue. absolutely excels in social situations and knows everyone in one way or another, and everyone knows of her in one way or another. prone to ghosting people for weeks because she simply forgets to respond. loses focus easily. probably works in sales. might come across as not so complex to other people.

trad. masc cancer: sweet, charming in a wholesome way. in tune with himself. intuitive and embraces and encourages talking about feelings. oftentimes very politically correct. might live somewhat of a fake life in the sense that he IS a family man, but cant help himself from wanting dirty, promiscuous sex for many hours with many random people. giving and generous - in every sense. probably does a lot of philantrophy or volonteers.

trad. fem cancer: reserved. exudes feminine energy, almost to a point that she is not comfortable with herself. very very sweet, just wants everyone to be okay. will disappear and reappear in social circles and no one will know where she has been, but theres an air of mystery to it and no one dares to ask. might be some kind of red preistess lol.

trad. masc leo: loyal, as long as he doesnt feel in the slightest that he has been made a fool of. very strong integrity, but an integrity that is based on image. easily approached, the nicest person in the room and will include and respect everyone. generous and genuinely loves anyone who does not come off as harmful, and will give you his last money if he feels you need it more. works hard to feel safe. creative in what he thinks is a funky way, but its actually pretty mainstream.

trad. fem leo: also honest, hard-working and loyal. integrity is also important. creative in traditionally artistic ways, like photography or drawing. has a natural authority but is the sweetest person and will NOT abuse it. very passionate about peoples equal value, doesnt really have a flare for drama at all, just wants to be stimulated. when she loves she loves with every fiber of her being and being affirmed by her partner is imperative to self-worth.

trad. masc virgo: retains information like a motherfucker! man, what a chattery bloke. an earth sign ruled by mercury makes the most, i think, well-rounded PR personality. gemini can frick off when it comes to arguments because trad. masc virgo WILL shut you down. he serves facts and will probably be a tad manipulative about it, but will also admit to it. doesnt really wait to run you over or quip back, and then just stares at you blankly as if he is waiting for a response. witty and warm like a sun to his closest, will make jabs and is cold like granite to people he doesnt like. might however have some ego issues.

trad. fem virgo: pretty much exactly like trad. masc virgo, only retains a certain jovial energy and a strong sense of nurturing and dicipline. very funny! authoritarian.

trad. masc libra: might come across as very calm and even meek at times. everyone likes him, no one dislikes him, but he isnt a big personality. nice and sweet and always positive. comfortable in the background as the glue that keeps groups together. not very verbally communicative, but ingenious when he channels his communication through music or art. wants to be appreciated and very much is. pretty private, but everyones friend.

trad. fem libra: full of the good venusian traits. loves love, loves good food, loves yoga, loves pampering herself and others. the best hostess you have ever met. has a hard time deciding on things and will make herself suffer through qualms and trials for days for something that, for anyone else, could have been decided within a couple of minutes. somewhat of a perfectionist. spiritual. gets along with everyone. very into female impowerment.

trad. masc scorpio: kind of rude, but smart. he doesnt know where it comes from, but his subconscious intuition oftentimes leads him to hidden truths, whether they are pleasant or not. might be the jealous type. can just trust his gut and will know exactly what is going on behind closed doors. intelligent in a very abstract way. might come across as always ready to strike just in case someone thinks they are better than him in any way.

trad. fem scorpio: does not show emotion easily. is very intelligent and knows how to lead a conversation where she wants it. inquisitive, literally opens her entire mind for you when you sit down one-on-one. not for anyone to enter, but for her to use ON you, and will analyze your behaviors to the core and dig around in there. make you see things from perspectives youve never even thought about. this could be used for bad, but usually its used for your own good because insight and truth, darkness into light is what she is after. intense. low key passionate. a great person to brainstorm with. excudes sultryness, but almost like a perfume, an illusion, mostly because people become so mesmerized with her psychological skill that they immediately figure she is coming on to them. powerful socially. doesnt want nor need drama, the quest for truth just gets ruthless sometimes. loyal if you dont mess with her integrity. unlike leo, her integrity is based on conscious and subconscious intuition. not into practical things in general. does not care for high morals.

trad. masc sagittarius: good at everything on the first try but gets bored easily, even depressed when forced into routine. diplomacy is important, so is personal freedom. a charismatic positive personality that shines bright and has an almost gravitational pull because of it. wants to be valued for his brain and generosity of free, non-traditional love and insight. learning is everything. the bigger picture is everything; abstract concepts that you can translate and cross-reference to different doctrines and schools and philosophies. on an eternal quest for knowledge in all situations, be it emotional or practical. "why do things work like this?" he asks and is genuinely excited to hear your and everyone elses reasoning. his goal in life is to get to know himself through others and to find firey partners to come along for the ride and share the fun. loathes drama, wants everyone to be accepting. optimistic. might be the guy many fall in love with but who is completely oblivious to it because he has his mind set on other things.

trad. fem sagittarius: very much like trad. masc sagittarius. also fierce, takes no shit, the life of the party, everyones instant friend and a BIG personality. equality is very important!

trad. masc capricorn: attractive, cold, sexual. on the grind, because everything works against him either way so he might as well work hard and overcome. dry humor and a smug smile, vicious eyes. but tender and fragile once you get to know him. so used to being the underdog in his own head that he hasnt realized everyone sees him as the leader. doesnt realize people follow him. doesnt care. is just and stern. is not afraid of delivering harsh truths, can shut you down with a look.

trad. fem capricorn: leads with silence. not because of shyness at all, its just a demeanor that comes naturally. although may have been shy when young, simply because of society. exudes power, unknowingly or knowlingly. intimidating and stylish as fuck. eloquent. uniformity is a keyword for everything. has learnt the hard way. hilarious dark humor. prefers respect to spectacle. is a force to be reckoned with and gains pretty much everyones respect.

trad. masc aquarius: might have a hard time deciding about personal freedom, what is and what isnt. contemplative, insightful, the least traditional of traditional men. high EQ, might prefer polyamorous relationships, almost lacks jealousy. tall and slender. very much capable of seeing through all points of view and will speak rationally. rarely gets heated in discussion because he just doesnt see the point in being reactive.

trad. fem aquarius: a higher being. high octave intuition; the person with the highest EQ youve ever met in your life. new insights with every breath. does NOT care for tradition, usually only indulges in the bare minimum of tradition to move about unnoticed in society as the penultimate alien being they are. she has an entirely different kind of mind that seems so complex and effortless at the same time, and her knowledge and ingenuity could change the world - if it was only ready for it. finds solutions to everything. altruistic. optimistic. so wise and so rebelliously young at the same time. manages to care for everyone and everything all the time. truly wondrous.

trad. masc pisces: an academic. a sensitive guy. highly philosophical, in its scholastic form. makes a good teacher of abstract concepts. always searching within himself first before speaking. interested in history and the human mind. constantly battles with feelings of not being good enough but always comes out as more and better than expected. probably very introvert.

trad. fem pisces: witchy. dreamy. some kind of seer. needs quite some time to process emotional impacts. has a tendency to mimick peoples traits and quirks without knowing it. very emotional, highly sensitive. very impressionable. open to and thirsty for new ways to make sense of all these emotional impacts, but might change ideologies and/or trim her sails to the current wind. conflicting subconscious emotional forces at play all the time which leads to a lot of self-doubt. not necessarily introvert, but introspective.

[awfully-sadistic]

Random Prompt #3

This is not based on any specific prompt... well, perhaps by Dot saying that she likes to take care of people. So here’s my interpretation of it.

“If you have not heard, Master Bruce is bedridden with a cold, but he insists on stalking the streets of Gotham to uphold his responsibilities. No matter how I tie him down, he keeps finding a way out of bed. Locked doors and binds alike, he manages to get the best of me. Frankly, I had no idea what else to do so I called you.”

               Alfred Pennyworth was the most competent man Dot has ever known. But he was here, appealing to her nurturing nature for her help. It was humbling and a little surprising, to be honest. She didn’t think anyone could best Alfred when it concerned taking care of the members of his family. The man was ferocious when it came to the well-being of Bruce, the girls, and the boys. And Dot could relate, she would also do anything for her own loved ones and that extended to Bruce and his family as well. And it had for a while. Alfred knew this which led to him contacting her. But still… it was a little surreal that Alfred would put a lot of trust in assisting him with this… delicate matter. She wanted to try her best!

Standing in front of the door that no doubt led to “Master Bruce’s” bedroom, Dot wondered what she’d see on the other side. She didn’t have to wait for long. Alfred turned the knobs and the double doors swept opened to an elegant room that matched the appearance and wealth the Wayne family has boasted for such a long time. And just in time to see Bruce putting on his mask.

“Master Bruce!” Alfred crossed the room immediately and with a tone scolding enough to remind Dot that this was a grown man that Alfred was talking to; not a child. However, it wasn’t enough to reign in her smile. “We’ve already called in Master Dick to patrol the streets tonight. I do not understand why you must be so insistent on going out tonight.” Alfred continued to scold, taking Bruce’s mask off. Underneath the mask, Bruce wasn’t quite pouting, but it was nearly damn close.

“I said I’m fine, Alfred.” Bruce said, eyes on the man that wasn’t as tall as the Dark Knight but still impressive enough to match the level of his eyes. “I don’t feel sick anymore. I think your chicken noodle—” whatever Bruce was saying next was wracked with a cough, a hand coming up just in time and a turn that tried to conceal it. He cleared his throat, straightening up and continued, “I got something stuck in my throat.”

The look on Alfred’s face said he wasn’t buying it. He passed Bruce and placed the Batman helmet, unused, on a nearby dresser that came to his chest. “Anyway, I called Dot in to help take care of you and to keep an eye on you since you seem adamant on disobeying my orders about staying in bed.”

Dot’s presence wasn’t missed. Alfred’s hand swept towards the entrance of his bedroom and Bruce followed the gesture to settle a gaze on the woman standing nearby. As always, her smile was warm if not tinged with politeness. It said she wasn’t quite used to Bruce’s presence yet. The man in question cleared his throat again but Dot wasn’t sure if it was due to an on-coming cough or the fact she caught him acting like a petulant child. Once he realized that Dot had been a witness to his behavior and argument with Alfred—and no doubt having been told about the situation from the aforementioned butler—his back straightened and he crossed the room to sit down on his bed, cape and all, perhaps in an effort to salvage what was left of his reputation. “Good evening, Ms. Dreadful.” He greeted. “That’s quite generous of you to spend your time on taking care of me tonight but I assure you—”

“It’s not necessary?” Dot finished, knowing to expect him to say exactly that as Bruce would always say whenever he was offered help. The man surely liked to do things stubbornly by himself sometimes. A breathy chuckle and a slight incline of her dark head, she continued, “It’s not a problem at all, honestly. Is it true you’ve been giving Alfred a hell of a time despite being sick? If you keep that up, you’re going to have to wait at his bedside to return the favor.”

She couldn’t resist the teasing. The amusement shone on Alfred’s gaze as they both waited for Bruce to recover from Dot’s jab. Instead, he coughed.

“…I admit, I may not be feeling too well at the moment.”

“Uh huh, and where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” Dot asked, gesturing at the dark, boots, and cowl ensemble. Alfred made a noise of approval as he started to move towards the double doors to let himself out.

“I believe Ms. Dreadful has this under control. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to help Master Dick on patrol in the Batcave computers tonight. That’s where I’ll be if you need me,” he paused and then stated as an afterthought, “Not that I think you’ll need my assistance.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dot smiled almost cheerfully. Bruce responded with a more absent-minded reply before turning to Dot once the doors closed.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“It’s not every day you’re this sick. And you never let anyone take care of you.” Bruce was about to reply but Dot was already moving towards the bed and dropped down besides his legs. She looked up and patted the side of his boot. “Come on, lift your leg. I’m going to take off your boots.”

“Not even Alfred takes my boots off.” Bruce said as he perked a brow and through the amused gaze, Dot could see that his face did look a little flush. He really was sick; not that she thought Alfred was lying to her. It just told her how serious it was.

“I’m not Alfred, am I?”

Bruce coughed again but lifted his leg to allow Dot to pull his boot off. “You’re absolutely right about that.”

“I can’t believe you were about to leave like this,” Dot scolded gently once his boots were off. She placed them neatly by the bed and stood up to cross to the dresser where his helmet was resting. “Are your pajamas in here?”

“I hang them up,” he cleared his throat, hand coming up to rub some of the discomfort away. Dot caught the gesture as she turned around. Her brows were knitted as she was about to ask who the hell hangs up their pajamas but instead asked, “Does your throat hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he started to say but paused as Dot gave him a stern look. “enough. It’s just a little sore because of the coughing.”

“Can you change into your pajamas while I make you something warm for your throat?”

“If I say no, is that an invitation to help me into them yourself?”

Dot faltered only slightly and hoped it was enough for him not to notice and stroke his ego for it. Bruce Wayne had the reputation of being a billionaire playboy himself, but she had plenty of practice with Tony Stark when either of them wanted to turn on the charm. She watched the look on Bruce’s face before she pointed out, “You’re so flush, you look like you’re the one who’s blushing.”

It was Bruce’s turn to falter before he ran a hand across his face, “…I really look that bad?”

“Without your mask, I’m sure the villains would have taken pity on you if they saw you looking like this.”

That garnered a response out of Bruce; laughter. There was a shift on the bed from his side before he finally replied, “If you’re going to give me something warm, coffee will do.”

“But that will keep you up…”

“Exactly.”

“Why on earth do you need to be awake for?” she asked, “You’re sick, remember? You should be sleeping.”

He didn’t reply for a moment but that was because he was leaning over to one of his side dressers. He pulled out a sleek little laptop and Dot knew immediately why he would insist on staying up.

“Nope.” She said at once, crossing over to Bruce’s bedside once more and slipping the laptop out of his fingers. Even sitting down, Bruce was taller than she was, so she had to crane her neck up to at least look as serious as she was trying to sound. “No. You are sick. You’re not working.”

               “How do you know it’s work related?” he countered with a smart little smile. All it did was squint Dot’s eyes at him, good-naturedly, before she started to put it back.

               “We’ll see…” she relented only a little because she was still a sucker for Bruce or Tony’s charming smiles. “For now, you need to change and get into bed. I’ll be back shortly with something for your throat and maybe some cough drops.”

               Dot was crossing the huge expanse of the elaborate room when Bruce called, “Make sure you get the honey cough drops… and not the cherry ones.”

               Dot was smiling as she pulled the doors open, “Whatever you want, love.”

There was a little bit of hesitation on leaving Bruce alone in his room with half his Batgear on, but something told her that he wouldn’t just leave her on the unspoken promise of being there when she got back. He ought to know better than to ditch her, anyway. It was still a puzzle on trying to crack into the mind of the man known as Bruce Wayne. The man didn’t quite let a lot of emotion pass through, but he surprised her on more than a few occasions by being affectionate and romantic. Despite Bruce’s reputation on being a playboy, it was only fueled when he was single and flirted around but when Bruce Wayne had a girlfriend, there was no question about where his loyalties lay. It was something Dot had to find out for herself instead of relying on second hand information that ran in socialite circles, gossip groups, and tabloids. In fact, a lot of things about Bruce Wayne were exaggerated that it was wild knowing the man versus the man on paper. These were the thoughts that circulated in Dot’s head as she brewed coffee and searched the enormous pantry for honey flavored cough drops.

When she returned to Bruce’s bedroom with a tray of coffee, the coffee pot, and the cough drops, she was genuinely surprised to see that Bruce was indeed in his pajamas and sitting in bed. She knew she should not have been but considering the “horror” stories Alfred was telling her about how Bruce was escaping his room to don the mask and patrol on the streets, half of her expected to return to an empty room. She felt relieved and her shoulders relaxed as she crossed back over to his bedside. Bruce’s back was against the headboard and he was sitting under the blankets but with his laptop in his lap.

“What did I say about using your laptop?”

“That I should not be working.” He paused with his fingers flying over the keys and gave her that charming smile. But this time, Dot didn’t fall for it.

“And are you working?”

“…I may or may not be working on something.”

“I guess you don’t want this coffee.”

Bruce looked surprised, his eyes widening a little to express as such. “I honestly thought you weren’t going to bend on that,” he chuckled before coughing slightly. His hand was always prompt on covering up his coughing, but he was also adamant on using a wet nap to clean his hand before any interaction with Dot, just in case. She knew he didn’t want to pass his cold onto her but honestly, Dot didn’t think she’d mind.

“I bend on certain things,” Dot absently replied as she poured him some coffee in a mug and used the fancy little porcelain jar that held the creamer. Alfred had made coffee for her so many times, she memorized the objects he used to make everything just a little fancier and posh. She didn’t have to, but it was a little bit of indulgence on her end as well.

“You’re going to join me, right?” Bruce asked, watching her steady hands. Dot glanced over as she handed him the mug.

“I wasn’t planning on to,” she admitted a little sheepishly.

“I’d like you to.” Bruce smiled as he eyed Dot for a while. She only laughed but was standing up now, putting the tray on a nearby stand that was meant to hold his breakfast and dinners when he’d have them in his room. Bruce knew the reason for the uneasiness. He’s done his own research on her; it was a lot tougher considering she wasn’t the one in the tabloids but all it took was spending time with each other and he wasn’t called the World’s Best Detective for nothing. Bruce understood what it meant to her on the concept of taking care of other people, that she would often forget about herself. She enjoyed taking care of others, so it threw her off sometimes when she was included. She thought of her own presence as an afterthought sometimes when it came to putting others first. It wasn’t a slight on herself and she wasn’t being too hard on herself, either. She just put 100% of herself into the other person that it consumed her sometimes.

“I mean it,” he added. Dot was fiddling with the honey cough drops now, he could hear the crinkling of the package. It stopped when he had spoken up. “If you don’t get yourself a mug, I’ll go downstairs and get it myself.”

“No! You can’t do that,” Dot protested, turning around. She eyed Bruce sitting in his bed. He was looking back at her expectantly. It wasn’t that she was opposed to drinking coffee, but this wasn’t why she was here. “Did you want your cough drop now or after—”

“I’d like you to share a cup of coffee with me.”

Dot laughed a little, “…I wasn’t going to say no.” But she was hesitant on leaving him just to grab something for herself. “But okay. I’ll be right back.” It perked her up a little to see Bruce smile to brilliantly at her. He was happy about that.

It didn’t take long for Dot to return to the room and by then, Bruce had his laptop to the side. It was still turned on with what looked like graphs and other technical things probably related to his company, Wayne Enterprises.

“I knew you were doing work…” Dot gently scolded as she gestured at the screen.

“Well, I wasn’t going to hide it from you.” Bruce smiled before reaching over for the tray. It hung over the bed on his side and Dot wondered when he had gotten up to move it closer to him. He grabbed the coffee pot and pat the bedside as an invitation for her to sit with him.

Dot hesitated only a little because she was unsure whether it was okay to sit on that fancy looking bed. “Is the coffee helping?” she asked as an attempt to distract herself as she settled next to him.

“Like a miracle,” he smiled, filling up her mug with dark coffee. He placed the pot down and reached for the jar with the creamer. He didn’t ask how much she’d like, already seemingly knowing how sweet she liked it. “Like you said, the coffee is going to keep me up, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Oh, why is that?” Dot was staring down at the cinnamon brown coffee now before raising the mug to her lips and casting her gaze over the rim towards the man seated beside her. He was already staring at her with a soft smile on his face. He still looked flush and Dot felt a little pang of regret about giving into one of his little requests. It was important he got his sleep, after all.

But Bruce surprised her with his next line, “That way I can stay up to spend some time with you.”

“That…” Dot trailed off, swallowing the aftertaste of sweet coffee on her lips. “You’re sick, you should be laying down and not preparing for a night sitting up.”

“But you’re going to stay with me, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!” Dot said almost a little too passionately. There was no way she was going to leave once she got him tucked into bed. She wanted to make sure he made a swift recovery.

Bruce’s expression softened at her tone. She couldn’t place the meaning of the smile he used but his eyes danced at her like he was laughing. “Then let me stay up with you.”

“That defeats the purpose of taking care of you.”

“You are taking care of me. By letting me stay up with you.”

“Have you ever heard of a little something called bedrest?”

“I’ll eventually get some sleep.”

“That seems like the opposite of what you’re supposed to do when you’re sick. In fact, it sounds like it’d make your cold worse.”

“There’s absolutely no way I can get worse with you taking care of me.”

“You’re not letting me do a very good job of taking care of you if you don’t sleep…”

There was a lapse of silence and Dot had wondered if Bruce did fall asleep “arguing” with her. But he was still staring at her that it took her by surprise. “What?” she asked a little wearily.

“You’re just as tough as Alfred.”

Dot laughed out loud, “I’m taking that as a compliment. He’s really good at what he does.”

Bruce was smiling as well before he reached over to replace his mug on the tray. Dot helped him halfway because he really did look like he was expending a lot of energy doing it. “You really need to get some sleep,” she cooed gently like a mother while stroking his hair back. His forehead was slightly slick with damp and it took her by surprise.

“Christ, Bruce, you’re really burning up.”

“I’m fine—” he started to say before Dot stood up from his bedside. She was already turned on Mama mode. There was no use on arguing with her now. She placed her own mug of coffee on the tray and pushed the entire thing away so it wouldn’t be in her path as she got up and down from his bedside, which she expected she’d be doing all night.

“That’s nonsense,” she muttered to answer his earlier claim. She grabbed the blanket and lifted it, gesturing for him to actually lay his head on the pillow. “because you’re going to sleep right now.”

Bruce must have been trying to act like everything was okay that it only fooled her enough until she touched him. There were no bad intentions on him pretending to be well; there really was a want to stay up with her since she was here. The only reason he stayed at home was because Dot had stepped in and it had nothing to do with being rude if he ditched her. But he couldn’t very well spend time with her if he were sleeping the entire night away. However, at the moment, he had no energy left in him to argue and like a good little boy, he slipped further into bed and rested his head on his pillow just like Dot asked. He felt the sensation of the comforter being pulled over him which he welcomed immediately because it had started to feel cold without them.

“Thanks,” he murmured and then added, “Sorry.”

Dot paused as she tucked him in, a soft smile on her face. “You don’t need to say sorry for anything. This is what Mama does.”

Bruce chuckled, his eyes closing as he just listened to her flutter about his room. Now that the secret was out of the bag about how sick he really was, it was a lot easier to give into the sensation of being coddled and taken care of. It made it easier to drift off to sleep. Occasionally, Bruce would awaken from his fever fueled dreams and see that Dot was seated next to him, reading a book about vampires or replacing a cool cloth on his forehead that helped ease him back to sleep. Perhaps once or twice, he heard the voices of his loved ones coming into the room to check on him and Dot reassure them that he was alright.

“Jason…” Dot slowly scolded, “…If you get too close, you’ll get sick, too.”

“That’s fine. If this is the treatment you give, I’ll gladly take over the old guy’s fever.”

Bruce drifted onto a sleep that was more like a nightmare that concerned a giant Jason chasing him, trying to suck the fever out of him. By the time he opened his eyes again, Jason was gone, and the room was quiet. Darker, too.

“What time is it?” he groggily asked.

Dot blinked, looking up from her book. She placed her bookmark to save her place and placed the book on the nightstand. “It’s late, you should get back to sleep, love.”

“What about you?” Bruce asked. No doubt that sleep sounded good, but it wouldn’t come easy knowing that Dot was going to be spending the entire time watching over him.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce gently smiled, “You sound like me.”

Dot laughed, “No, really. I am. Alfred said he’ll take over once Dick was finished with his last shift and let me get some sleep in one of the guest rooms.” There was a bout of silence before Dot asked, “…Why do you look upset?”

“Do I look upset?” Bruce asked as he shifted onto his back. He was tempted to sit up but felt comfortable as he was despite the temptation to see Dot in a better vantage. He placed his arm over his eyes hoping to hide the disappointment he was obviously broadcasting now.

“You looked like you were pouting before hiding your face from me.”

Bruce’s arm dropped, “…I’m not hiding.”

Dot only laughed. It was like talking to a child, but she understood why; he was sick. There was a lot more vulnerability on display. Dot had the fleeting thought about Bruce’s parents. Was this how he acted when he had gotten sick around them? Was there ever a chance to be sick when his parents were around? Did he act spoiled? Did he try to act tough? She wanted to ask but she knew he should be sleeping. She leaned over and started to adjust the blanket and pillow to tempt him. “Get some sleep, love. The worst of your fever is over. You might even be better by tomorrow.”

Bruce startled her by gently taking her wrist and pulling her over him. “Bruce!” she cried out in surprise as his arms encircled her. He held onto her, burying his nose into her soft curls and closing his eyes.

“I don’t want Alfred to take care of me,” he murmured almost childishly.

Dot had to struggle to even lift herself up a little to ask. “What?”

“Stay with me,” he told her, his voice dropping into a deeper tone that said he wanted to go back to sleep but only if she were in his arms. “Sleep in the same bed with me. No guest rooms.”

There was an almost incredulous chuckle that escaped her mouth; it was breathless just like the hold he had on her. “What…? That’s…”

Well, it wasn’t an unreasonable request. It took her by surprise, that was all. She laid still despite the viselike hold of Bruce’s arms around her back and her middle, clutching onto her like a teddy bear that might have been ripped out of his hands at any moment.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Alfred’s voice came from behind her that Dot’s spine stiffened out of the unexpected intrusion. She couldn’t turn or anything to meet his gaze but by his tone, there was definitely amusement there. “I’m sure Master Bruce would appreciate it. It already seems that he does a great deal.”

Dot wanted to groan; she didn’t take too well at being embarrassed because it didn’t happen to her that often. Not that this situation was mortifying. She was just squirmish and felt like laughing herself nervously out of the room.

“I’ll… just need to get my pj’s…”

“Why not wear one of Master Wayne’s shirts?” Alfred asked, moving to the closet.

“Good idea, Alfred.” Bruce muttered against Dot’s hair. His eyes were still closed, but he wasn’t drowsy enough to be half-coherent and understanding of the situation. “She doesn’t wear pajama bottoms to bed, so that shouldn’t matter.”

Dot almost gaped and squirmed to get out of his grasp but she wasn’t going anywhere, “H-How do you know that?!”

Alfred chuckled, holding out a spare shirt that looked like it costs someone’s tuition. “They don’t call him the world’s greatest detective for nothing.”

The transition from out of Bruce’s grip to bed shouldn’t have been too long but there was a long while of trying to convince Bruce to let Dot go so she could change in the connecting bathroom. When all was said and done, the two laid in bed; Bruce still insisted on holding Dot close. She wouldn’t have guessed he was incredibly clingy when he was sick, but it was something she didn’t mind whatsoever. It was endearing and tugged at her heartstrings in a way that wanted to spoil him silly because of it.

When Dot was sure Bruce was asleep, he startled her by quietly admitting, “I think I’m going to need another day to recover.”

Dot laughed breathlessly, quietly, snuggling into his embrace before finally yawning. “…Take all the time you need.”

[toabyssandbeyond]

Getting into witchcraft&witchery journal day #14:

personal notes but feel free to read

Tarot reading about my deities&descriptions of them afterwards:

So since last time I shared my thoughts here, I started my Grimoire and have built 3 altars for the three deities I worship... but seeing as our connection have changed drastically over the years I wanted to get to know them better. I decided to make a tarot spread (1st image), only that instead of asking randomly, I decided to ask each at their own turn.

note: if you’ve read my last entry about the deities I worship you’ll know that they aren’t known by others and are pretty much private, although they have parallels in other religions.

First was the deity I call Lady Fate. This is one I believed in since pre-school as this was my interpretation of god... An entity that pre-decides people’s destinies or at least the major milestones.

1. The entity: King of Swords

The King of Swords is a symbol of intellectual power and authority, and has the courage and intellect to accomplish all that he desires. He represents judgement, command, and rulership. His character indicates the stern leadership of a judge, lawyer, or military commander whose emotions must be kept in check under the pressure of battle.

(which you could or could not say fits a deity of fate/destiny...)

2. Their history: Page of Wands

The Page of Wands is similar to the Fool in that he is a free spirit who represents change and new beginnings. He has a true passion for life, despite his understanding of this world is not yet fully developed. He has not yet been weighed down by the burdens of the material world, coming and going as he pleases, and usually encouraging change wherever he goes. He is like the catalyst that inspires changes that might be impossible in any other situation.

3. Past Influences & experiences: Eight of Pentacles

The Eight of Pentacles is a card of apprenticeship and mastery. When this card appears in a Tarot reading, you are working hard to improve your skills and become a master at what you do. You may have recently changed your work, education or financial circumstances, and now you are applying your sheer determination and concentration to master the new skill that you are learning.

4. Personality, attitude & opinions: King of Swords (I mean... yeah it’s the same as the 1st question XD)

5. Their current status: Six of Wands

The Six of Wands is all about success, victory and public recognition. Not only have you succeeded in achieving your goals, you are now being publicly acknowledged for your efforts and your results.

6. Their health overall: Ten of Swords

The Ten of Swords usually symbolises a sudden and unexpected failure or disaster, whereby a power beyond your control crushes you without warning or mercy.

7. Their mental health: Death XIII

After a period of pause and reflection with the Hanged Man, the Death card symbolises the end of a major phase or aspect of your life that you realise is no longer serving you, opening up the possibility of something far more valuable and essential. You must close one door to open another.

8. What they like to do & have done for them: Page of Swords

This card shows you as a young and idealistic person, with lots of plans and ideas for the future. At this moment, you feel as though you could do almost anything. As a Page, you are just beginning to make your way in life, and it is important that you align with others who will not overwhelm you or stifle your direction and ideas. Instead, seek to align yourself with people who will nurture your ideas and will help you to manifest them in an organised manner. Choose a relationship that feels natural, with someone who will learn and grow along with you and give you a chance to develop your own personality and expression. You have an intelligent and sensitive nature, and you may suffer a lot if there is no outlet for your ideas and feelings.

(aw come on you’ll make me cry...)

9. Physical manifestation: Six of Cups

In the Six of Cups, a young boy leans down and passes a cup filled with flowers to a younger girl. The girl looks up to the boy with love and respect as he offers the flowers to her. Love, harmony and co-operation – all key elements of the Six of Cups – shine through this gentle act. The young children also represent childhood memories

The Six of Cups invites you to get in touch with your inner child and experience the fun, freedom and innocence that comes with being a young child again.

10. What to know: Ten of Pentacles

When the Ten of Pentacles appears in a Tarot reading, you are surrounded by wealth and are blessed with financial abundance. There is no ‘wanting’ any more – you have everything you need, especially within the material realm. You feel financially secure and trust that, as a result of your personal successes and accomplishments, you will always have what you need and desire. You express deep gratitude for fulfilling your material goals and dreams.

11. What to avoid: Ace of Swords

When the Ace of Swords appears in a Tarot reading, it is an excellent time to start a new project that needs your intellect, communication skills and mental power. You may be inspired to take a writing class, practice your public speaking skills, or get involved in activities that require more brain power than usual.

(so... I should avoid starting new projects?...)

12. Positive influences, friends or experiences: Six of Wands (yeah I guess this is the same question as no.5)

13. Negative influences, enemies or experiences: Three of Cups

The Three of Cups often indicates a very sociable period – perhaps a birthday, a wedding, the holiday season or a vacation with friends. See it as your opportunity to let your hair down and forget about your day-to-day commitments and obligations for a while. Instead, spend quality time with friends and family and enjoy yourself!

(so... bad influences in social situations? Or made enemies in social situations?... Not too sure...)

14. Conscious desires & thoughts: Ten of Cups

The Ten of Cups embodies happiness, joy, and emotional contentment, particularly in your relationships and family. You have created an abundance of love and happiness in your life, and you now share this love with others, expanding your heart even more.

15. Unconscious desires & thoughts: The Empress III

The Empress signifies abundance. You are surrounded by life’s pleasures and luxuries and have everything you need to live a comfortable lifestyle. You are in a period of growth, in which all you have dreamed of is now coming to fruition.

16. Hopes: Queen of Cups

The Queen of Cups is nurturing, caring, compassionate and sensitive. When you see her in a Tarot reading, you are embodying her ‘nurturing mother’ energy. You support others by listening with your heart, being compassionate, and caring for them deeply. You are empathic and can sense the needs of others by tuning in to your intuition, and you hold the space for others to express their emotions and be the truest, most authentic versions of themselves.

17. Fears: The Sun XIX

In the foreground, a young, naked child is sitting on top of a calm white horse. The child represents the joy of being connected with your inner spirit, and his nakedness is a sign he has nothing to hide and has all the innocence and purity of childhood. The white horse is also a sign of purity and strength. 

(”The child represents the joy of being connected with your inner spirit“... I really hope it doesn’t mean what I think it means...)

So, exactly as I’ve always imagined her, Lady Fate is generally a young deity who’ve worked hard to be at the status she is right now. She wants me to know that I’m not lacking anything and should take control of my life and surround myself by like-minded people... Her health and mental health have taken a hit, and all she wants and hopes for is to be in a place of joy and emotional contentment as well as to be feminine, and to be a nurturing mother... Her physical manifestation seems to be a child. Now I hope that this is not how it looks, but she seems to dislike me connecting with my “inner spirit”... more on that later.

(side note- my heart was pounding extremely hard the entire time I was doing this reading and once I finished it calmed down and now I’m freezing...)

Next is going to be a deity I call Luck. I guess the equivalent in other religions would be Karma, or even “Balance”. (You’ll notice that I frequently refer to Luck as “it” or “them”... somehow their gender was never established...)

1. The entity: King of Wands

The King of Wands represents pure fire energy. Unlike the other Wands court cards, he is not so interesting in actual creation and creativity, or in dreaming up ideas and implementing them himself. Instead, he is more inclined to take an idea and change the world to match his vision. As such he is a natural-born leader of all kinds of people, and he is very visionary.

(That’s... actually extremely fitting, especially when you remember how many people believe in karma... Also another part stated that it loves challenges and adrenaline which from my experience is 100% right...)

(note: fire energy)

2. Their history: Three of Swords

When the Three of Swords appears in a Tarot reading, it is sign that you are feeling deeply hurt and disappointed. Your heart has been pierced with these three swords, through others’ hurtful words, actions and intention, and they have inflicted intense emotions of pain, sadness, grief, and heartbreak. These events feel even more painful because they are often unexpected and come out of the blue.

3. Past Influences & experiences: King of Cups

The King of Cups embodies the perfect balance between the executive and the heart. Not only are you able to assess and manage a situation logically, but you can also draw upon your intuition and understanding of human interactions. As a leader, you care as much about achieving your goals and objectives as you do about making sure everyone is happy and engaged along the way.

(So balance between logic and feelings as well... hm okay.)

4. Personality, attitude & opinions: Death XIII

The Death card has elements of a sudden and unexpected change. Death happens to everyone, no matter who you are, how much money you have, where you live, or what colour your skin is; it is the same with a significant change. So, the Death card can be a sign you may feel as though you are caught in the path of sweeping change and cannot escape its effects.

(an unexpected deity that acts suddenly and without a warning, it doesn’t who or what you are, it’ll find you. That’s luck/karma for ya)

5. Their current status: The High Priestess II

The High Priestess signifies spiritual enlightenment, inner illumination, divine knowledge and wisdom. She shows up in your Tarot readings when the veil between you and the underworld is thin, and you have the opportunity to access the knowledge deep within your soul. Now is the time to be still so you can tune in to your intuition.

6. Their health overall: The Tower XVI

Just when you think you’re safe and comfortable, a Tower moment hits and throws you for a loop. A lightning bolt of clarity and insight cuts through the lies and illusions you have been telling yourself, and now the truth comes to light. Your world may come crashing down before you, in ways you could never have imagined as you realise that you have been building your life on unstable foundations – false assumptions, mistruths, illusions, blatant lies, and so on.

7. Their mental health: The Star XVII

The Star brings renewed hope and faith, and a sense that you are truly blessed by the Universe. You are entering a peaceful, loving phase in your life, filled with calm energy, mental stability and more in-depth understanding of both yourself and others around you. This is a time of significant personal growth and development as you are now ready to receive the many blessings of the Universe.

8. What they like to do & have done for them: The Star XVII

(... likes others doing what they have been doing? Have hope and faith.)

9. Physical manifestation: Four of Cups

Sometimes this card brings the message, ‘Not now, but maybe later.’ While the man in the Four of Cups doesn’t accept the cups offered to him, he doesn’t wholly reject them either. You may be waiting for a sign or further information before taking an invitation or new project. Check in emotionally and spiritually before you say ‘yes’, to make sure the opportunity is a good fit and that you can commit to it in the long-term.

10. What to know: The Chariot VII

Now isn’t the time to be passive in the hope that things will work out in your favour. Take focused action and stick to the course, no matter what challenges may come your way – because, believe me, there will be challenges. You may be pulled in opposite directions and find your strength and conviction tested. Others may try to block you, distract you, or drag down the pursuit of your goal.

11. What to avoid: The Devil XV

The Devil card often appears when you have been tricked into thinking you have no control over your shadow self or these negative forces, and that you can never break free from their hold.

12. Positive influences, friends or experiences: Four of Wands

With the Four of Wands, it is the perfect time to get together with your family and friends and to celebrate all the wonderful times that you have had together. Often, this card reflects the holiday period where you get together with the extended family and join in a celebration. Alternatively, it may be as simple as inviting your closest friends over for an intimate dinner and a few glasses of nice wine.

13. Negative influences, enemies or experiences: Page of Wands

(... this is the same that I got for Fate’s history... Do they have a bad history with each other?)

14. Conscious desires & thoughts: Nine of Wands

The Nine of Wands is like the one last test or challenge before you can reach ultimate success. You feel as if you have come to the end of your fighting powers but you have the skill and determination in reserve. You are in a position of strength and by drawing upon all of your courage and abilities, you will prevail. Once the last obstacle is overcome, you are home free.

15. Unconscious desires & thoughts: Ten of Swords

The Ten of Swords usually symbolises a sudden and unexpected failure or disaster, whereby a power beyond your control crushes you without warning or mercy.

(same as Fate’s current overall health... did they want that to happen?)

16. Hopes: Two of Swords

The Two of Swords indicates that you are facing a challenging decision but you are unclear about which option to take. Both options may seem equally as good – or as bad – as each other, and you are stumped about which option will lead you to the best outcomes.

17. Fears: Six of Swords

The Six of Swords invites you to let go of whatever it is that is holding you back, be it from your past or your present circumstances. Instead look to your future and choose the best option that is most in alignment with your Highest Good and long-term potential.

So... this was interesting. Luck is a leader, knowledgeable, who likes challenges. It has been deeply disappointed/hurt but is now learning to have hope and trust in the future, and it wants others to do the same and take action. It seems to have a bad past with Fate and could even be involved in the reason of her current health. They appear as a man who’s given an opportunity (it’s also what they hope for) but doesn’t take it yet, as their fears are of moving forwards and letting go of what is holding them back.

(note- been cold the entire time of doing this reading, finished and now it’s super hot in here...??)

Next and last deity is my guardian angel, he’s been the easiest to communicate with since he appeared (when I was 15) but it doesn’t look like he wants me to communicate with other deities... And that’s why I want to do this reading, maybe he’ll explain me what is going on this way... (I’m keeping his name off tumblr intentionally)

1. The entity: Page of Cups

As each Page asks you to explore a new facet of yourself, the Page of Cups is asking you to explore your creative, emotional self. You may start a new art class, read books about how to express your feelings, or learn more about developing your psychic abilities. Dreamy aspirations race through your mind, and you may find yourself moved by simple things. Don’t be afraid to let your feelings show and wear your heart on your sleeve.

(well, out of the three he is the one I generally consider as a part of my being. That and also I’ve became a lot more creative and my psychic abilities developed a lot since he appeared...)

2. Their history: Queen of Cups

The Queen of Cups says you are highly intuitive, creative, and in flow with the surrounding energies. In your interactions with others, you can easily read other people to get a sense of how to communicate effectively, enabling you both to feel heard and understood. Others may come to you to confide their personal issues regarding relationships, emotions and feelings. They trust you and know that you always have the right solution. You can instantly tune in to what others are going through and can help them make sense of it. You may be a healer, counsellor or intuitive coach; or maybe just a good friend. You recognise the Divine in everyone you meet.

(also the card I got for what Fate hopes for...)

3. Past Influences & experiences: The Emperor IV

As the father figure of the Tarot deck, the Emperor suggests that you are adopting this fatherly role (regardless of whether you are male or female), providing for your family, and protecting and defending your loved ones. You may be the breadwinner or the ‘rock’ for those who rely on your stability and security.

4. Personality, attitude & opinions: Six of Cups

The Six of Cups invites you to get in touch with your inner child and experience the fun, freedom and innocence that comes with being a young child again.

(was also Fate’s physical manifestation hmmm...)

5. Their current status: Six of Swords

The Six of Swords indicates that you are in a state of transition, leaving behind what was familiar and comfortable and moving towards the unknown. You might be moving house, leaving a relationship, changing jobs, going through a rite of passage or feeling a mental shift of some kind. This change may be as a result of your doing, or forced upon you. You may feel sad and upset to leave behind what is so familiar to you, however you know that this move is essential for your growth and personal development.

(also what luck is afraid of)

6. Their health overall: Queen of Wands

The Queen of Wands is the dominant feminine energy of the element of Fire. She is highly energetic and leads a busy and active life. She radiates health and vitality and has an inner vibrancy that fills her with ongoing energy and inspiration. This Queen is a natural-born, intelligent leader who actively inspires others.

(note: Also fire element, like luck.)

7. Their mental health: The Hanged Man XII

When the Hanged Man appears in a Tarot reading, your projects and activities may be coming to an unexpected and abrupt halt. Don’t keep pushing forward, hoping that more force will drive you to where you want to go. Instead, surrender to the opportunity to pause and view it as your chance to reassess and re-evaluate where you are on your path.

8. What they like to do & have done for them: Nine of Wands

You may have experienced setbacks that now leave you feeling distrustful of others or even yourself. The turning point will come when you are able to leave the past behind you and to cultivate a more open mind about the future. While you have experienced losses in the past, it does not mean that you have to experience further losses in the future. Turn a new leaf and push on.

(Also Luck’s desire)

9. Physical manifestation: The Hermit IX

The Hermit stands alone on the top of a mountain. The snow-capped range symbolises his spiritual mastery, growth and accomplishment. He has chosen this path of self-discovery and, as a result, has reached a heightened state of awareness.

(more or less how I envision him as it is...)

10. What to know: Ten of Wands

The Tens in Tarot represent the completion of a cycle, and thus with the Ten of Wands, you have reached the end of a cycle after a period of struggle. You are finally reaping your rewards after investing a lot of hard work and effort. You have fulfilled a creative venture, realised a dream or accomplished a major goal, and now must deal with the consequences of that fulfilment.

This card can also mean that you are being oppressed by outside sources. You are over-worked, over-tired and over-stimulated. You have more on your plate than you can possibly handle and you have taken on too much at this point in time. In an effort to get to the finish line, you have found yourself overwhelmed with the extra responsibility and activity. You need to stop working so hard.

11. What to avoid: Justice XI

The Justice card represents justice, fairness, truth and the law. You are being called to account for your actions and will be judged accordingly. If you have acted in alignment with your Higher Self and for the greater good of others, you have nothing to worry about. However, if you haven’t, you will be called out and made to own up to your actions. If this has you shaking in your boots, know that the Justice card isn’t as black and white as you may think. A level of compassion and understanding accompany Justice, and although you may have done something you regret, this card suggests that you will be treated fairly and without bias. Be ready to take responsibility for your actions and stand accountable for the ensuing consequences.

12. Positive influences, friends or experiences: Six of Wands

The Six of Wands is such positive encouragement to believe in who you are and your accomplishments so far. Have faith in what you have personally achieved and how this will be received by others. Do not let fear or guilt stand in the way of your success. You ought to feel proud of what you have achieved and not afraid to hold your head up high and feel worthy of others’ attention.

13. Negative influences, enemies or experiences: Knight of Cups

When it comes to making decisions, the Knight of Cups is ruled by his emotions and his heart. When this card arrives in a Tarot reading, you are making decisions based on how you feel about a situation rather than what you think, even if others can’t make sense of what you are doing and why, and your intuition guides you in everything you do.

(which is interesting... because that’s the card I usually get as my representation...)

14. Conscious desires & thoughts: Six of Cups

(same as personality, attitude & opinions. Also Fate’s physical manifestation.)

15. Unconscious desires & thoughts: Seven of Cups

Often, the Seven of Cups can be a sign of wishful thinking and projecting into the future about what you would like to create, rather than taking action here in the present to make it happen.

16. Hopes: Temperance XIV

This card calls on you to remain calm, even when life feels stressful or frantic. Maintain an even temperament and manage your emotions. You have learned to keep composed in stressful situations.

17. Fears:  Eight of Wands

This card is a sign to ‘strike while the iron is hot’. It is most definitely an action-oriented card that encourages you to move quickly to pursue the best opportunities available right now. There is no waiting around while the Eight of Wands is present so determine where your energy will be directed and get on with it!

Honestly? I feel like I already knew all of these. My guardian angel is one that wants peace, is very wishful in his thinking but doesn’t want to take action. He wants me to be creative and keep that childish hope alive but also there’s a possibility that knowing me is a bad experience for him(?). His origin seems to have something to do with Lady Fate, and it looks like originally they had the same desires/goals. His mental health seems to be “on halt” and I also noticed it lately, but his overall health is pretty good. He wants me/us to avoid justice, to not be put to curt... I can only imagine that it’s because I believe in “personal” deities, we’ve been worried for a while how other, stronger deities, would react to that... and now I know- he’s mentioned in both Fate’s and Luck’s fears- “connecting with my inner spirit” in Fate’s and mentioning his status in Luck’s. 

My deities don’t get along. Great. -_-

Also my zodiac, palm, only crystal, and two deities are of fire energies...

Oh and I had to promise Luck that I’ll be productive tomorrow so that it’ll answer me... oh boy.

[impressivepress]

In defense of Diego Rivera’s Detroit Industry frescoes

“Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Detroit,” at the Detroit Institute of Arts, March 15-July 12, 2015 The current exhibition at the Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA), “Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Detroit,” treats the 11 months the famed Mexican artists spent in the city, between April 1932 and March 1933.

The exhibition contains much that is fascinating and even sublime. However, the overall approach taken by the curators, which exalts art concentrated on the “self,” is troubling and, in some places, wrongheaded and even reactionary.

Rivera (1886-1957) and Kahlo (1907-1954) were married in August 1929, and spent much of the years 1930 to 1933 in the US, in response, in part, to an anti-communist witch-hunt in Mexico. A socialist and supporter of the October Revolution, Rivera had been expelled from the Communist Party of Mexico in 1929 for speaking out in opposition to Stalin.

While in Detroit, Rivera painted his magnificent Detroit Industry frescoes, which remain the centerpiece of the DIA. The murals depict industrial production in all its facets, with workers at the center of the imagery, as well as the natural and social processes that culminate in modern human life. This complex work directs the viewer to many of the great dramas and dilemmas of the 20th century.

The DIA show contains full-sized cartoons, the preparatory drawings for the murals, as well as documentary videos, paintings and drawings by both Rivera and Kahlo from before, during and after the time the artists spent in Detroit. The cartoons, in particular, are spectacular, but fragile. They have not been seen for thirty years.

A brief video of Rivera at work is riveting. The great care, precision and enthusiasm with which he and his collaborators carried out the mural work are evident. Often working eighteen hours at a time, the Mexican artist lost a great deal of weight in the course of the Herculean physical and mental effort.

Another video clip shows workers in soup lines, and then, on March 7, 1932, Dearborn police and Ford company thugs attacking the Hunger March of 3,000 unarmed, unemployed people as they approached the Ford Rouge Plant. Four workers were shot to death in the infamous incident, a fifth died of his injuries three months later and 60 more were wounded in the bloody attack.

The funeral procession five days later, estimated at 60,000 people, shook the city’s foundations as chorus after chorus of “The Internationale” echoed for miles. That took place only weeks before Rivera and Kahlo arrived.

A series of works illustrates Rivera’s art prior to his stay in Detroit. There is the iconic portrait of Emiliano Zapata, the revolutionary peasant leader, and a lithograph of a peasant, “Boy with Dog,” from 1932. The unforgettable paintings “Flower Day” from 1925 and “Flowered Barge” (1931) in his mature, glowing, monumental style, appear as well. “Sawing Rails,” done in Moscow in 1927, and “Soviet Harvest Scene” are also on display.

Frida Kahlo’s “Portrait of Eva Frederick” from 1931 is appealing and shows the influence of Rivera. Her painting “Frieda and Diego Rivera, 1931” uses a flattened, primitive approach. Kahlo’s “Window Display on a Street in Detroit” (1932), the first painting she completed in Detroit, is quite touching.

Rivera’s pieces, “Juanita Rosas,” “Self-Portrait” and “Nude with Beads,” all from 1930, and “Friend of Frida,” from 1931, along with Portraits of Edsel Ford and DIA director William Valentiner, responsible for Rivera’s coming to Detroit, are included as well.

On May 24, 1932, Valentiner wrote in his diary with deep respect and admiration: “Today Rivera made a sketch of me in profile, with finest red and black chalk. While other artists usually waste a lot of paper, he used only one sheet. With the greatest assurance he drew the outlines with fine and even lines. It was at its best after half an hour, when the sketch was finished… Contrary to other great artists, he immediately brings out the likeness between the portrait and the model. With his mathematically inclined mind he immediately hits upon the right proportions.” (Margaret Sterne, The Passionate Eye, The Life of William R. Valentiner)

Unfortunately, as noted above, the remarkable character of many of the works in “Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Detroit” does not compensate for the exhibition’s real and significant weaknesses, which tend to compromise and undermine its important material.

At the center of the difficulties lies the organizers’ unjustifiable attempt to elevate Kahlo’s artistic stature and, more generally, to make the case for art that primarily explores the individual artist’s “anguish and sense of suffering,” in the words of a DIA press release. This effort is in line with contemporary identity politics and upper-middle class self-absorption. This inevitably involves, implicitly or explicitly, diminishing or dismissing the significance of the Detroit Industry frescoes and its subject matter.

To understand why the frescoes are so offensive to contemporary art museum officials and critics alike, one has to grasp the driving forces in Rivera’s artistic life in the early 1930s, which animated the painting of the murals. The Mexican painter was inspired by great events, especially the Russian Revolution of 1917 and the Mexican Revolution of 1910-1920, in the production of his most important works.

It will come as a revelation, and one hopes an inspiration, to many who attend the exhibition that there is a history and tradition of revolutionary art. It has proved possible in the past to develop the highest forms of creative expression wedded to the aspirations, struggles, sufferings and trials of the masses. Rivera and his work were perhaps the greatest demonstration of this possibility in the field of fine art in the 20th century.

Leon Trotsky, whose supporter Rivera became for a number of years, wrote in 1938: “In the field of painting, the October revolution has found her greatest interpreter not in the USSR but in faraway Mexico… Nurtured in the artistic cultures of all peoples, all epochs, Diego Rivera has remained Mexican in the most profound fibres of his genius. But that which inspired him in these magnificent frescoes, which lifted him up above the artistic tradition, above contemporary art, in a certain sense, above himself, is the mighty blast of the proletarian revolution. Without October, his power of creative penetration into the epic of work, oppression and insurrection, would never have attained such breadth and profundity.” (“Art and Politics in Our Epoch”)

Rivera defended Trotsky against the vicious attacks of Stalinism and was instrumental in the Russian revolutionary’s obtaining asylum in Mexico in 1937. They collaborated, together with André Breton, on an important “Manifesto for an Independent Revolutionary Art.” The omission of Trotsky’s name from the exhibition can hardly be an accident.

One of the extraordinary videos on display at the DIA shows a mass of workers battling police, as well as Rivera and Kahlo in front of a banner advertising works by Lenin and Marx in English. “There remained one thing left for me to prove,” said Rivera, speaking of his trip to the US. “My theory of revolutionary art would be accepted in an industrial nation where capitalists rule.” An overhead view of the DIA courtyard when the murals were opened to the public in March 1933 shows the space packed wall to wall.

Both in the mural work and in the video footage, a powerful sense of the industrial working class in Detroit emerges. Museum-goers perhaps used to the often demoralized and irrationalist outpourings of postmodernism, racial politics, feminism and other trends in recent decades will be struck by the massive and creative force of the working class.

The viewer must also be struck by the striking parallel, despite the changes over many decades, between present-day Detroit and the situation described in one of the videos of growing popular anger over the mass poverty at one pole of society and the immense wealth at the other, in the midst of the Depression. Many must see this and think, “So it remains today!”

The Industry frescoes are the greatest draw at the DIA and have always held a special place with the most conscious elements of the population in Detroit and beyond. The threat to the DIA two years ago, in connection with city’s filing for bankruptcy protection, aroused popular outrage. On the one hand, DIA officials are obliged to pay nominal tribute to the frescoes, describing the work as a “masterpiece” in their promotional material. On the other hand, the current show contains a sustained and consistent attack on Rivera and his work.

Before the Detroit Industry murals were made public in 1933, right-wing forces and religious bigots were howling for their destruction. Rivera’s artistic response was powerful and enduring. The frescoes depict the emergence of the working class, drawn like minerals from all regions and races and formed in the cauldron of industrial production into the central creative force of a bright future.

Now, however, a new kind of attack is under way, proceeding from within, as it were, from the DIA hierarchy and the art world.

Along these lines, certain aspects of the current exhibition’s organization are significant. The room containing Rivera’s breathtaking cartoons, for example, is followed by one almost entirely devoted to Kahlo’s miscarriage, or abortion, that occurred while she was in Detroit.

Three weeks before Rivera began to paint his murals, his wife entered Henry Ford Hospital. Evidence suggests, according to the exhibition catalogue, that Kahlo induced the loss of her pregnancy on July 4, 1932 by ingesting quinine. A few weeks later, with Rivera’s encouragement, she made the lithograph “Frida and the Abortion, 1932” to memorialize the event.

The end of her pregnancy figures prominently in Kahlo’s work and may have influenced Rivera’s decision to replace an agricultural scene, which appears in the exhibition as a full-sized cartoon, with a healthy infant curled in a plant bulb. This remarkable series of cartoons of the images that surround the infant is at the center of the current show. Root systems extend into rich soils and subterranean aquifers. Plowshares cultivate the surrounding terrain.

The artist said the image represented the museum “as the central organism for the development of the aesthetic culture of the community.” (“Dynamic Detroit--An Introduction,” Creative Art, April 1933). Giant, exquisite female nudes cradle fruits and grain on either side and lovingly watch over the child--the picture of a rich and satisfying future for all.

In any event, the loss of the unborn baby was traumatic for Kahlo and Rivera, but the curators’ decision to raise this personal tragedy to the level of a world-historical event strikes a false, tasteless and disoriented note.

In Kahlo’s “Henry Ford Hospital, 1932” we are confronted with a stricken woman, in a pool of blood, connected by multiple umbilical cords to a fetus, a snail, a pelvis and several other objects. The curator’s argument that somehow this agonizing, intimate experience must supplant the grand conception of a harmonious future for all mankind is deeply disturbing.

This sort of imagery becomes the basis for the claim, for example by the New York Times’ Roberta Smith, that “Kahlo emerges in the final galleries as the stronger, more personal and more original artist.” Kate Abbey-Lambertz headlines her piece at the Huffington Post, “How Frida Kahlo’s Miscarriage Put Her On The Path To Becoming An Iconic Artist.”

One of the foulest efforts to denigrate Rivera, Michael H. Hodges’ “Kahlo trumps Rivera in popular fame,” recently appeared in the Detroit News, a chief organ of Detroit business circles. There is a certain appropriateness here. The new, slightly more sophisticated, assault on the murals is taken up by the newspaper that was at the center of the original attacks.

On March 19, 1933, a News editorial argued that the Rivera murals were “psychologically erroneous, coarse in conception and, to many women observers, foolishly vulgar.” The News further asserted that the work was “un-American, incongruous and unsympathetic,” recommended that DIA director Valentiner be fired and concluded that “perhaps the best thing to do would be to whitewash the entire work and return the Court to its original beauty.”

Hodges’ piece in March 2015 takes a different tack, assembling fashionable and snobbish contemporary attacks on Rivera. The News journalist first notes that in 1932 Rivera was one of the most famous artists in the world. “How times have changed,” he observes, and then carries on: “Kahlo, the subject of the hit 2002 movie ‘Frida,’ has morphed into a pop-culture superstar and feminist icon, her fame today easily swamping Rivera’s. To explain this, curators and art historians point to changing fashions and the compelling nature of Kahlo’s personal narrative, which resonates with our self-obsessed age.

“For Rivera, one-half of the current Detroit Institute of Arts blockbuster… it’s been quite a fall from grace,” he writes.

Hodges calls on none other than the current, soon-to-retire, DIA director Graham Beal to help make his case. Beal terms Kahlo “an international superstar,” adding, “you often have to explain to people--particularly anyone under 40--just who Rivera was and why we should care.” (Who talks like this, using terms like “international superstar?”)

The News article continues: “‘When I first visited here in the early 1970s,’ he [Beal] adds, ‘Rivera looked hopelessly old-fashioned and wrong-headed--realistic, political, and in a way, propagandistic. Her art is much more in keeping with today--highly personal and intimate, full of pain and uncertainty.’”

These comments speak to decades-old processes that are now coming to a head. Wide layers of the so-called intelligentsia, who have become affluent and moved far to the right, no longer feel the need to conceal their social indifference and outright hostility to the working population… and their utter obsession with themselves. It’s repugnant.

They latch onto Kahlo because what they read in her art corresponds to their own unease, interpreted in purely existential and individual terms. Rivera’s challenging and carefully conceived imagery of people at work or engaged in epic struggles against war and disease, ignorance and prejudice is compared unfavorably to a series of pictures focusing on one individual’s physical and psychic injuries.

The attack on art that addresses great social questions is relentless. On the audio guide, for example, guest curator Maria Cotera, a Women’s Studies professor at the University of Michigan, asserts that we now know that “the minor is where we find the big ideas” and that “big ideas became deeply personal.” Wall texts celebrate Kahlo’s subjectivism and criticize Rivera for advocating and explaining political principles and big historical and intellectual conceptions.

The curators write, for example, “Her [Kahlo’s] intellectual and artistic interests hinged on defining and representing herself,” while “Diego Rivera wanted his murals to become part of a dialogue about society that supported his intellectual and artistic agendas.”

The line of the exhibition, never stated in an honest manner, is that Rivera may have had some justification for his social art given the conditions of the 1930s, but we have long since transcended the period when art and politics concentrated on the working class. Kahlo’s critique of life is far more profound, “more thorough” than the class struggle conception promoted by Rivera because it is not fixated on changing the external world. Instead, it focuses on the inner being and “deeper” questions such as gender, sexuality, etc.

These views inevitably raise more directly the question of Kahlo’s art and career, a subject far too large for extended treatment here. It is evident that the discovery of Kahlo coincides with the emergence of gender politics and postmodern ideology in the 1970s and 1980s.

As “Made in Her Image: Frida Kahlo as Material Culture,” by Lis Pankl and Kevin Blake, points out: “It is certainly no accident that Kahlo’s popularity rose with the linguistic and cultural turn in the humanities and social sciences. With a greater emphasis on representation and identity politics, the academy found in Kahlo a perfect subject for analysis. Kahlo’s complex ethnicity… artistic autoeroticism, and evident links to gender construction are of much appeal to poststructuralists.”

One cannot place all the blame for the uses to which she and her work are put on Kahlo, but there is certainly some basis in the art itself for the current infatuation. It does violence to the history of art and helps no one to reduce Rivera, a colossal figure who drew upon a profound study of art and conveyed powerfully the impact of the Russian and Mexican Revolutions, to the benefit of Kahlo, a figure identified with extreme subjectivity. Such a readjustment in the artistic-intellectual world’s opinion must give one pause.

The victim of a serious accident at the age of 18 that required her to undergo dozens of surgeries over the course of her lifetime, Kahlo was no doubt a gifted artist, but her work is strikingly dominated by considerations of herself and her difficulties. She produced 143 paintings, 55 of which were self-portraits. Why so many? “Because I am so often alone,” she explained, “because I am the subject I know best.” Yes, but did she truly understand herself? An immense focus is hardly a guarantee that one understands a subject all that well.

There is something static, unchanging, in Kahlo’s self-portraiture, even immature. Of course, she died quite young and she came under various influences, not all of them happy or helpful ones. But in the self-portraits of Rembrandt and van Gogh, for example, one feels an unending intellectual and aesthetic development, the result of a bottomless curiosity about the world, history, society, resulting in an intense and compassionate realism.

A self-portrait is more than a picture of an individual. In its psychological depth and rigorous objectivity, a great self-portrait points beyond itself to something about the human situation in general, and perhaps the artistic personality in particular. Kahlo’s self-portraits are unusual and distinctive, but they tend to refer the viewer always back to Kahlo and her immediate situation. They seem often to be a reminder of her anguished presence more than a window onto something broader. One cannot help but have the feeling these paintings are intended in part to impress and even to shock.

The subject cannot be removed from art, nor should it be, but there is a distinction between dealing honestly and vividly with oneself and one’s circumstances and self-obsession. If a work becomes excessively personal, the universal may be lost in the process.

At a certain point, if the representation becomes too particular, why should anyone else care a great deal? Kahlo was neither the first nor the last person to suffer physical ailments and complications. Pankl and Blake write, “Kahlo’s depictions of bodily pain are the most widely explored elements within her work.”

Art also requires a certain detachment, and the most compelling artistic figures have treated suffering, including their own, with restraint and dignity, not self-pity.

Uncritical admirers of Kahlo are miseducating the public and aspiring artists as well when they suggest, by implication, that wholeheartedly embracing one’s afflictions or perhaps one’s biology by itself is a possible route to artistic greatness. If such were the case, there would be no need for a serious study of art or society, or a concern with the fate of anyone other than oneself. And, indeed, such an outlook helps account for the largely desiccated, angst-ridden and self-centered art that predominates today.

All in all, the DIA’s “Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Detroit,” a peculiar and contradictory event, raises a host of pressing issues.

Much of the imagery, including video imagery assembled by the curators themselves, tends to direct the museum-goer toward the big events of the 20th century, to the revolutionary role of the working class and, by implication, to a consideration of what point society and the human condition have now reached. After all, the exhibition is being held in an economically devastated city, where tens of thousands of people face the possibility of having their water shut off in the near future!

Yet the show’s organizers and museum officials, along with their media apologists, are waging a ferocious ideological campaign in opposition to such concerns—even at the expense of the DIA’s own centerpiece—in favor of art, in the words of the New York Times ’ Smith, suffused with “existential torment.”

The defense of the Detroit Industry frescoes falls once again, as it did in the 1930s, to the only social force with an interest in the cultural development of the population as a whole and in art that looks at life and reality critically, the working class.

~ Tim Rivers, David Walsh · 21 April 2015.

[coffeeandmusk]

Amazing advice from Shaykh Muqbil, the Muhaddith of Yemen, on the upbringing and nurturing of your children : which should be written in gold...

Question:

We would like advice around nurturing children?

Answer:

All praise be to Allah and may the peace and blessings be upon the Messenger of Allah ﷺ to proceed.

The upbringing of children is from the important affairs and problematic.

As for it being important that is because the child takes from whomsoever he mixes with, if his father is a singer then he will not hear except his father singing and if his father is a author then from the very start he will will have a sheet of paper and pen drawing in a notebook until he fills up the notebook.

We say it's like this, if his father is a officer and you were to say to him: "What would you like to be?" He will say "I would like to be a officer" and if his father is a Scholar and you were to ask him "what would you like to be?" he would say "I would like to be a Scholar" this is in his childhood before he begins to mingle in the streets.

Then after that you have the story of Luqman, and in it is guidance for the children “O my son! Aqim-is-Salat (perform As-Salat), enjoin (people) for Al-Ma’ruf (Islamic Monotheism and all that is good), and forbid (people) from Al-Munkar (i.e. disbelief in the Oneness of Allah, polytheism of all kinds and all that is evil and bad), and bear with patience whatever befalls you. Verily!" (Luqman:17) These are some of the important commandments ordered by Allah with no exemption.

In Bukhaari and Muslim, the Hadeeth of Abu Hurayrah who narrated on the Prophet ﷺ he said (The Prophet (ﷺ) said, "Every child is born upon a natural disposition (i.e. to worship none but Allah Alone) and his parents convert him to Judaism or Christianity or Magianism (Fire Worshipping), as an animal delivers a perfect baby animal. Do you find it mutilated?"

And in Saheeh Muslim the Prophet ﷺ said narrating on his lord ﷻ "I have created all of My servants naturally inclined to worship one God but it is the devils who turn them away from their religion;"

It is binding upon one to be cautious of evil companions for your son and your daughter “And (remember) the Day when the Zalim (wrong-doer, oppressor, polytheist, etc.) will bite at his hands, he will say: "Oh! Would that I had taken a path with the Messenger ( Muhammad ﷺ. Ah! Woe to me! Would that I had never taken so-and-so as a friend! "He indeed led me astray from the Reminder (this Qur'an) after it had come to me. And Shaitan (Satan) is ever a deserter to man in the hour of need.” (al-Furqan 27-29)

The affair of sitting with the people of goodness aids the person himself and his children, in Bukhari and Muslim on the authority of Abi Musa رضي الله عنه "The example of a good pious companion and an evil one is that of a person carrying musk and another blowing a pair of bellows. The one who is carrying musk will either give you some perfume as a present, or you will buy some from him, or you will get a good smell from him, but the one who is blowing a pair of bellows will either burn your clothes or you will get a bad smell from him."

Perhaps a child will not return from the streets except with foul speech.

Even teaching the children is exhausting, you (might) beat him severely yet he forgets quickly and returns to playing just like he was (before his beating).

It is a problem from the many problems but it is OBLIGATORY upon an individual to give importance to the upbringing of his children.

I feel remorseful for many people, you will find one going from masjid to masjid city to city, not caring about the upbringing of his children, he leaves his child until his mustache appears then he begins to clash with him at that time. It's obligatory to to give it importance from the very beginning and strive in keeping company with the righteous.

" And enjoin As-Salat (the prayer) on your family, and be patient in offering them [i.e. the Salat (prayers)]. We ask not of you a provision (i.e. to give Us something: money, etc.); We provide for you. And the good end (i.e. Paradise) is for the Muttaqun (pious)”

(Ta-ha:132)

It is obligatory for you to take the responsibility of nurturing your children and that you set aside for them time, and that you are good to them and that you better your manners, you play with them sometimes and show them affection and this is something very important, perhaps the enemies of al-Islam may show them affection and take them from a persons very hands.

Like this you remove them from evil companions Allah ﷻ says in the Qur’an “Then they will turn to one another, mutually questioning. A speaker of them will say: "Verily, I had a companion (in the world), Who used to say: "Are you among those who believe (in resurrection after death). "(That) when we die and become dust and bones, shall we indeed (be raised up) to receive reward or punishment (according to our deeds)?” (The man) said: "Will you look down?” So he looked down and saw him in the midst of the Fire.” (as-Saffaat-50-55)

Meaning in the middle of the Hell Fire, a righteous man said "He said: "By Allah! You have nearly ruined me.” (as-Saffaat-56) you have nearly destroyed me with you “"Had it not been for the Grace of my Lord, I would certainly have been among those brought forth (to Hell).”

(as-Saffaat-57)

"Friends on that Day will be foes one to another except Al-Muttaqun (pious)” (azh-Zukhfruf-67)

It is obligatory to stay away and for your children to stay away from evil companions because they will busy an individual (with evil things) and enter doubts upon him, and Allah's aid is sought.

Then after that you occupy your son with good, either by memorizing the Qur'an, and if he attends school then either by occupy him with something from the short Ahadeeth like "The best of you are those who learn the Qur'an then teach it" (Bukhaari on the authority of Uthmaan) or the likes of when a man said "O Messenger of Allah advise me "he said "Do not get angry" (Muslim on the authority of Abu Hurayrah) also like "The worldly life is a prison for the believer and paradise for the disbeliever" (Muslim on the authority of Abu Hurayrah) like this, short narrations will aid a person in his memorization.

In the very beginning we use to have about ONE HUNDRED students and ONE teacher. What did he use to do? Busy them like this:

"O children write the Hadeeth" The Dunyah is a prison for the believer and paradise for the disbeliever and after they write it (and then the teacher says) "Who mesmerized the Hadeeth?" They stand up up saying I memorized it! I memorized it! The children stand, the Hadeeth is still visible in their minds (from writing it).

Indeed we are responsible for them in front of Allah "O you who believe! Ward off from yourselves and your families a Fire (Hell) whose fuel is men and stones, over which are (appointed) angels stern (and) severe, who disobey not, (from executing) the Commands they receive from Allah, but do that which they are commanded.” (Tahreem-6)

It is obligatory upon the Mother, the Father and the family to cooperate in upbringing all of their children. The righteous Mother is preparing and aiding you and disburdening you when you are preoccupied from teaching your child, she is teaching and cultivating him.

From where do you choose the Ahadeeth (Narrations)? From Kitaab ul-Adab from Saheeh al-Bukhaari and Kitaab ul-Adab from Sunan Abi Dawud and something amazing from Kitab ul-Adab from Sunan Abi Dawud and like this, Adab al-Mufrad from Sahih ul-Bukhaari and Lu' Lu' wal-Marjaan, a person should choose from them narrations which are befitting for the family and after this it is not befitting that we deprive the women and girls and make them as some of the tribes do, having no care for her (Islamic education and upbringing) rather it is obligatory that we fear Allah regarding her and cultivate her and do well in choosing a righteous husband for her.

I ask Allah to give us the ability to do that which he likes and is pleased with.

Answered by Shaykh Muqbil Ibn Hadi al-Waadi'ee رحمه الله in his book Aakhir Fataawa page 382-386

الشيخ مقبل بن هادي الوادعي رحمه الله