#she is excellent intelligent but still A CHILD

[cosmicconversations]

12th House Placements and Past Life Baggage

Sun in the 12th House: Sudden or overwhelming fame/acclaim/notoriety, which instilled within them a fear of being truly seen or known. Or a fear of letting praise and glory go to their head. Overly attached to past life identities or achievements. A need to recapture those experiences somehow. Yet, this can give them an unsettled or unstable idea of who they really are. A past life with their dad where he failed to give them attention or approval or validation.

Moon in the 12th House: Abandonment or neglect during childhood in a past life. Makes them determined to take care of themselves now so they’re not helpless again. Possibly losing a child or enduring a tough marriage for a child’s sake, which can instill a lot of anxiety about parenthood. Still holding on to feelings of grief or fear or loneliness from a previous life. A past life with their mother figure where either she was a struggling or neglectful mom or she was a vulnerable child and they were her parent.

Mercury in the 12th House: Issues with schooling or teachers or peers at school. Made to either feel stupid or pressured to excel academically in a past life. Has created current fears around communication and intelligence. May have had a learning disability. Easily triggered by or very sensitive to criticism. Still dealing with the impact of the naysayers or people who mocked them in their past life and may meet these souls again in the present.

Venus in the 12th House: A divorce or major heartbreak that crushed their spirit. Subjected to a lot of infidelity or abuse in a marriage or long relationship in a past life. Suffers from deep issues trusting, committing or receiving healthy love in the present, as a result. Re-experiencing romantic connections from their past life, either as a hard lesson or an opportunity for happiness. Was either made to feel unattractive and undesirable or was only valued for their looks and their allure.

Mars in the 12th House: Might have fought in some kind of war or served in the military in some way. Unresolved post-traumatic stress from that past life experience makes them shy away from any sort of “battle” now. Or they are so able to get cutthroat that it scares them and they suppress it. Afraid of the possible damage they could do when they fight back. Possibly endured a brutal assault or attack that makes it easy now for them to feel victimized.

Jupiter in the 12th House: Experiences traveling or living abroad that were traumatic or motivated by trauma. Could have fled their country or culture in a past life to seek more freedom or opportunity. In this life, they fear being seen as a “traitor” to where they come from. Or not being accepted by other cultures. Enjoyed a very abundant, easy, carefree life. Might have been particularly wealthy. But, this and the envy it attracted gave them a deep guilt regarding their success and a resistance to prosperity that they struggle with currently.

Saturn in the 12th House: An ancient soul who has lived many, many lifetimes. They are still very attached to difficulties from those lives and it can weigh them down, particularly when they’re very young. Either occupied a position of great power, influence and recognition or had the potential to and fell short. Possibly both, in different lives. This has instilled a very deep fear of both failure and success, making them overly hard on themselves. Might have felt the weight of everyone’s judgment and a need to always have it together. If and when they let others down who counted on them, they couldn’t forgive themselves. A past life or more with their father figure, in which he was either an overly strict, cold patriarch or a very irresponsible or disappointing dad with a weak character.

Uranus in the 12th House: Harshly punished or ostracized in a past life for breaking the rules. This could mean social conventions and norms or engaging in illegal behavior. As a result, they currently have both an attraction to and fear of going against the grain. They might have been freedom fighters who were shunned or arrested/imprisoned for a righteous cause. Now, they seek out a certain kind of “trouble” because they feel it’s justified. On the flip side, they may have settled for a very traditional life, repressing their true nature to do so.

Neptune in the 12th House: A total immersion in spiritual matters, possibly to the degree that it isolated them from worldly concerns or mainstream society altogether. Some of them even took a vow as monks or nuns. In this present life, they find it very hard to adjust to everyday living and the harsh, secular nature of society. Isolating becomes a crutch. Their psychic powers and sensitivities were overly active in past lives and they may have been guides, healers or spiritual teachers. Their intuition remains very powerful yet they also easily get drained or overwhelmed by various energies. Also, they are magnets for very wounded or low-vibrational people.

Pluto in the 12th House: Those within their community demonized or villainized this person, to the point where their safety may have been at risk. Many of them had a magical or spiritual practice that subjected them to baseless, cruel or even violent persecution. As a result, that feeling of being a target of a “witch hunt” continues today. Like they can’t escape the harsh mob mentality. Some of them suppress their darkness in order to avoid this. They may have been in the midst of some sort of plague or famine where people were constantly dying around them. The unresolved grief can carry over into this life, where they may also be confronted with numerous losses.

North Node in the 12th House: There was something crucially important that they didn’t learn in previous lives. It is unavoidable even if they try to run from it. It’s like they keep repeating the same grade in school. A sense that others are growing and leaving them behind could haunt them as they get older. Pivotal people from their previous lives will show up in this life as powerful teachers and catalysts for their growth, whether they like it or not. Their late 30’s/early 40’s and beyond can offer them the chance to redeem their past mistakes. If not, they’ll suffer for it. Simultaneously clings to and tries to run from past experiences.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [1]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Father, mother, we're back!" called out Haeun, your eldest sister who had been married for years now, returning home with her husband and children to celebrate the birth of your middle brother's first child.

"You're home, our dear daughter!" Your parents enthusiastically rose from their seats to greet her, showering her with praise for leading such a successful life, whatever that meant; it was a concept you still struggled to comprehend to this day.

After exchanging pleasantries with your parents, she made a beeline for your brother, completely disregarding your timid presence in the corner of the room, "Hajoon-ah, congratulations, my brother! It's high time you joined the parent club!"

Your brother-in-law, displaying a touch more consideration than his wife, offered you a warm smile before joining 'the adults' in conversation, leaving you to quietly observe your nieces and nephews playing joyfully in the courtyard. At times, you were envious of the simplicity of children's lives—so carefree, with no expectations weighing them down. Unlike them, you felt constantly burdened by the expectations placed upon you.

This had been the pattern for as long as you could recall—living in the shadows of your successful sister and brother, both excelling in nearly every aspect of life. Haeun, intelligent and outgoing, had swiftly found a suitable match upon reaching marriageable age, becoming the epitome of a perfect daughter in your parents' eyes. Hajoon wasn't far behind, securing a position in the local government and dutifully marrying the girl your parents had chosen for him.

And then there was you.

The black sheep of the Baek household, the peculiar one, always kept to yourself, showing little interest in feminine pursuits such as cooking, gardening, embroidering, or any similar activities. Your days were spent predominantly at home, frequenting your father's extensive library and immersing yourself in the countless storybooks it housed, often seeking solace in the realms of fantasy they offered. Your lack of enthusiasm for conventional interests rendered you an enigma even to your parents.

You maintained scant friendships, lacking any love interests or potential marriage prospects. Unlike other young women, you harboured no desire to adorn yourself or enhance your appearance; you appeared strangely content in your plain white hanboks and minimal hair accessories. Your demeanour led most people to forget the existence of a third daughter in the Baek family altogether. Those who did recall you were hesitant to consider you as a potential match for their sons, and the young men themselves showed no interest.

While your parents had initially held onto hope that you would eventually find your own path to settling down, their concerns began to mount as you surpassed the ideal age for marriage. Beyond mere age considerations, most young women your age were already married with children, leaving you perpetually single.

Though you concealed it well, you weren't oblivious to the whispers and rumours circulating about you already being labelled a spinster. The servants of your family estate often used you as a topic for gossip and entertainment, speculating whether you would ever find a spouse and placing bets on your marital prospects.

Finally deciding to acknowledge your presence, Haeun heaved a sigh before addressing you, "And how have you been, maknae? Will I be hearing news of you getting hitched any time soon?"

Glancing at her, you simply shrugged and shook your head, "Same old, unnie. And no, I don't think you will."

Hajoon frowned in resignation at your customary bluntness, "With that attitude, definitely not. Do you even have any intention of settling down? What are your plans for the future, hm? Are you going to keep causing our parents to worry like this?"

Your mother shook her head, silently urging him to be gentler with you, a twinge of sympathy stirring within her. In your younger years, her favouritism was evident in the way she showered attention primarily to your sister and brother, especially since your father was often away for work. While your siblings made efforts to bond with him during his brief returns, you showed little interest. Consequently, your relationship with your parents wasn't as close-knit as theirs.

It wasn't until Haeun had married and left home that your mother attempted to show you some affection, though by then, it seemed too late to truly connect with you. Despite her earnest efforts, she struggled to understand you. The rest of the family faced similar difficulties. You remained a mystery to everyone, always lost in your own world.

For once, instead of reacting with anger or responding passive-aggressively out of frustration, your sister nodded slowly, as if making a concerted effort to remain patient with you. Despite her occasional harshness towards you, she hadn't always been unkind. As your only elder sister, she had tried to foster a bond with you throughout your childhood, but your reserved nature made it difficult, and your straightforwardness often unintentionally wounded her.

Deep down, she harboured a hope that her harshness might somehow elicit some sort of response from you. But by now, she had come to realise its futility, as you consistently maintained an unbothered demeanour, regardless of what others would say or do to you. Ultimately, she grew tired of attempting to decipher your mind and heart. The same goes for your brother.

However, despite their frustrations, you were still their youngest sibling, and they sincerely hoped that you would one day settle down, have someone care for you, and perhaps start a family of your own.

"I think I know what might help," Haeun began, capturing everyone's attention before continuing, "I've heard about a renowned dressmaker in town who has worked wonders for countless women. If I'm not mistaken, his craftsmanship has even garnered recognition from the King and Queen. I was just thinking... maybe all our youngest needs is just a little makeover?"

Your father's eyes widened in astonishment, "His work is recognised even by His and Her Majesty, you say?"

Haeun nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, father! I couldn't believe it myself, but it's true. He's the mastermind behind Lady Park's stunning white and gold wedding hanbok!"

"He must be truly exceptional! Well, then, it seems worth a try. Perhaps this is just what our youngest needs to catch the eye of a potential suitor," your mother chimed in, her gaze hopeful as she turned to you, "Are you on board with the idea, dear?"

All eyes swivelled to you, and you once again felt yourself shrinking under their scrutiny—this familiar sensation of never being enough for them. The truth was evident: they were all tired of you. You had been a disappointment your entire life. If all they desired was for you to marry and depart from the household, perhaps it would be best to acquiesce to their wishes. It wouldn't hurt to entertain their request.

With another indifferent shrug, you replied, "Sure, if that's what everyone wants. After all, I don't have much to lose."

For the first time in forever, your family's faces lit up with smiles because of you, cheered by your response. As you retreated to your quarters that night, your sister eagerly taking charge of contacting the renowned dressmaker they had discussed, you pondered whether their enthusiasm stemmed from a desire to see you gone.

In truth, your parents' neglect and blatant favouritism toward your siblings over you during your childhood had moulded you into someone who wore indifference as armour, a coping mechanism to shield yourself from the constant sadness you felt. The weight of constantly letting everyone down had driven you to suppress your emotions, opting instead to feign apathy. Eventually, this façade became your reality; it felt safer to shut yourself off from feeling anything at all.

As you attempted to drift off to sleep that night, thoughts of the acclaimed dressmaker they had been praising occupied your mind. You couldn't help but entertain the idea that, like everyone else, he too would eventually grow weary of you. Surely, upon seeing you, he would deem you a lost cause.

Heh, at least he'll be paid to deal with me.

"Thanks a bunch, hyung. I promise I'll treat you to the finest meal once this is over!" Wooyoung exclaimed, hugging the disguise crafted by the dressmaker at the eleventh hour for his latest case—more like a mission to play knight in shining armour, one that might finally win him the affections of a girl, unlike the silly crush he harboured for Lady Park, leading absolutely nowhere.

With a shake of his head, Hongjoong gave the younger man's shoulder a reassuring pat, "Yeah, you better. Off you go then, you don't want to keep her waiting a moment longer now, do you?"

"Yes, sir!" The private investigator saluted playfully before setting off in pursuit of his new dream girl.

Once he was out of sight, the dressmaker returned to his shop, settling comfortably back into his seat, ready to resume work on his latest batch of orders. His fingers moved with practised ease, guided by the rough design sketch before him. A faint smile lingered on his lips as he worked, a swell of pride warming his chest at his friend's development. It wasn't just Wooyoung; everyone had left the general's estate weeks ago, returning to their own lives. While part of him missed the chaos of their shared moments, he was content to give the newlyweds their well-deserved privacy.

Still chuckling to himself, he reflected on the fact that the once-intimidating Park Seonghwa was now but a lovesick fool. He had once worried about the general's prospects for finding love, but now he realised it had been a needless concern. Who would have thought that General Park would find love before him, or even before the ever-charming Jung Yunho?

As he put the final touches on one of his dresses, he couldn't help but wonder how the couple was doing. It had been weeks since he last saw them, and he shook his head when he recalled how 'excited' his friend had been, even when he was injured. Now that they had all the time in the world together, he imagined Seonghwa would struggle to keep his hands off his wife. He pondered whether he would soon hear news of a new addition to their family.

Before he could become further engrossed in his thoughts, his sharp senses alerted him to the presence of a man and a woman entering his shop. Without hesitation, he plastered on his best business smile—a façade rarely seen by his friends, perhaps except for Lady Park. It was part of his practised persona, an outwardly amiable demeanour he employed to win over customers and potential clients, doing whatever was necessary to secure their business. This isn't to say he wasn't genuinely pleased, but his true passion lay in designing and dressmaking rather than customer service. Unfortunately, the latter was an essential aspect of his job.

Hongjoong had never been naturally a people person, but as he had previously made it clear to the general, he was reluctant to hire assistance for such a simple task. So here he was, stuck with doing his least favourite part of the job: greeting customers.

"Good day, sir and ma'am! Welcome to Kim's Dress Shop. May I inquire what you are searching for today? A hanbok for a special occasion, perhaps? That happens to be one of my specialities. However, if you're seeking an upgrade in everyday attire, I also offer a selection of simpler yet elegant designs," he recited, sticking to his customary script upon each patron's arrival.

The couple glanced around in amazement before eagerly beaming at him. The woman spoke, "Um, are you the renowned dressmaker Kim who crafted Lady Park's famous wedding gown?"

Grinning proudly, the dressmaker was pleased to once again be acknowledged for his recent accomplishments, "Indeed, that would be me," he confirmed. He couldn't deny that his orders had doubled since news of the iconic hanbok he had designed for his friend's wedding had spread. Perhaps he owed Seonghwa a debt of gratitude for hiring him. Without him, Hongjoong might not have achieved the level of success he enjoys today.

Stepping forward, the woman bowed respectfully, "It's truly an honour to meet you, Mr. Kim! You see, we are interested in engaging your services, but it's not for myself—it's for my younger sister."

"Oh? Will she be coming by soon for me to take her measurements and discuss her design preferences?" he inquired, surprised that the intended recipient of his hanboks was not present.

Shaking her head sheepishly, she clarified, "Unfortunately not. Forgive me for not starting with a self-introduction. Good day, Mr. Kim. I am the eldest daughter of the Baek household, and I'm here on behalf of our youngest."

Upon hearing this, Hongjoong immediately grasped the situation. Having worked extensively with noblewomen, he was well-versed in local gossip about nearby noble families. He had heard of the mysterious third daughter of Official Baek from the local Civilian Office, who rarely ventured outside her home—a well-known wallflower who, if he wasn't mistaken, remained unmarried despite being well past the ideal marriageable age.

With a nod, he smiled warmly, "Ah, Miss Baek! Or should I say, Mrs. Heo," the dressmaker corrected with a grin directed at the man beside her, presumably her husband, "It would be my pleasure to create hanboks for the youngest miss of such a prominent family. I assume that means I will need to visit the Baek estate to meet her."

The couple nodded with a slight grimace, "Yes, I'm sure you're aware of her reputation. Whatever rumours you may have heard are true. She remains single, and our entire family is deeply concerned for her. We've heard of the wonderful work you've done for others, and we were hopeful you could work your magic on her. My sister has always been a unique individual. I apologise for the inconvenience of asking you to leave your shop just for her. However, I assure you we will compensate you for any inconvenience."

As he listened to her plea, the dressmaker's mind raced with excitement. That was because no challenge was too daunting for him; he thrived on the opportunity to showcase his talent. The woman was right in what she said; he had indeed helped numerous single young women find matches after they had worn his designs.

This time would be no different.

What truly fueled his enthusiasm was the knowledge that the youngest Miss Baek was known to repel potential suitors, making her a particularly challenging case. If he could help her in finding a match, it would undoubtedly bolster his reputation, adding another significant achievement to his already impressive portfolio.

Moreover, the Baeks were one of the wealthiest noble families in the area. It would be foolish not to accept this job, even if it meant temporarily closing his shop more frequently to visit their estate. He was certain that the compensation he would receive for his services would more than make up for any inconvenience.

With a feigned understanding expression, he nodded, "Oh, please don't worry about it, Mrs. Heo. Nothing brings me greater joy than helping young women gain confidence and find love. Miss Baek clearly needs my assistance. If it means I can help one more woman escape singledom, any inconvenience will be worth it."

The couple cooed at his kindness, profusely thanking him for his selflessness, while he celebrated internally, eager for the opportunity to make that buck. Reassuringly, he welcomed them into his shop, offering them seats and some tea as they made the necessary arrangements for the special job: determining which days he would need to close his shop and visit the Baek estate as well as negotiating the payment. Fortunately for him, they had even provided a down payment to demonstrate their sincerity.

After a lengthy discussion that may or may not have interfered with his current orders, Hongjoong happily bid the couple goodbye. He couldn't care less about any disruptions; his pockets were full, and he was content. With the success of the business that Seonghwa had brought him, he was sure that this would be his next most satisfying endeavour. As he watched the couple leave, a sense of anticipation washed over him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you, Miss Baek, for this wonderful opportunity. I'm certain we'll get along just fine, you and I. Gosh, I just love it when rich people are gullible, and money is easy to make," he muttered to himself, brimming with excitement for what lay ahead.

Oh, I'm going to have the time of my life.

Perhaps the dressmaker might have spoken too soon, been a tad overconfident in his abilities, and underestimated the true enigmatic nature of the youngest Miss Baek. He would soon discover this the hard way during his very first visit to the family's estate, which was nearly as large as the general's, albeit slightly smaller.

He remained confident and pleased as he was warmly welcomed, not only by the couple he had met at his shop the other day, but also by Official Baek and his wife, Lady Baek, along with their middle son and his new wife—everyone except for the one he was hired to make clothes for. The youngest Miss Baek was nowhere to be seen.

Nevertheless, he refused to let it dampen his spirits. If anything, it only heightened his curiosity about you. He was eager to finally lay eyes on the girl whom so many noble families and men tried to avoid.

The more your family emphasised how hopeless you were and expressed their concern about you remaining a spinster, the more determined he became. His fingers were itching to work another miracle. No ugly duckling could remain ugly forever, especially not if he could help it.

"We're terribly sorry our youngest is not here to greet you, Mr. Kim! We specifically informed her that you would be arriving by this time. She must still be holed up in her father's library. We'll fetch her immediately!" Lady Baek exclaimed, her urgency and embarrassment evident in her tone.

Hongjoong shook his head, waving his hands to signal that it was fine, despite feeling a slight disbelief at your apparent disregard for his presence. He tried his best to play the role of a considerate man, reminding himself that it was your family who wanted him here, not you. He tried to be understanding of how you might be feeling, "It's quite alright. Perhaps I could go meet her in the library if she doesn't want to come outside."

"Oh, is that really alright? You've come all this way, Mr. Kim. The least she could do now is come to you and make your job easier," Official Baek remarked with a slight wince.

"I assure you, it's perfectly fine. My task today is simply to take Miss Baek's measurements and discuss her design preferences. For that to happen smoothly, it's important she feels comfortable. Conducting it in her own space might be the best approach for all of us," he responded.

Your brother nodded, "If you insist, Mr. Kim. We'll have the maids escort you there. Let us know if there's anything you need."

Hongjoong bowed, "Thank you, sir. I will."

"We entrust her to you, Mr. Kim," said your sister, her hands clasped together to show her gratitude and hopefulness.

"Please do not worry, Mrs. Heo. I have a feeling Miss Baek will find love in no time."

"We're counting on it."

As a few maids escorted him towards the library as instructed, the dressmaker's mind buzzed with speculative thoughts. Considering all the talk about Miss Baek's perpetual singleness, he couldn't help but imagine you to be hideous. If that were indeed the case, he surmised it might stem from low self-esteem.

Throughout his career, he has developed a knack for identifying his customers' underlying issues. Just as he had done with Seonghwa's wife, he could often discern precisely what they needed, whether it be a boost in confidence or a transformation in appearance. He was almost certain he'd be able to figure you out in an instant.

Upon arriving at the destination, one of the maids spoke up, "We're here, Mr. Kim. You should be able to find the young miss somewhere inside. Just call out to any of us if you require anything at all."

Hongjoong nodded, expressing his gratitude, "Of course, thank you," he replied before heading inside. His heart quickened for some reason as he stepped into the room, uncertain of what to expect.

Taking a cautious step after gently closing the door behind him, he called out softly, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquil atmosphere of the silent and peaceful library, "Miss Baek...? Sorry for the intrusion, but this is Kim Hongjoong, the dressmaker your family hired to provide you with a new wardrobe. If you would be so kind as to come out, we could proceed with the initial stages of the dressmaking process for you."

Releasing a small sigh at the continued silence, he called out again, "Miss Baek...? If you won't respond, I'll have to enter."

While he understood your potential shyness, he struggled to contain his displeasure at what felt like disrespect towards him. After all, he had made the effort to come all this way and even prioritised your comfort. Yet here you were, still playing hard to get.

"Very well, don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he began to make his way down the aisle, scanning the spacious room from left to right in search of you. It was only when he was about to pass by a hunched figure between the rows of tall bookshelves that he halted, doing a double take before fixing his gaze squarely on your form. There you were, seated on the ground, completely absorbed in the book you held in your hands.

Whatever he had anticipated, you were none of that. The girl in front of him was nothing like what he had imagined. Bathed in the sunlight streaming through the open window, your delicate and refined features were illuminated, accentuating your natural beauty. In that moment, you appeared almost ethereal. With such looks, finding a match shouldn't be a challenge at all.

Huh, guess I was wrong about her looks.

Yet, it wasn't your appearance that posed the issue. He had expected as much, considering the attractiveness of your family members. However, he could understand why you were often overlooked. The problem lay not in your physical attributes, but rather in that god-awful attire you chose to wear – a plain, white hanbok devoid of any embellishments. Furthermore, you seemed to lack hair accessories and makeup. He dared say that even some of the maids had put more effort into their appearance than you had.

Goodness gracious, you looked like a prisoner in that outfit. In his opinion, you ought to be arrested for donning such a monstrosity. Perhaps you weren't aware yet, but today you would be encountering the fashion police, and he was not pleased with what he saw. It was evident to him that you were in dire need of his assistance.

Kim Hongjoong was here now, and he intended to effect swift change. By the end of his makeover, he was confident you would be fit to enter even a beauty pageant.

"Hello, Miss Baek," he greeted, finally drawing your attention as you glanced up to see him approaching.

"Oh, you're here. Mr. Kim, right?" you responded, acknowledging him with a nod. Folding the edge of the page as a makeshift bookmark, you carefully slid the book back into its place on the shelf before rising from your spot on the ground.

The dressmaker's grip tightened around his bag of tools, a hint of displeasure flickering behind his façade of a smile, "Yes, that's correct, my lady. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard much about you," he attempted to charm you, a tactic that typically worked wonders with his clientele, eliciting blushes and smiles. However, his heart sank as you remained unfazed.

"Did you really? I can't imagine it's anything favourable," you murmured, turning to face him squarely, "And there's no need for pretence. I highly doubt there's anything pleasurable about meeting me. I prefer unvarnished truths to false pleasantries."

What in the world.

Taken aback by your bluntness, he paused briefly to compose himself before clearing his throat, "Ah, I see... If you insist, Miss Baek, I won't sugarcoat my thoughts on your choice of attire. Your family has expressed concerns about your ability to attract suitors, and I can see why. It's pretty clear to me that you struggle with dressing in a way that appeals to others but fear not. I'm here now, and I'll help you enhance your style."

Just when he thought you couldn't possibly surprise him any further, you shrugged in disagreement, "I don't believe I'm struggling at all. I know exactly what I like, and this is it," you gestured to your hanbok, "It's not my fault nobody shares the same opinion."

Baffled by your words, he finally grasped the true extent of your problem. Yes, your fashion style was the main issue, but more crucially, it was your entire character. Throughout his life, the dressmaker had encountered his fair share of eccentric individuals, but you seemed to easily surpass them all in peculiarity.

Your blunt honesty was one thing, but it was your overall lack of emotion or ability to read social cues that truly puzzled him. Perhaps it was simply your indifference. Regardless, one thing became abundantly clear to him: he did not like you. Despite having only just met you, he eagerly anticipated the moment he could leave your presence.

Lord help me, I cannot stand her already.

Blinking rapidly, he struggled to maintain the smile on his face as he responded stiffly, "I... I understand, Miss Baek. Perhaps that's your belief for now. However, I'm confident you'll change your mind once you see my designs. They never disappoint. I've never had a dissatisfied customer, and I fully intend to keep it that way."

Not wanting to dwell on your comments, he quickly clapped his hands together and continued, "Now, without further ado, let's proceed with taking your measurements."

Forget discussing your preferences, you had made your stance clear. But Hongjoong remained determined to impress you with his work. He was eager to unveil his best design, he couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you would realise how stupid you were to prefer prison clothes over his hanboks.

Retrieving his measuring tape and notebook from his bag, he turned to you, making an effort to conceal any hint of displeasure on his face as he approached, "Stay still, my lady. This will only take a moment," he instructed, beginning with your shoulders before proceeding to measure your height, sleeve length, and neck size. His breath caught and his hands trembled as he reached the final step, assessing your waist and chest measurements.

While he typically performed these tasks with ease, it was usually in the familiar surroundings of his shop, with others present. Now, it was just the two of you in the expansive, quiet library. For some reason, the atmosphere felt almost... intimate.

Focus, Kim Hongjoong!

Suppressing the sudden spike of his heartbeat, he maintained a composed expression and directed, "Please raise your arms, my lady. I'll need to measure your chest and waist next."

Flustered, he attributed the fluttering of his heart to the persistent, unabashed curiosity in your gaze throughout the measurement process. That must be it, he reasoned. You didn't possess goddess-like beauty, nor were you sweet as an angel. There was no other reason for him to react that way than sheer embarrassment under your scrutiny.

Little did he know, you experienced similar, if not more intense, emotions than he did. But who could blame you, really? It was the first time a man had ever been in such close proximity to you. The only difference between you was your adeptness at concealing your feelings, contrasting with the subtle shifts in his demeanour and the slight tremor in his hands, which did not evade your perceptive gaze.

He was merely a man, after all. You supposed it was only natural for him to exhibit such reactions in the presence of a woman.

But that didn't mean much.

You could tell he disliked you, a sentiment you had grown used to. Like everyone else you met, it seemed no one genuinely liked you. Your family's acceptance stemmed from obligation, your servants' compliance from their employment, and Hongjoong's engagement from his professional duty. Once that was done, you were certain you would never see him again. Armed with this notion, you maintained your stoic façade.

"Very well, Miss Baek. Thank you for your cooperation. I'll return when the first batch of your hanboks is ready," the dressmaker stated, swiftly gathering his belongings and offering one final bow before hurrying out of the library, pink tinting his cheeks.

"Goodbye, Mr. Kim."

Back at his shop that evening, he struggled to focus on his work. His thoughts kept wandering back to the moment your faces were inches apart, when he had to briefly encircle his arms around your waist to take measurements. Despite the unattractive hanbok you wore, he couldn't deny that you smelled quite pleasant. At the very least, you had good hygiene, he had to give you that.

Get a grip, you fool!

Giving himself a sharp slap on the cheek, he shook off the distraction. He reminded himself of the sheer frustration of being around you. From your perplexing bluntness to your questionable taste in fashion, it was enough to raise his blood pressure. How could someone like you even exist? He realised now that he had vastly underestimated your peculiar nature. Once confident he could see through anyone, he was beginning to have second thoughts.

Nevertheless, one thing remained certain: you would surely admire the designs he had in store for you. His work had always been his stronghold, never failing to impress. If even royalty had been impressed, why wouldn't a mere noblewoman like yourself? You claimed to dislike fashion, but that was only because you hadn't seen his masterpieces, he was sure of it.

No one, no one could ever resist his work.

Determined to swiftly overcome this minor obstacle, he reassured himself that you were just a small hurdle on the path to another remarkable achievement. In the end, when you were basking in the glory of the century's most sensational makeover, all the effort would be worthwhile. He could not wait for you to shed tears of gratitude, thanking him for opening your eyes to the true essence of beauty. With that conviction, he delved into his work, flipping through his sketchbook until he reached the section reserved for his finest designs, carefully curated for an occasion like this.

Pausing at one of his personal favorites, a masterpiece he had been saving for a worthy client, he decided that now was the perfect opportunity to bring it to life.

Oh, you were sure to adore it.

You had to.

But he should have known better than to actually believe that. He was, once again, in for a surprise a few days later when he arrived at the Baek estate with the first hanbok done. Only once he had your green light would he be able to proceed with making more for you. As the maids escorted him to your quarters, they noted his bright demeanour; you had risen late today and were still having breakfast in solitude, "You seem quite cheerful today, Mr. Kim," one remarked, arching an eyebrow.

He smirked confidently, "Indeed, I am. Your young miss will be very impressed with what she is about to see today. With this makeover, she'll surely catch the eye of potential suitors in no time."

The maid hesitated, cautioning, "I'm not sure you should be so certain. The young miss isn't like any other girl you've worked with."

"Ah, I know, but my work speaks for itself," he retorted, "She'd be silly not to like it."

"If you say so, sir," the maid replied, her tone conceding defeat. She knew better than to doubt his skill, but she also understood that you were unlike any other. He would soon discover that firsthand, and she was almost certain he wouldn't leave the estate with the same confidence he arrived with.

"Well, what do you think?" inquired the dressmaker, proudly unveiling his newest masterpiece to his latest customer.

Eyeing the elegantly colourful hanbok, which was a departure from your usual plain white ones, your gaze remained impassive. After what seemed like an eternity, you responded with a slight furrow of your brows, "It uhh... it looks nice, I suppose."

As you watched Hongjoong's reaction falter momentarily, it appeared as though he was experiencing a million emotions per second before settling on a deeply offended expression. With an audible scoff, he clenched his jaw, "Nice, you say? Just... nice? You suppose? Miss Baek, that is utterly outrageous! Throughout my career, I've only ever been praised for delivering perfection."

You stayed silent as he continued to extol his successes, boasting about being the best dressmaker in all of Joseon and citing his most illustrious achievements, such as the wedding dress he crafted for Lady Park, which even impressed Their Majesties. It dawned on you that your simple response had deeply wounded him.

"I-I mean... it's not bad," you interjected, hoping to fix the damage, but your heart sank as he only glared at you, "Not bad...? I'm sorry, was that supposed to console me?" he chuckled incredulously, "You know what? Now I understand why you're still single. At this rate, you'll never find a husband."

Ouch.

The awkward silence that followed was deafening, causing the maids who were waiting in your room to quickly shuffle closer to you, noticing you had finished your meal, "Young miss, we'll just be clearing this up and excusing ourselves."

"Thank you." You nodded curtly, watching emotionlessly as they hastily picked up the table containing the empty plates and bowls and left with a deep bow. Meanwhile, the dressmaker remained in his spot, visibly heaving deep breaths as if trying to calm himself from the outburst, before carefully setting the hanbok down.

After you were left alone, he took a deep breath before apologising, "Gosh, I— I'm so sorry, Miss Baek. That was uncalled for, I—"

Shaking your head, you cut him off, "No, please don't be. You were merely telling the truth. As I've said, I prefer unvarnished truth to false pleasantries. In fact, I believe you are right about that. You are not the first to say that, and you certainly won't be the last."

As he absorbed your words, a wave of discomfort washed over Hongjoong. For some reason, he would have preferred if you had yelled at him or thrown a tantrum rather than accepting his insults like that. Surely, it couldn't feel pleasant to hear such remarks, no matter how unaffected you made yourself appear. It made him feel terrible, and he hated it — hated the guilt that filled him for uttering such words.

Clearing his throat, he sighed, "I... my lady, please don't say that. It's just that... I really need your approval before I make more of these for you. At the end of the day, you are the one who has to wear them." His voice softened, an attempt to make up for his earlier harshness.

You detected the familiar pity in his tone, and you despised it. Raising a brow, you shrugged, "Why does my approval matter? It's my family who's paying you, not me. You owe it to them to make me look perfect, whatever that means. I've made it clear what I like, and if it's not to yours or anyone's taste, so be it. I see no point in consulting me on your designs, Mr. Kim. Just do what you're hired for; it doesn't matter what I like."

It never has.

While that should have brought relief to the dressmaker, knowing he had the freedom to pursue his vision without worrying about your approval, something about your words left him feeling... melancholic. It struck a chord within him, reminding him of his own struggles when he initially embarked on his fashion career. At that time, it was met with disapproval from society, which deemed it an unfitting profession for a man. Despite the opposition, he chose to be himself.

However, seeing you succumb to societal expectations, suppressing your true self to please others, including him, stirred a sense of empathy within him. It mirrored his own past battles with conformity. Unlike him, you were forced to adhere to societal norms, sacrificing your individuality for the sake of others' expectations.

And he didn't like that.

But what he hated even more was how you managed to evoke emotions he hadn't signed up for. Despite his efforts to push thoughts of you aside and concentrate solely on his goal—to craft the finest hanboks in all of Joseon and transform you into a vision of beauty, one you did not desire—the memory of your somewhat disheartening expression, as you dismissed the importance of your preferences, lingered in his mind. It unsettled him, he hated the way it was causing an uncomfortable tightening in his chest.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"I'm telling you, Yunho, she's infuriating!"

The physician, busy tidying his clinic counter, rolled his eyes, "How could I not know, hyung? You've been talking about her since my lunch break. We're almost at closing time; are you finished?"

Hongjoong crossed his arms, scoffing, "What, do you have somewhere else to be? Don't think I haven't noticed you've been going to that apothecary more often lately."

Yunho stilled, a faint pink dusting across his cheeks as he cleared his throat, "What do you mean? I've always gone there for herbs."

"Yes, but not as frequently as you do now. Ever since you met a certain herbalist," Hongjoong teased, wiggling his brows.

"If you have nothing important to say, please leave," the physician grumbled, tired of the older man's rambling.

Uncrossing his arms, the dressmaker said, "W-wait! Look, you're the most rational one among us. I just... wanted to know your thoughts on the matter."

Sighing, Yunho softened, "You know, she's right. You're hired by her family, your job is simple, and you know what you have to do. The only reason you're so affected by this is probably because you care."

"I do not care about her—"

"Sure, if you say so. Then go on ahead and complete your job. You'll receive your payment and all the benefits that come with it anyway. So, what's really bothering you?"

Oh my gosh, thank you so much for 1.6k followers! Same as Wooyoung's spinoff, the next part will be the second and final part. I've decided to standardise the format, so all the spinoffs will be two-shots.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[utterlyotterlyx]

Can I request something where Azriel has to pick up Nyx from school one day and thinks his teacher is cute & is very flirty with her?

Yes! Love this idea so much!

When I Kissed The Teacher

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Feyre loves Nyx's teacher but loves playing matchmaker even more. After sending Azriel to collect Nyx from school one day after feigning a studio related emergency, she's very happy to learn that Azriel's affections are completely in the palm of your hand.

Warnings - none really, just cuteness all round

Feyre had always been worried about sending Nyx off to school, even though she believed Rhys when he told her that the schools of Velaris were the best in Prythian, she couldn't help but feel anxious that he wouldn't thrive.

Then she met you, and all of her worries faded away.

You were everything Feyre wanted in a teacher for her child, it had taken a lot of weight throwing to get him into your class, it was full to the brim of children from higher born families, only wanting the best for their offspring. Feyre wasn't even surprised.

It was clear how much you cared about your children, in nurturing them into intelligently creative creatures. Other teachers focused solely on the academics, but you had a passion for the arts, you said creativity helped children to find their passions and grow into more compassionate and joyful souls.

Nyx had run into her arms when she had come to collect him that first day, babbling on about what a wonderful time he had with you. Miss Y/L/N. Feyre had never seen such wonderment in his eyes when he told her in that broken infant language how great you were. Everyone's worries about Nyx becoming a shell had vanished.

The little thing had returned home with paintings, reciting poetry from your favourite passages; he had the desire to read, making different voices for the different characters like he had learned from you. Nyx was well and truly flourishing.

Feyre had insisted that you walk home with them one afternoon, since you only lived five minutes from the River House and it was on your route home anyway. From that walk, Feyre had learned much about you, that you were from Spring but left after being disowned by your family for wanting more from life than being married away to be used as a breeding tool. After that you had travelled the continent, making many friends along the way and opening your mind to the world before settling in Hewn City, only to be brought to Velaris on Rhys' orders because he had heard of your talents and passion and wanted it taking root in the children of his city.

The more you spoke, rambling on about art and books and theatre, did Feyre come to the realisation that a certain someone would be absolutely besotted with you. When you had hugged Nyx goodbye, ruffling his hair and telling him you'd see him in the morning, did Feyre begin to hatch her plan.

Azriel wasn't one for sunshine and rainbows, but even he had to admit that Nyx's and Feyre's gushings about you had him intrigued, even Rhys had commented on how sweet you were, seemingly very fond of how Nyx was excelling under your wing.

"Az, would you mind grabbing Nyx today? I have to head to the studio, delivery emergency," Feyre floated past him toward the door, a thin cloak fitted around her shoulders to protect her from the afternoon summer breeze that drifted along the Sidra.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," he waved Feyre from the house as she dashed down the path shouting over her shoulder what time to be at the school for.

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky but warmth still flew through Velaris, Azriel walked along the winding paths and up the hill to the school, the skittering sound of children's laughter filling his ears as he approached. Parents parted as he walked down the cobbled stone path, not wanting to graze against his wings with slight unease in their eyes. Azriel was used to it by now, the looks of disapproval, the slight fear in the people he passed.

The bell rang and birds shot to perch on the branches of the trees that surrounded the plush gardens teeming with bright flowers and wildlife. Children began to file out from the open door, grabbing their bags and running to their parents with wide smiles, excited to tell them what you had taught them that day.

Azriel spied the inside wall littered will paintings and cards, all addressed to you, as well as a wooden table filled with the gifts the children had no doubt made their parents purchase for you.

Then he saw you, and the Shadowsinger audibly gasped. There you were, dressed in a loose white blouse with stringed corset, an earthy brown skirt that fell to the floor covered in colourful handprints that reached your thighs, your hair was unbound and baby hairs whispered along the sides of your face.

You were sunshine. You were radiant.

Nyx's hand was curled in your own as you led him out of the classroom and Azriel could have sworn he'd never seen a brighter look on anyone's face as the little man searched the crowd, "Uncle, Az!"

Your gaze had also fallen on him and you drank in his smile as Nyx left your grip and hurtled to the Shadowsinger, his grin was large, showing off all of his teeth as he bent down and wrapped Nyx in his toned arms, laughing loudly and asking about his day before standing up.

"I don't think we've ever formally met," you held your free hand out, your other carrying Nyx's bag, "I'm Y/N, well, Miss Y/L/N."

You were as soft as summer rain, adoration in your orbs, and you radiated purity and grace. Azriel glanced at your outstretched hand, sliding his own into it and feeling a force of gravity will him closer to you, "So you're the one that has Nyx ready for school at the crack of dawn," he felt relief when you didn't recoil at his hand in yours, the hands that usually made people grimace, "Azriel," you giggled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your pointed ear.

High Fae.

"Guilty as charged," your voice was like butter, smooth and rich, the perfect balance of femineity.

"Can't say I blame him," he smirked at the heat that rose to his cheeks, at the sheepish smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's very nice of you to say," one of your students walked past you, waving goodbye, and Azriel watched you bend down and fix her jacket to her body, telling her to have a lovely weekend in the sun, "Nyx has had a lovely day today. He just keeps on flourishing, it's remarkable," you had told him once you had risen again.

"I'm sure anyone could flourish with you around. Must be the Y/N effect," he cocked his head to the side at your giggle, just happy to be able to examine the woman who had Nyx all excited every morning. Feyre and Rhys were right, you were remarkable. Like a rainbow rippling in a storm.

"Must be it," the birds jumped from branch to branch around you, like they wanted to keep an eye on you for as long as possible, flitting to the bird houses you had erected by the pond of ducks and in the trees.

"Would you like to walk home with us? Feyre mentioned that you didn't live too far from the house?"

Your mouth fell into the perfect o shape, "Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You're not," Azriel smiled, looking down at Nyx, shaking his little hand and asking, "Is she, Nyx? Would you like Miss Y/L/N to walk home with us?"

"Yes!" Nyx shouted and you laughed, a laugh that made the edges of your eyes crinkle, you disappeared into the building, returning a few moments later with you satchel, locking the door and taking Nyx's free hand in your own after handing his bag to Azriel.

Azriel was positive that he'd never seen Nyx shine so brightly.

The walk home was full of light chatter, you made Azriel laugh more times than you could count, and Nyx was pointing out random things along the way, looking up at you for approval and tapping his feet on the ground when you nodded and smiled.

From the house, Feyre watched through the curtains as Nyx ran up the path, and kept watching as Azriel lingered behind, she wished she could hear what he was saying to you. But as you smiled, and blushed, and then nodded at the Shadowsinger who was kicking his feet like a schoolboy, she knew it was going well.

Strong arms wrapped around her midsection and her back hit a hard chest, his deep chuckle vibrated through him and his warm breath fanned against her ear, "Playing matchmaker again, darling?"

Feyre hummed with a gentle smile, accepting the peppering kisses over her shoulder as she watched you walk away, looking back at Azriel and waving before turning the corner, "I think this is my best one yet," she told Rhys, noticing the pursed smile on Azriel's lips and the faint pink tinge to his complexion as he followed Nyx up the path.

"I'm inclined to agree."

SO CUTE!

Thank you for the request! x

[followerofmercy]

I think Freminet has some of the most interesting dissonance in his self perception of any Genshin character.

Like, of the Hearthlings we know, he's one of the most emotionally mature and intelligent. Lynette might still have him beat, but after playing her hangout... I dunno. I think they're tied. Lyney is Crumbling, Alrecchino is. Well. Arlecchino. Everyone else is a deeply traumatized child or adult and Freminet seems to pretty regularly be people's emotional support. His character stories talk about getting his vision by saving a bunch of other kids on a dive that went bad. The Selkie event literally had him being a therapist for a grownass woman, citing his past experiences with all the other Hearthlings that have died or killed themselves. And he handled that situation WELL. Yeah, he seems to live in a fantasy, but goddamn he's alive and a lot of people in his position aren't so clearly something is working.

Either his or Lyney's character story talks about the time Freminet had reached out to Lyney to try to ease his burdens, which resulted in Lyney blowing up at him. That probably contributed to Freminet thinking he's not good at it, but I think the reason Lyney reacted so badly was BECAUSE Freminet is actually a good support. He can't allow himself that from the little brother he's supposed to protect.

Freminet seems to both cry and dissociate often, but like... Kiddo you are in fact the only person in this family actually processing your emotions. Lynette dissociates 24/7. Arlecchino. Lyney lies and tells everyone he's fine and would literally rather die than admit otherwise. In comparison, Freminet is doing FANTASTIC

Freminet also gets a lot out of helping people! Like anyone, he needs to feel useful and needed. He seems to be an excellent mentor to the younger Hearthlings and perfectly competent on his own, but when you put him in a room with Lyney and Lynette who baby him and insist that THEY take care of HIM, he withdraws into himself.

Like, Freminet by himself feels like a young man and Freminet with the magician twins feels like a teenager. I have no idea how old he actually is. Logically, he would be OLDER than them! He's been with the House much, much longer and his experience shows. I think it's fascinating that they love him SO MUCH and yet, they just Cannot let him help them. Which is hurting him.

(Lynette is much better about not babying him and that is probably why their relationship is so much better than Freminet and Lyney's. Also why she keeps having to mediate between them. Because Lyney charges off trying to Fix Everything and that just makes Freminet feel useless and he doesn't want to get in the way and- you get the point)

Idk. It's hard to tell what things the previous director said to him vs what Arlecchino has said to him. I'm inclined to think our Arlecchino was the one that said he cries too much, but in a "crying in front of your enemies will get you killed" way and she herself is too fucked up to realize how "you cry too much" could be damaging.

Also I try not to consider gameplay stuff when it comes to story, but Freminet also has some of the most BRUTAL animations. He SMASHES HIS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT METAL PENGUIN INTO HIS ENEMY'S FACE. He doesn't think he's the most amazing fighter, and by Fatui standards he probably isn't, but he is winning fights against most grown men.

Tldr Freminet thinks he cries too much and is a burden and isn't good at helping people when he's actually the most mentally stable Hearthling send tweet

[longstoryshort22]

Peter is brand Taylor talking to real Taylor, I Look in People’s Windows is real Taylor talking to brand Taylor (the two were supposed to become one, but the more famous she gets the harder it is)😭😭

The whole theme of the album is Taylor herself and her career and how the industry has affected her, joe/matty/travis/kim are just red herrings bye im gonna go cry listening to Peter

(more details⬇️)

I’m not saying that some songs aren’t about those specific people, I’m just saying they’re only PART OF the theme, I believe her father (and other big heads in the industry) had a big influence on her career and forced her to stay in the closet from the very beginning, that messed her up, she had to hide her true self and keep bearding, and in 2019 she planned to come out but didn’t because of the masters heist, now it’s because she’s gotten more famous than ever that she has too much to lose. So maybe these men he dated, she did like them and she had multiple feelings when these relationships ended, but it’s all part of who the industry had made her into; she had one true love (maybe Karlie) but she couldn’t be with that person that’s why some songs are about a true deep love lost, but that’s still part of the “her career” theme, because of her career, she can’t be with that person. (more details⬇️)

What’s really interesting in this theme is that she’s calling out her father in multiple songs because he really made her life harder…

In Cassandra, (the obvious theory is that Cassandra representing gaylors bc we’ve been saying the truth but never believed. And the first verse is about her getting the news of her masters heist just before her coming out plan, and then “stone’s thrown” is referencing Stonewall.) And in the bridge “They knew the whole time that I was onto something. The family, the pure greed, the Christian chorus line. They all said nothing. Blood's thick but nothing like a payroll. Bet they never spared a prayer for my soul” she’s saying her family knew something but said nothing because greed and money, we saw the leaked emails of her father and how he cares more about making money out of Taylor’s career than caring about her as his daughter, so I think this bridge is about her father, also about religious trauma may or may not due to him.

In The Bolter, “A curious child, ever reviled by everyone except her own father. With a quite bewitching face, splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless, excellent fun 'til you get to know her, then she runs like it's a race” she’s talking about herself being a precocious uniquely intelligent ambitious child, which everyone reviled except her father. why? because he wanted to invest money on her, he controlled how she conducted her career from the beginning.

What’s crazier is that Robin may be about her father too. That song sounds like a sweet song but she’s faking it like “all this showmanship to keep it for you in sweetness”. If she’s referring to her father (only wanting to make money out of her career) in this song then “you’re an animal, you are bloodthirsty” makes so much more sense. And the “buried down deep and out of your reach, the secret we all vowed to keep it from you in sweetness” her father probably knows about her queerness but wants her and everyone to keep it quiet.

In But Daddy I Love Him, “people only raise you to cage you” is pretty obvious about her father forcing her to stay in the closet, and “people try and save you cause they hate you” is literally about homophobes. “Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid” is about her father laying all the plans for her, which isn’t always what she wants. “I'd rather burn my whole life down, than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning. I'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace” reminds me of that scene in Miss Americana where her father was lecturing why she couldn’t public her opinions. “Thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me. And counteract the chemistry, and undo the destiny” is so queer coded. “Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I'll never see / You ain't gotta pray for me” another reference to religious trauma.

So all of this, about her father, about her lover and other men, it’s all connected to her career and she’s looking back at it, thinking and reflecting on it, that’s it that’s the blog

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Teacher AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 23, word count 966

Sirius had been a teacher for quite a few years, and while he loved teaching the children, his true passion lay in his evening classes. Once a week, he gave up his time to teach adults who wanted to learn and, for some reason, and Sirius was only too willing to help them. 

The class was just beginning. This week, they’d be going over the short story he’d asked them all to read as homework and make a start on one of their own. He’d been told there would be a new student joining them that evening. It was very irregular. Normally, there was a start date that you had to begin at and not come halfway through the course. He’d been assured that the young man had been keeping up at home, but his ongoing health condition had made it impossible to attend the previous classes. 

Sirius sighed when he read the email from the course manager but vowed to help the chap catch up.

He cleared his throat, and his class went quiet. 

“Good evening, everyone. I hope you’re all doing well. Let’s begin with a show of hands. Who’s read the homework?” A sea of hands rose in front of him, and he couldn’t keep the beaming smile off his face. “Excellent! Now, who can tell me why Nellie did what she did?” He pointed at a woman in the back row. “Alice, you’re up.” The short woman checked her notes and began to speak. 

“She was tired of her life and wanted to be free of the chains that kept her there.” 

“Exactly.” He turned and wrote on the whiteboard. “She was a prisoner, and she longed to be free. So when the chance came, she took it. Now, when Nellie escapes, she rushes into the jungle in the dead of night with nothing but a small trunk filled with her few possessions. Was this a good idea or not?” He waited for a hand to go up. He could almost see their brains whirring. The classroom door opened, and a mousy-haired man popped his head around the door. Sirius stared at him, his eyes greedily taking in the slightly flustered handsome man. 

“Are you Mr Black?” He asked politely. 

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?” Sirius’s professional brain snapped back on. The man grinned, looking relieved. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I’ve ended up in the wrong room twice, and no one seemed to be able to point me in the right direction.” He pushed the door open and hobbled in. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick and took the only empty seat at the front of the class. 

“Right, where were we?” He asked, having completely forgotten. The new man raised his hand. “Yes—er?” Sirius nodded for him to talk. 

“Remus. Remus Lupin.” Remus helpfully supplied. 

“Thank you, Remus.”

“I think the risk of staying captive was far greater than whatever awaited her in the jungle. However, taking anything other than food and water was risky, but as we know, it worked out for her.” He answered Sirius’s question. 

“Yes, well done. I dare say even if she’d met a tiger while she fled, it would still be preferable to that iron chain, don’t you agree, even weighed down as she was.” His class all nodded at him. “So now free and on the run, no forced to perform, no matter how good she was at the tasks they set her, what do you think made her go the way she did?”

Remus raised his hand again, and Sirius signalled for him to continue. 

“She went home. There could have been something familiar about the surroundings, which is why she escaped when she did. But the inner child in me wants to say it was magic.” Remus grinned shyly at him, and Sirius had to chant to himself that he couldn’t date students no matter how ruggedly handsome they were or how intelligent they seemed to be. He had to swallow before he continued. 

“Yes, I think we all want to believe it was magic, as though she heard her mother calling out to her across the many miles she travelled.” He cleared the whiteboard now they were done with that and wrote up the next part of the lesson. “Okay, I want each of you to write your own short story. It can be about literally anything you want. Make a start now. Plan it out. I want them finished for next week, and I’ll go through them.” 

He gave them a few minutes to start their work and made his way around the class, answering any questions they had. Eventually, he had to talk to Remus. He couldn’t put it off any longer. “How’s it going?” He asked, making Remus jump. He’d been so focused on his work that he hadn’t noticed Sirius approach. 

“Oh-er, it’s going good. I think.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Sirius peered down at the paper. 

“A werewolf and a man who can magically turn into a dog and an enchanted forest? Sounds thrilling. I can’t wait to read it.” Remus blushed hard. 

“It just popped into my head.” He admitted. 

“All the best ones do,” Sirius reassured him. “Oh, here, before I forget. Take this. It’s got all my information on it in case you can’t make it for whatever reason or need help throughout the week. I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” He handed Remus the little white card. Their fingers brushed as Remus took it, and Sirius felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him, stemming from where Remus’s fingers had been. They looked at each other wide-eyed and stunned. Well, crap, this was going to be harder than he thought.  

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok: What kind of pet do they have?

I'm like Tesla 🤣

Jack

I once read that people who are broken or haven’t experienced much love as children tent to choose animals that are less popular and sometimes seen as bad omens, such as black cats or ravens. So I see that Jack has a rat as a pet. They are intelligent and very clean animals, with an unfairly given bad reputation, and I think that suits Jack very well.

Nicola Tesla

Hear me out, Tesla is the proud owner of a turtle. There's a joke going around turtle owners that every time the turtle does something - such as yawns or falls asleep - you take a photo or video of it and happily show it to everyone. This is Tesla. The entire science crew has a mailbox full of this kind of spam, and their all sigh whenever Tesla sends them a new video of his pet doing absolutely nothing.

Poseidon

I think he likes animals in general. He despises humans and most gods for not behaving as they should, but animals are themselves. They do what is expected of them, they are excellent at being themselves, if that makes sense. So Poseidon probably has a dog that he has trained very well. The dog listens to all commends and generally behaves very well.

Hades

It’s canon that Hades has a pet - cockatoo. These animals require a lot of attention from their owner, which makes sense because we all know how lonely Hades is. He is literally playing chess with it! The parrot probably knows some fancy words like „magnificent” or „mellifluous”, and a whole bunch of wine names that it randomly says. Adamas, by the way, puts some effort into educating the bird too and incidently teaches it how to swear.

Beelzebub

Given how little he cares and how little he CAN care, the only option he has is fish. He gives it a good tank, he remembers to feed it and that’s it. They just exist. Damn… how depressing…

Loki

Two options. First: SAND ANT FARM. He watches it from time to time, mocking the ants for poor direction choices or just messing up with them for funnies. Second option is ferret. Loki finds them both annoying and interesting. There’s no boredom with them.

Ares

Ares thinks highly about himself, after all he is a part of the most powerful pantheon and the son of Zeus. He believes that he deserves only the best, which mean that whatever animal he gets, it will be a pure breed. If he chooses a cat or dog, it will receives a golden pillow to sleep on, a silver food bowl, the fanciest toys, the best caretakers, and… „the best owner”.

Thor

Thor has a cat. Most of the time they simply exist in their spaces and don’t interact. But every now and then a cat comes to Thor and demands a scratch, which Thor gives without hesitation. Loki once overheard Thor talking to his pet in those rare moments. Surprisingly, he speaks in a very gentle and caring tone, almost like mother to her child.

Hajun

He probably has a tank full of dead fish. Never cleaned, never fed, never bothered.

Lu Bu

Lu Bu has a pussy. He had no intention of having a pet, so the cat had to choose him, and Lu Bu obligated. He gives it lots of scratches and plays with it. Lu Bu is unfazed by the claws. Hearing her meow when he isn’t close puts him in a fighting stance. Nobody hurts his cat girl.

Hermes

Budgies! The guy has a lot of responsibilities, he's probably the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up, but he still finds time for his melodious pets. They always get the best snacks and for some unknown reason they become very excited when Zeus is around.

Göll

She has hamster, as small and cute as she is. Göll tries very hard to provide it a happy life, which probably means she’s trying too hard. She asks all his sisters for advice, and knowing how many siblings she has, she probably ends up with very conflicting opinions.

Zerofuku

Definitely rabbit. They are both full of energy, do not pose a threat and just enjoy themselves on a clearing somewhere.

Buddha

He doesn't have a pet, but he occasionally looks after Zerofuku’s and Göll's pets. He complains that he doesn't have time and that he doesn't care, but in the end he has a great time with the rabbit and hamster.

Noah

I think he ends up with a pigeon. He just feeds it from time to time in the same place and slowly tames it. Before he knows it, the bird becomes a new part of his life. He tells it about his problems, about Luna, Jack, Mother Goose and Shakespeare. This pigeon has therapeutic properties.

Qin

Definitely a husky. I see just two idiots keep talking to each other and arguing over nothing. The more the emperor demands something, the louder the husky's tantrum will be.

[justcressida]

Medusa Penelope slaps hard! Please continue👀

Okay, so let's move on from mythology. Under pressure from the Eckhart Family and Yvonne's return, the Reader took up residence in Athena's temple as a priestess.

Initially, Poseidon describes all the people around as 'bugs', but no matter what, he is an excellent watchmaker.

Of course, Athena and Poseidon often clash, and this means that Poseidon is almost always there to see the lovely priestess.

Damn, he has a wife and even a child, but this woman is even more divine than a Goddess.

Of course, Athena is an intelligent woman, but Poseidon's arrogance never made her admit that she was attracted to a human.

So what was expected eventually happened. The care of a God is no different from the apocalypse for woman.

You had time until Athena understood. Poseidon was a very strange man. He knew she couldn't stand up to him, and his words were as sharp as a knife, but sometimes his attention was breathtaking.

Each time, he would emphasize that you were a mortal, but he would spend the night between your legs. He was arrogant, arrogant, daring, but when you fought back... He liked it so much that he could hardly contain himself from grinning

He thought many times about kidnapping you, having you in his own land, but there were some things he couldn't get rid of. How many nights did Amphitrite spend alone in a cold bed? How many times have their children been rejected by their father? He does not remember because he was busy entering the temple, hiding his presence from Athena.

You looked so much alike. Your details were also hidden in each other, but in the end, this twisted love was found out.

No one could blame the tyrant of the seas. You were the one who was punished. Your beautiful curls, your gaze at the snakes turned into death.

Who can blame you? Even the curse that was given did nothing but honor his existence with more beauty. He's still very much in love. He's still very possessive. And you know what? He doesn't even need to hide it anymore

Poor Amphitrite, her husband is now in her bed with a cursed woman.

[erisweekofficial]

Tonight we're delighted to highlight @jules-writes-stories 🧡

If you're looking for a truly exceptional Azris fic, you have to check out Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows. The writing is absolutely beautiful, and it strikes the perfect balance between hurt and comfort. Every detail feels so carefully crafted, from the portrayal of Eris and Azriel to each moment they share. 😭

Also if you are into myth retellings, we are begging you to read this Azris flavored Hades and Persephone retelling that she wrote for Azris week this year. 👀

And be sure to check out allll the fics on her masterlist!

Read on to learn what drew Jules to Eris and what the hounds would say if given buttons. 🐶

Give us a name for one of Eris's brothers!

Sylvan Vanserra is the youngest Vanserra (other than Lucien). He’s quick to laugh, never takes himself too seriously, and readers have called him a cinnamon roll, which is fair. Eris tried to shelter him and Lucien, so he’s less guarded than the other brothers, but don’t sleep on Syl. He definitely has fire in his blood.

Give us a name of his hounds!

Chunky Possum. But let me explain, lol. When I was drafting Just Enough Light, I named Eris’s hounds after (just a few) of my favorite Azris writers. They were meant to be place markers while I thought of original names. But the hounds liked their names, so I left them, and gave some of them back stories. Naming the hounds became a way to show my appreciation for a corner of the fandom that is dear to me. My favorite is Chunky, only because of his backstory. And yes, it will tug at your heartstrings. 

What do you think it was like trying to raise Eris when he was a child? 

Short answer: he was a little fire starter with a smart mouth. Being so brilliant, the fireling likely found ways around doing what he was told and bent the rules to suit his needs. Eris asked questions that stumped his teachers (sometimes on purpose and other times because he was clever and curious). He was full of mischief and a prankster. That said, he was probably under constant pressure to perform, making him highly competitive. I could see little Eris as being lonely, learning at a young age that attachments are liabilities and love must be earned through accolades. 

What drew you to Eris? 

I love monsters and for me, Eris Vanserra is one of the metaphorical monsters of this fandom. He’s both a scapegoat and a martyr. He’s sexy and fetishized: put on a pedestal as often as he's reviled and burned at the stake. I love how Eris can possess all these contradictions and still exist as a character with traits we all universally recognize. He’s interesting and I’m always left wanting to know more. 

Who do you think Eris would want in his inner circle, if he was given a chance to build one?

Lucien. His favorite brother is a clever fox with ties all over Prythian and I want (need) them to be close with an urgency that’s not normal. Nesta Archeron. Eris is canonically drawn to her power and who wouldn’t want Lady Death to have their back? Bonus for Eris: it would piss Cassian off. Lastly, nothing would bring Eris more joy than stealing Azriel from Rhys...for so many reasons. 

If Eris gave his dogs buttons to communicate, what would their options be?

If one wants Eris’s respect, they’ll have to earn it. And one way to do this is through his hounds because they are excellent judges of character. Eris believes that his smokehounds are likely more intelligent than most of the brutes he’s forced to associate with. No, he prefers not to give names– very demure, very mindful.  After meeting someone, the magical canines communicate their first impressions of said individual by pawing at certain buttons with ratings spanning from “burn them alive” to “lukewarm, might burn later” to  “that’s your cauldron blessed mate.” I wonder what the hounds would say about us… 

[corduroyserpent]

“Do you remember your mother?” Tianlang-jun asks the squirming, half-serpent thing he’s ninety-five percent sure is his nephew. The creature is far tinier than he thought it would be but that can perhaps be attributed to a lack of proper nutrition. He can’t imagine there is much for an infant to eat while crawling around the southern border. “It’s only been a year or so since you saw her but I don’t believe she kept you for long. It would not surprise me if your little brain discarded such memories.”

His nephew, as expected, does nothing other than continue to wiggle around in the mud.

“All that aside, I’m her older brother. She asked me to—oh, dear.” His nephew has begun to slither up his leg, dragging dirt and possibly poisonous secretions onto his elegant black clothes. Tianlang-jun lifts his foot, bending his leg at the knee; his nephew manages to cling to him despite a lack of limbs. Large yellow eyes peer out of a dirty, scale-dotted face. Tianlang-jun shakes his leg, testing his nephew’s resilience. The infant holds on, tail curled around Tianlang-jun’s ankle.

“Release me,” Tianlang-jun says. It’s a gentle order but his nephew almost certainly does not understand human speech yet. “This sort of behavior is quite unbecoming of a heavenly demon. Has nobody taught you manners?”

Tianlang-jun disentangles his nephew from around his leg and holds the child up to get a better look. Sickly pale skin, matted hair, a serpentine body that barely resembles anything human. “How ugly you are.”

The infant just looks at him. A small forked tongue flicks out.

Tianlang-jun sighs, glancing back at the army of mindless soldiers behind him. “The original plan was to give you these. Make you a lord.” He regards his nephew again, meeting those strangely intelligent eyes. “But as you are, I do not believe you have the capability to lead. You will have to be taught.” He shifts to hold his nephew like one might carry a ball meant for play, trapped under his arm. His nephew’s tail slaps against his back.

“Oh, right.” Tianlang-jun taps the child’s forehead with his other hand, sending a brief pulse of qi. In no time at all, there is a baby with four little limbs—no tail or scales in sight—caught in his grip. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

The baby blinks at him before tears well up. Hiccuping sobs force their way out of the tiny creature.

“Why are you crying?” Tianlang-jun brings his nephew to rest against his chest, awkwardly patting his back. Little hands fist in Tianlang-jun’s hair. “If this is your way of showing gratitude, it needs some work. I have a couple of suggestions—ah, let go of jiujiu’s hair.” Tianlang-jun carefully extricates his still-crying nephew’s remarkably strong hands from their undesirable goal of yanking out entire chunks of his hair. “There we go. Good child.”

His nephew sniffs, lip wobbling but tears beginning to slow. Tianlang-jun swipes a thumb across ruddy cheeks, drying the wetness that remains. His nephew clumsily grabs Tianlang-jun’s thumb and holds it.

“Excellent. It appears I don’t have to teach you how to be cute.” Tianlang-jun turns to leave the way he came, his new companion secure in his arms. “Now, as I was saying…”

[also on ao3]

[charliemwrites]

Character File

Name: Rook “Duke” Alistair Aliases: Daisy Dukes, Daisy, Sunshine, Blondie

Age: 26 Gender and pronouns: AFAB using she/they Marital Status: Single Surviving family: biological father (estranged), adoptive mother, adoptive father, brother

Physical description: Standing at 5’9” (175cm) and 135lbs. (61 kilos) Rook stands tall and wiry. Though slighter than her brother, Castle Alistair, she’s still packed with muscle that is carried primarily in her thighs and abdomen. Her hair is strawberry blond, cut into a medium length bob – though it curls quite a bit. She is often seen with several pins and clips in her hair trying to keep it back from her face. Her eyes are green and large, set in a round face that makes her look young for her age. She had braces in her early teens to straighten her teeth.

Identifying/Unusual features:

Light freckles across her nose and forehead

No facial scarring

Tattoos: A daisy behind her right ear A simplified castle outline on her bicep (for her brother) A stylized sun on her left shoulder, crawling across one side of her chest and up her neck Binary for “service” on her forearm

Several burn scars on her hands, wrists, and arms

A birthmark on the bottom of her right foot that few people have ever seen

Special file note: Rook holds the records for most and dumbest injuries on base. Often the smallest and most unexpected incidents have led to a medbay visit. She is often seen with bandages, bruises, scrapes, and scratches. Thankfully, she is a good patient and most of the medical staff enjoy her cheerful demeanor.

Early Childhood:

Rook’s earliest memory is her older brother walking her to preschool. He was sharing an orange with her, carefully peeling off bits of pith for her to munch on.

While he, Helena, and Clancy are technically her cousin, aunt, and uncle respectively, she has always considered them her immediate family. She only met her biological father once when she was twelve and was not impressed.

Her childhood was filled with laughter and love, though she often felt oddly displaced. Helena and Clancy were much older and had never planned on a second child – never mind a girl. And her brother ended up shipping off to college when she was only five. He visited when he could, but she spent a lot of time on her own or unsupervised when she hit eight years old.

She was very close with Helena, the two of them playing the radio loud to sing along while they did chores around the farm. Rook absolutely adored her mother, and to this day dreams of her peach cobbler when she’s away from home. As a result, Rook picked up her love of clothes with interesting prints and bright colors.

Her relationship with Clancy was not strained, but not as easy as with Helena. Of course, he loved his adopted daughter, he just wasn’t sure what to do with her beyond that. Oftentimes, it led to him treating her like Castle, though her flightier and more energetic nature made some of those lessons take differently.

Rook was often praised for being an inquisitive and intelligent child – though some of her teachers found the constant barrage of questions to be disruptive. Somewhat unexpectedly, she excelled in math from an early age, followed quickly by the sciences.

In middle school, the blond farmgirl jokes began. Unlike her brother’s quick temper to defend himself and his family, Rook usually took the route of laughing along with them. (That said, nothing stopped her from pushing a girl down for trying to step on a frog one rainy April day.) This developed into a tendency to hide behind a ditzy persona, which felt safe and easy.

In high school, she took a special liking to physics and engineering. Focused more on schoolwork and helping around the farm, she didn’t date much. (That said, anyone with an interest in her had to debate the merits of her marine brother coming home to meet them.) She much preferred learning to code online and rescuing strays that happened across the farm – much to her parents’ chagrin.

Throughout her life, Castle was her role model. In her childhood, he seemed like a third parent, but as she got older, their relationship developed into a more typical brother-sister bond. Even so, she needed no proud rambles from her parents to look up to him.

So, as her future began to loom, and decisions became necessary, she followed a similar path to him. Rook enrolled in the ROTC program at the same college he attended – though she chose a double major in engineering and computer science that set her down a different road.

Military Career:

Alistair’s early military years in the Air Force are riddled with ups and downs. Intelligent, positive, and respectful, she was well-liked by both superiors and comrades. Quick to finish tasks, solve problems, and aid others. That said, she had something of a disciplinary record for small but repetitive issues. Uniform violations, minor misconduct (forgetting to salute officers or speaking out of turn), and general… regulatory issues.

While not headed for dishonorable discharge, she was dodging demerits and often faced disciplinary action. However, upon finding a major leak in one of their information networks, she came to the attention of one Kate Laswell.

Laswell, impressed with her intelligence and work ethic, found that her military-defying eccentricities were easy to overlook considering her benefit to the military. Alistair was soon transferred under Laswell’s direct purview to aid different missions and teams as a “hacker” and engineer. While Alistair remains something of an oddball, she and Laswell have built a solid working relationship.

(During her employ with a certain Shadow Company during her Air Force days, Alistair earned the callsign “Duke” – a derivation of Daisy Dukes due to Alistair’s appearance and farming background.)

[siriusblack-the-third]

Sirius Black: Family Relations

Third part of The Sirius Black Headcanons Series. Enjoy!

1st | 2nd

.

Walburga:

Walburga and him... he used to love her. When he was a child, he was her beloved son, her little starlet, her smart and intelligent and brilliant boy. She doted on him, gave him whatever he wanted, was a good mother.

They used to spend time together in the evenings when Sirius did not have tutoring— Sirius would play the violin, and Walburga the harp. They were both obsessed with music, and all their discussions would reflect their vast knowledge about it. Sometimes, Walburga would teach Sirius how to weave magic into music, and Sirius was an excellent student. He picked everything up on the first try.

But as he grew older and started forming opinions of his own, Walburga started resenting him for it. He was not just similar to her in behaviour, he was exactly like her. They expressed their emotions in the same way. They argued in the same manner, they talked, walked, reacted, everything: they were exactly alike. Sirius, however, didn't have the same views as she did. He had different, independent opinions, and Walburga did not like it, and arguments turned their bond sour and hurtful rather than loving and safe.

Sirius started resenting his mother for trying to curb his freedom, for yelling at him, for not even trying to listen to him. He started disliking her because she refused to even consider his wants and his thoughts, and he started hating her when she called him a disgrace to the family, when she started calling him the shame of her flesh and blood.

And yet, they both still loved each other. They loved each other but could not stand each other's presence, and Sirius knew that distance between them was the best option for the both of them, and he ran away. Walburga blasted him off the family tapestry as a show of disownment, but she could not bring herself to disinherit him.

(a little drabble on Walburga's character)

Orion:

Orion was... a distant father. He was a barrister and a businessman, and was always off on international trips and client meetings, and was rarely ever home. However, he was a loving father.

Sirius' favourite memory of his childhood and early teens is Library Time with his father. Whenever Orion returned home from his long business trips, he would always spend at least one full day with Sirius, holed up in the library and reading books and exchanging opinions. Debates, discussions, queries and doubts, book recommendations, they talked about everything.

Orion was less rigid than Walburga. He understood that every human would have different opinions. Sirius would get angry at him for calling people Mudbloods, he would sharply remind Sirius that his was not the task to try and change Orion's habits. However, Orion never begrudged Sirius his views and values. In this, he was a Slytherin: better keep some subjects undiscussed, he thought, than lose his son because of his own foolishness.

Sirius respected Orion, to a certain degree. Orion was smart, sharp and shrewd, with a brain that could keep up with a thousand different things at the same time, and Sirius admired that intelligence. Walburga always said that Sirius got his brilliance from Orion, and Orion always said he got it from Walburga. Father and son's debates were always a treat to witness— both of them had extensive knowledge and both of them used that knowledge to their own gains. It was always a toss up who would win the debate.

Before Sirius ran away, he dragged Orion into the Library for the last time. There, he calmly told his father that it was impossible for him to live with people who were adamant on castigating him for his independent values, and that he was leaving the house whether the rest of the family liked it or not. Orion understood that Sirius was talking about Walburga, and promised him that he would be left alone. He also promised to keep Walburga away from him.

After Sirius ran away, Orion stopped going on business trips. He worked in London itself, and would spend hours and hours holed up in the library, thinking about Sirius. They still kept in touch; a letter or two, once in a blue moon, until Orion died.

Sirius attended his funeral under James' cloak, refusing to come face to face with Walburga even now. Orion might have been a distant father, but he was a loving one, and Sirius would miss him.

Arcturus:

Sirius' grandfather was the one who doted on him the most. He was Sirius' favourite person, and after Arcturus retired from the Wizengamot, they would spend the days together, going to bookstores, watching Duelling Tournaments and Air Polo matches, going to Quality Quidditch Supplies for the lastest brooms, going horse-riding. Whatever Sirius wanted, Sirius got.

Their Days did not stop or pause— the minute Sirius returned from at Hogwarts, Arcturus would kidnap him from his parents and they would spend the day going all over London, buying books that Sirius wanted and watching a match or two. Throughout summer holidays, they would spend at least two days a week together.

When Sirius ran away from home, Arcturus flat out refused to disinherit Sirius whenever anyone brought up the subject (read; Pollux and his wife).

The reason Arcturus did not try to get Sirius out of prison was that he was fully convinced Sirius did murder the muggles and Pettigrew. Of course, he thought it absolutely laughable that people would believe Sirius would ever betray James' trust, but he was convinced that Sirius did rip Pettigrew to shreds in revenge, and that the muggles were collateral damage. Unfortunately, laws about using magic on Muggles were rigid, and Sirius would not have been let go. (He had no idea Pettigrew was the one that killed the muggles.)

Sirius mourned his grandfather's death in prison, and visited his tomb after escaping.

Melania:

Melania died when Sirius was nine, but she doted on him just as much as Arcturus did.

She got Sirius his first violin at the age of four, and was his first music tutor. They would spend the early mornings on Tuesday and Thursday together, and Sirius was always determined and meticulous when it came to learning.

They would make a game of sneaking into the kitchens for sweets, giggling and shushing each other even though everybody knew they were aiming to steal the tiramisu that was meant for the evening. They baked together, and Sirius learnt how to cook from her— both Walburga and Arcturus complained that neither of them needed to know how to cook because they had house elves, but the two of them ignored mother and husband and did whatever they wanted.

Her death impacted Sirius very heavily, and he spent the weeks following the funeral shut up in his room, dragging his bow over the strings of his violin, playing with his eyes dripping tears and his heart aching, fingers bleeding red all over the strings.

Regulus:

Sirius doted on Regulus from the very start. He was the best oldest brother— always giving the last piece of chocolate to Reggie, combing his hair in the mornings, playing violin alongside Melania to get him to sleep, buying little sweets and books and trinkets for Regulus whenever he was out with his grandfather.

Regulus adored Sirius. He would follow Sirius around everywhere, babbling away about this thing and that, and Sirius would always entertain his rambling. They spent hours pranking everybody in the house, and Sirius would read bedtime stories for him.

Regulus was also jealous of Sirius. Sirius was smart, he was brilliant, he was strong and handsome and athletic and the apple of everyone's eye and Regulus.. was not. (That's a lie, everyone doted on him too, he just thought the world of Sirius and assumed everybody else did the same because how could they not?)

When Sirius sorted Gryffindor and Regulus Slytherin, things changed. Regulus made other friends, and he started to get annoyed at Sirius for his values just like Walburga. They argued and fought and turned away from each other, and over the years stopped thinking of each other as brothers.

It all came to a head when Regulus got the Dark Mark. They rowed for days, screaming matches behind closed doors of abandoned classrooms lasting hours on end till Regulus flounced off and Sirius was close to crying because his baby brother was destroying his own life and he had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

They stopped talking after that.

Regulus' body was never found, and Sirius did not attend his funeral. However, he did mourn the loss of his once-brother in his own way— he played all of Regulus' favourite musical pieces every night for months afterwards.

[bluetortoist]

Time to show off some doodles of one of my OCs after binging as much batman series as I could, including BTAS, The Batman 2004, Brave and the Bold, the movies, etc. I fell in love with the Gotham Rogues all over again.

I've already made a few OCs, but to start, this one is Mavis. She is a harpy who imprinted on Penguin at birth and considers him her father. He kept her to be, at first, just as another loyal, powerful pet, but soon came to see her like a daughter to him too. Thus, a bird family in crime.

Last pic was my first ever sketches of chick Mavis and Penguin. You could tell I was still trying to figure out how to draw pengie haha!

Penguins note in full:

Note #5 - "Any news of strange phenomena that could be connected to the child's existence came up short. None of my connections had any clue of where she could have came from. The only hypothesis I could come up with is, admittedly outlandish, but not completely out of the question (Im not blind to some of the inhuman things that happen in this city). I refer to beings called 'harpies' from the mythologies. Stories of bird-like women who lead men of all kinds to their deaths, or who torture the damned souls in the underworld. All utter nonsense, but everytime I look at the child, I cant help but think there is something otherworldly about her."

Below is a bit more stuff about her

Name: Mavis (Unofficial) Cobblepot

Age: About 18-19

Gender: Cis Female

Identifies: Pan/Demi

Race: Harpy

Current Living: Gotham City

Allegiance: Neutral Evil - True Neutral

Powers/Abilites:

• Hypnotic Voice: Uses her singing voice to charm and manipulate the minds of anyone in her range into becoming submissive to her under the delusions of adoration for her.

• Typical features as like that of a bird of prey, keen eyesight 10× more than humans, Flying in silence, Can see in the dark, Heightened hearing. etc

• Strong, sharp, powerful talons for feet that can be used not only for attack, but for stealth capturing people (sometimes it's how she carries Penguin in means of escape).

• She is also efficient in knife combat and close quarter combat (for when shes in a finite space too small to fly around in), Knows how to use a gun, but rarely ever uses or carries one.

History: Oswald found her as an egg under mysterious circumstances, not knowing how she even got here or where she came from. Because she imprinted on him already, he decided to raise her and form her into another, stronger one of his loyal pet birds. However, as much as he tried keeping her under the conditions of a pet, Mavis still ended up seeing him as her father. And eventually Oswald, who denied for the longest, felt the same way as well.

Notes/Quirks: Mavis struggles a bit with human speech due to Harpies having different vocal chords than humans, so she was mute along with saying simple sentences for a good half of her life; she is very intelligent however and understands human language, can read and write very well, excels in math and business skills, just takes time talking./ She molts once a year and lasts over 2-3 weeks; it's very itchy and irritating and makes her grumpy the whole time./ She is a carnivorous bird and her favorite to eat is liver.

[utilitycaster]

Hiya! After finishing the last episode of Downfall, i’ve seen this theory pop up quite a few times in the CR tag, what do you think of the fan theory that the kid the gods saved from Aeor’s destruction, Hallis, is Ludinus?

I personally think it’s very far-fetched and doesnt have anything to base itself on, but I’m wondering if I missed something during the watch that might lead some credence to it?

I didn't see anything that would lend credence to it; I've seen the theory and my attitude is "nothing really contradicts it except the timing, which is a complicated thing for several reasons, but nothing really supports it either, and I don't think it's especially interesting, so it's a total wash."

The precise timing of the fall of Aeor in relation to the length of the Calamity is unclear but prior to the reveal this was a century in to the Calamity, it was stated to have happened relatively early. Again, we know that unless Halas was lying or there's been a retcon, Zemniaz fell over 50 years after Aeor. Quite a number of known events in the Calamity haven't occurred, and the fact that this truce lasted decades rather than months also pushes back the timeline. In other words, I'd be surprised if Ludinus Da'leth were born early enough to have seen the fall of Aeor given that Matt has said he's still very young at the end of the Calamity. I certainly wouldn't rule it out, both for "elven ages provide considerable wiggle room for vague terminology" and "Matt is a great storyteller but math and precise timeline accuracy has historically not been his forte" reasons, but I don't think there's strong evidence in its favor either.

More generally it's a case of like...firstly, while Brennan is a very good GM and pulls off a number of excellent forced card trick moves against the players, notably in the final combat, someone saving Hallis wasn't a guarantee. It was certainly heavily seeded, but by no means promised. It's not like the Cognouza Ward where the GM can just say it happens. Secondly, and this is true of a lot of Ludinus Da'leth theories past and present, I think he becomes more impressive as a wizard if all he has achieved from Aeorian tech came without any first-hand experience of the city when it existed. I know I and many others have been dunking on him, because that's a fun thing to do with villains, but I do think "very intelligent person who, for very real reasons of trauma and anger has romanticized and bought into a mythos of Aeor that he never once experienced for himself" makes for a more compelling character than "lived in Aeor as a very young child". I feel especially given that Cassida was secretly religious and clearly had no shortage of issues with Aeorian priorities, even if he was young and ill, as an intelligent child he probably would have picked up on some small part of that. I also don't believe Cassida's race was given but it feels like a case where one might want to state on the record she was elven; it's hard to explain but the way she interacts and is described I do imagine her as human - she feels like someone born during the Calamity herself, someone who only has about 40-something years of life experience in Aeor's most totalitarian era. I get this is all very vibes-based, so again, I'm not ruling out the possibility, but there's nothing particularly strong or convincing about the theory other than "young boy during the Calamity."

[ornii]

Hi again, first thank u for the response, second my arcane request/idea was male reader x Jinx where the male reader is a new rising hero in Zaun and even tho they are on opposite sides, he’s so into her and thinks she could do some real good and wants to help her. I know these are really loose details but I thought I’d leave it not to specific cause I’m curious (if you choose to use this) what u would make with this loose premise. Anyway thanks for ur time and have a nice day 😁

You Do Have a Heart Part 1

Note: Sorry i still don’t know how Tags work so, I apologize if you wanted to be tagged in my work and I don’t know how to do it lol, anyway. Here’s part 1

Stark, that last name spoke volumes though Piltover. The family had a single child, born with an intellect beyond the average human, with the endless amount of money on disposal, made a volatile combination.

“Master Stark…”

A Voice called out from the back door of his large room. It was messy, full of schematics of inventions riddled all over the ground. Rough sketches, drafts. A few gizmos left and right. The young genius was in his room, working on a device as he yells.

“It’s open.” The Youth said, and an elderly man enters, a servant for the family. He approached and gave a small bow.

“Master Stark, how are you this fine morning?” He asked, he turns to face the old man in his chair; showing the device he’s working on.

“I’m fine Jarvis.” He says and gleams. “Working on device to hold electric charges and expel them into explosions.” (Y/n) said, “It’ll be nice to Add something to the Stark Foundation..” he turns back to continue working, but Jarvis closes in.

“Sir, do you know what today is?” He asked.

“No, should I?” He replies and Jarvis nods.

“It’s Lady Kiramman’s Birthday..” He says with a soft huff. (Y/n) halted in his steps and cursed to himself, the fifteen year old stood up and turned to Jarvis.

“You’re a Life saver! I totally forgot! I’ll be back, I have to get something planned.” (Y/n) rose and rushes out of his room, the old man sadly smiled to himself as the young hero rushed down a flight of stairs to a main foyer, a beautiful lavish home all to, mostly himself. Rushing to the door he opens it and steps out, he spots the two guards on watch for his home, nearing the heart of Piltover, he wishes to keep it pristine and perfect. He snaps his fingers, they turn and face the young prodigy.

“You two, I’m heading out.” He puts his coat on and walks from his porch to the path, and the guards follow.

A gift for Caitlyn Kiramman. It was much harder than you expected, You and Caitlyn grew up together, merely by circumstance. Her Amazing mother and yours, Maria, we’re close friends who worked on the council together. The Stark Family and Kiramman Family were Allies due to Howard’s weaponry foundation funding the Piltovers army. It was by this chance you and Caitlyn became friends. Using your genius intelligence, you excelled in your scholarly studies with Caitlyn, her hunting and marksmanship skills effortlessly surpassed yours, it made a perfect dichotomy between you two. Unfortunately, that dichotomy was viewed by others as a romantic affection.

Approaching the Kiramman gates, you halted as the Guards follow suit. As you approached the door, you knocked gingerly. And a man opens the door, her father Tobias.

“Good afternoon Mr Kiramman. Is Caitlyn?…” he asks and Drones on, Tobias was a fit middle aged man, with dark blue hair and streaks of grey at the edges. “Ah. Sir Stark, Yes she’s here, I’ll fetch her.” He says and walks back, you await as you mentally compact everything.

“All things considered this is going well, she isn’t suspicious that I totally forgot about her birthday, and that I didn’t even send a letter. I have to consider a gift, actually.. why not everything?” You think to yourself. Your ear peeled up to the sound of walking and you quickly turned to the direction of the door, and you saw a faintly pale hand touch it and open, she steps to the porch, and Caitlyn stood there. Her long blue hair and piercing eyes.

“Cait!” He Said, The Girl approaches and (Y/n) gave her a hug.

“It’s good to see you well.” She says to you, you slyly grin and show off your expensive clothing.

“Nothing money can’t solve, speaking of money, come, it’s time to celebrate a certain girls birthday!” You say, and Cait sighs.

“You want to? You don’t have to.” She said, you took faux offense to it.

“Caitlyn, as your only friend—“

“Backhanded comments, as per usual.”

“As your only friend, it’s my obligation to make sure your birthdays are the absolute top quality, settle for nothing less.” You say. You walk off, Caitlyn couldn’t hide her small grin and follows. Walking though the city and enjoying the Shopping, treats, The enjoyable parts of Piltover was important for you, being the only child to an almighty fortune had refined your tastes. The guards carry the boxes of gifts for Caitlyn as you two walked forward, enjoying the cool winds of a soft autumn.

“Something is Bothering you.” You say to her, Caitlyn was not one to mince words, but was a bit uncomfortable about what she seems to be thinking about.

“It’s nothing.” She replies, and you turn your head towards her.

“You’re a fantastic Liar Caitlyn, but seriously.. what’s wrong?” You ask again, and Caitlyn informs you of a, less than suitable situation for you.

“I’ve decided to help Jayce with his research.” She utters, you almost wish to knock the webs out of your ears, but you knew you heard her correctly. Jayce Talis, the one sponsored by her family and a less than reputable man.

“Him? The one your family is sponsoring with his “inventions?” Which is just ridiculous to call them, what should be called inventions should be able to change the world! Nothing he has done proves that. Plus he’s kind of a jerk.” You explain, but Caitlyn sticks up for him.

“His work is important, I know it’ll be something amazing.” She said, with a hint of enthusiasm that you haven’t seen in her for a while.

“Well.. that’s unfortunate.” You say, “Ive been developing new technologies for Piltover and the armies. I wanted you to be there.” You say, biting your tongue before you say something to totally ruin the moment. Caitlyn looked a bit surprised by this response.

“You rarely let anyone help you..”

“You’re different.. you’ve always been different.” You reply sourly. After returning Caitlyn back to her family, you headed home, fuming. Aggressively opening the door you storm inside the workshop, looking at your creations, what you’ve built, how you’ve developed so much, and yet she went with Jayce? Your anger slowly simmers down and you sit down at the desk.

“Something has to change… I, I have to change..”

It was Nearing Six Years later after that interaction, perhaps you matured and let it all go, but though those sex years you devoted yourself to your work, to creating a new found weapon. The greatest creation in history. Of course you’ve kept it under wraps for the Three years of its production.

Music plays though the workshop as hot plasma burns into a new plate of steel, (Y/n), now in his early twenties removes his mask and scuffs off the dirt on his face. He prepares for the final run though. Flipping a few switches and turning knobs, steam emits from a shrouded invention, and a whir echoes from it, signaling his success. And coincidentally enough, today was Progress Day!

“Jayce Talis, eat your heart out.” you say. “Hextech, what a joke.” You confidently stood up to exit the workshop and head downstairs past Jarvis.

“Jarvis, please send the guards to prepare for Progress day, I have something to show.” He says, and heads out.

Sitting in the Enforcers office, Marcus sat at his desk, with oldies enforcers, Caitlyn included.

“So, you’ve already paid for a spot, we can have officers at the tent to avoid any issue. Your Project. Should we know anything about it?”

“Sorry, best kept secret, but I will need an officer to assist me in keeping the public away from it…” he says, and his eyes trail off to Caitlyn. She looks a bit shocked but quickly pieces together what he’s saying.

“You can’t he serious—“

“Kiramman, you’re on watch Duty for Stark Industrial. Keep the peace.” He said and she wants to groan, but reluctantly agrees.

“Miss Kiramman.” You say with a smug bow and she walks past, “this way.. Sir.” She says though her teeth, you two walk to the tent, and she’s less than enthusiastic.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” You say, and she turns to her.

“Oh, so this was to help me? How?” She said.

“Do you think your parents would have let you go anywhere? You would have stayed in Jayce’s tent.” You repeat, and Caitlyn thinks, and sighs.

“I hate it when you’re right…”

“Don’t worry, what I have built will amaze you, and blow Hextech out of the water.”

“Is this what it’s about? Jayce?” She says.

“Partly, and I want to show my Progress.” You give a wink and Caitlyn reaches the tent to show its fancy, a large stand to hold a crowd, a standing floor. With the hidden figure under the cloth. Across the event you can make out the Kiramman family and jayce giving the speech. (Y/n) stood on the pedestal and cracked his knuckles, he turns to Cait.

“Now, watch this.” You day, and speak a bit loudly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! The newest invention from Stark Industrial!” You say, you watch as citizens begins to gather and watch, slowly siphoning Jayce’s watchers, you smirk and step to the platform and walk around the shrouded thing.

“Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce you, to the future. To our future, the future of piltover, No, the future of the entire world! You see we as a people have evolved from primitive rocks and sticks, to bring the most advanced species in the entire world, and therefore we can only keep moving forward, and what is more forward, than this!” You snap your fingers and a few guards tear off the cloth to reveal it, a suit of armor, hooked up by tubes running form somewhere, it was mostly flaming red with accents of orange, people marvel at the device and you really begin to sell it.

“What we have here isn’t a robot, but it’s a suit of armor! A highly dense titanium suit of armor, built with interlocked systems and an array of weapons, able to withstand fire, electricity, the cold, I call it.. the Iron Man!” You Walk to the back of the suit and twist a handle near the palm of the suit, the suit slowly begins to Open and reveal the inter working compartments from gears to wires, you step up and clench the palm switch, the suit encapsulates your body, steam bellows from parts of the suit and you flex, showing the suit isn’t a stiff board, Caitlyn watches, seeing the genius of Stark at work.

“This suit is built for the upmost of situations. In fact, enforcers!” You say, two walk on stage and you turn to them. They aim their guns, a look of worry washes over Caitlyn and they open fire, the bullets hit the suit and collapse upon themselves. Showing zero damage.

“Did I mention is bulletproof?” You say sarcastically, and then show it’s weapons.

“The suit is capable of high intensity blasts of energy from the palm. All powered by a single energy stone!” You aim upward and open one palm, the suit blasts a beam of high force light into the air.

“Even missiles!” You order a few Discs to be shot into the air, using nothing but your eyes you aim and a panel opens up in the shoulder compartment of the suit, they ignite and fly out, each explosion dancing in the air.

“But most importantly ladies and gentlemen, it had one ability only the animals with wings can partake in this.”

Switching to Flight nods the suits leg panels open to reveal thrusters, the armor makes a more aerodynamic look and steam bellows from it. The Suit begins to lift off and fly around the large celebratory area. Crowds watching in amazement of the Industrial Revolution, the suit then lands again, with another switch it opens, allowing (Y/n) to step out. Dusting himself off he drinks in the amazement of the crowd.

“You see, this is our future, this is the future I wish to cultivate! Stark Industrial will push Pullover into the era of Peace, and Prosperity!” With one final rousing speech, the crowd roses in applause of your creation, your work, your greatness. The only person less enthusiastic was Jayce. The Iron Man armor stood in the middle of the room, its ammunitions being refilled.

Inside the chambers of the Stark Building, you stood before Jayce, who was not as happy as you were, the young man whose calm demeanor similar made Jayce much more perturbed.

“You couldn’t allow Progress Day to just be about progress.. could you?” He says, and toy smugly turn around.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean Jayce. My Iron Man is Progress, Progress Born from one mind.” You say, and offer a drink, Jayce calmly stood up and looked towards the window of the building out to the vast developing city.

“What you’re doing is Undermining the Hextech.”

“What I’m doing is showing my Stark Tech is just as good, even be than Hextech, don’t be upset I’m just better.”

“Better? Don’t make me laugh you’re a glorified Rich Kid.” Jayce turns to face you, much more accusingly.

“Yes because I didn’t grow up like you then my genius must be a fluke? You’re simply under your punching weight Mr Talis.” You reply in Jest, and Jayce takes the low blow.

“You see, this is why Howard wasn’t invited into the council, he valued his own ego over the importance of our future!—“

“That’s what you think?” You say, your anger boiling over. “My father didnt join your little club because he knew what the council does, halt any creativity that isn’t within what they value. I’d rather be alone than be a sellout.” You and Jayce are getting more and more hostile, until a flicker of red catches the corner of your eye, you turn to the direction, out the window you see flames blazing. Your eyes trail off and watch, seeing where it’s located.

“The Tents…” you say before rushing to the suit, jayce also watches and then turns to you.

“What are you doing?!”

“Saving Progress Day! Alert any police nearby! We have to do something!” You yell, opening the suit you step in and it powers on, activating the Rockets, you disregard anything and blast though the glass and fly off, your focus solely on Caitlyn, the humming of the machinery, the smell of steel in your nose. You land nearby and risk it all rushing into the fire, your eyes search as smoke and flames dance all around you. You scan the entire building and spot movement on the ground, rushing over your eyes catch blue hair and you immediately recognize who.

“Caitlyn!” You call out and pick the woman up, she’s unconscious, but alive. Her eyes open slowly and lock with yours.

“Don’t talk! It’ll be fine!” You reassure her and rush out of the building building, the suit taking whatever heat you would have, breaking through falling wood you safely get Caitlyn to safety, laying her down you turn to fly back in, but that was a fatal mistake, in a flash of light, it all went black.

It slowly became more clear, your vision in this horrid nightmare, your once great Suit Damaged to a heavy extent, the power on the suit was non existent, the explosion damaged the face plate, blowing half of it off. Your eye trailed over to the blue haired girl leaning over you, but it wasn’t Caitlyn it was, someone else. She hummed while she tore the crystal from your core, writing down in a small brown book, and you were too weak to stop her, she spots your eye and smiles. She looked, disturbed, definitely cute but still disturbed, like she was a power keg ready to blow.

“Oh, the Tin Mans awake… sorry, but I had to get this little thing from you.” She says, and successfully tears out the blue core, she oodles at it, there was a hint of joy in her eye.

“I gotta say, a suit like that? Pretty Badass. I would ask how you worked out the triggers for your missile launchers, but I’m a little late. See ya later, Tin Man.” The Girl stood up and walked away, you can only watch as she disappears into the smoke and darkness, most likely never to be seen again, but who knows what genius mind was behind those mad Eyes.

[wellofdean]

Just wanted to split this off from this post about why Mary Winchester is excellent because it's getting so long, but I wanted to respond to these tags from @kayliemalinza :

#sometimes i feel people hate john for reasons that while valid in our universe less valid in the spn universe#but mary gets it way worse#<-- prev tags yessss#also doing the math wasn't she like 28 when she died#i'm glad they didn't recast and of course samantha smith looks her own age#but mary is in fact YOUNGER THAN SAM AND DEAN AT THIS POINT#they are not children#and the tags copied above i think explains so sos ooo much#bc so many fans glommed onto dean because of similar family issues#and that means they are struggling as much as dean is in s12#and just can't disconnect that quite yet#but god#GOD how she struggles with that emotional intimacy#she was raised as a hunter you don't think she's chockablock full of maladaptive coping mechanisms too?

Because I whole-heartedly agree with this. John Winchester was not a good father in some major, major ways, and Sam and Dean had a childhood straight out of a...well, a horror/fantasy genre show...but I think people forget that Sam and Dean also do truly love John and truly are more or less at peace with their memory of him later in the series, and there has to be a reason for that, too. It's not that he's a mustache-twirling villain; it's complicated. He loved them, but he wasn't always able to do it right. They love him, but he hurt them and made the what they are, which is a double-edged sword.

It's really natural that we all identify with Dean, and get angry at people who hurt him, but I think it's important to realize that Dean processes his anger about Mary leaving pretty quickly, because it's not really anger and resentment, it's confusion, disappointment and hurt. And I think Dean is grown enough to own his own feelings, and able to accept that she needs time and space, and he's not such a child that he isn't capable of separating his legitimate feelings from her legitimate needs. It takes him time, but he gets there, because, and this is another conversation, Dean is really very reflective and emotionally intelligent, actually.

I also do agree that a lot of fans, in identifying with Dean, map their own feelings about their parents onto Mary, and dislike her for reasons that have nothing to do with the story being told on Supernatural, which is essentially a very healing one. Since I'm a Gen-X old, and the mother of an adult son, I actually had a pretty different experience, and as much as I love Dean, in this storyline, I identified a lot with Mary.

On the one hand, she has to be so proud of her two big, beautiful, brave and heroic sons, but at the same time she does not know them! They don't need her, and they are trying to protect her from the things she feels they should have been protected from, and at the same time, as adult men who are still, in some way, motherless boys, they are hungry (especially Dean) for her to be something that she never had a chance to grow into. I loved it that her own exigencies were too strong to LET her stay. I loved that she could not accept the role of mother that had been stolen from her, and could not sit still to let it just kind of settle on her shoulders.

It made me think that (aw yeah!) there was a difference between John's sainted white nightgown conception of his dead wife (his motivation to be what he was), and Dean's memory of her as the cutter off of crusts from his sandwiches, or the mother that he comforted when she was sad, and he was just a little man. I'm so glad that Mary turned out to be so much more than that. She is a woman with her own competencies, her own damage and baggage, and her own ideas about how to make things right, who doesn't agree with her sons all the time, who makes mistakes, who fucks the wrong guy, still loves her problematic husband, and can't actually cook, thank you very much. I love that her own disorientation and her own will are so strong that she really can't allow who she actually is to be subsumed into the communal role of 'mother'.

I think that socially, we don't really think about what we ask of mothers, or how hard we judge them. We underestimate what they give up of themselves to satisfy that role. My son was born when I was really young, and fellas, IT WAS HARD under more or less perfectly normal circumstances, to make the transition from being just me to being a mother. My magnificent son is amazeballs, and is a human being that I am so fucking proud to have made out of my very own actual body and raised to be the excellent human he is, and we are really close, but I was not always prefect, and even now when he is a grown adult, I still chafe against the perception of me as 'his mother' and not just ME all the time. One of the very greatest things about my son is his incredible ability to let me live, and make space for the fact that I am also a person, and not just his mother, and I am so, so grateful to him for that, so....

Yeah. As much as I didn't want to see Dean hurt, I LOVED Mary, and love that they wrote her as her a full human being and not a tropally perfect mother. I loved seeing her as a flawed parent that deserved her adult children's understanding and mature love, who deserved her own space and her own processes. What's more, I loved seeing Dean process his feelings about her, and seeing him become a son who was capable of loving a real human woman who happened to be his mother. So... yes. I love her.

Mary Winchester forever. A+.