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[yesimwriting]

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

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[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away. 

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening. 

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.” 

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly. 

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested. 

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least. 

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch. 

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.  

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on” 

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer. 

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips. 

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within. 

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.” 

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright. 

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!” 

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

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[sapphire-writes]

hey! I was just passing by and wanted to know if your requests are still open? If so, I would like to request one about Aemond x yn (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) yn is visiting Kingslanding, she is seeing Viserys and begins to receive "timely" visits from lords who want to ask the king directly for her hand since Rhaenyra has not been able to convince her to marry one. She ran away from all these suitors since she was a little girl and Aemond helped her when they were kids but the adult Aemond doesn't want to do such "childish things" so she keeps coping, eventually he gets fun by the ways she scares them away everyone, until he sees a persevering one who is still there and when he sees him talking to her, he feels jealous and scares him with Vahagar, she is happy and thinks that in a certain way, they can still be united as when they were children. After that she has no visitors (Aemond is in charge of scaring everyone away with Vhagar) and spends time with him, eventually she returns to Dragonstone and he appears one day and finds her hiding because she heard that she would receive a visit of a new suitor, he helps her hide while she talks about how she will scare off the new idiot who comes to ask for her hand, how he will make his stay in Dragonstone a hell and Aemond is just there, watching her with a smirk while hears her bc he's the idiot who came to Dragonstone to ask for her hand. sorry if this is too long or specific, but i was thinking in this idea so long and i don't found one with this dynamic i just want a Aemond with a soft spot with a sunshine and witty reader that is his opposite. Thanks! x

Catch Me If You Can ~ Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

note: I absolutely loved this idea! all my lovely requests are always so creative, I'm enjoying writing these so much! Also haven't been tagging people on requests - is that something people still want me to tag them on? just let me know, happy to do so! word count: 2.3k masterlist warnings: mentions/descriptions of fainting 💚requests are open💚

The first lord who tried to kiss you returned to his father with a blackened eye. Your grandsire, King Viserys had laughed, a sound deep within his chest at your angered expression and reddened knuckles. 

“The blood of the dragon burns fiercely in your child, Rhaenyra,” he told his daughter while placing a loving hand atop your head. Rhaenyra had smiled weakly at her father, knowing the trouble you were likely to give her was a lot like what she gave her father. 

Though you were a small child, lords flocked to your mother desperate to arrange a betrothal for your hand. As the only daughter of Princess Rhaenyra, it was quite the competition for your hand. Your mother looked for your counsel, wanting to share with you the same autonomy her father had allowed her. 

“I do not wish to marry,” you told her, a fierceness in your small voice. You sat atop your father’s lap, as the maester applied a salve to your reddened knuckles. Ser Harwin stood close behind you, inspecting the damage done. 

“Sweetling, you need not be wed for quite some time,” she assured, “but a betrothal-”

“Ever.”

Rhaenyra’s brows lifted and she looked towards your father and Ser Harwin. Laenor shrugged, while Ser Harwin chuckled, a soft expression on his face as he gazed upon you. 

“She shall grow out of it,” Laenor insisted to Rhaenyra later that night, “look at us, we said very similar things and are married.”

But Rhaenrya knew her daughter well. 

As more lords approached Rhaenyra, more attempted to court you. Lords laughed at Jacaerys and Luke, saying they were unafraid of the young princes, lest they attempt to scare them off from marrying their sister. 

“It is Y/N you need be fearful of,” Jace and Luke would say, causing faces to drain of color. 

You were a clever child, evading suitors in the gardens, hiding within the walls of the sept. There was even a time you told a lord of the Reach to meet you down near the black cells. The boy left screaming, causing you to snicker. 

Your uncle Aemond would help you with your antics as well. You often pretended to have fainting spells, as many maidens did in hopes of wooing a suitor. You did so far less gracefully. When your mother forced you on a stroll with a lord from Riverrun, you crumpled to the ground as soon as he began talking of his adventures fishing. 

Aemond was quick to your side. 

“I must apologize for my niece,” he said, scooping his arms underneath you, as though to drag you from the scene. 

“Is she quite well?” the lord asked, a look of concern on his face. 

“Yes quite, she shall be alright,” Aemomd insisted, as you let your legs hang heavy as though weighted with lead, your head hanging over your shoulder. You fluttered your lashes holding a hand to your forehead. Aemond suppressed a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Oh uncle, I had the most terrible dream,” you said as he dragged you away, “ a rather large fish was trying to swallow me whole!” Aemond burst out a sharp laugh before composing himself.

After the events of Driftmark, your mother does not bring up the matter of a betrothal for many years. Rhaenyra requested the help of her father to set you up with a match and sends you to the Red Keep as you reach maidenhood. This is unknown to you, as your mother has you believing you are going to the capital to spend time with your grandsire.

You fill your days with visiting your grandsire, whose health is steadily declining. You sit in his chambers and read to him often, though you are unsure if he can hear you. Soon after you begin this, Queen Alicent begins depositing lords to sit by Viserys bedside, keeping you company. You spot the trick right away, furious. 

You have just stormed out of your grandsire’s chambers when you run into your uncle. Aemond looks down at you, a smile playing on his lips as you crash into his sturdy chest. He has grown to be a fearless warrior, the years of training have hardened him. He towers above you, looking like a knight from a song with his long silver hair, and eyepatch that covers the memory of years ago.

“You must help me,” you tell him, and Aemond raises a brow. 

“With what, niece?” he questions, taking in your blushing cheeks and annoyed expression. 

“There is a plot to marry me off,” you tell him, glancing behind him and seeing the lord walking down the hall attempting to catch up with you. 

“Quickly, I shall faint,” you whisper to Aemond, who holds you upright as you begin to lean into his lithe frame. 

“Stop that foolishness,” he insists, wrapping his fingers around your forearms, “you are not a child anymore.” 

You frown at him, tearing your arms from his grasp, cheeks burning at his insulting tone. 

“Princess Y/N!” the lord says, standing next to you, “I had thought I lost you-”

You cut him off with a sharp stomp on his foot. The lord yelps in pain, hopping on one foot as you speed away from him. Aemond raises his eyebrows in surprise, watching as you dash away. 

Though Aemond refuses to take part in your antics, he does find humor in them. You enlist Helaena to help, having her cover you in fuzzy caterpillars one morning during a walk in the gardens. The lord you are with turns green as you place a caterpillar on his nose. 

It is all in good fun, and Aemond enjoys watching how you laugh and laugh when one by one the suitors disappear. He doesn’t believe any of them are worthy of you anyway. 

That is until a lord of the Westerlands comes to win your hand. He is a dashing fellow, with a sly smile and golden locks who sets his sights on you as though a lion cornering its prey. The lord takes your antics in stride, the first is you knocking a goblet of wine on his white shirt during supper. 

“I do apologize, my lord,” you told him, “I am a terrible klutz you see, hardly a lady who can be expected to run an estate.”

“Nonsense, it is no bother,” the lord says, “besides, you are a princess, you behave how you like.”

This shocks you, and to Aemond’s displeasure, the lion lord keeps up with you. Even when stepping on his toes while dancing, even when arriving late for dinner. The lord simply smiles and continues to dote on you. 

You grow frustrated and worry that Queen Alicent will send word to Rhaenyra that this is a good match. You try to concoct a plan one day and take him to visit your dragon at the dragonpit in hopes she shall scare him off. The lion lord is not easily frightened and instead calls your young dragon sweet. You frown in displeasure. 

As you exit the dragon pit, a shadow covers the entirety of the clear blue sky. Your lion lord looks up, stricken with a fearful expression. You follow his gaze, a wicked smile appearing on your face. 

Vhagar is a monstrous beauty. She is far too large for the dragonpit, and she lands instead behind it. You look at the lord’s face and take his hand.

“Come now, let us greet my uncle,” you say happily, dragging him behind you. 

As you reach Vhagar you watch as Aemond descends. 

“Niece,” he says, “my lord.” 

Aemond had watched you on your way to the dragonpit, an uneasy feeling of jealousy in his stomach. He had observed your attempts at ridding yourself of the lion lord, and how desperate you had become. Aemond had seen your dragon; your dragon would not scare a small dog, let alone a man. Aemond told himself he had no choice but to come from your aid. 

“Uncle!” you say, smiling so wide Aemond feels his heart nearly stop beating, “would you care to introduce Vhagar to my lord?” you say, gesturing to the man beside you. His knees have begun to buckle, his face is pale as he looks at Vhagar. 

Aemond’s smile is feline and Vhagar roars loudly, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You laugh as she does, a sharp joyful sound. 

“Come my lord,” Aemond says, beckoning the man forward, “though I must warn you, Vhagar is very temperamental. The last time she met someone she did not like, it ended rather unfortunately for them.”

The lord’s eyes nearly pop from his skull. He shakes his head and Aemond scoffs. 

“My lord,” he says, in a disapproving tone, “you wish to marry a dragon, and yet you cannot face one?” 

Your grin is wicked as you watch the lord’s mouth open and close, a squeak leaving him. Aemond chuckles darkly.

“You are more of a house cat than a lion, my lord,” he sneers, “run along now.”

The lord leaves hurriedly with the permission of the prince, racing back towards the streets of King’s Landing. You laugh and laugh, much to Aemond’s pleasure. The sounds send warmth throughout his body. You look towards your uncle, a strong feeling of unity in your heart. 

After that, you do not have any other visitors as you spend most of your days on dragonback with Aemond. Those who try to gain your affection must face a trial to deem them worthy of you. This mainly includes Aemond introducing them to Vhagar. Not one lord lasts long when staring down the beast that lived beside the Conqueror. 

Eventually, Queen Alicent writes to Rhaenyra that the efforts are fruitless and you are summoned back home. You depart King’s Landing, promising Aemond you shall write to him, as you have greatly enjoyed his company during your stay. The last month has rekindled a fire within your heart for the one-eyed prince. Aemond hates watching you leave, your presence in the Red Keep was a warmth that is not easily replaced. 

Weeks go by, and there is no news of any suitors coming to visit you at Dragonstone. You spend your days flying and attempting to learn High Valyrian, something that has not come easily for you. 

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra calls, “come here my love, we are to have a visitor.”

You freeze with fear as you hear your mother’s voice from the great hall. Slowly, you back down the hallway urgently trying to find a place to hide. Rhaenyra knows Dragonstone like the back of her hand, better than you do. You curse at the thought of her finding you and presenting you to another dreary lord. 

As you pitter-patter down the hall away from your mother’s calls, your back hits something sturdy and warm. You turn and to your surprise, come face to face with Aemond. 

“Aemond!” you say in a hushed whisper, relief flooding through you. You smile at him, throwing your arms around him. He hugs you close, burying his face in your hair. Reluctantly you pull away. 

“Thank the gods you are here,” you tell him, taking his hand in yours, “you must help me.”

You pull him towards a nearby veranda, as a smile plays on his lips. 

“With what, dear niece?” he asks, eye flickering all over your face. He has missed the sight of you this past month. 

“A suitor, how mother keeps finding these fools is beyond me,” you whisper, gazing over the edge of the veranda, “perhaps this time I have a spell, I shall fall over here.” You motion to the edge of the balcony. Aemond looks at you, an amused look on his face.

“You mean to throw yourself to your death?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“You shall catch me,” you tell him, smiling eagerly, “ride below on Vhagar and you shall be my savior.” Your eyes are aglow with glee at the thought. 

“Ingenious, I know,” you tell him, “the fool shall wet himself with fear. Surely that shall be enough, lest I am sure you and I can make his stay here dreadful.”

Aemond cannot keep the smile from his face as he watches your face light up with mischief. 

“Y/N, I cannot,” he says, though reluctant to deny you. Your smile falters, brows knitting together in confusion. Aemond has always proved to be your partner in crime in the end, and his denial of your wishes sends a stabbing pain in your heart. 

You believed you would never feel ready for marriage, wanting nothing more than to fly on dragonback for the rest of your days exploring the pleasures of the known world. But after your stay in King’s Landing, you decided marriage may not be so bad if your husband enjoyed similar pleasures. 

“Please uncle, just once more,” you beg, clasping your hands in his. Surely he wouldn’t let you slip away from him, not when he had so willingly scared away previous suitors. 

“I cannot,” he repeats, and you feel like screaming. 

“I do not understand,” you tell him pouting, “you have helped so much before-”

“I cannot help because it is I who has come for your hand.”

You blink, looking up at him, your lips parted in surprise. You look down at your hands that are still intertwined with his. 

“I am the fool,” Aemond tells you, an amused smirk on his handsome face. 

He lifts your hands towards his mouth, placing a kiss atop your knuckles, violet eye never leaving yours. Aemond watches you closely, sizing up your reaction to his reveal. You do not speak for several moments, as a blush forms on your cheeks. 

“I feel quite faint,” you whisper, and Aemond chuckles. 

“Do you jest?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

You shake your head, a dreamy expression on your face as you smile.

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” you say and Aemond drops your hands, snaking his arms around your waist to press you against him. 

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, placing a kiss atop your head. You can feel him smile into your hair. 

“I shall catch you.”

[wixxid]

IVORY  · PART ll

Fandom: Dune

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Female OC

Words: 1,658

Warnings: dark themes, abuse, and arranged marriage

Summary: Deceit leaves you waiting in doubt, while also allowing you a glimpse into the violence that is house Harkonnen.

"It's been days."

Sitting at the metal dining table, you stare down at the meal sitting on your plate; a platter of strange meat and fruit. It's late evening and yet you've still to see the sky. The duke sits the table opposite of you, troubled with a face equally as displeased as you sound.

Three day's have passed since your arrival to Giedi Prime.

That's how long you've been waiting to hear from the Barron. That's how long he's been making the envoy wait, with little to no news other than the fact his nephew is nearing to the planets orbit.

Feyd-Rautha was never here.

We've travelled time and space only to be left in disillusion. Stranded and seething in what is only another insult. The Barron had denied all your fathers requests to speak. We're to simply wait the coming time for the ceremony to take place.

"Is he dead?"

The question slips from between your lips, more as a suggestion than a question. In these last few days you've been contemplating the delay in your marriage to the Harkonnen. Your mind couldn't help but wander to the faint possibility.

You're father glanced you and then to the female servants. He utters, "Don't say that?"

Turning your eyes to the women, you observe how still the three of them stand. Their bald heads are bowed lowly, their eyes everted as if it were forbidden to look upon us. Neither of them spoke, a noticeable trait amongst these walls. It's terribly quiet.

"Do you think they listen?"

The duke sighed with a gesture, "All of you, leave us."

Immediately, the three women scurried from your site and out of the dining room. It leaves only the two of you now. Taking your glass of drink, filled with a substance you could only describe as strong - alcoholic - you take a sip.

"Don't get comfortable," he counselled. "They all listen. The servants. The guards. The walls. There's nowhere here you can ever believe is secure."

"Then why do we stay?"

He paused, "You know why."

Getting up from your seat, you headed towards a decorative wall ornament. A silver plate, rippled and bent into an unusual disk. The shiny chrome reflects the jarred image of your pale face.

"I'd accepted my fate from the beginning," you started whilst refusing to look at him. You can feel the emotions bubbling within your chest. "I'd made peace and readied myself for our arrival - and for nothing - to be made a fool."

"If he didn't need our alliance, then we wouldn't be here."

"You think he'd kill us?"

"Yes, and yet we still breathe," replied your father. "Whatever it is that's happening, it's not without reason. I don't believe this is the Barron's doing."

"Then it's true."

"What is?"

Your turned around, "Feyd-Rautha."

The duke tensed at the mention, before looking away with a sigh of defeat. It haunts him. Your father never wanted to speak of the marriage. It was your mother who came to you after the fact, confessing the identity of your match.

Your father is too shamed. Surrendering to the enemy and going so far as to parlay with his only daughter. It had hurt the mans pride, not only as a duke but as a father. He wanted better for you, better than a monster.

"He can't hurt -."

"Don't lie to me," you interjected. "As soon as it's done and I'm alone, there's nothing he can't do to hurt me."

"He won’t kill you."

"No," you mutter bitterly. Pausing, you emptied your cup with a last mouthful. "That would mean mercy."

Pursing your lips, you flare at his poor attempt to reassure your welfare. There's paths worse than death, and murder is too clean. Striding across the dining hall, you exited hastily without properly bidding him goodnight.

It angers you.

This waiting game has brought you to the edge of sanity. As you said before, you'd made peace with the situation, but now you're unsure. You're stuck in a twisted purgatory; neither free from this place nor bound to it.

Navigating the abandoned hallways, the click of your heels echoes amongst the wide tunnel like space. The palace is endless and vast, and sometimes you wonder what you might discover if you were to steer from the trail.

There's much the other houses don't know about the Harkonnen's. They're a secretive and sly race, who don't take kindly to sharing their technology and resources; other than the exorbitant production of Spice.

"Why are you following me?"

Pausing in the middle of the hall, you waited for the hidden figure to emerge from the shadows. You had herd them trailing you from the moment you left the dining room. Their mind is far too active for you to ignore amidst the emptiness.

"It's only polite to mind one's guests. The palace walls can easily deceive the unfamiliar."

Piter appears the dank recesses of the hallway, still clothed in traditional black. The two of you have barely associated after your initial contact upon arrival, but you aren't at all surprised to find him lurking.

"And what might I find, if I were to stray?" you asked daringly. "Perhaps the truth?"

"The truth isn't always worth it's labour."

You're gaze narrows, "Tell me what you want."

"Answers," he simply responded. "It's my function to seek answers - even to questions still yet to come."

"Isn't it only inevitable."

"In a manner, but why not reach for the power of foresight?"

Stepping towards him, you inch closer to the mentat; until you're merely inches from one another. Although he doesn’t move, you can see the uncertainty in his face. He expects you be otherwise, but you react differently; a miscalculation.

“Tell me my future.”

He looks at you with hesitation, before answering. “Your future is your own creation. But,” he adds whilst looking you up and down. “I do expect it be bleak.”

You scoff beneath your breath. He’s blunt, but at the very least he shows honesty. It may not be on the most respectful of terms, but it's better than you expect. Eyeing him once more, you leave Piter alone in the darkened hallway.

Walking back to your room, you're quick to take notice of the servant standing idly outside of your doorway. This one’s different. You’ve not see her face before. There seems to be quite a few, following you like shadows.

“A bath,” you instruct, to which she obeys.

Opening the door to your room, you enter first while she trails afterwards. Swiftly she maneuvers herself to prepare the bath in the adjoining room. It’s gives you time to breath, and you do so deeply.

The weight on your shoulders is overbearing. A force to be reckoned. You’ve been on constant guard the moment you step foot on this rock, and although you know you shouldn’t allow yourself to slip, you bring yourself at ease.

If only for a moment.

The servant returns, helping you undress from the layers of clothing that've been shielding you from the many faces. They’re not to see you before the ceremony, but you’d rather they don’t see you at all.

It’s easier to hide.

Slipping into the hot bath, you submerge down into the milky white water. It smells subtle but flowery, not a smell you first expected to breath in a place like this. You'd expected something unpleasant and sterile.

They say the Barron himself bathes in vats of black oil. They dredge it from this very terrain. It's supposedly a mineral enriched concoction. A way to heal the mans fowl wounds and morbidly ill health.

Improbable.

Rotating your neck, you ease the taut ache within your muscles. The ceremony will be soon, if not tomorrow then surely the next. You’ve not seen their ways of marriage, but you imagine it to be cold and emotionless; savage.

It’ll more akin to a fete, than a true celebration.

Sponging along the length of your arms and shoulders, the servant carefully washes you as if you're made of precious material. Leaning over, you cant help but catch site of the bruised flesh at her collar.

“Stop.”

Immediately, the woman stills like a statue. Your damp fingertips running across her soft but marred skin; the color of deep purple. She flinches when you press the tender wound. It's recent enough.

“Who did this to you?”

Remaining quiet, her unmoving eyes stare into the distance. Fear or loyalty. Either way she refuses to reveal the abuser. The artery at her neck throbs with the increase of her heartrate.

“Speak.”

She stumbles at the sound of The Voice. It brings her to her knees, hand splashing against the waters surface as she tries to steady herself. The answer you compel comes unwillingly and to a surprise.

“Ne-Barron."

Frightful eyes gape up at you, body shaking as she tries to come to terms with the power that'd overcome her freewill. Disorientation. As much as her instincts beg for her to flee, she makes no move to runaway; to scream in horror and obscenity.

Instead, she collects herself as much as she can, before retrieving the sponge to continue bathing your flesh. There's no need to force for further elaboration. Her words came accompanied with a testament of emotions.

Torture.

Torment.

A common endurance on this planet. Resting in the bath, you only need to imagine as to why the brute would decide to leave the servant so obviously bruised and battered; only the reason hardly matters. Logic is for the sane.

Feyd-Rautha is psychotic.

Your only real concern is, if he's so willing to inflict pain and suffering to that of his own people, then what might he do to you; an outsider. An Atreides. Those bruises hold no shame or remorse. They stand as his representation.

Would he make you walk among them as another?

A symbol of his dominion.

[theepoetspoem]

It was more than a decade ago when I scribbled burgundy fingerprints onto the window

One of the more blue winters id felt and every part of me showed it

And I had quotes written on my walls with paintings that held me and told me I wasn't alone

The weight was falling off of me. My doctor said I weighed nothing.

I had the same two comfort dvd box sets near my DVD player, that now collected dust.

My mother commented, "first she's too fat and now she's too thin?"

My blankets folded by texture of most favorite. The plush. To least favorite. The waffle pattern white knit that I bled onto.

Prescriptions. Group. Individual counseling. Anger management.

There was always a linger of incense.

"but she's not an angry person"

The purple painting I had up in front of my bedframe matched the purple bruises on my thighs and I snapped a picture. I had no idea why I was always bruised.

"your daughter's been involved in several altercations. One that landed a girl in a hospital"

There was a mirror. Full length. And I looked into it often. Picked myself apart. I looked Just. Like. Him.

I wanted to smile and pretend that I was there in the room with them. An active participant in my own case plan. But I didn't have the energy to. I really wanted to. But nothing came out of my mouth.

"I'm just tired. And I haven't been as hungry"

My doctor looked at me. He looked genuinely concerned. "Is there a history of depression in your dryfamily?". My mom's voice was defensive in response.

We never talked about the purple around my aunt's neck. Or the closed casket funeral of another family member had after her suicide car crash.

So I sat. And listened. And wondered if in ten years, a little cousin would be having this same conversation, and thinking of how I decided to do it.

I didn't even want to. I just got caught in the not feeling for so long after all I did was feel too much and of all the worst things.

There'd be so many appointments like this.

There are so many sheets of data that tracked my weight and height and the color of my gums and how much I was walking and who I spent my time with and what kind of material I was reading and if I read at all and how much joy I felt and whether or not I felt anything at all.

"do you want to get better?"

I'm 33 now.

My therapist and I chat like we're good friends.

The way I used to talk to my therapist, my first real therapist was so much different. Arkin would sit there and I'd look at him with eyes that plead to be held. I always saw him as a lifeboat in the ocean of my solitude.

Now. My therapist is more like a coach. I'm on the field. And when I fuck it up, the way I often do, we huddle and come up with the best strategy to get me back to where I want to be. She calls me Queen. And reminds me of all cannot remember when things get rough.

Things are rough for me so often. I keep telling her it's me. She keeps telling me I cannot take responsibility for the hand I was dealt. "but at what point is it my fault?"

I sit and wonder.

Maybe I'm not better. Maybe I'm just different.

Healing is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

[robininthelabyrinth]

i racked my brains while prompts were open but only thought of something at midnight so, as a long time reader, thank you so so much for your fuck i missed it caveat!! so: i really enjoyed your nhs with a twin sister oneshot, and i love the idea of additional sibling aus since this series's sibling relationships are so compelling and good. therefore my prompt is, what if jin zixuan had a twin? im thinking sister but i defer to your inspiration :)

ao3

They weren’t really encouraged to spend time together anymore.

It’d been different when they were children: back then, it had been a matter of pride to show them off. Dragon and phoenix twins were said to be good luck, so their father liked to point to them together, testament to the virility of the father to have son and daughter both at once; meanwhile, their mother liked dressing them up in matching outfits, each one more glamorous than the next.

Their participation in these events was both mandatory, in that they couldn’t leave, and unnecessary, in that they themselves as people weren’t required in any way. They just had to stand there.

They just had to exist.

Back then, they’d thought that it was all right – they might be uncomfortable in their scratchy too-glitzy clothing, but they weren’t alone. They had each other.

And then they got older.

First it was their classes that divided them. Both of them learned to cultivate, but Jin Zixuan was taught the sword and strategy while Jin Xingyin learned how to arrange flowers and manage dinner parties. It was obnoxious, but tolerable…right up until it wasn’t.

“Men and women shouldn’t be too close,” they were told, and never mind their protests that they weren’t men and women but siblings.

“A little girl like that will just spoil all your fun,” Jin Zixuan’s father told him.

“An unsupervised young man can’t be allowed near your girl friends,” Jin Xingyin’s mother sniffed.

“You’d better not have any wayward thoughts about your sister,” Jin Zixuan’s mother scolded him.

“You’re getting more beautiful by the year,” Jin Xingyin’s father told her, playing with a strand of her hair. “You shouldn’t be letting yourself be seen by other men. You never know, after all…anyway, I have plans for you. I won’t have them ruined.”

“Plans?” Jin Zixuan asked when he and his sister huddled together late at night, having slipped out of their rooms, barefoot and without their swords, having edged dangerously along their balconies to meet in the middle. “What plans?”

“He’s going to marry me off to someone, obviously,” Jin Xingyin said. “Don’t you listen to what Mother says?”

“She doesn’t talk to me about any of that,” he objected, feeling obscurely betrayed: was this what his father was talking about when he said that women held their own mysterious counsels to which no man was welcome? “It’s not like there’s any mystery about who I’m going to marry – it’ll be what’s-her-name, the Jiang girl. That’s been agreed on for years.”

“I can’t believe you don’t even know her name. What type of suitor are you?”

“The unwilling type. I don’t know anything about her!”

“She doesn’t know anything about you, either,” she pointed out. “And she’s the one who’s going to have to move all the way here, spend the rest of her life somewhere strange.”

Jin Zixuan blinked. “What’s so impressive about that? That’s what women do when they marry.”

His sister slapped him.

“Hey! Why’d you do that?!”

“Because Mother can’t do it to Father, not really, and if you keep going the way you are, you’ll end up just like him. So why shouldn’t I do it now while I can?”

“I’m not!” Jin Zixuan yelped, then blushed when she shushed him. “I’m not. I wouldn’t be. Mother would kill me…I’m not, am I?”

“Young Mistress Jiang is going to marry you, leave her home and her family for you. It wasn’t your choice, but it’s not hers, either. What sort of home is she going to find with you? One where you’re resentful that she even exists, or one where you welcome her?” Jin Xingyin bit her lip. “What type of home will I find, with whoever Father decides to marry me off to?”

Jin Zixuan’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to hurt whoever had made his sister look like that.

Except it had been him, he supposed. Him, for not realizing how afraid she was, to be forced to marry someone as callous as he’d been acting…he could improve his own behavior, but it wouldn’t help her, not really. He could be the finest husband Young Mistress Jiang could hope for, and it wouldn’t be worth a damn, because his father wouldn’t bother making two alliances with the same sect – Jin Xingyin would be going away to the Cloud Recesses, where the Lan didn’t even let women live in the same area as the men, or maybe to the Unclean Realm, where women had no choice but to train right alongside all the men…or even, maybe, to the Wen sect, where – where –

Everyone knew what they said about the Wen sect, and in the Jin sect they knew a little more, with their father being as friendly with Wen Ruohan as he was. There were as many scurrilous rumors about the Wen sect leader as there were about the Jin sect leader, excepting only that the rumors were about torture instead of sex, and the ones about their father, they knew, were all true. Even the ones that people didn’t dare to say out loud in public, just in whispers at home – those were also true.

The ones no one dared say at all were true, too.

If that was the case, then how bad must the Wen sect really be?

Jin Zixuan felt the blood drain out of his face. “He wouldn’t,” he said, except he knew that his father would. And his sister knew it, too – he could tell from her expression. “Fine. I wouldn’t.”

“So what?” she asked, arching her eyebrows just like their mother. “You can’t arrange my marriage. You’re not my father. You’re not even sect leader, just the heir. As long as he’s alive, you have no way to stop him.”

He stared at her.

A few moments later, her face paled, too, as she realized what she had just said.

“...you can’t,” she said.

“You can’t marry out to the Wen sect, either,” he pointed out. “‘A girl married out is like water spilling out’ – it can’t be brought back in, not unless they choose divorce, and that’s their decision, not yours. If you’re gone, you’re gone. You can’t come back.”

The dead couldn’t come back, either.

“If you were sect leader, you could choose how strictly to enforce the rule about men and women,” Jin Xingyin said thoughtfully, and her hand was cold in his. “But you wouldn’t be sect leader if anyone ever found out about…well. We’d need to be terribly clever about it.”

Jin Zixuan was not naturally clever, he knew, but he wasn’t actually stupid. If he set his mind to something, he could tap into the streak of cunning he’d inherited from both parents, the one he usually spent his time deliberately ignoring because he didn’t want to be anything like either of them.

Perhaps he’d never had a choice in it after all.

“I’ll find a way,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “Give me time.”

She did, and he did.

A few years later:

“Welcome to Jinlin Tower,” Jin Zixuan said, and smiled at the dusty over-awed boy only a few years older than him, whose wide eyes couldn’t hide the calculations churning in the brain behind them. “What did you say your name was again?”

The boy saluted.

“My name is Meng Yao,” he said carefully. “I was told that – the sect leader here –”

“Things have changed,” Jin Zixuan said, and at a gesture, his sister stepped forward with a smile. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t honor any commitments he may have made. Why don’t you follow my sister? She’ll find somewhere for you.”

He didn’t know if Jiang Yanli would find him a good husband when she arrived, not the way he now was, with his hands stained with blood and his mind forced through desperation into the cleverness and cunning that he’d never wanted. They had to have the alliance with the Jiang sect, especially now that his father had so prematurely died, but no matter what, he would never force Jiang Yanli to accept him, not with the example of his sister before him.

It was a good thing, Jin Zixuan supposed, that he would be able to offer her a pick of substitutes.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The Longest Night

For @hotd-bigbang Winter Word Prompts

Prompts (week 2): Blizzard | Blankets | Berries

Pairing: Queen Aemma x Rhaenyra

Themes: Soft

Wordcount: 500 words

Summary: Rhaenyra calls on her mother after receiving news of her condition.

A/n: I write the seasons in Westeros spanning over the usual three months, and not years and years.

Her lord father told her what was about to happen. Her mother, the queen, was with child again. A summer child, the Maesters said, and, if the Seven were kind that it is, it was sure to be a boy.

Rhaenyra sighed softly after her father took his leave of her. Oh, it was not that she detested the idea of having a little brother; it was just that she had always wanted another sister. Alicent was a dear friend; that was true enough, but still, it was not the same as having a sister. She set aside her book and left her chambers in the hopes of speaking with her mother.

The servants were running to and fro, preparing many of the Red Keep's halls for the solstice feast. The longest night of the year was almost upon them, and already there was a great storm raging over the city. Their guests had already arrived and were settled in, but it had been a near thing. Rhaenyra stopped and gazed out a window. The fury that caught King’s Landing unawares and hammered at the city during the last hour was proving to be a terrifying thing indeed.

“Ah!” The queen was in bed with a book when Rhaenyra was admitted into her chambers. “I was expecting your visit.”

Rhaenyra dipped to her knees in a curtsy before approaching the bed. “Father told me you were with child again.”

Her mother was already glowing, her fair cheeks tinged with a ruddy shade of pink. Aemma patted the pillows beside her. “Are you happy with this news?”

Rhaenyra joined her mother, made herself comfortable, and pulled the coverlets and pelts over her. Even with a well-kept fire and a brazier besides, her mother’s chamber was uncommonly cold.

“I am,” she began. “I think.”

Aemma put down her book and laughed. “You think? Child, I thought you would be pleased.”

“Well,” Rhaenyra returned, “I would be overjoyed if it were a sister—”

“Nyra—”

“That you and father would name Visenya, and—”

“Nyra,” Aemma interjected, amused. “The gods will decide if the babe in my belly is to be a boy or a girl. And Visenya is a name that is still cursed by many throughout the realm. Do you know this?”

“Septa Marlow told me.” Rhaenyra grumbled. Outside, the wind howled like a living thing. She shivered when the window panes rattled. “Could I still have a say in the name, though? Please, mother, please.”

“A daughter of our House must never beg,” Aemma counseled, though not unkindly. “But you may tell me of names that include neither Visenya—”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth in reply.

“—nor Maegor.” The queen finished. She smiled when her daughter made a face and patted her cheek.

“Very well, mother” Rhaenyra agreed, albeit rather reluctantly. “No Visenya, and no Maegor.”

“Good,” her mother answered. “Now stay with me. I have asked for berries and cream. We could share that, you and I.”   

[beardedmrbean]

The 16-year-old girl caught on camera pummeling an Asian mother from Nevada as she was riding a Manhattan train with her family last week has been charged with assault.

Arrest and charges: The teenager reportedly turned herself in to the New York Police Department (NYPD) on Tuesday morning in the same area where the attack occurred. She was arrested and charged with two counts of assault for repeatedly punching Sue Young, the 51-year-old mother, and Joanna Lin, a 34-year-old bystander who filmed the viral incident.

The viral attack: Young and her husband, Ken, and their 11-year-old twin daughters were onboard a southbound F train near West 4th St. station at around 8 p.m. on Aug. 3 when three teenage girls, including the arrested 16-year-old, began laughing and pointing at the family.

When Young decided to laugh with them as a way to stop their apparent taunts, the trio became enraged. According to Young, the girls began cursing and at one point said, “Go back to where you came from, b*tch!” The girls stood over the family as Lin began recording the altercation.

When the 16-year-old saw Lin recording, she allegedly punched Lin multiple times. Lin said the girl hit her in the first and second attacks and then dragged her by the hair to the floor and hit her “a few times” in the head in the third attack. Young was also attacked as she tried to get to Lin, causing bruising to her arm and head.

“As soon as I made contact and pushed her shoulders away, they all came after me. I backed up, but the girl in the white t-shirt came slugging at me… She grabbed my hair, I grabbed her hair, and I basically just grabbed onto her hair to shield my face because she was swinging,” Young told the New York Post.

It was then other passengers intervened to protect the family. The three teenagers managed to flee the scene at the next stop

Investigation: The NYPD previously offered a $3,500 reward for information leading to the arrest of the 16-year-old girl. According to police, the incident is being investigated as a possible hate crime as the alleged perpetrator made an “anti-ethnic remark” during the assault.

Young and Lin’s statement: However, Young and Lin said that they do not think that the incident was a hate crime. While Young said that stereotypes of Asians being less confrontational had likely led the young Black women to view them as easy targets, she does not believe that the attack was initially motivated by racial animus, according to NBC News. Young and her husband said they do not want to harbor or spark resentment toward the girls and the Black community.

“These are very young girls. Somebody or something or some circumstance has made a big impression on them — whether it’s historical pressure, societal pressure, social pressure,” Young told NBC News.

Lin, who is relieved by the 16-year-old’s decision to turn herself in, also hopes that the teen will issue an apology and receive “therapy, counseling and mentorship.”

[killed-by-choice]

Emma Beck, 30 (UK 2007)

“Living is hell for me. I should never have had an abortion. I see now I would have been a good mum.”

These were some of Emma Beck’s last words to the world. The suicide note was found near Emma’s body, where she had hung herself just one day before her 31st birthday. She was declared dead on February 1, 2007.

Emma was a well-known artist who found out she was pregnant in late 2006. It was quickly discovered that she was pregnant with twins. Emma was excited and told her boyfriend Ben, who she lived with at the time. He got upset at her and ended their relationship. Everything went downhill from there.

Ben didn’t want the twins and Emma ended up scheduled for an abortion at 8 weeks pregnant. Her mother later said, "I want to know why she was not given the opportunity to see a counsellor… She was only going ahead with the abortion because her boyfriend did not want the twins.”

Instead of giving Emma and her twins access to resources that actually could have helped, the NHS scheduled the abortion. Emma still showed obvious signs of not wanting to go through with it. She missed an appointment and then cancelled but later showed up to another appointment at an abortion facility clinic at Royal Cornwall Hospital in Treliske.

Emma’s suicide note was heartbreaking. She wrote, “I told everyone I didn't want to do it, even at the hospital. I was frightened, now it is too late. I died when my babies died. I want to be with my babies: they need me, no-one else does.”

Proponents of abortion often claim that abortion isn’t associated with depression. It was this belief that likely left Emma with no follow-up counseling or psychiatric care of any kind. Emma’s mother later told news sources that her daughter should have been offered post-abortive counseling. Dr. Katie Gibbs, Emma's GP, told a hearing, "She was extremely distressed by the abortion procedure, and I didn't think she ever came to terms with it.”

An inquest was held after Emma’s mother demanded answers about how her daughter and grandchildren had been treated. The inquest covered up the name of the abortionist, who wrote, “I am satisfied that everything was done to make sure that Emma consented to the operation… She had already been counselled by doctors by the time I saw her. As far as I can recall, Emma did not express any doubts about her decision. There is never any pressure put on a woman to choose either way.” The words were hollow to Emma’s mother and everyone else who hoped for justice. Emma had suffered two suicide attempts since the abortion, including the one that took her life.

Like so many others, Emma was exploited by abortion. She was coerced into it by a man who didn’t want to take responsibility for his own actions and left to pick up the pieces by herself afterwards. Her case is strikingly similar to too many others. Emma needed care, support and resources that were never given to her. Women deserve better than abortion.

[jikanet-tanaka]

My dumb ass keeps thinking about an ACV longfic idea (kind of a sequel taking place around 899 while Edward the Elder is king of Wessex)...

Here how it would goes:

Main characters:

Eivor Oswaldsdóttir: The daughter of King Oswald of East Anglia and Queen Valdis. She is short like her father (has his thick eyebrows too!) with green eyes and dark curly hair tied in a messy ponytail. She isn’t the talkative or sociable sort, and she spends most of her time hunting and living on the fringe of society. She loves her family, but since her elder brother Eohric is the king of East Anglia, she doesn’t enjoy visiting home much (too many people sticking around the royal court for her taste). The death of her father in her youth in a battle against Wessex insurgents is a wound that has not quite healed. Like her brother, she carries a grudge against West Saxons for that reason.

Sigrún Gullveigsdóttir: The bastard daughter of Sigurd, conceived when he was fighting alongside the Ragnarssons in Ledecestre. Her mother was a shieldmaiden under Ubba’s banner. Not long after the Danelaw was established, Gullveig, now dying, brought her daughter to Ravensthorpe. However, Sigurd had already left England by that point. The girl was thus raised by Eivor and Randvi as if she was their own daughter.

Sigrún was injured in her youth, and she needs a cane to walk. She is sweet-tempered and sharp-witted, though deep down she has some insecurities, especially since she feels she can’t quite measure up to her legendary mothers, who were both prodigious warriors. She has also abandonment issues caused by Sigurd’s absence in her life. Sigrún is of average height, with blond hair tied in a plait behind her back. She wears her birth mother’s kransen, the only memento she has left of the woman.

Aethelflaed of Mercia: The oldest child of Aelfred of Wessex. She married the much older Aethelred of Mercia in 885 to unite the two kingdoms; together, they have one daughter, Aelfwynn. Aethelflaed is her father’s daughter in every way, blessed with a strategic mind and a courageous heart. She dislikes her family’s link to the Order of Ancients and the nascent group that will one day become the Templars. For this reason, she does not trust in her brother Edward’s intentions, nor does she wants to support her cousin Aethelwold in his rebellion. She is nearing thirty of age, and she has brown hair gathered in a neat bun.

Edward of Wessex: The king of Wessex following Aelfred’s death in 889, and Aethelflaed’s younger brother. He is more militant than his father, both in his desire to conquer the whole of England to purge it of pagans, and in his new position as Grand Maegester of the Order of the Ancients.

Aethelwold of Wessex: Aelfred’s nephew, who is challenging Edward’s claim to the throne since his father was Aelfred’s older brother. He is a schemer who wishes to restore the Order of the Ancients to its old glory (his father Aethelred was King of Wessex and Grand Maegester before Aelfred got the position).

Eohric of East Anglia: King of East Anglia, and Eivor’s older brother. He is a charismatic and well-liked figure, though he tends to ask rashly in the absence of wise counsel.

Among the characters from the game, you’d have cameos from people like Hytham and Valka. I haven’t decided who else is still around. Maybe it would be funny to have like, old Birna and/or old Vili still kicking around and making nuisances of themselves?

 Story elements:

- Eivor and Randvi left Ravensthorpe together (again this is a way for me to say eff you to that last DLC).

- There is a civil war going on between King Edward of Wessex and his cousin Aethelwold; the latter has the support of the Danelaw, including King Eohric of East Anglia.

- Meanwhile, in the shadows, the two are battling for their own vision of the future form of the Order of the Ancients. They both seek an Isu relic of great power to achieve said vision.

- Aethelflaed is aware of this and wants to find this relic to keep it out of their hands. Through a strange set of circumstances, she enlists the help of Sigrún of Ravensthorpe (who has knowledge of Hidden Ones stuff thanks to Hytham and Eivor) and Eivor of East Anglia (who is a lot like her namesake when it comes to being sneaky and killing stuff). The latter two both want the relic in order to protect their respective people from Wessex’s might.

[ahorrorintime]

My Thoughts and Feelings on Eve's Bayou

Kasi Lemmon’s Eve’s Bayou was an intriguing movie for me to watch because, based on the title alone, I originally assumed that the horror element in this movie was going to be a physical monster that lives in or by the bayou. I was shocked hearing that beginning statement of Eve expressing that she killed her father at the age of 10 because of how she bluntly expressed that notion that set up the whole movie. When watching, I immediately noticed how desperately Eve wanted to win the affection of her parents, who were often more focused on her younger brother or older sister, which was something I could relate to as a kid, especially when my brother was receiving more attention than I was. Seeing Eve run into the carriage house, I immediately knew something bad was going to happen. I was mentally preparing for things to turn horribly wrong for Eve. What I wasn’t prepared for was seeing Eve watch her father cheat on her mother with another woman in such a detailed way. I felt so much empathy for Eve because I just knew that must have been such a crushing moment of loss of innocence, especially because it revolved around her father, whom she loves and had idolized. The next shock came to me when her uncle Harry died because that was the one person in her family who paid her the most attention and understood all she wanted was love and affection. 

From here, we are introduced to Mozelle and her ability to see visions and counsel people with those visions, and Eve takes a specific interest in them. This is where the movie’s story takes a turn and adds that otherworldly element to the story about family dynamics, which I found myself enjoying. I feel like it added an entertaining layer to the already painfully real story. The story progresses with Mozelle getting a vision of a child being killed by a bus, and she worriedly tells Lynn, who decrees to the kids that they can’t go outside anymore. The kids, in response, start to grow restless after a couple of days, leading to more infight within the family. I could really relate to these scenes because most of my childhood memories were outside playing in the playground and spending time with my friends outside exploring near my house; if I didn’t have that, I would have had so much energy and felt so bored, especially since they did not have technology like I did at that time. I found the focus of the family story and its complicated dynamics extremely compelling and relatable to watch. Raising children is complicated, especially when the parents are at odds, and one is actively cheating on the other. Children feel the tension and mimic it usually by acting out, leaving a vicious cycle where the parent feels disrespected and lashes out, which is what happens with the case of Cisely. Cisely, up to this movie, was presented as this perfect daughter who received much love and attention from her parents, had a clear head on her shoulders, and followed the rules. With all the infighting and learning that her father is cheating, she no longer upholds that perfect image and lashes out, which is something I think is really common to see, especially in children of divorced parents or parents who constantly argue. 

Later in the story, we discover that Cisely is not acting like herself, attacking her sister, staying quiet and avoiding everyone, and they all become worried about her. Cisely reveals to Eve what happened with her father the night of the storm. When I watched that part, I was extremely disturbed and found it hard to watch how inappropriate what happened was. I had a similar reaction to Eve once finding out, I felt rage towards the father for taking advantage of his daughter. I was worried for Eve, though, because of how young she was and how much she seemed determined to kill her father, I knew that there was some part of her that was going to regret it or not want to follow through. In the end, although the father does die, being shot by his mistress’s husband, I believe that he brought it upon himself, and it wasn’t Eve’s curse that she put on him that led to his demise. If anything, I think the fortune teller she paid to curse him never actually did because of how young Eve was, and she probably thought Eve would be too young to have that on her conscience. Louis died because he was above facing the consequences of his own actions.

After his funeral, Eve finds a note that explains his recounts of the night with Cisely, saying that it was Cisely that came onto him. I was puzzled watching that scene because I felt like that story of events is not something a child lies about, especially not one as immoral as that. In the end, Eve confronts Cisely, and through Eve’s ability to see visions, she finds out what happened, although it is never revealed to us. Regardless of what actually happened that night, I believe the father is to blame. As an adult and father, he is responsible for turning away from any misguided advances his daughter makes and setting boundaries with her with proper explanation. He should never ever make a move on his daughter that violates any paternal bond or rights he has as a parent. I believe that Louis got what was coming to him with his adultery, never being home, being inappropriate with his children, and believing that nothing could touch him. In the end, he faced what I believe are the consequences of his actions.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Our Moonie son “seemed to be in a bizarre world of science fiction” at Barrytown

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 3

February 1976

The following was excerpted from a testimonial submitted by a parent:

Our 21-year old son loudly proclaimed his intention to die in Korea for the Messiah (Sun Myung Moon) in August 1974. This was the first conflict with his family. He is the oldest of __ children. He had been an amiable, respected, industrious, successful 4th year college student.

He met the Moonies on the University of Minnesota campus while waiting for his sister, with whom he shared a car. He told us he was going to a Christian retreat for the weekend in Spirit Lake, Iowa. His emotions exploded there. By his actions we knew that this was not a Christian group, life investigated and found the kind of deception our Bible warns against. He couldn’t – or wouldn’t – hear us.

He was promptly moved to a commune 80 miles away and allowed only short contacts with us. He tried to convince us of the movement’s value, but the platitudes only thinly veiled Moon’s obvious mission for power and money. They followed the con-man pattern of telling the victim lies he wanted to hear to get his money, then making him feel good about it. After months of grueling days of fund-raising, not enough sleep, and emotional pressure-cooker weekends, he turned over his bank account. He had saved $1,150.00 while living at home, working part-time as a janitor, for his final-year at college.

In 1975, they pumped him up into thinking he was getting a scholarship, then flew him to Barrytown for deeper indoctrination. He wrote of guarding Moon’s Lincoln Continental and working nights on the telephone switchboard.

We drove him away from Barrytown for a holiday in July. Many young people who had left cults talked to him on the way back home. His values had changed. Money, personal freedom and comfort seemed unimportant. He had regressed to the level of early teen dependence. He wanted to marry, but it didn’t matter to whom since all Moonie women think alike. He seemed to be in a bizarre world of science fiction, but after 30 days, he promised not to go back. If we had had immediate psychiatric help in a professional Rehab. Center at that time, with necessary security, we would have had a better chance for success.

The cult was calling. They demanded to talk to him or initiate a police investigation and lawsuit on an alleged kidnapping charge. Our local police called them and told them that our son was free, that we didn’t have to tell them where he was, and to stop harassing us. He went to stay in a foster home with a couple who had had over 500 disturbed children from public and private agencies. We contacted the County Mental Health Clinic and gave them the background; they arranged for testing and counseling. It took a few weeks to get into this and many more to get him ready for family involvement.

The cult found his foster home, called and threatened them and alluded menacingly to their ten-year-old daughter. The mother became physically ill and was hospitalized, anxiety attenuating her illness. The stress was too much for them and our son seemed to be slipping back.

After he came home to stay, he found a good job near our home. He was, at last, willing to have us involved in Family Therapy. His father was ill and hospitalized for surgery. His emotions were straining from holding it all in and he told the therapist and me, “When I think like you, I’ve wasted a year of my life.” On New Year’s Eve, he watched Billy Graham’s telecast and became visibly upset. He quit his job and secretly had the cult pick him up outside his place of work. They returned him home at the usual time for a few days until I discovered them. He expected to stay in the cult and continue Family Counseling, but we could not agree to this. He agreed to continue individual therapy, but has not done so due to being so busy out of state on the fund-raising tours.

__________________________________

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 1 Ken Sudo’s 120-day Training Manual and Moonie telephone fraud

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 2 Moon’s mass marriages are “a form of sex perversion”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 4 “only if she got rid of the baby and gave it up for adoption”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 5 Moon is a man devoid of of human compassion

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 6 “One of your ancestors was a peeping Tom.”

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 7 Secret 1975 marriage, shaking and vomiting

Voices of parents of children lost to the moonies 8 Many parents suffered heartbreak after losing their children to the Moonies

[power-chords]

Just my two cents, but: It’s complicated! Justine’s probably no worse of a mother than Vincent is as a stepfather or husband, and one of the interesting things Mann does is to subtly pin the blame on Vincent as the originator of all this domestic discord, and not-so-subtly suggest that he is an extremely unreliable narrator. It’s his inattention that both Justine and Lauren are reacting to, and they have each correctly identified that they can only induce a complete, sustained, authentic emotional response from him by replicating the kinds of adrenaline-infused crisis scenarios that he is otherwise pursuing on the streets of LA. You know. Chasing guys around!

He’s non-communicative. He’s not present. Something about his expressions of concern feel rote, performed, even hypocritical (“I mean does this guy have any idea what’s going on with his kid?”). He has two modes of interacting with the women in his life: deflection and disengagement — you may notice that he often uses Lauren, when she is not present, as a way of redirecting conversations away from his and Justine’s obvious marital dysfunction — and explosive theatrics. This is a man who will NOT do marriage counseling and frankly sneers at the premise of “talking” about one’s problems; the implication during that scene in the restaurant with Justine is that he has tried therapy already or maybe been forced into it, probably for PTSD, and it didn’t take. (“So let me share that with you. Come on, let’s share that, and in sharing it, we’ll somehow, er, cathartically dispel all that heinous shit. Right? Wrong.”) Imagine if he had ever once, over the course of the film, spoken to either Lauren or Justine for as long as he does with Neil at the diner, and with as much sensitivity, vulnerability, and laser-focused interest ;)

For all the love he has for his wife and stepdaughter — and I do believe he does love them! — he still giddily skips out on them, down the stairs, to chase Neil McCauley while Lauren is recovering from a near-successful suicide attempt in Vincent’s hotel room. This is almost unimaginably horrible to me, as a daughter! It's awful beyond comprehension. Like, it makes me ill. What he should have said, regardless of Justine’s overtures of gratitude and understanding, was something like: “No, I’m going to stay right here. I’m going to stay here with you and with her until she wakes up, because I have an obligation to be present for her when she does. If I want to be a parent to her, that is my obligation. And it supersedes my duty to the LAPD, who has a whole army of cops at their disposal to hunt down this criminal. All Lauren has right now is you and me.”

Honestly Justine sucks as a mom. I’m sorry but if you are such a poor parent that your young child can wonder across the city to her step-father’s apartment to commit suicide, and you don’t notice until her step-father brings her into the hospital, you are utterly awful.

Like, you were busy cheating on your second husband bc you felt lonely instead of spending time with your child that had a deadbeat bio-dad.

[poppywrites41]

Captive Love Ch. 2

Prince! Yoongi x Maid! Reader

Here is chapter 2! This chapter will focus on Y/N’s first day of work…and maybe a little bit of a cliffhanger.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing, violence, description of past deaths, mentions of smut

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“Rise and shine girls!” Lilith shouts through the halls of the servants’ quarters, her meaty fists pounding on each of the girl’s doors. Y/N swears she can feel her room shake every time that woman’s fist comes in contact with a door. “You all have 10 minutes to get dressed and come down to eat!” Lilith calls, her heels clacking away. Y/N raises her arms up to stretch. She looks out of her small window to see a garden with a path that leads to a small set of doors going into the back of the castle. She turns to her cupboard and takes out her servant’s outfit. She takes off her dress that she wore yesterday, neatly folded it like her mother taught her to, and placed it in the cupboard. She took a look at the outfit laid out on the bed. It was not elegant in the slightest, but it was sure prettier than any outfit she had worn in her life. It was a pretty beige with ¾ sleeves that were flexible enough to move the arms comfortably to perform the needed tasks. The skirt was neatly fitted on the waist and ran to the ankles. It was not puffy at all and had a comfortable feel to it. And to top it all off, pretty little white lace ruffles were added to the ends of the sleeves and around the top opening to give it some style, which Y/N really appreciated. When she got the dress on, Y/N took a look at herself in the small mirror hanging on her wall above her tiny sink. She spotted some dirt on her cheeks, probably from the wagon, so she splashed her face with water, rubbing at her skin. After her facewash, she noticed how messy her hair had gotten. She ran her fingers through the h/c locks and tied the hair in the front to the back, creating a half up-half down style. She made her way to her door, slipping on her shoes and head down the hall to the servants dining hall.

When she arrived, she found a seat at a table where some of the girls she arrived with yesterday were sitting at. They were not talking to each other as much as the other servants were, probably because they were new or nervous. Y/N sat down next to a young girl with dark brown hair. Once she sat down, an older woman brought her a tray with a piece of bread, some water and a small bowl of what looked like to be chicken broth. Y/N turned to the girl and offered a small smile, “Hi, I’m Y/N. We came together on the wagon yesterday. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.” The girl’s hazel eyes met hers and she gave Y/N a small smile, “It’s okay. I’m Emily. I don’t really talk when I’m nervous. I have a lot of anxiety when I feel pressured.” She said in a quiet tone. “I get it. I am totally nervous. I mean, yesterday I was living my normal life and now suddenly, I’m a servant to the royal family. The people who I thought of as family, gave me away for money without a second thought.” Y/N said taking a bite of her bread and immediately chasing it down with some water. Emily frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.” “So,” Y/N said after eating a spoonful of the bland broth, “How did you get here?” Emily looked down at her food and played with it with her spoon, “I’m actually a twin. My sister and I are daughters of bakers. My mom and dad worked so hard their entire life, baking for the royal family. My sister was a big help in the kitchen. She is so smart, kind, outgoing and beautiful. She is pretty much everything I am not. I would usually mess up tasks that would get me in trouble, but she would always defend me. My parents loved me, don’t get me wrong, they were just worried about me a lot. I wasn’t let out a lot. I could have been an embarrassment to them. Then, my sister met a man who came from a good family. They fell in love and are to be married. However, the guards came before the wedding and were trying to get my parents to give them my sister for a large sum of money. So that’s when I volunteered myself to go in her place. I didn’t want her to leave everything behind and to ruin her chance of a happily ever after, so I went in her place.” Y/N looked at the girl with awe, “You are such a good and brave sister to go in her place. I’m sure she is very thankful for you. I don’t think you are an embarrassment. Just stick with me and we will get through this together!” Emily smiles at her and nods in agreement. Before anything else could be said, Lilith’s voice was booming throughout the room, “Mealtime is over! Everyone sit down a listen. Tomorrow is the Grand Royal Gala so we will need to clean the castle extra today. Royal families from all over the country will be attending so I want that castle spotless. Here are the groups and their tasks for the day. Rosetta, you and your hall will clean the floors and windows of the ball room. Claire, take your girls and polish all of the utensils and dishware. Isabel, you and your hall are in charge of cleaning the dinning hall. I want that space especially clean.”

While scrubbing away the dirt on the floor of the halls, Y/N reflected on what Elizabeth informed them about the royal family:

First off, the king. He has his own personal servants who clean, dress and cook for him, so it was highly unlikely for her to be involved with him. He is a strict ruler and likes for everything to be perfect. He does not interfere much with his sons’ lives, but he is more attentive to his two eldest sons. He wants to make sure they are both well-educated and fit enough to rule the kingdom when his time is up.

Same goes for the queen. She is a more carefree person than her husband. She enjoys balls and festivities. She interacts more with her sons than her spouse, but definitely more with her youngest sons, since the older ones are with the king or in counsel or military meetings. She clearly loves her family but is not the most observant or caring mother. She lets them do as they please.

Now, the eldest prince, Prince Seokjin. He is the next in line for the throne. Elizabeth said that he is very serious about his role in the family. With his brothers, he can be a fun person who will crack jokes and enjoy the company of others. But when wronged, he can be a completely different person. He once chopped off a chef’s fingers for making a soup too spicy for his liking and fed those fingers to his dogs. Since he will most likely become king in the near future, more galas will be held to find the prince a suitable wife. Overall, Y/N believes that she will not be in contact with the prince very often either.

The second eldest is Prince Yoongi, the second in line for the throne. According to Elizabeth, he rarely shows his face in public. He is extremely introverted. He keeps to himself, usually in his room where he will write poems, or he will be sleeping. Even with his introverted nature, he is somewhat of a genius. Elizabeth said that when he was a teenager, the king went to war with a foreign land and was at a disadvantage. It was Prince Yoongi, at age 16, that stepped in and completely remodeled the military tactics, which won them the war. However, like his brother, when wronged, he turns into a beast. One day, he was asleep in his room when a servant came in to clean. The servant did not notice the prince asleep and continued his task. It was not until he accidentally knocked the prince’s favorite ink off of his table and spilled it on the ground. The prince woke up in a rage. The man tried to apologize to the prince, only to have himself sent to the dungeons for a week with no food or water. On the last day, Prince Yoongi went down to see the servant, only to behead him himself.

When Elizabeth told them that story, Y/N felt deep chills run down her spine. Hopefully she won’t have to interact with Yoongi during her time at the castle.

From what she heard about the third and fourth oldest princes, Hoseok and Namjoon, they are not as hot tempered as the two eldest. Hoseok is a kind person with a bubbly personality, but when he is pushed the wrong way, he can be a force to be reckoned with. Namjoon on the other hand has not publicly displayed any hostile actions. He is extremely smart and a good leader. From what Elizabeth said, Namjoon is somewhat of a leader to all the brothers. He is very considerate of all of their opinions and is able to settle any arguments between the brothers. Y/N does not suspect to have any issues with those two princes.

Now the last three. Jimin and Taehyung, the fraternal twins who like to cause mischief in the palace. They seem to like to pick on the staff and belittle anyone who is of lower status then themselves. Out of the two of them, Taehyung is more sadistic. He will keep harassing staff members until they leave, hurt themselves or commit suicide. Jimin on the other hand, likes to make people, especially the women he has accompany him in his chambers, feel like they cannot survive without him. Whenever he has wronged one of his girls and they try to talk to him about it, he uses his charming attitude and well-chosen words to turn the whole conversation around onto the girls. He would make them feel like they were the ones who wronged him, and they would apologize to him and swear that they will do better.

Last but not least, the youngest prince, Jungkook. He had everything handed to him on a diamond plate. Elizabeth noted that his beauty almost rivals that of his oldest brother and Jungkook knows it. She said that he excels in anything he does. However, he is probably the scariest out of all the brothers. Jungkook can get away with anything…ANYTHING. Apparently, he was in love with a princess once and planned on marrying her. One day before he planned on proposing to her, he caught her having sex with one of his guards in the library. Furious, he went to his room and waited for her to return. When she did, he asked her where she was, and she lied to him saying that she went for a walk in the palace garden. Jungkook then called the guard she was with into his room and had two guards block the doors out of his room. He tied the princess to a chair, ignoring her cries trying to convince him that she would never cheat on him. He then ordered the guard to remove all of his clothing, leaving him nude. Jungkook had the guard put on prison cuffs himself while the prince hammered a hook into the wall. He beckoned the naked guard to lift his cuffed hands onto the hook. Once everything was in place, he slowly began to castrate the guard, relishing in the man’s screams of agony and the princesses’ shrill screams of horror. After he castrated him, Jungkook swiftly sliced the man’s neck, causing blood to spew out from the slash and him to choke on his own blood, all the while Jungkook forced the princess to watch. Once the man’s body stopped twitching, he untied the frozen princess and took her to his balcony. The princess began apologizing to the prince promising that she will never be unfaithful to him ever again, swearing her loyalty to him and begging for his forgiveness. He gave her a warm smile and gave her a small kiss on the lips, telling her that she is forgiven. And Just as the princess began to relax, Jungkook shoved her over the balcony and watched her body fall to ground. When the prince’s parents found out, they sent word to the princesses’ father that she had run off with a man and that they cannot find them anywhere. The princesses’ father believed them and sent search parties all around the country, never to find out the truth about what happened to his daughter. It’s because of that incident that Jungkook ends the lives of those who betray him.

All of a sudden, she heard something being knocked over and water spilling. Then a sudden cry of pain. Worried that one of girls hurt themselves, Y/N immediately got up and ran down the hall towards the noise, ignoring Emily telling her not to involve herself.

Y/N could hear a males voice from down the hall, “You stupid whore!! Your spilled you water on my fucking new shoes!!”

Once she turned the corner to where she would find the girl, her eyes widened, and her heart stopped.

[starblazekirara]

The Violet Star and the Owlet

Something I wrote a while back, when my OC Nova first meets Octavia and Stolas

A small crowd was talking in the back garden of the palace of Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia. His wife Stella took the chance to host a tea party of sorts while he was away at the Hell counsel that day. A small 5 year old owlet with pink eyes stood near the back staying out of the way of the adults, their child Octavia stood around bored, even though her mother has to watch her for that day. Octavia didn't have any toys around her to try and play with, she went up to her mother.

“Can you play with me some mommy?” asked Octavia as she tugged on her mother's dress. Stella annoyed turned down to the little girl.

“Can't you see I'm busy child! I can't be bothered to play with you, go bother someone else.” Stella answered dryly with annoyance. The child thought she was just that, a pest to her mother, even thought she just wanted to play with her like more children do.

“Daddy would play with me.” Octavia said to herself. Her mother scoffed as she heard her.

“Well your father is at an important meeting, and won't be back till later, so, just play out of our way.” Stella shooed her daughter away from her and her guests. Octavia went back to her little spot in the garden and gave a little pout, she was going to bored at one of her mother's parties, again. But a green and black butterfly caught the little owlet's eye, it fluttered around her, Octavia giggled as she tried to catch it and started to follow it, but the insect slipped out between the bars of the back gate, Octavia was small enough to slip through the bars as well while her mother's back was turned and wandered away from the palace.

Meanwhile one other Goetia was out in the city this one was much older about 15, her name was Nova Celestine, her father held a presidential rank within the Goetia family, she didn't mind being low on the caste scale. But Nova had always been a bit different than other members in looks, she possessed the traditional white face as any other bird demons, hers was like new fallen snow, this delicate face was framed with ashen gray feathers that cascaded down her back, shades of lavender would grace ones eye when the light touched her hair just right. And unlike most members of the Goetia she also possessed a growing expanse of feathers from her knees downward, dark as rain clouds yet glimmered with lavender stars, each step she took the clouds soften them making her near silent as she walked.

Nova looked a slip of paper at an address that was written on it, she looked around but couldn't find it. She scratched her head out of confusion,

“Where is that place? Did I get the directions wrong?” Nova asked herself, she was about to ask someone when she heard it, the sound every demon fears, the sound of tornado like sirens. Nova looked at her flip phone only to see an alert that would make anyone's stomach drop.

'Alert! ALERT! EXTERMINATION NOW STARTING!! Seek shelter IMMEDIATELY!!' Demons, imps and sinners of all kinds scrambled to get into a nearby stable shelter.

“But it wasn't suppose to happen till tomorrow! Crap! There's got to be a-” Nova told herself, somehow she over the screaming and shouting, she heard crying, the crying of child, she followed it till she found a owlet in the middle of the street, crying. Nova could see she was a pink starry dress, and had pink eyes Octavia had gotten lost and was only seen by the one with lavender eyes.

“Is that a kid?! Why is she alone when it's about to become a bloodbath down here?!” Nova asked herself, she looked between a safe building and back to the child, any other heartless being would leave the child to save their own skin, but this wasn't her, she couldn't let an innocent die in this sick version of a purge.

“I-I can't leave her!” said Nova as she dashed out into the street and scooped up a crying Octavia, the child looked up at who had just saved her.

“Hey don't be scared, you'll be safe with me, where are your parents?” Nova asked in a frantic state.

“I wandered away from home, and-and now I'm lost!” Octavia cried.

“Listen you know what those sirens mean right?” Nova asked her. Octavia was trying to find her voice in all the chaos that was happening around her, she then remembered what her father had told her about if she ever heard those sirens.

“My daddy told me they meant something bad was to happen, but it only happened once a year.” young Octavia answered her rescuer. Nova was relieved that the little girl knew about them.

“Right, we need to wait this out somewhere safe, no one will let us in right now, but we'll find a place.” Nova told the child as they got out of the open, the older girl ducked between ally-ways and shadows while keeping the child close to her, shielding her from any carnage they came across.

“I-I-I want to go home......I.....I want daddy and mommy...” Octavia whimpered as she buried her face in Nova's feathers, the teen brought her face up to her own.

“Oh, I know you do sweetheart, but as soon as this is over with we'll go find them.” said Nova. Octavia rubbed away some tears from her eyes.

“Y-you promise?” asked Octavia. Nova smiled warmly at her.

“Of course, but what's your name?” Nova replied.

“Octavia, and you're older than me.” said Octavia.

“Yeah, but I'm Nova, and we're friends now that we know each other's names.” Nova told her. Octavia smiled she at least wasn't alone in a scary place anymore. She couldn't wait to tell her father about her new friend. Nova looked around.

“But right now we need some shelter to wait this out otherwise-” screaming cut off what she was about to say next.

“That's going to be us, no place will let us in right now! Where can we-” Nova told the child as they ran, but screaming and shouting was anywhere they went, but rounding a corner she was met with tall figures with angel wings and white glowing weapons standing over a pile of dead demons.

“Oh no, Exterminators!” Nova explained. One of them heard her and turned. Nova kept a tight hold of Octavia and shielded her from what was before them. 'They spotted us!' thought Nova. Both Exterminators turned to them, fear rose in the older girls throat, she pressed the owlet close to her and looked down at her.

“Listen sweetheart, close your eyes and keep them shut, we're going to be okay.” Nova told her, Octavia did what she was told and buried her face in Nova's top, using her free hand a spark of starry violet fire lit up in her hand.

'I swore I'd never use this, but I have very little choice, I promised to get her home.' thought Nova. A spear was raised to them when a large shadow darted between them, the blade being cut in half clattering to the ground.

“Don't even think it!” the figure growled, Nova looked up and saw a very imposing female Hellhound between her and the Exterminators. Her fur was a dark gray with black markings on her face and legs along with her wrists, her tail had a gold chain around it and as a belt on her torn up Capri's. Nordic runes were tattooed on her right arm in red, shoulder length light navy hair stood out second only to her green eyes, a lot of hounds had red eyes but green was something else.

“I am Arnora Helblod, direct descent of Finrir. That child is a member of the Ars Goetia, her father is a very powerful prince, and what do you dumb-asses think will happen when he finds out you killed her? You want an all out war?!” the hound shouted, the Exterminators looked between each other.

'Wait, this child is a member of the Goetia like me? But her father is.....is a prince?!” thought Nova as she looked down at Octavia, her eyes still shut tightly. The Exterminators looked between each other and spoke between themselves. Nova couldn't understand what they were saying.

'That hound is way too strong for us, and she's right, Goetia members are off limits, we don't want a war to start over this.' one of them said.

'If we kill the child of a powerful prince you're right, we're done here anyways, lets go to the next area.' the second one said, both Exterminators left. The fires in Nova's hand died down as Arnora turned to them.

“Arnora was your name? Thank you.” said Nova.

“If you don't want to be here when they come back, follow me.” Arnora told her Nova started to follow the hound, doing her best tot keep up with her while carrying a little owlet.

“What's your name?” Arnora asked as they ran.

“Nova.” she answered. They came upon a what looked like a shelter that was hardly used let alone known about, at the door was another Hellhound that looked no older than Octavia, her fur was the same as Arnora's and the hair was a lighter blue than her own, one eye of hers was green the other blue, the pup waved to them.

“Mom!” called the pup, taking Nova's hand the two ran for the door.

“Lyssa! Get ready to shut that door, we got guests!” Arnora shouted, Lyssa was the pup's name, once inside the door slammed shut and with a few twists of the handle was locked, the two caught their breath as a light was turned on, there wasn't much, a few blankets and a radio to keep a listen for things outside, but nothing would be able to get in.

“You guys can wait the day out here, not a chance anything will get in.” Arnora told them. Nova sat on a nearby bench, catching her breath, Octavia looked around when she saw they had stopped running.

“I can't even start to thank-” Nova was interrupted when Octavia saw the hound and knew her right away.

“Auntie Arnora?” Octavia whimpered. Arnora's eye's widened when she saw the owlet Nova was holding in her arms, her heart almost stopped when she saw how scared she looked.

“What the?! Octavia?! What in the name of Odin are you doing out here?!” Arnora exclaimed as she knelt down to the child, checking her over, relieved she was unharmed.

“You know her?!” said Nova.

“Her father is my best friend, prince Stolas, I am Octavia's godmother.” Arnora answered. Nova gulped when she learned that Octavia's father was the rank of a prince.

'Oh crap! I just saved the daughter of a high ranking member!' Nova's thoughts screamed out. Arnora snarled as her claws dug into the ground, trying to stay happy and calm for the child's sake.

“Octavia, where is your mother?” Arnora asked trying to stay calm.

“At the palace.....I.....I wandered off, I just wanted to play.....and got lost...” Octavia answered. Arnora took a deep breath and stood up, she looked like she was going to kill the next thing she laid her eyes on, her hands balled up into fists.

“Of course she was having a party and didn't pay attention, oh Stolas is going to love this.” Arnora told herself, before she pulled out her phone.

“I have to call him, can you keep an eye on her until I get back?” Arnora asked Nova , the teen nodded as she still held the owlet.

The owl prince paced the floor of one of the spare rooms of the counsel halls, on the phone with his wife yelling at her, his feathers and temper rose each time he spoke with her.

“What do you mean you can't find her Stella?! Our daughter is out there and there's an Extermination happening right outside our home! You were suppose to watch her but you HAD TO HAVE A PARTY!!!! IF ANYTHING happens to our little girl, consider divorce papers in my hand when I get back!” Stolas shouted into the phone. He heard incoherent screaming on the other end, so loud Stolas held the phone away from his head, once the volume went down he brought it back up to his head.

“Oh I wish I was joking woman! I-” A second phone rang in the office, Stolas looked at the ID and saw who it was, he groaned as he rolled his eyes.

“Uhggg, I need to take this call, we'll talk about this when I get back!” Stolas exclaimed as he slammed the phone back onto the receiver. He tried to calm his thoughts, his little owlet is outside the palace walls on one of the worst days of the year, but talking to his best friend might help, even help find her. He picked up the second phone.

“Arnora now is really not the time for-” Stolas was cut off by the hounds voice.

“Stolas shut your beak for 5 seconds! I have Via! She's in my bunker with myself and Lyssa along with-” The second the owl prince is daughter was safe, his face lit up, the worst thoughts left his mind, Arnora would never be this cruel as a joke to him.

“Via's with you?! She's safe?!” the prince exclaimed, he felt himself about to collapse onto the floor with relief, he held on to a chair to keep from falling, his heart was racing.

“Yes, and we'll chew your hag wife out when this is over with and-.” Arnora could hear her friend about to have a form of panic attack.

“Oh thank the cosmos she's safe, Stella told me she couldn't find her I just.....” Stolas could feel his mind racing is Arnora had told him other wise. She could hear the relief in his voice, but also the shear fear in it as well, the hound had never heard her friend with this much fear in him.

“I know, but she's safe right now, with her new friend and us.” Arnora assured him.

“Wait, new friend?” asked Stolas as he sat up a bit.

“Yeah, she found Via when I caught to up with them, just in time too.” Arnora told him. Stolas gulps and felt himself about to break down in that office space, he needed to hear his daughter's voice, to know he's was still slightly sane.

“I want to talk to them, please Arnora.” Stolas almost begged her.

“Alright Stol, just give me a few minutes, Nova is trying to help calm Via down.” Arnora told him as she peaked over her shoulder looked back at her daughter Lyssa hugging the smaller child, while Nova held Octavia in a blanket as she sat on the floor. It was the first time Stolas had heard this young woman's name. “Nova?” he asked.

“That's the girl's name, looks very much like a Goetia, she must be low rank cause I've never seen her before, she looks 15 maybe, just a teen, But this girl is a spitfire, she was about to fight an Exterminator to keep Via safe.” Arnora told him.

“If you didn't show up....please, let me talk to them.” said Stolas. Arnora smiled as she turned back to the rest of the group. “Alright, hang on.” She told her friend.

“There, feel a little better honey?” Nova asked Octavia as wrapped the child up in the blanket. Octavia looked like she wanted to cry.

“Sort of, I just want to go home, I want my daddy...” Octavia sniffled as she wiped some tears away from her eyes. Nova couldn't help but feel her soul crack seeing this child cry, scared and wanting her family. Nova held her close and wiped away some more tears.

“I know sweetheart, and you'll be back with before you know it, it's just not safe right now.” Nova told the child. Arnora came over an knelt down to them, holding the same phone, the owlet looked at her hound godmother.

“Octavia, I have your dad on the phone, you can at least talk to him, until you can get home. And he wants to talk to you as well.” Arnora told the child then looked to the young lady, Nova felt herself turn bright red and didn't know how to respond to this, she had never spoken to such a high ranking member of the Goetia before in her life.

“M-me?! Her father is a prince, I'm just the daughter of a president, lowest rank there is. Why would he even-” Arnora placed a hand on Nova's shoulder and smiled at her.

“Trust me on this, he doesn't give a crap about rank.” Arnora told her. Nova still needed some time to build up nerve, she looked down at Octavia then back to Arnora.

“Let, let Octavia talk to him first.” Nova told her.

“Stol, here she is.” Arnora told her friend before giving the phone to the small owlet, she brought it up to her face. Stolas was waiting with baited breath before he heard the voice that was always music to him. “Daddy?!” Octavia spoke into the phone, his heart jumped into his throat the second he heard his child's voice.

“Octavia! It's me Octavia dear! Oh thank the stars you're safe, you had me so worried.” Stolas told his daughter, trying his best not to cry from happiness.

“I-I just wanted to play daddy and I wandered away from the palace, are.....are you mad at me? Am I in trouble?” Octavia asked him in a scared voice. He had never heard her this scared before and he wasn't there to comfort her, to make her feel better like before.

“No, no no no dearest, I'm not mad, I'm just happy you're somewhere safe.” assured Stolas. Octavia let a few sobs escape before she tired to speak again. Stolas could feel his heart breaking at the sound of his daughter's crying and him not being there was tearing at him.

“I-I-I want to come home daddy, I'm....I'm really scared.” Octavia sobbed. If he could he would have reached through the phone to hold her, hug her, tell her everything was going to be alright if he was there with her.

“I know my starfire I know you do, but it isn't safe for Arnora to bring you back just yet, but you get to have a sleep-over with Lyssa, you always have fun at them, just like when she stays over at our home, but listen, I know this is very scary, but, I know you are my brave little starfire, everything will be alright, you will be okay, remember my song?” Stolas did his best as always to comfort his daughter, all while trying to keep from crying as he talked with her.

“Yes...” Octavia told him softly, he forced a smile over the phone.

“That's my brave owlet, now, can I speak with the young lady who found you?” Stolas asked her.

“You mean big sister Nova?” replied Octavia. The prince gave a slight chuckle, she barely knew her savior and was already calling her a big sister.

“Already have a second big sister now? Hm, I see nothing wrong with that, but let me talk to her though.” said Stolas. “Alright.” Octavia replied.

“And Octavia?” Stolas asked her. “Yes?” Octavia answered back to him.

“I'll call you back tonight, to sing you that lullaby, and I promise, I will be there at the palace entrance waiting for you when this is all over with.” said Stolas.

“Really?” Octavia asked him sounding hopeful.

“Yes, really, just be good for auntie Arnora, and.....let me talk with big sister Nova.” Stolas answered her. Octavia nodded and passed the phone to Nova.

“Daddy wants to talk to you.” Octavia told her sister figure as she handed her the phone. Nervously Nova took it from the child's hand.

'Oh great, I have to talk to a prince. Just breath, you did nothing wrong.' Nova thought to herself as she placed the phone near hear face.

“H-he-hello? Your highness?” Nova spoke with a shaken manner in her tone.

“Are you lady Nova?” asked Stolas. The older girl gulped, she still had some fears about answering to one of the higher ranks, but she knew how to talk to nobility, and he did sound kind, just worried for his daughter more than his own life.

“I-I am, your highness-” Nova answered him.

“Oh! You have no idea how thankful I am for what you've done! You saved my daughter, I am forever grateful to you! If there's anything you want from me, clothes, jewelry, rare books, magic lessons anything you want and I will make sure you have it.” Stolas told her.

Nova was surprised at the generosity of the prince, all these items for her because his child was safe? She must mean so much to him, but she didn't want anything, she couldn't take anything from him just out of the goodness that was a rare thing in the 7 rings.

“Y-your highness, I-I don't want anything like that, just knowing that your daughter is safe and back with you is more than enough for me.” Nova told him. Stolas was shocked, this young lady didn't want a fancy dress or jewels like most girls her age would have asked for in a heartbeat. He had never heard this kind of thing before in his life.

“Such modesty for a young lady like yourself, my daughter could learn a thing or two from you, and you don't have to keep calling me your highness, no need for such formalities among friends, please call me Stolas.” He spoke to her again. Nova gave a small smile.

“If.....if you want me to, but I do promise, I will protect Octavia.” Nova said to him, but what he told her next was a surprise.

“I fully trust you with my daughter, better than I trust my wife right about now.” replied Stolas, Nova gave a nervous chuckle before she gulped.

“You don't even know me that well yet, and you'd still trust me with your little girl?” Nova asked him. Stolas smiled on the other end of the phone.

“I can tell from your from your voice, and Arnora told me you risked your life to save her, not many would have done what you just did, I look forward to meeting you in person when you bring my daughter back, please take good care of her.” Stolas answered.

“S-she is safe with me, I promise.” Nova vowed to the prince. Stolas smiled as a few hidden tears fell from his face. “Thank you.” said Stolas before he hung up the phone and just broke down in the chair he was sitting in.

Outside the carnage still raged outside, the fate of those not in a shelter was sealed. Those in the hidden bunker did their best to block out the sounds they were hearing. Arnora stood up to look outside, it had already become dark, the half way mark of this event. Once chimes rang out at midnight, it would all be over. She came back over to her friends.

“Well, it's nightfall, just make it till morning and this will be all over with.” Arnora told them. Nova got up to stretch some from all the siting she had been doing.

“Dose this just get longer every year mom? It feels like it.” Lyssa asked her mother. Arnora sat next to her and held her closer.

“Feels like it, I'll turn on the radio in the morning to hear when it's over, then we can head to Stolas's palace.” Arnora told them. Nova looked back over at Octavia, who hadn't moved from her spot and was just trying her best to not start crying again. The teen silently walked over to this child. “Daddy...” Octavia whimpered, Nova sat next to the frightened child, putting an arm around her.

“You really miss your dad, huh?” asked Nova. Octavia sniffled as she rubbed her eyes.

“Mommy's never around, she's always having these parties, she tell me to leave when I want to play, she never wants to play with me or be at her parties.” Octavia answered..

“You mother doesn't sound very nice.” Nova told her.

“I've met her, and trust me, she is a real piece of work.” Arnora told Nova, Octavia curled up closer to Nova, the teen guessed the warmth reminded the child of her father and just wanted that form of comfort at the time.

“Is she that bad?” Nova asked.

“If a black mamba could that would be her.” scoffed Arnora.

'Okay there's an image.' thought Nova. A vibration sound from Arnora's phone caught her ear. She picked it up and saw who it was on the caller ID.

“Via, it's your dad again.” Arnora called over. Octavia darted over to her godmother.

“He kept his promise!” Octavia exclaimed with happiness, Arnora smiled at her as she messed with a little bit of her hair.

“Has he ever broken one to you yet, my sweet little raven.” said Arnora, she flipped opened her phone and hit the answer button before turning it over to Octavia.

“Daddy!” Octavia spoke with such happiness. Stolas could feel himself trying not to cry once again when he heard his daughter's voice.

“Via! Oh my owlet you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, even if it's over a phone, are you about ready to go to sleep?” Stolas asked her.

“I know you'll be waiting for me at home when I wake up right? And you can tell me stories at bedtime like always?” Octavia asked him. The prince choked back some tears upon hearing his daughter's request, he always did his best to tell his daughter a bedtime story every night.

“As many stories as you want my starfire, as many as your little heart desires.” Stolas answered. He then heard whimpering and he could feel his heart start to break once more hearing her about to cry.

“Are you still a little scared my dear? That I'm not there, and all the sounds outside?” Stolas asked his daughter. Octavia started to cry once again, Stolas could hear her over the phone once more.

“Y-yes.....I'm.....I'm trying to be brave and.....not cry but-” Octavia broke down crying. Oh how desperately Stolas wanted to reach through the phone and hug his daughter tightly, to tell her how things were going to be okay.

“Via dear shhhh shhh it's alright, even the bravest of us get scared, I-I'm actually scared right now.” Stolas did his best to comfort her over the phone.

“Really? But I've never seen you scared.” said Octavia.

“I am now, because I thought I was going to lose you, and I always have to be brave for you, that's how you know everything will be okay, and if it's not okay, then it's not the end, you just have to be brave for tonight, alright?” Stolas said to his daughter.

“I-I'll try.” Octavia told him before he heard a tiny yawn on the other end of the line.

“Sounds like someone is sleepy, ready for that lullaby I promised you?” asked Stolas. Octavia rubbed her eyes as she tired to stay awake “Yes.” Octavia answered sleepily.

“Good, now make yourself comfortable, and pretend you're back home in your bed, safe and sound.” Stolas started to speaking softly. Then a soft melody came through the phone putting almost everyone to sleep, Lyssa curled up under a blanket near her mother, while Octavia used part of Nova's dress as a pillow as she too was fast asleep under the covers. Nova could barely stay awake herself. Arnora slipped the phone back from a sleeping owlet.

“She's asleep Stol.” Arnora told her friend.

“Arnora, thank you so much for this.” Stolas replied.

“What are best friends for, you'd know I'd do anything to make sure my god-daughter is safe, because god's help the one who hurts her.” Arnora nearly snarled. Stolas gave a nervous laugh before he gulped, he knew this hounds temper all too well.

“I have not forgotten your temper, not in the least, and Stella sure hasn't.” replied Stolas. The hound smirked at the name of his wife.

“Chew that bitch out yet?” Arnora asked.

“We had a nice little chat, she's no longer allowed to host parties on days she has to keep an eye on Via, at least until she's older, and the garden's gates leading outside to t he city are going to be locked whenever she's out there.” answered Stolas. Arnora gave a light laugh.

“Really stepping up your game, Stolas you're a great dad, don't let Stella tell you other-wise, she doesn't know you like I do.” Arnora told him, the prince gave a smile.

“Thank you Arnora, I'll see all of you tomorrow.” Stolas told her.

“See you then.” said Arnora before they both hung up their phones, Arnora placed the phone within reach just to be safe before she too covered herself with a blanket and started to fall asleep. In the middle of the night, Nova was stirred awake by soft crying, she looked down in her lap and saw it was Octavia crying.

'Poor thing must be having a nightmare.' thought Nova, she placed her hand on the child's head and started to softly sing to her, just like her father had done.

“You're okay, you're alright, I'll never ever leave your side, I will stay, I will fight, for you.” Nova sang the melody then hummed it as she saw Octavia starting to calm back down. The teen smiled down at the child before falling back asleep herself. What sounded like fireworks woke up Arnora, she looked around and saw the others were still dead asleep, carefully she stood up so as not to wake her daughter. She found a pocket radio she kept on hand in the shelter, she turned it on with a click and heard the Radio Demon, Alastor's voice.

“And it's over now folks, we've gone through yet another Extermination, to those who are alive, well done you, just hope you can survive through to next year and-” Arnora turned it off, all she wanted to hear was that it was at last done with.

“Good we can take her home now, rise and shine everyone, we lived.” Arnora turned to her friends.

“It's really over?” Nova asked as Octavia yawned and rubbed her eyes trying to wake up, Lyssa stretched out a little. The larger hound nodded, if she wasn't already sitting down Nova would have fainted back onto the floor.

“Now to get you home Octavia, your dad has probably pulled out half of his feathers with stress worrying about you.” Arnora told the owlet, before standing up, Octavia hugged Nova's waist.

“Thank you for staying with me Nova.” Octavia told her. Nova couldn't help but hug the little girl back. Arnora unlocked the door and motioned for her two companions to follow her. Lyssa stepped out ahead of them and waited in an apartment stairwell.

“Bye bye Lys!” Octavia called out to her friend and waved.

“See ya later Via!” Lyssa shouted towards her friend as they left.

Arnora guided them through the city, avoiding where the turf wars were being raged, and punched away creeps or showed her teeth to them. When Octavia felt herself becoming tired she asked Nova to carry her. The hound was surprised how well the two were getting along, almost like they were sisters, the same way her pup got along with the owlet, there was something about this young lady. The sight of purple starry colored walls came into view, Arnora knew those walls.

“I can see the walls of the Palace, almost there.” Arnora told them.

“You should meet daddy big sister Nova, he might like you.” Octavia told her new sister figure.

“Um, I-I don't know if might like me Via honey, I-I'm pretty shy when meeting others.” Nova explained. Arnora chuckled at what she heard.

“Well he isn't shy at all, his wife on the other hand....I feel like I need to keep a spray bottle of holy water on hand for that witch.” said Arnora. There must be some bad blood between these two women to go at each others throats like this.

“You really hate her that much?” Nova asked the hound, they arrived at the gate. “Hate doesn't being to cover it.” answered Arnora as the gate opened up. At the foot of the steps was a tall owl man, looking so worried to the point where he might give out, his red eyes wide.

“Pacing at the steps, just like I thought.” Arnora told herself.

“Is that?” Nova started to ask.

“Yep, Prince Stolas, Via's dad.” answered Arnora. Octavia caught sight of the taller owl pacing in front of the palace, she felt her heart light up at the sight of her father, just as he promised, he was waiting for all of them, waiting for her.

“Daddy!” Octavia called out. Stolas stopped pacing, wondering if he was hearing things, it was his daughter's voice, it wasn't over a phone this time. “Octavia?!” Stolas called out, when he turned, he saw his Hellhound friend and another young lady, and in her arms was his daughter, safe. Nova placed Octavia on the ground. Stolas ran out as he saw his daughter running to him.

“Oh Octavia! You're safe!” Stolas cried out as he scooped his daughter into his arms and held her tightly, scared she was going to vanish, he kissed the top of her head as tears of joy fell from his eyes.

“I-I'm sorry daddy.....I didn't mean to leave the garden and-and...” Octavia started to cry on his shoulder. This time he was actually here for her, Stolas pulled her off his shoulder and used a finger to wipe away her stray tears.

“It's alright Via, I have my starfire back safe in my arms again, that's all I care about, I thought I'd lost you forever, because of your mother.” Stolas comforted his daughter all while trying not to cry himself as he held her tightly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Stol, she's alive, that's what matters, deal with Stel later.” Arnora told her friend. Stolas took a few deep breaths. Then looked at his daughter.

“You're right, I am taking the day off from meetings and whatever needs to be done, and spending the day with my daughter.” Stolas said.

“Really?” Octavia asked. He nodded.

“Anything you want to do today Via, we'll do it, go to the park, get ice cream, go stargazing, whatever you want to do.” answered Stolas as he hugged her again.

“But you need to meet big sister Nova first.” said Octavia. The prince had almost forgotten about his daughter's savior, he could see the teen trying not to be noticed, she looked away from him as he approached her. Nova gulped, she was far too nervous.

“You must be Nova.” said Stolas. She quickly bow to him.

“I-I am sire.” Nova answered, she dare not look up at and closed her eyes to be sure she didn't look at him, but he spoke with a kind voice to her.

“Your eyes, may I see them?” Stolas asked her.

“Really?” Nova replied to him. Stolas smiled at her.

“I can tell a lot about someone by looking into their eyes, and your voice sounds just as beautiful as it did over the phone.” answered Stolas. Trembling from the nervousness she felt, Nova raised her head and opened her eyes, the prince was taken back, he had never seen such eyes like these before.

“Eyes like amethysts, such a rare color, you have such beautiful eyes dear.” Stolas told her. Nova felt her heart racing when she saw the owl prince this close, but to say she had beauty was something she had never heard before.

“I-I-I have to leave, I'm glad Octavia's safe with you again, goodbye!” exclaimed Nova before she ran for the palace gate. “Wait I-” Stolas tried to follow her but by the time he reach the gate she had rounded the corner and was gone.

“I haven't thanked you properly.” Stolas added. Octavia looked up her father before looked back onto the street.

“Where did she go daddy?” asked Octavia.

“She might have had to go home dear.” Stolas answered her as he hugged her again and Octavia hugged her father back.

“Will I see her again? I really liked her.” Octavia told him, Stolas smiled.

“Maybe, you might find her again or she might find us, the world works in mysterious ways, and the stars might a line for us to see her again, someday when you're older.” Stolas told her. Octavia giggle as she felt her father's forehead against her own.

“But let's get you back inside, you've been through enough the last two days.” added Stolas as they returned into the palace walls. Nova peaked out from the wall she hid behind to get one last look at the kind owl prince, she had never felt her heart race before until she saw him.

'A prince, and I just ran off! He said I have beautiful eyes and voice, no one has ever told me that.....' thought Nova. She placed her hand over her chest, she felt a tiny smile upon her face and her face starting to feel warmth from the blushing.

'I want to see him again, one day.' Nova thought to herself one more time before she started the way home.