#protective older brother

[gumballavocadoharry]

Stumbling in: Brother Harry:

October wind fluffed your hair the minute you felt the cool evening chill of fall shore through your skin. The taxi watched you tightrope walk up on the little brick pathway from the garage to the front porch glimmering a little shine from the overhead porch light. It was a little lantern for you after being stuck in a claustrophobic car, suckling in vomit and head spins; blurry lights radiating through the window, the mucky dew smell of London at night sent a shiver of isolation and adventure up to your spine, feeling the brisk euphoria of feeling "grown up."

You waved the taxi off, watching it slowly and quietly pull out from the driveway and gain its momentum back in the main street. Standing there for a while looking and taking in all the shadows of the picture painting houses on the block. It was so quiet, jaded with emptiness and complete privacy outside. A nocturnal poloroid moment for you; alone, unnoticed, but shady. Street lights sent spotlights in front of them; spaced so pristine and perfect, that somehow you went unseen. No one could see or hear you. That was until you thought slowly opening the front door would be the same way. But in every household, there's always one person who's either halfway asleep or fully awake.

Harry. Your brother.

"Where were you?" His voice, filled with silent rage and sternness. His green eyes seemed to penetrate through you like it was a stranger that had appeared in his presence, not his younger sister. "I was out.... I'm sorry I'm late, I lost track of time-"

"I was worried sick! You didn't call or text- not so much as a voicemail that said: "Hey, it's yn, I'm sorry I'm late." Nothing." A warm flush poured through your cheeks, looking down at the little wood floor that sported dark blotches over them. You could feel Harry stepping closer to you, eventually feeling his finger lift your chin to his face. His eyes were scanning something deeper, you could tell....no matter how hard you wanted to focus and force yourself to identify what he was looking for, you couldn't.

"You've been drinking?" You furrowed your eyebrows, scoffing a huffed giggle, "Are you serious? No." Now Harry's eyebrows were furrowed. "Yes you were! Yn-" Harry pushed himself away from you to collect his composure. His temper was blaring, and if scared you..... enough for shaky inaudible breaths to echo from you and your legs to dart you from the front door and upstairs to the bathroom. You ejected whatever was running through your stomach with the beers you had before flushing the toilet and dragging yourself to your bedroom.

A ping whiffed through you, snaking through up to your lungs. It shot faster upon your brother's creaky steps on the stairs. Lights were dim, your head; empty and pounding and Harry's quiet peek into your bedroom with dreary eyes and a silent disappointment....you knew he was.

You could make out the shadow of door closing behind Harry as his silhouette dissolved from the hallway.

Dust bunnies tickled your nose, the glow of the morning sun shimmered through the window. The headache seemed to fade and bitter aftertaste of Bass Ale simmered away. Breakfast crept through the crack under the door; the thick smog of muffins clouded through your room. A tense of happy came over you thinking of fluffy dough that would float and melt on your tongue. But, realization of Harry being the only other in the house, interrupted the euphoric thought.

The clock was striking to nine. You couldn't put off breakfast any longer; loud roars of your stomach became intolerable. You changed out of your clothes from last night, donning fresh new ones before stepping down the stairs. Shame splashed onto you, seeing the back of Harry at the stove, cooking breakfast for you and him. After everything, he's still doing this for me..... You thought. You took one step closer, then another, then another...until there you were.....only a few steps away from him. He clicked the stove off, turned to you and then back to the muffins. "Breakfast is ready," he set them on the stove before going into the living room. The flicker of last night haunted you like a ghost swimming around your mind.

Those feet planted on the wood, back to back, shoulder to shoulder against the door, and those angry lasering eyes that bore into you like the sun at its angriest. You didn't know what to say... Harry was sitting in the rocking chair, reading through his text messages and you catching a glimpse from coming through the doorway.

Yn where are you?

Pick up!

Why aren't you answering your calls? I'm really worried about you!!! I've been driving for hours and....

Harry looked up to you, feeling your presence in his space. "Yes?..." You came around to Harry's front and ducked yourself into hug. "I'm sorry....I'm really sorry Harry.....I shouldn't have come home so late.."

Back was bare and drafty, until Harry's soft hands cupped themselves around your body. "Why were you drunk yn?" You pulled away, letting tears trickle down your cheeks. "I don't know....I had a few drinks and I guess I lost count." Harry shook his head, "Yn...."

"I just wanted a good time!" You blurted. Harry looked at you, his eyes softening, "There is no 'good time' in getting drunk. You lose complete control of your senses and that's very dangerous. Anything and anyone could've hurt you......and I wouldn't be there...no one would've been there yn. That's why I was so upset.. I'm very protective of you and if anything ever happened...I just don't know what I'd do." You swallowed, biting your lip, allowing the lecture to twist inside you, knowing your brother was right. You picked the thin lip skin with your teeth, nervously questioning what Harry was going to do.

"Come here yn," you fell into his arms again, "I love you very much....very much," the sweet whisper warmed you.

"Don't ever forget that." Harry squeezed tighter. The room was filled with the quiet silence of breathing and heartbeats. You didn't say it out loud, but internally...you promised Harry, you truly would never forget just how much you were loved.

[shipboards]

Kidou Yuuto x Otonashi Haruna moodboard with protective older brother and domestic themes for Anon

[defire]

Dance of Death Chapter 20:

Solutions to Slavery

Content: Child abuse, beating, humiliation, hurt/comfort, marks of torture, institutionalized slavery

Kit tensed as his father speared a clump of fried potatoes rather savagely. He had been thinking so hard he'd tuned out the conversation between his father and Caboodle, which normally was pretty tame.

He swallowed as he realized what Caboodle was saying.

"All I'm asking is when we're going to get to go back to meeting with the Souls–I mean, our friends." His little brother said.

The boy's hands were folded under his chin as he leaned forward in the salmon-pink chair by the window, like he was oblivious to his father's mood.

"No more blazing Souls!" Kit's father said, glaring at him as he ate fried potatoes in the living room. "And no more blazing Nife Raizden. You get that name out of your mouth. Understand me?"

Kit watched him chew, ready to spring to his feet the moment his father did. 

His father wasn't lecturing Kit today--if he was, he would have already blown up. Kit had privately mentioned that if they could make it safe for Nife to come home, everything could go back to normal. Ever since then, Caboodle had been talking to Glen about the Souls and how none of it was Nife's fault.  He was trying to convince their father to support the Souls, as if this, of all times, was a good time to get desperate and beg their dad for help.

Caboodle was looking at his fingernails and rubbing them with his thumb. 

"Do you understand me?" Glen repeated.

Caboodle looked their father in the eye.

"Dad, is there anything I can do to convince you to consider it?"

Their dad jumped to his feet, and so did Kit, immediately. To his surprise, Caboodle did the same thing.

The three of them faced off against each other around the coffee table, both Kit and Caboodle staring down their father, and their father's eyes fixed directly on Kit. Kit's hands were clenched, ready to step in and provoke his dad's attention away from Caboodle the moment he made a move. And his dad knew he would, which was why he wasn't giving Caboodle a second glance.

"He will." Kit said. "Right Caboodle?"

"You don't speak for me, Kit." Caboodle said, not harshly, but firmly.

Kit's eyes flicked between Caboodle's and his dad's, suddenly panicking.

"I won't let him, dad.” Kit said. “We're not doing that stuff anymore. He's just been a little testy since–"

"I can speak for myself!" Caboodle shouted, wheeling on Kit. "I'm not scared of Dad!"

"Well you should be," Glen snarled, moving to step around Kit, who instinctively extended his arm to stop him before he got to Caboodle.

Glen didn't mince words this time, but punched Kit in the stomach. He was very familiar with exactly how much it took to make Kit buckle. 

Kit fell to his knees, gasping out his air in front of Glen's fries on the coffee table. He could hear blows landing on Caboodle's face, and saw his dad dragging Caboodle to the kitchen to drench his head. Caboodle was silently struggling, pointlessly. He was half Dad’s size. Kit choked for breath, clutching his clenched-up gut, unable to get up to his feet as he heard Glen shouting at his little brother in the kitchen.

After a while, Kit heard that horrible sound--Caboodle crying. He'd promised himself he wouldn't have to hear it ever again, yet here it was coming down the entryway, more painful than a hundred punches. This was why Kit was the loud one. This was why Caboodle was supposed to shut up and let Kit take it.

Bent over his gut and feeling sick, Kit forced himself toward the kitchen, hearing his dad already stomping away. Glen pushed past him in the entryway, cursing at Kit.

"Don't you dare!" He shouted unspecifically, then stomped off to his study. He heard him slam and lock the door, as he often did after one of these episodes. Kit suspected he was actually trying to calm himself down before he got even more abusive.

Caboodle was on his knees, water dripping off his chin onto his knees, sobbing. When he looked up and saw Kit, he just cried in his face.

"It's your fault!" He yelled.

Kit stared at his little brother, who had gotten knocked against something and had some blood standing out on a bruised scrape on his glistening wet forehead. Even wet, his hair naturally took an almost fashionable style, and Kit found himself wanting to hug him just for that. That made the blame Caboodle had just thrown at him even more gut-wrenching. The punch he'd just taken didn't help either.

Feeling nauseous, he slid down against the cabinets, crossing his legs on the damp flagstones, and he dropped his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry." He said simply.

"You can't just say that!" Caboodle made a little hiccup as he tried to stop crying. "You can't just accept it when people blame you!"

"But... you said it was my fault." Kit said. "And I know you... you're good at making judgments like that."

"I'm crying!" Caboodle protested. "You can't trust anything I say!"

"...Is that really how it works?" Kit asked.

"Yes, I think so." Caboodle sniffed, wiping water and tears out of his eyes. "Aren't you going to hand me a towel?"

Kit made a little sigh and smiled, reaching up and grabbing a clean towel out of the hanger. He plopped back down with a little groan as he tossed it to his brother, who caught it and started mopping his hair, not looking at Kit.

"Great..." He muttered. "Now you've seen me like this. It's your fault that I'm so weak."

Kit winced, a dreadful feeling closing over his heart. Had he made Caboodle weak by protecting him?

"Stop taking me seriously." Caboodle said unreasonably.

Kit's mind floundered over the contradictions, not sure how much to blame himself, or what for. But his eyes involuntarily focused on the bleeding bruise on Caboodle's forehead, and he didn't say anything for a minute.

"Caboodle, this was... this was a one-time thing, right?" He said after a long pause. "You're not really going to openly challenge him about Nife, right?"

Caboodle sighed.

"I got doused, Kit." He blushed, rubbing at his hair. "And my head hurts. I'm not in a talking mood." 

His eyes teared up again as he said it.

But if Kit didn't talk to him now while the pain was still on his mind, he wouldn't take the threat seriously. Caboodle was always talking about how he wasn't scared of their dad these days, but he'd never stood up to him before like this.

"I'm sorry you got doused." Kit said. "I won't tell anyone, and I'll forget it ever happened. I can barely tell you're even wet. But please... this is the kind of thing I was trying to keep you from."

"I'm not a little kid anymore." Caboodle said. "I don't need your protection." 

His eyes widened as he said it, and he looked up almost pleadingly at Kit, but he swallowed like he was accepting the fear and choosing to be brave. Being brave was foolish, Kit knew from experience. He was foolish all the time.

"Why don't you just do what you're good at?" Kit said.

"Because I don't need your protection!"

"Okay, maybe you don't." Kit said consolingly. "But you've got to have some kind of armor."

"I have my mind." Caboodle said.

Kit was always telling him how smart he was, and apparently it had sunken in.

"I can enchant something to help." Caboodle sniffed, leaning his head back as he got more thoughtful. "Creack says you can enchant your own clairvoyance into something."

"Okay, that sounds right up your alley," Kit sighed with relief. "Let's do that. How can we help her with your enchanting?"

"Life magic." Caboodle said with a little smile, that grew bigger as he spoke. "Maybe there's a way to convince people to back that lawsuit you were talking about."

"Okay," Kit said, not really understanding, but hoping to get Caboodle onto a safer track. "What can I do to help?"

"Let's go talk to Creack." Caboodle said. "Will you come with me?"

Kit nodded. 

"Let's just hope Aunt Wry isn't still angry about Sunday."

After being admitted to the Wry mansion, they went straight to Creack's chambers, and were relieved that their aunt didn't appear on the way.

Kit was soon lost in Caboodle and Creack's technical talk about runes and personal enchantment styles, so he retreated quietly and shut the bedroom door behind him. When he turned toward the hall, he blinked, because he was almost certain that he had seen Nife there right before he'd turned, acting like she just belonged here.

Frowning, he followed a slave down the hall, feeling like he was dreaming. It was that feeling when you realize the dream isn't right, and your subconscious basically assures you that everything is totally normal.

The slave took a turn into a small sitting room that overlooked the courtyard with the fountain in it, and crossed to the window, resting her long hand on the sill.

And then she turned her head and winked at him, and his jaw dropped.

It really was Nife.

"...Nife." He said. "What the blazes is going on?"

He looked at her just to make sure she was all there. She was wearing the Wry slave outfit--the beaded chest piece, the harem-style loose trousers, and even the damn slave cuff. The Wry's slave brand red and scabbee above it. A second glance showed swollen, bruised lines twisting upward from the cuff. 

“Are those welts?” Kit stared.

She covered the arm with her other hand, wincing, and turning it into an exhausted smile.

"I... I don't understand." He said, trying to speak quietly. "What are you doing here? And... are you okay? Who did this to you?"

She glanced at him with a small eyebrow-raise, then looked out the window again.

"Well, isn't it obvious? I'm in disguise." She smirked, flipping a duster in her left hand and making it flourish as it danced through her fingers without even looking at it. "I'm dusting... the documents."

A small laugh burst out of Kit's chest. 

"In the sitting room?"

"Yes." Nife absently wiggled the duster on the windowsill. 

They were interrupted by an angry voice at the doorway that made Nife spin around. When she saw the housekeeper, she recoiled slightly.

"What the blazes are you--" The housekeeper started. "Oh. Kit, sir."

She shut her mouth, looking confused, as if she wasn't sure what to do here. Kit glanced between the housekeeper and Nife, collecting his wits quickly.

"Just a few minutes," He said to Enimee.

Enimee bowed shortly and left. She'd never really liked Kit. Nife's shoulders relaxed with a breath that trembled slightly. She looked down at the windowsill, biting her lip.

"What was that all about!" Kit leaned forward to whisper to Nife. "You can't be in disguise–everybody knows your face?"

"Kit," She sighed, leaning against the sill with a tired smile tugging at her mouth. "There's no point whispering. You might as well still be shouting."

"Please just answer the question," He said.

"Alright fine," She sighed. "I'm a slave. I was hoping you knew and were already working on a solution."

"A–solution to slavery?" Kit repeated, baffled by her positivity.

Her only response was a mild tilt of the head.

He stared at her, trying to wrap his mind around the new development.

"You're a slave." He said, jabbing a thumb into his eyebrow and twisting like he could screw his brain in better.

"Yeah, no need to rub it in," She said, flipping the duster a couple times. "I guess Raizden didn't have the money to pay my fine."

He couldn't stop staring at her, like he couldn't believe his eyes.  A closer look at her revealed bruises all over her blue back with fine lines of scabs over the curving lines that went up from the cuff on her right hand.

"They hurt you." He said, and the words came out in a snarl.

"Yes, well they hurt you too, and you don't see me complaining."

Kit let out a small, astonished laugh.

"What do you mean you're not complaining?" He said. "It's you complaining about it that got you..." He hesitated when she rolled her eyes and looked away with embarrassment.

"So." She said. "Solutions to slavery..."

"Okay, okay," Kit wracked his brain, scratching his head and messing up his hair that Caboodle had just smoothed down for him. "Well, you were unjustly fined for political reasons. I'd have to talk to a lawyer... Proof of Lady Wry's 'donations' to Striker would be extremely useful. Or whatever she has on Emperor Dave. That could really throw a wrench in..."

"Apparently that's my specialty." Nife said. "So I do need to dust those documents..."

"Please don't put yourself in danger for this." Kit said. "We'll get you out somehow. Maybe we can afford to buy you back."

"You can't." She huffed, twirling the duster and flipping it in the air to her right hand. "Trust me. I saw the number."

Kit stared. It must be a pretty big number. Why had his aunt wanted her that much? Just for revenge? Then again, he wouldn't put it past her.

"I think it's been a few minutes." Nife said.

"It's only been three." Kit said desperately. "Look, promise me you won't put yourself in danger. I'll get you out of this."

"Tell Warren I said I'm fine." She said, straightening up and pointing the duster at a spiderweb way up in the corner of the high ceiling. 

She squinted at it, then threw the duster like a knife toward the corner. It smacked into the web feathers-first, tumbled down, and landed in her outstretched fingers. She smirked at him sideways.

"If they hurt you, I'll..." Kit clenched his fists. "Don't let them hurt you."

"I'm fine." Nife said, not turning. "Go on, get back to Caboodle. Tell him I said hi."

"I will get you out of this." Kit said again.

Then he turned and went back to Caboodle. He had to figure something out.

First chapter: Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria

Per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version of Dance of Death.

For anyone following along on this story that wants the canon NSFW version of the story, you can get the book on amazon for $0.99.

If you like this book, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Dance of Death on Amazon.

[patroclusslivingass]

It is indeed better than tarot.

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[lothiriel84]

On the Peak of Derbyshire

Elizabeth spent the whole of their tour of Pemberley in a daze, only half listening to the housekeeper as she praised every particular of the house, and the kind and considerate Master she clearly held in the highest of regards.

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Companion piece to Flower of Scotland. Darcy/Elizabeth, plus Elizabeth & Lydia and Darcy & Lydia.

Elizabeth spent the whole of their tour of Pemberley in a daze, only half listening to the housekeeper as she praised every particular of the house, and the kind and considerate Master she clearly held in the highest of regards. Of all that, she could have been mistress, had she not allowed her prejudice to colour her judgement of Mr Darcy from the very beginning of their acquaintance; and it was not so much the grandness of the place that gave her cause to repine, as it was the unaccountable certainty that, had things been different, she could have felt truly at home there.

For all that she had only agreed to this visit on account of Mr Darcy not being in residence, she was somewhat shocked to discover how acutely she regretted his absence; as painful as was the prospect of being in each other’s presence once more after everything that had passed between them, she was finding it was nothing to the missed opportunity to renew their acquaintance. In a moment of weakness, she thought she would have been contented with being granted the small consolation of seeing Miss Darcy; but even that was not to be, and Elizabeth could not find it in herself to enjoy the beautiful grounds as they would have merited.

No sooner were they back to the inn that she found her personal regrets fade into the background in the face of more pressing and infinitely more concerning news pertaining her sister Lydia – as well as Mr Wickham, of all people. In the flurry of preparations for their imminent departure that followed, she blamed herself so very bitterly for her failure to expose Mr Wickham’s true character when she had been given the opportunity to do so; as it was, she was only too glad that Mr Darcy was not in the neighbourhood to bear witness to her family’s disgrace, though it was merely a matter of time before news of Lydia’s misconduct reached his ears as well as those of his most intimate acquaintances.

It was just as well she had spurned his proposals so vehemently in the spring; soon enough, he would be congratulating himself on his good fortune, and this time, he would be entirely justified in doing so. As for Elizabeth and her remaining sisters, they might count themselves lucky if they were still allowed to show their faces in public after a scandal of these proportions; for she did not believe for one second that a scoundrel such as Mr Wickham could ever be persuaded to act honourably in the face of Lydia’s complete lack of fortune and connections.

.

It had taken Mr Gardiner several weeks to finally locate his niece, and by the time he managed to do so, things had progressed in such a way as to preclude any possible attempt to rescue whatever little remained of Lydia’s reputation. Mrs Gardiner took it upon herself to personally break the news to Jane and Elizabeth, and they were much worse than anyone else at Longbourn had been expecting – Lydia was unmarried still, with Mr Wickham nowhere to be found, and there was very little doubt that she was now carrying his child. Between Mrs Bennet’s nervous complaints and Mr Bennet’s bitter contemplation of his failings as the head of his family, the only ray of unexpected hope came from an entirely unforeseen party, as Mr Bingley descended upon Netherfield for the first time since November, and immediately called upon Miss Bennet with the professed intent to do everything that was in his power to alleviate her current distress.

For all but a fleeting moment, Elizabeth wondered whether Mr Bingley’s sudden reappearance meant that Mr Darcy also was now fully informed of the particulars of Lydia’s foolish mistake and their consequent sinking lower than ever before in society; however, the matter was quite soon put out of her mind, as she was called to comfort her beloved sister who was suffering greatly for her determination to refuse Mr Bingley’s entirely unexpected proposals in a bid to preserve his own respectability. It took Elizabeth all of two days to persuade dear Jane to reconsider her immovable decision on this point; Lydia was at that very moment on her way to Scotland, and while it would take a great deal longer for the scandal to die out completely, she ought not to sacrifice her own prospects on so small an inducement as the loss of the good opinion of wholly indifferent acquaintances. And surely, as a gentleman of age and means, Mr Bingley ought to be afforded the courtesy of being allowed to be a better judge of his own happiness than society at large.

The news of their engagement took the whole of Meryton by surprise, and for a short while, Elizabeth chose to amuse herself by picturing the magnitude of the horrors that would undoubtedly be suffered by Mr Bingley’s sisters on finding themselves irrevocably tied to such a family as theirs, at a moment like this no less. This, however, soon brought again to mind Mr Darcy’s own sense of affronted dignity on behalf of his friend, and any amusement she might have felt at Miss Bingley’s expenses vanished as swiftly as to leave her utterly ashamed of herself.

Consequently, she was not at all surprised to find that Mr Darcy was not to attend the wedding; truth to tell, she was quite relieved to be spared the brunt of his disapproval, and while she still wished for a chance to apologise for how unfairly she had once judged him, she had long come to accept that she should never meet him again, and that it was much better that way. For some reason she could not quite determine, the thought of him alive in this world thinking so very ill of her pained her exceedingly, but there was very little that could be done on that account, and she was determined to conquer her own feelings in that regard.

When Jane and Bingley began hinting that they were to visit Lydia upon their return from their wedding trip, she thought nothing of it; it well befitted the goodness of their natures, and for all that Lydia was suffering as a direct consequence of her own foolish conduct, she had been abundantly punished for it already, and could well benefit from some much needed kindness in her forced exile from home. What she could not quite account for was Jane’s subsequent entreaty that she should join them in paying such a visit, and on Lydia’s express request no less; Elizabeth and her youngest sister had never been very close to begin with, and she could not imagine why Lydia would take comfort in her presence above Kitty’s, or even Mary’s.

Still, as she was desperate for a distraction from the despondency of her own thoughts pertaining a certain gentleman from Derbyshire, she decided that a change of scene might at least be conductive to regaining her previous equanimity. Besides, she owed it to poor Lydia to comply with her wishes on account of the part she herself had unwittingly played in her disgrace; if only she could have brought herself to caution her younger sisters about Mr Wickham’s true character, none of this would have happened, and her family would not be facing the disapproval of all of their neighbours.

At a moment like that, it was no small consolation that Mr Bingley had proven himself such a better friend to them than she had ever given him credit for.

.

The very last thing Elizabeth could have expected upon setting out for Scotland was to find herself faced with the one man in the world she was determined to avoid. Mr Darcy looked every bit as startled as she herself felt, and as unsteady as she suddenly was on her feet, she found she could not bear to stand in his presence a moment longer. She did not know how she reached the small room that had been arranged for her, but when she did, it was all she could do to throw herself upon the bed, pressing a hand to her traitorous heart that was threatening to beat straight out of her chest.

Jane, dear Jane, was all solicitude for her; she could not immediately perceive the reason for the profuse apologies that followed, and when she did, she was thrown into even greater confusion at the unanticipated revelation that they owed the whole of Lydia’s rescue to none other than Mr Darcy himself – who had not only taken great pains to see to their sister’s every need, but had also being visiting her quite often, and in the company of his own sister on several occasions.

Elizabeth finally gave way to tears as the full magnitude of Mr Darcy’s generosity was revealed to her; that such a man had once deigned to offer her his hand and heart – though the manner of his proposals had left much to be desired at the time – was as unthinkable as it was so very painful now that his offer was no longer open to her acceptance. Jane, in her kindness, took it upon herself to remind her of her own arguments when she had endeavoured to persuade her dear sister to accept Mr Bingley despite all possible reservations; that no other opinion but those of the two parties involved ought to hold any weight in any decision pertaining their future happiness, and that her dear Lizzy of old would never have let herself be cowed by the disapproval of hostile relations.

That night, she could not find any sleep; the memory of the pain so evident in Mr Darcy’s eyes kept her tossing and turning until the first light of morning came in through the curtains, and by that time, she found she could not lie still a moment longer. Pausing only to wrap a coat around her shoulders she slipped out of the cottage door, heading in no specific direction but wherever the path would take her.

.

There had been a time, not that long ago, when Elizabeth could have sworn that a gentleman of Mr Darcy’s disposition would never have consented to expressing his feelings in so bold a manner as he was busily engaged in doing at that very moment. As their embrace progressed, she found herself grateful for the support provided by the fence post at her back, for she was beginning to feel rather weak at the knees from the thoroughness of his attentions.

“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat, his lips tracing a downward path bordering on indecency, and in a thunderclap of revelation she knew at last what had driven Lydia to comport herself in a manner so far removed from everything they had been taught about virtue and propriety. She was much obliged to her betrothed for retaining enough control of himself to preserve the better part of respectability, and between the two of them, they contrived to fix the worst of her mussed appearance before the cottage came into view.

Their entrance was welcomed with far less astonishment than might have been expected; Lydia was the first to congratulate the couple on their engagement, and with such warmth that made Elizabeth quite ashamed of herself for how remiss she had been in her sisterly affections. It was quite the surprise to see her youngest sister, whom she had previously dismissed as foolish and self-absorbed, address Mr Darcy with such a degree of respect and admiration as one would hold for an older brother; as for her intended, he appeared quite fond of his soon-to-be sister, and so very considerate of her every comfort in a manner that could only increase Elizabeth’s regard for him.

By the time everyone had finished expressing their heartfelt felicitation for their upcoming nuptials – for the general consensus was that Mr Bennet could easily be prevailed upon to give his consent – Elizabeth was genuinely sorry that Lydia would not be in attendance. Mr Darcy, on his part, promised most faithfully that they would visit again as soon as they were settled at Pemberley, and he would endeavour to bring Georgiana along with them if at all possible.

.

Though Mr and Mrs Bingley had offered the use of Netherfield, it could not be supposed that the bride and groom would find themselves at ease in carrying out what was expected of them on their wedding night while under the same roof as her sister and his friend; consequently, it had been agreed that once the wedding breakfast was over, they would remove for Mr Darcy’s house in town, from whence they would set out from Pemberley in due course.

Oddly enough, of all the conflicting advice Elizabeth had been imparted on so delicate a subject as her wifely duties, it was Lydia’s that proved to be the most fruitful. With her sister’s imparted wisdom to guide her, she was then able to direct her husband’s inexperience in such a manner as to delight them both in equal proportion.

“I will not be so bold as to profess my sister had the right of it,” she confessed much later as they lay in each other’s arms, his fingers tracing idle patterns across her back. “But I must allow this to be inducement enough for many a respectable young woman to forget herself, should she become the object of a man of lesser principles and weaker morals.”

“I am beginning to question the wisdom of keeping young ladies in ignorance of the particulars of such matters until they are a few days away from being married,” Mr Darcy mused in a contemplative voice, and she instantly knew he was thinking of his own sister also. “Either way, I do believe the greater share of the blame ought to be placed upon the gentleman in question – though he scarcely merits to be addressed as such, and in all truth, I would still have advised Miss Lydia against marrying the scoundrel, had I found her mind to be irrevocably set on it.”

Elizabeth could not find it in herself to argue with her husband’s pronouncement; settling more comfortably in his embrace, she congratulated herself on her good fortune in marriage, and wondered at the turn of fate that had spared her from a much closer connection with Mr Wickham she had once contemplated for herself in her own foolishness.

.

Waiting upon Lydia in the weeks of her confinement was a somewhat befitting penance for Elizabeth’s past neglect of her sisterly duties; and since Jane had discovered herself unable to travel to Scotland for the foreseeable future, all duties of care naturally fell upon the next married sister. Armed with their mother’s cautionary tales about the trials and tribulations of childbirth, the new Mrs Darcy steeled herself for the ordeal that was to follow; in the end, Lydia was safely delivered of a healthy girl, who thankfully bore as little resemblance to her absent father as could be hoped for, and was named in honour of her two eldest aunts.

If Elizabeth had any private concerns about putting herself through those same hardships in the not overly distant future, she chose not to share them with either her husband or her sister. As for Mr Darcy, he was utterly delighted with his new niece, and declared himself most eager to welcome both mother and child at Pemberley as soon as could be contrived.

Georgiana, who had insisted on following her brother and sister to Scotland, congratulated Lydia most heartily on her beautiful little daughter, and expressed a fervent wish to share some of her care, once they were all removed to Derbyshire. Being so very close in age, and united in their common grievances against the same scoundrel, Elizabeth could only suppose it quite natural that the two young women would form a fast friendship, regardless of their differences in temperament and social standing.

Lydia’s strong constitution was instrumental in speeding along her recovery period, and the Darcys soon found themselves at liberty to set out for their long-postponed wedding trip, leaving their sister and niece in the capable hands of Mrs Campbell and the wet nurse Mr Darcy had hired most especially. The Lake District was as remarkable in its natural beauty as Elizabeth had been led to believe, and she found it quite worth the long wait; Mr Darcy, for his part, had eyes for his wife only, and they scarcely spent a moment apart from one another for the entire duration of their trip.

When they finally descended upon Scotland once more with the purpose of collecting Lydia and little Jane, Elizabeth often found herself the object of her sister’s pointed glances, much to her own consternation and her husband’s confusion.

“I pray that you desist from unduly troubling Fitzwilliam with your conjectures, as little founded as they are at this moment,” she warned her sister as soon as they were out of his earshot. “It would never do to disappoint his hopes on the matter, and I will have none of it for as long as it can be helped.”

“Have it your own way,” shrugged Lydia, though very good-naturedly. “But you must allow me to be the first in congratulating you both, when the time comes.”

Elizabeth sighed, pressed a hand to her stomach, and spared a silent prayer that she would survive the journey home without raising any further concerns about the state of her health, nor the probability of her condition.

.

Mr Darcy was, as could be expected, entirely overjoyed when his wife confided to him that she thought she might be with child. They were all of them settled back at Pemberley by then, and although he had initially considered placing his new sister and niece at a convenient distance so that they might all be spared from the neighbourhood’s speculations, he had confessed himself quite unwillingly to keep Lydia away for the sake of appearances only.

Elizabeth had readily agreed with such a scheme, much to Georgiana’s delight, and the sisters were growing closer by the day in such a way as neither of them had once thought possible. Everyone at Pemberley doted upon little Jane, and the aunt she was named after wrote long and frequent letters expressing her wish to be introduced to her niece as soon as could be arranged; even Mary and Kitty had somehow contrived to elude their parents’ newfound watchfulness to send their own belated congratulations to the errant sister that had been cast out of the family without recourse.

That her father could be so callous as to entirely repudiate one of his daughters – whose lapse in conduct might be put down in large part to his past neglect – was Elizabeth’s secret sorrow, and while Lydia appeared to bear it with uncommon equanimity, even her good spirits could not entirely conceal her lingering hurt on finding herself in the position of a stranger to her own parents.

“It is no matter,” Lydia declared with the utmost conviction one evening, as she watched over Mr Darcy and his sister taking their turn in cosseting her daughter. “What my Janie has lost in the consideration of her own grandparents, she has gained tenfold in the affections and care of a most deserving uncle and aunt. And I feel sure that Jane and Bingley also will never consent to letting her down in any way, despite her being a natural daughter and living proof of her mother’s shame.”

What Elizabeth was not at liberty to disclose just yet was that her husband had been consulting with his solicitor for the express purpose of making his niece by marriage his ward, and amending his will in such a way as to ensure both she and her mother would always be provided for, regardless of whether Lydia chose to marry at a later date.

“If anything, she is proof of your courage and determination not to be parted from your child for the sake of regaining some of your respectability,” she told her sister instead, and was rewarded with so warm an embrace that it was all she could do not to be moved to tears by such unexpected display of affection.

.

When Jane entered her own confinement, Lydia was resolved to offer her services in Elizabeth’s stead, and only the consideration that Mrs Bennet would not be prevented from attending the birth of her first acknowledged grandchild that stopped her from setting out for Hertfordshire at once.

“It is for the best,” Elizabeth endeavoured to console her. “Surely you would not subject your Janie to the risks of so long a journey, and I must confess I have come to much depend upon your assistance in my current condition. Our sister will surely understand, though I too am grieved I cannot be there for her at such a time.”

And so they waited, with an eagerness made even more pressing by the indifferent state of Elizabeth’s own health. She could not have anticipated being so fatigued by even the smallest of exertions, and the family physician had advised bed rest much earlier than was usually recommended for a woman of her age and constitution.

When an express finally came from Netherfield announcing the birth of Mr Bingley’s son and heir, they all rejoiced as one; and if Mr Darcy’s delight for his friend was clouded by his more natural concerns for the wellbeing of his own wife and unborn child, he was careful to leave it out from the letter of congratulations he and Elizabeth sent forth at once, with a note expressing Lydia’s own felicitations for the event enclosed within.

Another letter came a few days later, dwelling more particularly on the good health of both mother and child, and relaying the information that the boy was to be named Edward to honour Mr Bingley’s late father.

“Our uncle Gardiner will be delighted,” Lydia remarked to her sister, and handed over the letter for Mr Darcy’s more particular perusal.

Elizabeth smiled and rested more fully against the pillows propped at her back. She longed for the day she would join her sisters in being delivered of her own child, and although she would never sink so low as to begrudge them the relative ease of their confinements, she could not refrain from wishing she could claim the same good luck for herself.

.

The whole of the household had been in uproar since it had become clear that Mrs Darcy’s time had come at last, and amid the apprehension and excitement of the family and servants alike, it was not immediately apparent to everyone that the Mistress of the house had exceeded all expectations by producing not one, but two healthy boys – so alike to one another in every particular to render the task of differentiating Mr Darcy’s firstborn and heir from his brother peculiarly arduous.

In her utter prostration after so prolonged a delivery, Elizabeth was scarcely aware of the dilemma presented by identical twin sons for a gentleman of her husband’s standing and position; in the end, it was Georgiana who provided a solution to the problem by pointing out that the eldest born had a tiny dark mole to the side of his knee, while his younger sibling did not.

“I fear my youngest nephew will hardly thank me for noticing this, once he is grown up,” she sighed in the face of her brother’s gratitude for so small yet so significant a service.

From her bed, Elizabeth made her wish known to be presented with her own children, before finally succumbing to her exhaustion and sleeping.

.

Mr Bennet coming unannounced not a fortnight later threw the household into the greatest of confusion once more. Despite his own reservations on the propriety of such a behaviour, Mr Darcy was all politeness for his wife’s sake, and Elizabeth was afforded the dubious pleasure of presenting her father with his new grandchildren while the eldest of those was being conveniently concealed a mere two rooms away.

How long she might have allowed this state of affairs to continue while her father was a guest in her own home, was anyone’s guess; as it happened, the choice was soon taken out of her hands entirely, as the footman who had been sent out to ward off poor Lydia upon her return from her morning walk somehow failed to intercept her.

Lydia turned perfectly pale at the sight of her father, her ordinarily cheerful countenance dissolving almost instantly. However, she soon appeared to regain enough command of herself as to drop a curtsey and promptly excuse herself out of the room; Elizabeth was on the verge of intervening when Mr Bennet surprised them all by calling after his youngest daughter, in the mildest of tones: “Not so fast, child. I believe there is another addition to the family I am yet to meet, or so I am told.”

Again, Elizabeth was about to regale her father with a few choice words, and she absolutely would have, if not for her husband quietly interceding with her. “Let them. It is much overdue, and I would not deny them the chance for a reconciliation, however little deserved it might be on one side.”

In her pressing concern for her sister’s wellbeing, she could only allow them a quarter of an hour before she went to check on them under the half-formed pretence of searching for the wet nurse. Lydia did not stir from her place in her father’s arms, nor did she relinquish her hold on him as she went on crying tears of relief on his willing shoulder. Mr Bennet met his second eldest daughter's gaze, nodded once, and continued in his endeavours to soothe his youngest by patting her somewhat awkwardly across her back.

As her dearest husband reminded her later, this gesture of goodwill on Mr Bennet’s part could not be expected to heal the breach completely, but it was still a beginning. And while she would always have a home with them, Lydia would be much happier in the long run if she was granted admittance to Longbourn.

Elizabeth pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek, and turned her undivided attention to the two perfect miracles they had contributed to creating together.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hey, Spitfire! Try not to kill your brother ahead of time!

.

Looking for Ursa right after being banished had some...wildly unexpected results. One: Zuko actually found her. Two: she wasn't alone. Three: leaving her children behind in order to protect them was, apparently, just something she did.

Looking at the bright side, Zuko now had a three-year-old younger brother to look after. Looking at the dark side, Zuko now had a three-year-old kid he needed to parent while also keeping him a secret from his father because—may Agni help him—the Fire Lord would have to go through Zuko first if he dared to even look at Lu Ten II.

(AKA an AU in which Zuko is a good big brother and doesn't want another kid to grow up like he did.)

[chloesimaginationthings]

Okay, but Elizabeth being an absolute savage girlboss isn't something that's talked about enough.

Love how you're spitting facts for our girly pop. 💪💪💪

TBH I go off the personality baby has, and gotta assume some of that sass is definitely Elizabeth

[meowph-132]

The love pats 💜💙❤️

Krang infection 30

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[lxdymoon0357]

Hello 👋 can I pls request relationship and suggestive headcanons for Claude (wmmap) Regis (FIDWYM) and Lante Agriche with a female reader? Thank you ❤️

(some days, I'm gonna be better and consistent...:[ | Warnings: mentions of dying at childbirth, blood, murder, NSFW content, diana-claude poly mentions? idk..Anyways, NSFW content. )

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Claude De Alger Obelia, Legis Floyen and Lante Agriche SFW/NSFW HCs

Claude De Alger Obelia

♕ Definitely loves to spoil you! He loves to spoil you when he can, bringing jewellery, making your favourite food, spending extra time with you, buying you clothes, flowers, gifts, anything you want! He is always happy to spoil you, Athy gets a bit worried, but she also loves you and makes handmade gifts for you which you definitely appreciate!

♕ Constantly worried for your health and safety, has a maid and a guard follow you everywhere, he would let them follow you to the bathroom if it wasn't unethical, but yeah..Constantly worried something is gonna happen to you..

♕ Also, constantly making sure you're in top health, always consults doctors about anything he finds unusual on you, if you two were to have kids, he's have a long talk with doctors if you can have kids and there won't be any complications and if anything were to happen, if he'd be able to save you over the kid...

♕ Definitely not loosing you to childbirth like he lost Diana, you both are the biggest jewels in his eyes and he doesn't want to lose you like he lost Diana. Definitely thinks how you both would be with each other if you met, would you both like each other more than him? Would you be open to be with both of them or would he simply be with Diana and you'd go off with someone else??

♕ You, him and Athy spend a lot of time together, eating, tea parties, talking about trends, gossiping or anything in between about Athy's love interests or something. Sometimes even Jeanette joins you both, she's so happy to be included, but after Anastacius left with her, she was happy to learn things from far away, you gave her your blessings, she'll miss all of you but tries to find time to visit when she can..

♕ You and Claude would dance together late at night for fun, it's so quiet and so intimate and so romantic, cue you both forgetting the dance and end up making out against a wall with him leaving hickeys! speaking of them, he leaves TOO many damn hickeys, it's his love language at one point...

♕ He is a busy man, being an emperor and all, but he still finds time for you, you're the most important thing to him after Athy and he tries to find time for both of you, together and individually like during meals, before he goes to sleep, after he wakes up, free time, he loves to spend it with you or alone doing something he enjoys..

♕ He is romantic while sex, but also very rough, be careful, don't piss him off, you won't be able to sit with a bruised ass or the aching cunt or walk due to the shaking and sore legs. He knows how to make brats behave, loves you but don't piss him off.

♕ Hates it when other people stare, will go to a nearby room or maybe the balcony if he's extra mad and simply fuck you till you're screaming your throat raw with leaving hickeys and making sure everyone and especially the person is hearing and seeing the whole thing...Likes the eyes on him sometimes, don't know why but he does, maybe it gives him thrill maybe it gives him the chance to prove himself in some way maybe he gets gratification, no way. But likes the way when you're bent over and crying your eyes out.

♕ Cages your hand above your head with a single one of his own and simply fingers you before pulling away and edging you till you're asking him to properly fuck you dumb, even if he's feeling soft, he likes to do it cause you're crying face and whines and moans sound cut to him and he can never get enough of it

♕ Leaves a lot of bitemarks, hickeys, bruises, it's concerning if you don't know it's out of love and how much he can't control his strength at times..When he's about to cum, he bites your neck to muffle his own moans and whines when you're clenching down on him..One hand constantly working on your clit.

♕ Let's say they have some medicine which works as Plan B, cause keep in mind, he will be breeding you, it's one of his biggest kinks, he would love to see you pregnant with his baby who is your and his mix, Athy needs a sibling after all! Will be pounding in you even after you've gone enough, he cant help himself sometimes!

Legis Adri Floyen

◈ Now Legis would be a bit closed off, but still after a while be extremely sweet and romantic, constantly being a gentleman, holding your hand when you're walking down the stairs, gets you gifts, when you got tired, he carried you where you want, feeds you, kisses you and looks at you like you're gold.

◈ You and Jubelian have to sometimes remind him to take breaks, you and Jubelian and literally bestest of friends yet being the cutest mother-daughter duo in Legis's eyes, two of his favourite girls being together and happy and getting alone and all the cute stuff?! Oh man, he feels like he's in heaven!

◈ Loves to spend time with you and Juve when he can, bringing you both gifts and you both in return make tiny gifts for him, like bouquets or like maybe you stitched something for him on a napkin and he carried it everywhere, or maybe you and Juve went out together to choose and mix-match jewellery for Legis and then you both gift it to him, she is always so happy to spend time with her parents!

◈ He and you would spend time kissing and then Juve would be grossed out but finds it cute or maybe you and Legis would spend time sparring or sword-fighting cause women back then used to do a lot of sports including archery, sword-fighting, hiking, so maybe he would love for you to join him in sparring sometime or maybe hand-to-hand combat where you are always winning because he refuses to put in effort, he gets too mesmerised by you anyway.

◈ He would love to take you on trips to anywhere you want, get dresses custom made so no-one else can have them, have portraits painted of you, he's such a sweetheart!! He would love to have a family portrait with you and Juve beside him!!

◈ Another thing is, matching clothes!! You wear something matching in your outfits at ALL times, be it a brooch, be it the colour of the clothing, be it the way the pattern of the dress, he loves to match with you, he even has dresses which are carbon copies of some of Juve's! You both look gorgeous in them!!

◈ Kind of needs your reassurance that he is doing the correct thing, if there is something you don't like, please say cause when you do things passive and aggressively, it makes him overthink things....And if he overthinks, he cries and I'm sure you don't want your husband to cry? Yeah, that's what I thought, communicate!

◈ Okay, first he finds you cute and adorable and hot and so squishable and he folds you like a chair fucking you in matching press with your thighs pressed against your chest while he toys with your cunt and clit so sweetly, it's almost innocent in a way!

◈ PRAISE!! Of-course, the biggest praise kink is in him, his eyes start to water from overwhelming love when he is praised during sex, so just to ground him, hold his hand tightly in yours in anyway you can to remind him you're both there..He gets carried away, poor baby..

◈ Loves to see you ride him, cause it's so cute in his eyes when you're trying your best to take him cause first of he's VERY BIG, secondly you try your best to take him, struggle with it, crying for him to do something to make something out of your fruitless ventures, of-course he teases you until you beg a lot, but because he likes your cries and tears and face

◈ Speaking of crying, he won't stop eating your cunt until tears are streaming down he's pulled a good few orgasms, your cunt is almost raw but i's still drooling...and he can't get enough, you're just sound so cute and taste so amazing, but okay, he'll take pity and fuck you properly, if you don't tell him to, he'll cum from just eating you out, grinding against whatever he can.

◈ Suck him off under his desk after he's overworked, probably one of the only dilfs who moans and whimpers and can't hide them, he sounds cute, as you gag on his cock, he sounds adorable!! Not your fault it's a good way to relax him from overworking and to just tease him!

◈ He sometimes gets so lot in making you cum, he does it for a good while until he simply pulls dry orgasms, until legs are shaking, you're both covered in bodily fluids, drools, sweat, clit is engorged a bit and it hurts but feels too good for him to pull out now as you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him close..

Lante Agriche

☠ Now for this request, I will say he's like a yandere-type in love with you and he's a bit sane and okay in head. Lante would always follow you around, carrying you when he can, holding you on his lap during those special dinners with his top three favourite kids as he fed you food with his hands, does your hair, albeit a bit haphazardly.

☠ He desperately needs you be locked down with him, he would kill anyone you pay too much attention to, that includes his kids, well your kids are his favourite kids, so he doesn't want you to be sad, but threatening them is the way to go!!

☠ likes to bring you the severed head of his victims as gifts with a deranged smile, expecting praise. I hope you give some to him for the sake of your neck joint...I mean, he'd also bring bloodied flowers, a skull, some sword, some jewel, etc, whatever he finds interesting all covered in blood cause he thinks you look hot in blood and everything looks better covered in blood.

☠ Leaves hickeys on your necks, for everyone and leaves more if you try to cover them. He has no shame, not like anyone would dare to say anything, but if they did, you'd have another severed head to your collection. So enjoy!!

☠ DESPISES people staring at you for a second too late, hates it, cannot stand it, will not stand for it, will kill someone for it. I mean, he's a man known for crimes, of-course he's gonna murder someone for looking at you too long! He's such a munchy weirdo..

☠ Would have your ring on your hand AT ALL TIMES, ain't no one snatching up his weirdo, hell naw! Anyways, he gets new rings made for you whenever you need one and it's all decorated well and stuff and so now you have a ring collection and it's very gorgeous and probably cost more than the whole manor and humans who die inside regularly!

☠ He slow dances with you over the dead bodies of people, enjoying the way their bones crunch under you both as you both softly danced while you both are in each other's embrace and are softly being intimate in silence..

☠ Oh now, don't think that if he got jealous and mad at some public event he is also one to not care if he fucks you on a balcony when everyone can hear you both while you scream and wail like it's no one's business in the balcony and later on everyone's too shy to make eye contact with you, including the kids and other wives...

☠ Bending you over on his desk to fuck you all while there are people in the next room or simply eat you out until you cry, but eating you out is a unusual occurrence...He doesn't just give you pleasure without getting anything in return, no.

☠ Edging you constantly, not letting you cum until you beg hard enough or until he possibly can't take it anymore or until you do it yourself earning a punishment by him where either he overstimulates you till you physically pass out and only have dry orgasms, so there are a few options of him to choose from, maybe play the safe submissive and subservient role for a while unless you're confident in your skills as a dom to top him..

☠ knife kink, I said it. Knife kink, holds a knife to your neck while he makes you ride him, and presses it down sometimes to nick your body parts for fun and for the sadistic tendencies...

[dxmoness]

Your husband has been having a severe case of the baby fever for a long time now. It started when he saw you taking care of your baby sister. The sight of you carrying the baby in your arms while you make her laugh made him desire to have one with you.

He's been planting small hints and clues that he is very much interested in having children with you. But you were still oblivious no matter how many hints he dropped. So he decided to take matters in his own hands.

“Um? Darling, we don't have a baby.” You say as you look over the things that you and your husband had bought during your shopping spree.

Your husband smiles mischievously. “But aren't they adorable?” He holds up a onesie for a baby for your inspection. Sure, it did look cute, but it was useless if you two did not have a baby to use it for.

You sigh, knowing he wants to hear you say yes. “I suppose it is...” You grace him with a small smile which makes him beam happily. “But my point still stands, we don't have a baby to use it on.”

He smirks as he puts down the baby clothes and walks to your side, leaning to kiss your cheek. “Not yet, we don't.” He purrs in your ear, his hot breath causes you to shudder involuntarily.

Your cheeks grow flush at the implication he is giving through his suggestive words. “What?” You decide it's best to play innocent first because you really didn't want to embarrass yourself if it was not what you think.

He chuckles as he tucks a loose strand of hair into the back of your ear. “You know what I mean, my love.” He gives you a dazzling smile. “I want to make one. Right now.” He pauses. “That is if you don't mind?” He asks softly, waiting for your response.

He seemed so desperate for it that you found it adorable. You nod in agreement. “Okay.” You respond softly, giving him your consent to continue as he pleases.

He did not waste anymore time as he immediately shoves you to the couch, his impatience showing evident in his quick movements. You yelp as you are immediately pinned down, his hand pinning both of yours above your head while his free hand starts dealing with his belt.

“Darling—” You gasp only for him to interrupt. “Hush.” He whispers, silencing you by pressing a lingering kiss on your soft lips as he finally managed to get the belt off. “Be quiet and let me take care of you.”

➷ ( characters ) — lante agriche , dion agriche , rezef hill , claude de alger obelia , anastacius de alger obelia , cesare de como , regis adri floyen , eiser grayan , eros vasilios , aamon paxley , jingyuan , kamisato ayato , izek van omerta , callisto regulus. ❀

➷ ( tags ) — @d10nsaint , @dreamlessnight @yourwholeworld @yumieis @im-in-love-with-fairytales , @synthe4u , @yoghurtsan , @luvyev. ( ask to be added to a specific taglist. ex: the first six people wanted to be tagged in dion agriche tagged fics hence their appearance. ) ❀

[loeh]

BooHoo

Milf!reader continuation

Marrying Lant Agriche, the ruthless head of the notorious Agriche family, was never a life you envisioned for yourself. But fate had other plans, and now, here you were, trapped in a world you never chose. You had two children: Irvyn and Ilysia, twins. Despite your hopes that they would inherit only your traits, they both carried their father's dark hair and the haunting, ruby-red eyes that marked them as his children—a constant reminder of the bloodline you had been forced to join.

Growing up, painting had always been your sanctuary. It was your escape from a world that could never truly understand you. From a young age, you dedicated yourself to your craft, perfecting it until you knew you could paint even if you lost your sight—an ability you alone truly grasped.

But your family, the (L/n) lineage, was known for far more than just artistic talent. They were descendants of demons—beings capable of unimaginable destruction. For forty generations, your family had carried the legacy of these dark forces, but it was only you who had inherited the full brunt of the demon’s abilities. You could commune with the dead, summon creatures from other realms, and manipulate forces no mortal should control. The world soon took notice of your powers, and suitors came—hungry to claim the strength they believed would make them invincible.

But none of them stirred your heart. Your heart had already been taken by someone who did not belong to your world—someone outside the reach of bloodshed and darkness. And so, you vowed never to marry, to end the (L/n) bloodline with yourself. Your parents, understanding the dangers of your gifts, supported this decision, knowing all too well the havoc your power could bring. They feared for you, and for anyone who would come too close to your world.

Then came Lant Agriche. A vile man, the head of a family built on cruelty and manipulation. He had over four wives and countless children—each one a pawn in his ruthless quest for power. Lant made it clear that he intended to make you his wife, and no refusal was accepted. His power and arrogance were suffocating. But Lant did not understand rejection. When you refused him, he threatened violence, promising to destroy your parents, and the man who had captured your heart. In the end, you had no choice but to surrender. Your life as you knew it shattered, and with it, the nightmare of your bloodline’s legacy became a brutal reality.

You were forced into a marriage with a man whose cruelty knew no bounds, and soon, you were pregnant with his children.

Irvyn and Ilysia came into the world—your children, born from the very man you despised. For a long time, you wanted to hate them. They were the living proof of the bond you were forced into—a bond forged through deceit and violence. Yet, you couldn’t. You could never hate them, no matter the circumstances of their birth. They were your flesh and blood, and they were all you had left.

Luckily—or perhaps unluckily—your children did not inherit the full extent of your demonic powers. They did not possess the terrifying abilities you had, nor the dark legacy of your bloodline. In many ways, this was a blessing. But you knew the world would never see them as ordinary. They would always carry the weight of their father's name, and that was a burden you would have to protect them from at all costs.

So you made a vow. You would protect them. You would train them, make them stronger, teach them how to survive in a world that was not kind to those like them. They would grow up not as pawns in a dangerous game, but as individuals capable of taking control of their own fate. You would help them escape this hellhole. You would give them a chance to live their lives to the fullest, free from the darkness that threatened to consume them.

Now, at just seven years old, Irvyn and Ilysia were already deadly in their own ways. They were perceptive, clever, and more than capable of navigating the treacherous world you had been forced to endure. They were still children, but you saw the fire in their eyes—the same defiance you once held within yourself. You would protect that spark, no matter what it took, and one day, they would rise above the curse of the Agriche name. They would be stronger than you ever were. They would be free.

[gumballavocadoharry]

'Yn Styles flies down from Delaware to London to attend the funeral of her mother, Anne. Her older siblings, Harry and Gemma reunite with her but with very chilly and cold results due to past hurts and traumas. As the tension grows, so does the resentment that is filled in the siblings. As things come to a head, secrets are revealed and misunderstandings that have been created will now come to a burst as the truth of the matters give the siblings an opportunity to see things for what they are for the first time.'

'A detached cord' coming soon!

[selineram3421]

*slams alarm clock against the wall*

Hissy Kitty

Part 4

Part 3

Alastor X Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ mentions of alcohol, all caps for shouting/yelling, our deer man in denial, cussing ⚠

"What just happened?", Alastor asked.

He looked around with furrowed eyebrows, confused.

"Are you ok? What was that?", you got his attention with your questions. "Why did you threaten Sir Pentious?"

Then he noticed how close you were, and the hold he had on you.

"Alastor?"

Ripping himself away, he took a large step back. Looking you up and down in a panic before taking a step into the shadows, disappearing from your sight.

You stood alone in the hallway, wondering what had caused such a reaction, both the anger and the panic. Then you walked to the lobby, seeing your brother working at the bar and you took a seat on a bar stool with a sigh.

"Never thought I'd see you come up to the bar like that.", Husk quirked a brow. "Need to talk to the bartender?", he asked, getting a cup ready.

"No.", you sighed and crossed your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. "I need to talk to my older brother."

A drink was placed in front of you before there was another one next to it, then your brother walked out from behind the bar and sat on the bar stool on your right side.

"Alright kit, lay it on me.", he said and got his drink to take a sip.

"It's just been weird.", you started off. "I know Alastor is around me to bug you, we've established that.", you gestured to each other. "But the others think that he's trying to court me?"

"Pffffft-!", Husk sprayed out some of his drink.

"Which I know is not true, because that isn't what's been happening but Charlie and Pentious think that. And the weirdest part just happened a few minutes ago.", you continued.

Your brother coughed before wiping his mouth.

"What happened?"

"I was talking to Pentious and then all of a sudden Alastor appeared behind me.", you gestured as if someone was behind you now. "Pulled me away from my conversation with Sir Pentious and threatened to cook him."

Your brother was quiet, holding his cup as he thought before placing it down on the counter. He turned his body to face you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I need to know every detail of what happened, this doesn't sound normal but I can't be too sure.", he says. "That smiling fuck is not normal in general."

"Ok.", you nod and start over. "Sir Pentious had stopped me in the hallway.."

.

Alastor teleported somewhere far away from you within the hotel.

He couldn't go back to his tower, you were too close by and he needed a moment to think, to not worry about being found by you. Then he remembered that you held his face, the lingering feeling of your touch on his cheek made his chest tighten.

"Alastor? Is everything ok?", he heard the familiar voice of the Princess.

Somewhat surprised, the deer demon takes a good look around of where he is. He had teleported himself into Charlie and Vaggie's room.

"Apologies dear, I was in a bit of a rush to notice where I was going.", he says with a tight smile and fixes his coat. "I shall be off.", he turns to face the exit.

"Oh wait!", the Princess gets up from her seat and walks over. "Let them know that their clothes are finished. Niffty sure works fast."

Not paying any mind to it, he glances at the blonde.

"Who exactly?", he asks.

Then she says your name.

He stands still like a deer in headlights.

"Why would I let them know?", he turns to face her with brows furrowed slightly.

"Because you're always around them, I assumed that you were going to see them again.", Charlie explains.

"HA!", the Radio Demon laughs. "Do you think me a lovesick fool? Following them around like some dizzy-"

"Love?", she says confused. "I never said anything about love.."

He stares at the Princess for a moment, seeing her make the realization before quickly making his way towards the door.

"¡'m |€@v¡n& Ω¤￦."

"Al! What's so wrong with being-?", Charlie followed behind him.

"Being in love?", Alastor stopped walking to finished her question, turning around to face the Princess.

"Yes! Why is that a bad thing?", she continued.

So many reasons. He thought.

"It makes a person ￦€aK.", he replied instead. "It clouds one's thoughts, blinds, consumes, ruins.", he shook his head. "I could never allow myself to fall so low."

The Princess looked at him with a sad glare.

"I don't know if my word on love means anything but to me love gives strength, it inspires, encourages, protects-"

"IT DOES NOTHING TO HELP PROTECT SOMEONE!"

Feeling the ends of his smile start to turn down, he looked away and made his way to the door.

"I'm leaving.", he said, voice void of static, deciding to use the shadows to escape from the conversation quicker.

Teleporting to his Radio Tower, he sees the mess of glass was cleaned up.

"Good, now I can get to work and forget about this whole th-"

The trap door slammed open, causing Alastor to snap his head around to see who had dared to enter his tower uninvited.

"You've got five fucking seconds to explain yourself.", Husk growled as he stood in the room.

"What are you going on about?"

"You touched my sibling again but this time you were pissed off.", the cat demon stomped his way over to the deer demon. "Why would some other demon touching them piss you off so much, huh? I told you countless fucking times that they aren't yours."

Husk jabbed at his boss's chest with his claw.

Alastor grew taller, letting his anger show. "D¤ Ωo+ toμ©h m€ aΩd ¡ wiL| dθ a$ I pL€a$e."

The two glared at each other until the cat's eyes widened.

"Holy shit.", Husk lowered his hand.

"￦hAt?", the Radio Demon hissed, ready to teach the ex Overlord a lesson.

"You're in love with them.."

*glares at the morning sun* No.

~Seline, the person.

Part 5

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @+?

🔪The other tags in the comments.🔪

ML for Alastor🎙 | HK ChL😾

[defire]

Dance of Death Chapter 4:

The Stiletto

Content warnings for this chapter: aftermath of child abuse, whumper turned whumpee, revenge

Warren marched into the library and crossed to Markee's alcove, where he'd apparently stayed after Nife ran away. 

Nife heard Warren wrench open the door as she followed a few steps into the library.

"Markee." She heard him speaking through gritted teeth, then the sound of a slap and things knocking over.

Warren could slap hard enough to knock someone out with one blow, and he apparently wasn't holding back. She heard him striking the man over and over. Markee was making choked yelping sounds after each impact.

"Stop, stop," She said, coming toward the alcove, unable to bear the sound of someone getting hurt.

The blows continued, and as she came into view, she could see Warren towering over the cringing Markee on the ground with a hand raised.

"Stop!" She said, aghast. 

He didn't even turn to her, but he lowered his hand, chest heaving and eyes widening at the man on the floor.

"Don't touch my family." He said.

Markee made no answer, but his face was split with an infuriated grin, tears running down his face. He'd knocked the right temple against something as he fell and his head was bleeding.

Suddenly a voice behind Nife made her jump.

"Oh Markee, I'm so sorry." Her mother said, pushing in past her and pulling out a handkerchief to dab at his face. She looked positively horrified.

There was a whole group of servants behind them, and one of them had probably run to get her Mother.

Warren stepped out of her way, blazing eyes meeting Nife's for a moment.

"There will be a lawsuit," Markee said. 

"He was abusing Nife." Warren said.

"Oh, dear," Mother said. "Perhaps we can settle this out of court."

"Do you not hear me, mother?" Warren said. "He was abusing Nife!"

"Warren!" Her mother said in a scolding tone. "Do you not think about our reputation before doing things?"

Warren opened and closed his mouth, flushing and confused, looking at the floor. He shook his head and backed away from the situation.

Nife stared after him with round eyes as he hurried away. She found it easy to disappear from the group of shocked onlookers, as nobody really cared about her role in the situation. Except Warren, it turned out.

Warren kept up with his father's confident stride, matching even his confidence. They spoke quietly as they moved down the hall so as not to be overheard by the family's paid servants. In general, Druids did not believe in keeping slaves.

"Warren, we can't have this." His father's voice rose louder as he became more anxious. "I understand that you were protecting your sister, but..."

"He's a Wry, I know." Warren finished, with a politely low volume. "Father, if you could just dismiss him–"

His father scoffed.

"Ha! Dismiss him? After what you did to him?" His father glanced back, saw Warren's frown, and added– "We can't exactly beat and then dismiss our tutors, at Raizden. If he was a Druid, then maybe. But Warren, he's a damn Wry."

"Father," Warren said as he watched him unlock the combination on his private office door. 5-5-4-4. Ridiculously simple. "She can't just be made to live with him in the house. You don't actually intend to keep him on as her tutor, do you?"

The idea made him boil with anger, but he kept it down under a mask of grim calm.

His father sighed.

"Can't we?"

"No!" Warren exclaimed, shocked.

"Sh." His father said, pulling him into the study by the shoulder. He barely bothered to close the door behind Warren.

"Warren, son, we're in a difficult situation." His father said. "We're the last Druid family that owns a company among the six mega companies. The rest are all owned by Banes. If you make us look bad, people will take us down first."

Warren shook his head.

"This doesn't make any sense, Father. Why would people take us down just because I punished that bastard? Was I too harsh?" He added. "...But how could I be too harsh with a bastard like that?"

"Look." His father tapped his wide, splayed horns with a fingernail. "Look at this horn. You see these horns?"

Warren frowned.

"These are why. To them, we're just animals; criminals at best." His father said. "You, a Druid, beat him, a sun-blessed Bane, who was simply trying to educate a poor young–"

"That's not how it went down at all!" Warren flamed up.

"That's how they'll tell it." His father said, turning away to his desk with a sigh, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Do you understand? Those Banes think their sun god hates us, and he delivered our land into their hands, and our lives are just part of the plunder of war, to be ended or enslaved as they see fit. The insult it would be for them to find out what you've done..."

"Are they going to find out?"

"Only if Markee isn't satisfied with whatever we can pay him to keep his mouth shut." His father sighed. "Now go to dinner. I have things to finish."

Warren hesitated. His father had always been offhandedly callous like this.

"But this is your daughter." Warren said, frowning.

His father sat down and began looking at papers and writing himself a to-do list, checking dates with his calendar.

"You're still here?" He said, finally realizing Warren was still standing there looking angry.

"You'll just consign your own daughter to living with--with a man like that?"

"I told you that's not what happened."

"What!"

"How they tell it might as well be the truth, for the good it does us. Now go. I don't remember inviting you here."

"Ugh." Warren grunted, frowned and left, seeing servants duck out of sight. They listened in a lot.

Nife was sitting alone on the roof, rubbing her fingers over the embroidered mask under her chin, which had been enchanted to allow one to breathe in the poisonous miasma that covered the bottom of the city. She stared up at the moon, watching it get higher and feeling her natural nocturnal energy rising. It felt so good to be awake at night, and so crappy to be forced  to act like a diurnal Bane.

She was trying to calm down after everything, but she just couldn't face anything that had happened.

"Are you serious?" He had said. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Why didn't I tell anyone?" She muttered, then chuckled. "Oh Warren, you think too much of them."

"Are you talking to me?" She heard his voice down below in the garden. He threaded his way around the garden and made his way up the path to the wall, crossed a slightly easier place to get up to the roof, and then walked toward her on the roof and sat down next to her, folding up his big long legs in front and clasping his fingers together.

His presence brought a sense of safety it never had before.

"You alright?" He asked her.

Nife glanced at his hand, noticing that heat still lingered there in the palm and across the knuckles. He’d really put everything into those slaps.

"Am I alright?" She chuckled.

"Uh, yeah, that's what I said." 

She laughed and tried not to cry, covering her eyes.

"Here." He said, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out something silver. It was a brooch made to look like a moth with its wings folded, apparently.

She reached for it and he pulled it back.

"Wait--" He smirked as she swiped at it, and lifted it up high so she couldn’t reach it. "Look." 

He showed her a button on the back, and pressed it. With a little click, a blade snapped straight out of it at lightning speed.

Nife's jaw dropped.

"A stiletto..." She whispered, grabbing at it. 

This time he opened his hand and let her take it.

"You can pretend it's jewelry and take it anywhere." He said. 

It was still frowned-upon, and partially illegal, for Druids to be armed in public.

She played with the mechanism, eyes alight with excitement, and she realized she was crouching over it like an obsessive creature, nearly unbalancing herself by leaning toward the gutter on the roof. She retracted the blade and traced her fingers over the moth design. It was narrow and fine, each piece fitting so perfectly it barely made a noise when the mechanism was triggered.

"So next time, defend yourself." Warren said, patting her back. "I know you can."

Nife picked up her head, suddenly comprehending why he'd given it to her. She covered her eyes, then turned and wrapped her arms around him, trying not to actively sob.

"I didn't know." He said over her shoulder. "I should've known."

"Should’ve known? I doubt that." Nife said, letting go with a sigh and sniff. She lay back onto the roof. She gazed at the stars, seeing Warren shaking his head moodily at himself, out of the corner of her eyes. She fidgeted with her thumbs over the beautiful stiletto, holding it above her head and feeling the tears drying off in the breeze.

"No, I should've known." Warren said.

"You're not all-powerful, bro."

"It's 'brother'." He said, turning back to her with an incredulous expression, which she met with a smirk.

He shook his head.

"After all this, we have to be even more careful. Father acts like these political issues are life-or-death."

"Maybe he's just a money-grubber."

"No. No, he's just very careful." Warren said. "I wish you wouldn't assume the worst like that..."

"But I always turn out to be right."

Warren sighed shortly, then stood up on the tilted roof and held out a hand. She took it, standing up.

"Just try not to unnecessarily piss off anybody else, please?" He said.

Nife frowned doubtfully.

"I'll try."

First chapter: Previous chapter: Next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria

Per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version of Dance of Death.

For anyone following along on this story that wants the canon NSFW version of the story for free, I’m posting this story on ao3 as well, part by part! You can get the full book right away on amazon for $0.99, but I just want to make it possible for anyone to access.

If you like this book, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review of Dance of Death on Amazon.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

De-aged Danny and protective big brother Damian. The chaos. The confusion. The eMoTiOnS.

I just imagine Danny just super confused at first because he’s six and he was just stabbed and it hurt

He’s six and his brother is eight and he doesn’t see him. He doesn’t see his brother. Where was Dami? He looked up to Damian, he was the first and only person he went to when he was scared, when he knew he wasn’t safe. He wanted his Ahki. Where was he?

An older boy steps closer to him just as he was about to demand his brother’s location from Mother. The boy, teen?, almost stumbles as he rushes to take off the mask from over his eyes. Danny leans away from him in anticipation to run but emerald green eyes stop him.

Those eyes.

Danny sucks in a startled breath. His shoulders sag in relief, barely holding on to his emotions to prevent sobbing horribly. Mother and Grandfather were right there, he’d be punished for showing such weakness.

“Little brother?” The teen asks, choking.

“Dami,” he mumbles before lunging to hug around his brother’s waist.

He didn’t know why his brother was much older or who these other people were, but he recognized Damian immediately even in this weird situation. In the back of his mind he knew he had dealt with much weirder things, but couldn’t quite remember them specifically.

Damian holds him close, almost painfully, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. Danny shoves his face into the odd uniform Dami was wearing to hide the tears that leak from his eyes.

Damian doesn’t even let go when he stands, an arm going around his back to hold him and Danny latching on like a baby koala does to its mother. He hears the shink of metal as his brother draws his sword.

“I’m taking him home,” Damian announces to their onlookers, “with me where he belongs.”

Mother argues but Danny knows how stubborn his brother is, and for once he’s thankful for that fact. No one was taking him away. No one. Danny would help make sure of it if it came down to it, but before he knew what was happening Damian was whisking him away to somewhere safe.

They were safe as long as they were together. Damian is bigger now, he’s stronger and a better fighter, Danny doesn’t even have to look to know his brother is slicing through anyone that stood in their way. Luckily they had help now. Luckily he wasn’t alone.

I...

This came to me as I'm making dinner so I'll be quick.

What if we mix deaged Danny and twin/older sibling (either one works) Damian, AND he gets tossed to his sibling in a last minute escape.

Like what if he was fighting Vlad who was doing his whole "denounce your father and join me as my son Daniel!" Thing while in the Zone and knocks Danny into something that's floating in the Zone with the ability to deage or was hit by a new Fenton or Plasmius invention while fighting in town that accidentally deages him.

Danny, who in this was adopted, gets put back to the age of six. The same age he had been found by Jazz in a 'haunted' forest Jack and Maddie were visiting/investigating while also using that time as a family vacation. (They were shocked to see a little boy with a stab wound bleeding out and rushed him to the nearby town, almost completely forgetting about the glowing green tiny puddle they found nearby and bagged most of it as evidence when they heard Jazz's scream of terror over finding the hurt little boy)

The sudden revert into that traumatized age, along with the child response to a fight or flight scenario, and add Danny's deepest need/wish to be protected his child fogged mind wishes to go to the one person who always made him feel safe.

His twin/older brother.

Just as quick as it was with Danny being turned into a child, his ghost powers ripped open a portal and sent Danny to the person he wants to be with...

Only he didn't know that right at that moment his seventeen year old twin/older brother is currently fighting the League with his family's help (his mother was trying to convince him to return to the League and be it's heir) in Nanda Parbat (the very place Damian lost the last/only person he knew loved him without any strings attached.)

So imagine everyone's face when a portal opened up, some muttering its a new pit being formed before them or something, and crawling out of it is a very scared and confused six year old Danny.

[choccy-milky]

finally drew clora and seb's kids!!🙌🙌

Celeste Sallow: OK THIS IS THE NAME IM SUPER PROUD OF BAHAHA because not only does the name celeste relate to the stars (in typical ravenclaw fashion...clora picked the name) but celeste sallow is also an alliteration. BUT, its an alliteration that begins with a C, which means clora gets to match with celeste in the form of both of their names starting with a C, whereas sebastian gets to match with celeste because both of their names are an alliteration/they're alliteration allies🥹ITS THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS!🥳

Lewis Sallow: as for lewis, if you've read my fic then you know that seb has a vendetta against names that start with an L bahaha, but 'lewis' was actually HIS idea. when celeste was born, seb wanted to find a muggle story to read to her, since clora's favourite story is ALSO a muggle one (sherlock), and he wanted to stick with tradition. so he ended up finding alice in wonderland, which he loved because of how adventurous and clever alice was and of how much she reminded him of clora and celeste (both personality and looks wise). it became his favourite for those reasons, to the point that when they had lewis, sebastian overcame his L-name hatred by naming their son after lewis carroll.

Houses: celeste could have been sorted into either gryffindor or slytherin, but ultimately ends up in slytherin because she wants to be like seb. kinda like how clora also probably could have been in gryffindor, tbh. as for lewis.....him being 10000% in ravenclaw doesnt need any explanation BAHA, just look at him.

Appearance: since clora has a tiny bit of veela blood in her, thats obvs passed down to their kids, too, and so they mostly take after her as a result of it. but there's still little bits of seb that shine through in each of the kids: for lewis its his brown curly hair, and for celeste its her complexion/freckles. and the fact that celeste looks so similar to clora only doubles up sebastian's stress/protective instincts when he watches her BAHAH. he's ofc still proud that she takes after him so closely, but seb also cant deny that he wishes it had been their SON that had taken after him instead, to keep her out of danger.

Celeste & Lewis: for celeste and lewis’ relationship, celeste is a super proud big sister, and treats lewis kinda like how seb treats clora. if there's anything that needs to be done, she offers to do it for him. and although she doesn’t have the patience to read stories herself, she loves playing outside and having lewis read to her in the background, and loves to act out/use his stories to fuel her imagination. and lewis makes sure to pick stories that he KNOWS she’ll like (which mostly involve heroic and daring feats of adventurers or pirates. he's tried to read more classic fairytales and romances to her a few times, but celeste always gets bored). she loves to draw though, so sometimes when lewis reads books that have no pictures, she'll draw them herself.

Celeste & Seb/Clora: celeste is a daddy's girl LOL and always tries to impress seb with the stuff she does, especially after hearing how HE was at her age, and so its half to impress and half because shes competitive that she wants to do the same/be just as good. and seb always gets a kick out of hearing her feats in the crossed wands club, or in defense against the dark arts class, and he also goads her on, telling her she'll have to do better than that if she wants to be as good as HE was. and whenever celeste gets detention, clora always stresses and asks why, whereas seb just tries to keep the smirk off his face. as for celeste and clora, clora also reads to celeste, and bakes and cooks with her, which is something celeste actually likes doing. not only because it keeps her busy and she likes to help and get messy in general, but also because she likes the fact that it results in good food afterwards LOL, and constantly asks when things can be taken out of the oven. also, for as tomboy-y as celeste is, she honestly doesn't mind/likes the clothing that clora puts her in and likes when clora dresses her up, bc it makes her look like one of the princesses from the storybooks, and it just amuses her more than anything else. once she enters hogwarts, though, its mostly trousers. but she still DOES like the occasional girly clothing.

Lewis & Seb/Clora: lewis is a momma's boy LOL and unlike celeste, doesnt care about duelling or of proving himself or anything like that, and is only concerned with stories and his future studies. so ofc clora had to show him sherlock, which he naturally loved. it even inspired lewis to want to write his own stories, so that he could challenge his own skill and see if he could, but also because he wants his mom to read them, and likes the idea of writing his own sherlock-esque story with equations and mysteries to be solved that he can offer her. lewis also wants to write a book for celeste as well, bc although he wont admit it, he basically wants to write a story tailor-made for her and her interests. one that he thinks will have everything she’d love in it. and part of it is genuinely because he WANTS to do it for her, but the other part of it is also for his ego, and to see if he CAN write a compelling story, and write something that would actually get THE hyperactive celeste to sit down and read it in its entirety (not to mention of her own volition). as for with seb, lewis looks up to him more than anyone else, due to how well-rounded he is and how hes so good at practical stuff AND studying, and he kinda sees seb as a main character/protagonist from one of his books, and uses sebastian as inspiration for his own stories. if hes stuck on what he thinks the dashing main character should do next, he'll ask his dad what HE would do, which results in seb getting very weird questions that he nonetheless is always happy to answer. also, when lewis is older and finally learns the full story of what happened with clora and seb and ranrok and rookwood, he writes their story in novel form, except he just changes their names/some of the details, and it becomes a best seller LOL. and i didnt know where to put this, but the four of them all read a story before bed every night, with lewis in the middle and seb and clora on either side of him. though celeste stands at the foot of the bed, basically doing a charade/mime show of what theyre reading, and putting on a little play to go along with it BAHHA.

OK thats all i can think of for now ive yapped enough😩 if youve read all of this ur a real one.... ive also considered giving them a 3rd (and last) child, which would be a boy that looks exactly like seb, and seb would just be praying like please.....let this son take after me🧎‍♂️🙏 BAHHA