#sixteen grand in debt

[mossiagocheese]

glassy eyed fucker

[serpentandlily]

Wicked Games

Dark!Batboys x Reader

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian. (Modern AU!)

Warnings: Violence, dark themes (will update per chapter)

Part II

Part I

༺♥༻

It had been too easy sneaking in through the back door of The Sidra, a huge building filled with luxury apartments only the top one-percent could afford. Too easy sneaking into the laundry rooms downstairs and finding a freshly cleaned maid’s uniform. And too easy convincing one of the maids on duty into believing you were a newly hired employee.

It wasn’t hard to play the role. You had worked as a cleaning lady before—at a motel when you were only sixteen. So it wasn’t long before she was dropping a keychain filled with master keys for each floor into the pocket of your apron and pushing a cleaning cart into your hands.

Before you knew it, you had an access card to the elevators in one pocket and those all too important keys in the other. You waited until no one else was near the elevators before slipping into one and immediately pressing the button that would take you to the penthouse.

According to your sources, aka one of your exes, one of the richest males in Prythian lived in that penthouse. A male who was rumored to make his money in a…less than legal way. And if you knew anything about those types, you knew they’d have cash stuffed into just about every hidden crevice of that apartment. Because that kind of dirty money never made it into banks.

You had tried to do some research on who was living here but it seemed like he was a rather elusive male. All you could find was a first name, Rhysand—and that he had ties to Velaris, the illustrious night club downtown.

It didn’t matter though. All that mattered was getting into this penthouse, finding his hidden stacks of cash and getting the hell out of here. You needed this money and this guy was rich enough that you doubted he’d even notice a measly six grand missing from his piles of cash.

But that six grand meant life or death for you. Because you needed to pay off the debt you owe your ex. You knew his patience with you was slipping and you were worried that for once he’d actually go through with his threats.

The elevator dinged, signaling you had made it to your destination. You stepped out of the elevator, leaving the cleaning cart behind, and found yourself in a grand corridor. There was only one direction to go, only one set of large double doors up here.

You knocked once. Twice. A third time. No answer, no noise, nothing. You thanked God for your luck today as you fumbled with your ring of master keys, trying to figure out which one worked for this door.

It took you longer than you liked but soon you were pushing the doors open and making your way into the insanely large penthouse. Your jaw dropped as you took in the place, envy crawling up your skin like thorny vines.

This place was…incredible. It was opulent, full of expensive looking furniture and high-tech electronics. You spun around, taking in everything. Jesus, the sitting area alone was larger than your own studio apartment. Everything looked so ornate and for this being the supposed bachelor pad for one of Prythian’s richest males, you were surprised by how elegant it all was.

But you quickly snapped yourself out of your admiration. You had a job to do. Find the money you needed and get out of here before someone returned. You checked the usual spots for hidden safes—behind paintings, where medicine cabinets should be, in closets. You cursed as you found nothing out of place.

That was until you stumbled upon a large painting of three mountaintops with a star painted above each in the master bedroom. It was incredibly heavy, but you managed to get it off the wall and nearly let out a squeal of joy when you caught sight of the safe built into the wall. You pulled out the small electronic stethoscope that you had found at a pawn shop years ago and got to work with cracking the safe.

It was one of the skills your ex had taught you. A skill that had come in handy quite a few times. And you were particularly good at this part. So good that you had the safe opened within the hour. Your jaw dropped as the door clicked open and revealed piles and piles of cash, some gems and gold chains. You were half tempted to take it all but restrained yourself.

Just enough. You needed to take just enough to pay off your debt…and maybe some extra for rent this month. Just to get you back on track with your payments. Still, just a small amount that hopefully would go unnoticed. You opened the satchel you had hidden under the maid apron and started tossing stacks into your bag.

Once you were certain you had enough, you closed the safe and went through the strenuous process of hanging the large painting back up on the wall. You were sweating a bit as you finished, wiping your clammy hands on the apron.

Now all you had to do was get the fuck out of here. You could not believe your luck as you made your way back to the front door. Could not believe that everything had gone exactly to plan.

Which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised at the sound of a key unlocking the front door. Of course it wouldn’t have been that easy. Fuck. You looked around quickly, spotting a closet in the hallway and managed to slid yourself into it right as the front doors opened. You held your breath as three large men came walking in, the two in the back lugging in another person whose head was covered with a burlap sack.

Your eyes widened as you took in the scene, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. The male who led the group forward was one of the most handsome males you had ever seen. He was wearing a finely tailored suit, his tie loosened around his neck. His hair was short, a dark blue-black color which suited his golden skin.

The two guys holding up their captive were equally attractive, if not more. One was huge, taller than the other two, with muscles cut from stone like a God. He had shoulder length dark brown hair that had been pulled into a bun and wore black pants and a white button-up shirt with his sleeves folded up to his elbows, exposing his veiny forearms.

The other male was just straight up beautiful. His features were more elegant than the other two, as if a romantic artist had spent their whole life carefully crafting him out of clay. He also had dark brown hair, cut short like the first guy, and golden skin that matched the other two. His face was expressionless, unreadable, and that made him look all the more lethal.

The two guys dropped the captive to his knees and yanked the burlap sack off his head. You nearly gasped in surprise as you recognized him. He was known widely in the criminal world as “The Attor.” He was a slimy looking male who used all sorts of weird torture methods to get his victims to talk. Last you heard of him, he was working with Hybern, one of the many gang leaders in Prythian.

“Are you going to talk now?” The male in the suit purred. He sat down in one of the plush armchairs, resting his ankle over a knee. He held an air of authority and you guessed that he was the leader here.

“Fuck you, Rhysand,” The Attor spat, wiggling to try and break free of his bonds.

Ah, so this was the famed Rhysand. You had expected someone older, someone maybe in their fifties. But this guy couldn’t be older than thirty. And god, he was so hot. Most criminals were ugly, aging men. Nothing like the handsome devil who sat in his chair like it was a throne.

Rhysand merely chuckled before running a finger down the armrest of his chair. “Tell us what Hybern’s planning and I might just decide to let you leave with your life.”

But The Attor just spat at his feet. “You and I both know I’ve been a dead man since your dogs caught me.”

The lethal looking male snarled at that. The noise was so animalistic, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re right, you have been,” Rhysand answered with amusement. “And now I tire of our games.” He nodded at the male who had snarled. “Kill him,” he ordered.

Before you could even process those words, the man yanked a blade out of his pocket and swiftly stabbed it straight through The Attor’s throat. A small gasp escaped your mouth as red blood sputtered out of the wound and the man slumped to the ground, his eyes glazing over. You quickly slammed a hand over your mouth, praying to God that they hadn’t heard your slip-up. But you had never seen someone killed before. You had only ever dealt with petty criminals, mostly thieves.

“Did you hear that?” The one built like a God asked, his eyes narrowing as they swept over the place.

You smothered yourself further with your hand, pressing your body against the wall of the closet—as far from the door as you could get.

“I did,” the lethal one answered, yanking his dagger from the dead man’s neck and wiping it clean on his clothes before returning it to his own pocket.

“Who’s here?” Rhysand called out, standing up.

The other two began to search through the room, their footsteps surprisingly silent. You squeezed your eyes shut and sank onto the floor, praying and praying that they wouldn’t look in the closet, that they wouldn’t find you. As a few moments passed, you were beginning to grow hopeful.

But then the closet doors were yanked open and you were being pulled out by your upper arms. You let out a small cry as you opened your eyes to see the lethal one staring down at you, his face impassive as he dragged you into the sitting room and tossed you onto the floor next to the dead man’s body.

You let out a whimper, your apron soaking up some of the blood on the floor.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an intruder,” he called out, gaining the attention of the other two who returned from wherever they had been searching.

Rhysand stepped forward, looking down at you in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected to find one of the maids hiding in his closet. Your whole body tensed as the corners of his lips ticked up. This close now, you could see the unusual color of his eyes, a rich shade of blue that almost looked violet.

“Well what do we have here?” His voice was so sensual, bringing color to your cheeks. “What a pretty little mouse you’ve caught, Az.”

“I’d say so,” the other one smirked, his eyes roaming your face. But you kept your attention on the leader.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I was cleaning in the bedroom when I heard the ruckus and…I swear I won’t tell anyone what I saw. I’m sorry. Please, just let me go,” you pleaded, quivering under his amused stare.

“That’s odd,” he said, tilting his head at you. “I didn’t schedule any cleaning services today.”

You blinked, trying to come up with another lie. “I-I’m a new hire, sir. I only d-did as I was told.”

He stroked his jaw, glancing at the other two men who stood behind you. “Interesting. You know, I didn’t happen to see any cleaning supplies when I was looking around just now. Did you two see any during your search?”

“Nope,” the bigger one chimed. You could hear the smile in his voice. The other one must’ve shaken his head because Rhysand looked back down at you.

“I-I…” you choked on your own words. Fuck, how were you going to get yourself out of this one? You were screwed. So fucking screwed. You were going to die right here just like the man next to you.

Rhysand stepped forward before bending down on his haunches in front of you. A pathetic whimper fell from your lips as you backed away, only to run into a pair of legs. You gulped, looking up to see the pretty one staring down at you, that unfeeling face sent another shiver through your body.

“You’re not a maid, are you, little mouse?” Rhysand purred, reaching a gloved hand out to brush some hair from your face. You were shaking like a leaf now, as you found yourself surrounded by three dangerous males.

Fuck, you were going to die. All twenty-one years of your life wasted just to die here, likely never to be found. Not that anyone would be looking for you or miss you. You had grown up in foster care, never knowing who your parents were.

“I-I am,” you lied. “I swear it.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue, giving you a mocking frown. “What a pretty little liar you are. I don’t like liars, little mouse. Do you know what I like to do to the people who lie to me?”

You shook your head, not able to form any words. He gave you a wolfish grin and pointed a finger at the dead body on the ground, blood still oozing from the wound on his neck. You whimpered again, a few pathetic tears now slipping from your eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry, pretty girl,” Rhysand purred. “It would be a waste to kill a little thing like you. Don’t you agree?”

Your head was spinning now.

“What…what do you want from me?” Your voice shook, making you feel even more pathetic. Rhysand smiled again but it was not reassuring—more like a predator showing off its sharp teeth.

He glanced up at the other two. “What do you guys think? Should we let this little mouse go or should we punish her for her trespassing?”

“We don’t even know what she’s here for yet,” the pretty one said. His voice was as dark as him and just as cold.

You used this time to glance towards the front door, noting how far away it was. You could make a break for it. You were a fast runner and you had the advantage of being smaller and more agile than them.

It could go horrible but you had to try. You had to try and get out of here before they did whatever it was they wanted to you. You would only have one shot, one chance.

Before any of them could notice you plotting, you scooped a handful of blood from the floor and flicked it into Rhysand’s face. He let out a noise of surprise and you used the distraction to slip between the other two and dart towards the door.

You could hear their yells from behind you but didn’t look back as you yanked the door open and sprinted into the hallway. You bypassed the elevators and slammed into the stairway.

You could hear footsteps running behind you and you pushed yourself to run faster, hopping over railings to other floors when you could. You burst through the door leading into one of the other floors and sprinted down the hallway.

A man was leaving his apartment, his eyes glued to the phone in his hand. You pushed him out of your way and slipped into the open door, ignoring his curse from behind you. You ran into the bedroom, darting for the window.

You let out a small cry of relief when you noticed it was connected to a fire escape. You quickly pushed it open and flung yourself through the window, landing with a thud on the metal landing.

You didn’t waste any time climbing down the ladders from landing to landing. You had made decent progress by the time one of the males had figured out where you had gone. The metal fire escape rattled with both of your weights now on it, but you continued climbing down until you reached the bottom.

As soon as you landed on the ground, you took off down an alleyway—twisting and turning down different paths, trying to keep them off your trail. Unlike those rich pricks, you knew the underside of this city like the back of your hand.

As soon as you were confident you had lost them, you found a spot in the shadows to rip the maid uniform off. You tossed it on the ground and quickly got dressed back into the clothes you had brought in your bag.

Once you had pulled on the jeans and jacket, you tossed the hood up and slung your bag back over your shoulder. This time you made your way to a busy street, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

You didn’t let out a breath of relief until you were on the subway, on the line that would take you back to your neighborhood where your shitty apartment would be waiting for you.

You bit your lip, unzipping your bag to make sure all the money you had stolen was accounted for. You finally let out a breath and rested your head against the cold wall of the subway cart.

You had fucking done it. You had stolen from one of the richest men in Prythian and gotten away with it.

༺♥༻

“This is only six grand, bunny,” your ex, Tamlin, said with a small frown. “Where’s the rest?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I owed you six grand, right? That’s what you said. It’s all there.”

“Oh, bunny, you owed me six grand last week,” Tamlin replied, pushing some of his blonde hair away from his face as he looked up at you. You bounced from one foot to the other, standing in front of his desk. “It’s seven thousand, five hundred now—you know, because of interest.”

“What?” You breathed out. “You never mentioned anything about interest!”

Tamlin chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “I did. You must’ve not understood. It’s okay, bunny, not all of us can be smart. It’s a good thing you’ve got that pretty face of yours to get by. But I’ll take this for now. I’ll need the rest by next week, though. And it’ll be an extra one thousand, eight hundred seventy five by then.”

“You can’t be serious! Tam, I—do you know what it took to get that money! Please, I’m begging you. Can’t this be it? An extra thousand dollars is nothing but petty cash to you. Please.”

“I don’t think so, bunny,” Tamlin responded with a mockingly sad voice. “You see, you lost those kinds of privileges when you broke up with me. I could’ve taken care of all of this for you but you’re the one who wanted to cut ties. So now you have to play by the same rules as everyone else.”

“This is ridiculous, please,” you begged. You were willing to get on your knees at this point. All you wanted was to be done with this—done with him. “I can barely afford rent. Barely feed myself. I won’t be able to get you another grand by next week.”

“That stopped being my problem a long time ago, bunny,” Tamlin said, all niceties gone from his voice now as he stood from his desk, placing his palms flat against the surface. “Get the money to me by next week. I’d hate to see that pretty little face of yours ruined. Do you understand?”

You scoffed but Hart, one of his guards, took a step closer to you, so you swallowed your pride, ignored the tears building in your eyes, and nodded your head. You quickly left the room, made a quick exit from the warehouse and started the long walk back to your apartment.

How the hell were you going to get more money for him? He was doing this on purpose, still upset with you for breaking up with him. You wiped at the angry tears spilling down your face. Would you ever be able to pay him off? Would you ever be able to get rid of his presence in your life?

You kicked at the loose concrete pebbles on the ground as you made your way home. You kept your hood on, head ducked towards the ground to avoid any unwanted attention. Now that you no longer had Tamlin’s protection, the men in this neighborhood had gotten rowdier with you.

Once you reached your apartment building, you took two stairs at a time to get to the fourth floor, wincing as you heard Marcus yelling at his wife again for the third time today. You wished she’d put a kitchen knife through his gut and do your whole neighborhood a favor.

You pulled your cheap, burner phone out of your pocket along with your keys, ready to call your friend Valerie to bitch and moan about Tamlin as soon as you were inside.

But apparently God had other plans.

As soon as you flicked on the lights to your apartment, your phone slipped out of your hands and landed with a thud on the floor. Your eyes widened, your heart plummeted all the way to your stomach as your gaze fell on a pair of unusual violet eyes.

Rhysand.

Rhysand was sitting there on your dingy mattress, his nice clothes a stark contrast to your fraying sheets. He gave you a grin that could rival the devil’s.

“There you are, little mouse,” he purred. “I’ve been looking for you.”

[queenshelby]

Auctioned (P. 1)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader/OC

Warning: Darkish Themes, Prostitution, Smut, Eventual Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Corruption, Destructive Behavior, Massive Age Gap

Notes: Damn, I had this in my drafts for a while but could not publish it as I was a little afraid about how it would be perceived. Also this is the first time I used an OC, so be gentle with me.

The rain fell relentlessly, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of Y/N's heart as she walked down the dimly lit streets of Small Heath.

It was a neighbourhood perpetually caught in the grip of shadows, where whispers of danger cascaded through the air like an ominous secret.

Clutching her coat tighter around her trembling form, Y/N navigated the labyrinthine alleyways towards her destination. The wind howled, carrying with it a sense of desperation that seemed to echo her own.

After mere minutes of walking down the street, the brothel she had worked at as a waitress for the past two years stood ominously before her, its ornate facade a stark contrast to the gritty reality of its surroundings.

It was a daunting place she had visited many times before. Both of her sisters worked there, and it was Y/N's eldest sister who had orchestrated tonight’s ordeal.

When Y/N was only sixteen years old, her eldest sister told her not to give away her innocence lightly as, according to her, a woman’s virginity was a commodity these days. Men were willing to pay much money for it, and six months after Y/N turned eighteen, she decided to partake in one of the brothel’s first-ever auctions.

“There are many men here tonight and you are the only virgin” Y/N's sister told her, causing Y/N to cringe but remain silent. “In three months’ time Em, we will be debt-free” her sister then reassured her as rumors of illicit dealings and forbidden desires swirled around the brothel’s walls, warning Y/N and the two other girls partaking in tonight’s events to tread with caution.

Y/N's determination propelled her forward though nonetheless, into the grand hall of the establishment and, albeit with trepidation lingering in every step, she pushed through her anxiety. The weight of her decision bore down on her shoulders now, the knowledge that she had offered her innocence for sale causing a knot of guilt to form in the pit of her stomach.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, the creaking sound reverberated through the room, capturing the attention of its mysterious clientele, including men that were twice and three times Y/N's age.

Seeing them, gave Y/N second thoughts. She disappeared again into the back of the room, telling her sister that she was unsure as to whether she could go through with this and, once again, her sister reminded her of what was to come if she did not.

“Trust me Em, it is better to fuck one guy for a few months than a ton of them for years. You will have money once your time is up. It will be worth it” her sister told Y/N, who reluctantly nodded.

The deal was to give up her virginity and three months of her life to the highest bidder and in the brothel’s owner’s opinion, such offering was going to attract a bid of at least one-thousand pounds.

One thousand pounds was more than Y/N could make in five years, thus she agreed, setting herself up for a good life of her own.

***

Glancing through one of the open doors again, Y/N saw that the auction room was illuminated by dim candlelight, casting elongated shadows across the velvety red curtains that framed the stage.

Many men were still arriving, taking their seats and talking with each other. Y/N could count at least fifteen thus far and were astonished by the fact that all these wealthy men were prepared to pay for her inexperience.

Then, a hushed silence fell over the crowd as another man walked in and it was your sister who peaked through the crack in the door with you now, trying to ascertain what was happened.

“Oh shit” she said as she looked at the man who just walked in. His sharp features were framed by a weave of dark hair, blue eyes piercing the dimly lit room with a predatory intensity. This was Thomas Shelby - a figure whispered about in hushed tones, notorious for his criminal empire, and feared even by those who claimed to know him.

“Who is he?” Y/N asked nonetheless, curious about this handsome but intimidating-looking stranger.

“His name is Thomas Shelby. You would have heard of him?” Y/N's sister said, causing Y/N's chin to drop as, just like everyone else, she had indeed heard of him. He was often referred to as the king of Birmingham, a man whose name had become entwined with notions of danger and darkness. He had blood on his hands and was a career

Criminal who was so powerful that even the police did not stand in his way.

“It is time, come on” the owner of the establishment then said and, with trembling legs, Y/N walked into the room, accompanied by her sister.

All heads turned as Y/N's presence filled the room, but she did not take notice of anyone but him, secretly hoping for this stranger to make a bid.

Y/N's breath hitched as, within seconds, her eyes locked with those of this dangerous man, his icy blue orbs penetrating through her like a shard of glass. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could see every secret she held close to her chest, every fear she carried.

Thomas smirked at her, his lips curling with a dangerous mixture of arrogance and charm. He adjusted his tailored suit with the precision of a man who commanded respect, his piercing gaze locked upon the platform where the auctioneer eventually prepared to begin, with you by his side,

The auctioneer's voice boomed through the room, shattering the silence like a crack of thunder.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we present to you a rare opportunity. Up for sale to the highest bidder is this young woman's innocence and her services for three months, at a location of your choosing” the man announced and, immediately, whispers raced through the air, mingling with the pounding of hearts.

Eyes flickered from Y/N to Thomas and back again, playing a silent game of anticipation and curiosity. Y/N's cheeks burned with a mix of nervousness and defiance. This was her choice, her chance to take control of her own destiny and yet she hoped that, at least, someone she could be attracted to would become her bidder.

As such, Thomas Shelby was clearly the most attractive and intriguing man in the room and, whilst Y/N had heard tales of Thomas Shelby, the man who straddled the line between the law and the underworld, she was not afraid.

Thomas Shelby’s notoriety preceded him like a shadowy myth and, again, his lips curled into a barely perceptible smirk, his features a carefully crafted mask of unreadable intent. The flicker of amusement in his eyes danced with a darkness that weakened Y/N's knees.

Was here to bid, she wondered? Or was he for the show and the sheer absurdity of it all?

"Let us not waste any time," the auctioneer then continued, his voice dripping with a blend of excitement and intrigue.

"Bidding for Miss Y/N begins at five hundred pounds" the actioneer then announced and the crowd stirred, pockets of murmurs rising like a symphony of anticipation. The forbidden allure of Y/N's offer had captivated them all, and now they were hungry for the chase.

Thomas Shelby remained a silent observer, however. His eyes locked onto Y/N's form with an intensity that made her feel exposed. A shiver of uncertainty crawled up her spine, but she refused to falter. She had made her decision, and she would see it through to the end.

Then, the first bid pierced the air, followed swiftly by another and another. The numbers climbed higher, the desperation of the bidders mirrored in their furious gestures and sharp intakes of breath. From her vantage point on the stage, Y/N watched the faces blur together, a sea of greedy desire stretching out before her like a treacherous ocean.

Among the throng of potential purchasers, only one stood out to her still and this was Thomas Shelby. His eyes were unwavering and fixed upon her. Bids soared into the thousands, the clambering voices echoing through the rafters. In this room of twisted desires and hidden intentions, Y/N's worth was being calculated, her innocence commodified.

A sense of nausea swirled within Y/N's gut, the weight of what she was about to lose hitting her like a sucker punch. She knew the money would bring temporary relief, but the cost of her first time being handed over so coldly – it was a sacrifice she could never fully comprehend.

Biting her bottom lip, Y/N steadied herself, her gaze finding solace in the not-so-innocent eyes of Thomas Shelby across the room. She had set this chain of events in motion, and she would have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be. At last, the bidding war reached its peak, the crowd growing restless, each participant desperate to claim the illustrious prize. The air crackled with anticipation, a storm waiting to unleash its fury.

The auctioneer, sensing the crescendo, roared, "Going once, going twice..." The tension in the room reached a fever pitch, every person holding their breath, their gaze transfixed on the stage. And then, in an instant, Thomas Shelby's voice, low and commanding, cut through the silence like a knife.

"Ten thousand pounds" he said and the room gasped, a collective intake of breath that snaked its way through the assembled throng.

Thomas's bid was a declaration, a statement that he alone was the one who would possess her at a price that was much higher than any other bid before.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse reverberating in her temples. She locked eyes with Thomas, her voice trembling as she promised herself that she would not crumble beneath his intimidating presence even though he wanted her to, by simply looking at her.

"Sold to Thomas Shelby for ten thousand pounds!" the auctioneer's proclamation hung in the air, sealing Y/N's fate like a binding contract.

A mixture of relief and trepidation surged through her veins, her steps faltering as she descended from the stage, her composure teetering on the edge. Thomas approached her with a measured stride, his every move calculated and deliberate. He extended a gloved hand towards her, a pale contrast against the darkness that seemed to radiate from him.

"Y/N, is it?" he asked, his voice a low timbre that held a hidden power, causing in Y/N to nod silently.

"It appears you now belong to me" he then asserted and Y/N paused for a moment, feeling herself teetering on the precipice between freedom and captivity.

“It seems so” Y/N responded as she chose to swallow her fear and accepted his hand, their fingers intertwining in a pact that neither of them fully comprehended.

“Very well then” Thomas responded before he pulled her closer and Y/N felt the weight of his reputation settle upon her shoulders. The echoes of his criminal empire whispered around her, the unknown dangers lurking beneath the surface of this enigmatic man.

With every guiding step, Thomas led her out of the brothel and into the night, the rain washing away the remnants of her former life. The world around her seemed to fade into insignificance, her focus solely on the ruthless man who had claimed her as his own.

***

Eventually, they emerged onto the dark streets of Small Heath, the rain obscuring their silhouettes as they walked side by side. Y/N's nerves danced with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, her mind frantically searching for answers to the questions that suddenly enveloped her.

"You've heard of me, eh. So you know what I do?" Thomas stated, his voice cutting through the raindrops like a razor and Y/N hesitated to answer for a moment, her words momentarily catching in her throat.

"Yes. I have heard that you are dangerous," she finally admitted, the honesty laced with a touch of fear. A hint of a smile danced across Thomas's lips, his eyes narrowing with a blend of amusement and something darker.

"Dangerous, eh?” he chuckled. “Well, I suppose that is not entirely wrong. Although, one might argue that danger can be seductive” Thomas then asserted and Y/N absorbed his words, feeling a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull she felt towards this enigmatic criminal, as if some inexplicable force drew them together despite the odds stacked against them.

"Why me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breathy plea. The question hung in the air, mingling with the quiet patter of raindrops on the pavement. Thomas stopped abruptly, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. His gaze bore into her, stripping away any pretence that either of them wore.

"Because I saw something in you that intrigued me. Despite, what kind of criminal would not want someone as innocent as you to corrupt, eh?" Thomas joked as the rain continued its relentless assault, washing away the remnants of Y/N's innocence and revealing a strength that had long lain dormant within her.

This journey was not just about the loss of her virginity – it was an awakening, a test of her own resilience. The intoxicating mix of danger, attraction, and the unknown propelled Y/N forward, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild creature. She had embarked on a journey into darkness, and she was determined to emerge on the other side, transformed.

[junespriince]

And they were roommates au

Wally: you know red goes to blue.

Kyle, doing wires: yOu KnOw ReD gOsE tO bLuE, shut the fuck up speed runner before I looney tune you.

Clark: why do you guys hate each other, you pass every team building thing we make for you yet you say such mean things...

Wally: I don't hate him, he's my best friend.

Kyle: yeah, what would give you the idea we hate each other?

Clark: you... You fought not even a second ago and this morning coming in you yelled when Wally said he could replace you.

Kyle: because he can, I'm irreplaceable.

Wally: irresponsible more like it, sixteen grand on art supplies you'll do one thing, either perfect it or never touch it again. Your mother raised you to severe cunt not severe credit card debt.

Kyle: okay when get rid your chem set.

Wally: I would rather sit naked on a hot grill then do that.

Kyle: ditto!

Wally: bitch.

Kyle: whore!

Wally and Kyle, fighting after completing the training exercise:

Bruce: you had to start them up.

Clark: I thought talking about it would help...

Kyle: that it I will pray for your downfall!

Wally: jokes on you I'm an atheist!

Kyle: ...

Kyle: WE LITERALLY FOUGHT ZEUS THE FUCK YOU MEAN!?

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Sixteen

Three moons had passed since King Aegon had ascended to the throne, and on the surface, King's Landing remained stable. Yet, Maera knew all too well that beneath the facade of calmness, the intricate dance of power and politics continued to unfold. Her relationship with her father, already strained, had grown cold since he had consented to seek a marriage match for her. The prospect of marriage, while inevitable, had cast a shadow over their interactions, creating an emotional distance between them.

Maera began to build her own alliances among the courtiers, and soon established her own presence has Queen Helaena’s most sworn and trusted companion. Her charm, intelligence, and gentle demeanor endeared her to many. She formed friendships with the head of the faith, High Septon Eustace, through her frequent attendance to the Sept with her Queen, and Grand Maester Orwyle through the debt she owed him for cleaning the wound on her chest, one the Maester refused to accept, but was happy to educate her on her interests in medicine nevertheless. The alliances allowed her to gain insight into the power dynamics of the court, and gave her a fraction of influence in smaller matters.

In the broader realm, Rhaenyra's son, Jacaerys, had ventured northward in an attempt to secure the loyalty of the North, and by all accounts, his efforts were bearing fruit. The machinations of politics and alliances were a constant undercurrent in the kingdom, as noble houses made their calculations and allegiances shifted like sand. Prince Aemond, ever the vigilant guardian of his family’s ruling of the realm, patrolled the Reach and the Riverlands, ensuring their continued loyalty to King Aegon. Maera was sure the presence of the largest dragon of Westeros would make the Lords support the green council. Or was Vhagar still the largest dragon?

And then there was Ēbrion, the enigmatic dragon that had made its presence known on the shoreline. The dragon keepers, brave and determined, continued their efforts to tame the beast, but their endeavors had come at a steep cost. Three of their own had already fallen victim to the dragon's flames, their sacrifice a testament to the danger that loomed over the Red Keep. Ēbrion, it seemed, was a creature of mystery and defiance, accepting the offerings of food but resisting all attempts at taming. The dragon remained an enigma, its presence a constant source of unease and intrigue.

Amidst these complexities, Queen Helaena seemed to be slipping further into the shadows of her own mind. The arrival of the dragon had marked a turning point, triggering a decline in her mental state. Her moments of disconnection and detachment from reality were growing more frequent, making it increasingly challenging for those who cared for her to bring her back from the depths of her own thoughts.

A storm raged outside, a tempest of rain and wind that beat relentlessly against the Red Keep's towering walls. The torrents of rain were so heavy that the world beyond the windows was obscured, lost in a curtain of water. It was a tempestuous reminder of the forces of nature, a reminder of to Maera of the wild beauty of the Rainwood, her childhood home. The soothing rumble of thunder and the drumming of raindrops on glass had always been a lullaby to her, and she could understand why Helaena might have found it peaceful enough to sleep following a night of restlessness.

In her own room, Maera had taken up the new hobby of painting, considering she was now banned from using her sword and dagger. But even as the bitterness from forbidden activities and the forcing of a marriage alliance lingered, Maera's determination remained unbroken. She knew the value of her own strengths, of the loyalty she had earned and the alliances she had forged. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, were the recipients of her unwavering affection. Their infatuation with the dragon on the shoreline had sparked an idea within her, a gesture that she hoped would capture the children’s imagination.

With each brushstroke, Ēbrion’s form took shape beneath her skilled hand, the layers of blue pigment blending to create a sense of the dragon's majestic presence. She recalled the moments she had watched him take flight, his wings cutting through the air as he soared above the beach. Those images had burned themselves into her mind, a reference point that allowed her to recreate his essence on the canvas.

As she painted, her thoughts drifted to her mother, Lady Gael, who had once filled Maera's nights with tales of legendary dragons and the bond they shared with their Targaryen riders. Those stories had ignited a longing in Maera, a yearning to be a part of a legacy that had shaped the history of Westeros. But Lady Gael had never known the privilege of that bond, and Maera, born of Targaryen blood but not Valyrian enough to claim it, was fated to walk a different path than the other Targaryens she lived with.

The storm outside was the perfect backdrop for her creative process, its tumultuous energy channeled onto the canvas. As she worked, she found a certain peace in the chaos of the tempest, a familiar feeling of solace that reminded her of her Rainwood upbringing. But the tranquility of her creative cocoon was shattered when the door to her chamber burst open, and Ser Arryk Cargyll, a sworn and trusted knight of the king, stood at the threshold.

“My apologies for the intrusion, my Lady” the words fell from his lips, his expression a mix of urgency and concern.

“Ser Arryk, what ever is the matter?” Maera questioned the knight, eyebrows raised.

“The dowager Queen urgently requires your assistance, Lady Maera. Queen Helaena is standing on her balcony and is unresponsive to all entreaties to come inside. She appears to be in that trance-like state again” the knight relayed.

With a sense of urgency that cut through the stillness of her painting, Maera abandoned her brushes and her canvas. Ser Arryk's words ignited a fire of determination within her, and she hurriedly followed him through the corridors of the Red Keep, her heart a mix of apprehension and concern for Helaena's well-being. As she reached Helaena's chambers, the scene that greeted her was one of disquiet. The storm outside raged on, a reflection of the turmoil that seemed to have enveloped the queen. Helaena stood on the balcony, her figure framed by the torrential rain, her eyes distant and unseeing.

Queen Alicent, a mother watching her daughter's distress, stood at the balcony doors with an expression of heartache and powerlessness. Two of Helaena's maids flanked her, their attempts to coax her back inside thwarted by the queen's distant trance. They looked to Maera with desperate eyes, grateful for her swift arrival but also uncertain of what could be done.

Maera curtsied respectfully to Queen Alicent, her words filled with apologies for not having been present sooner. She understood the queen's frustration; it was a situation fraught with helplessness. The maids had been unable to alert Maera in time, leaving them all to grapple with Helaena's enigmatic state. Maera's heart ached for the dowager queen, who had tried in vain to understand the depths of Helaena's inner turmoil. It was a sorrowful reminder of the barriers that sometimes separated even those bound by blood.

"Fetch the guards," Queen Alicent's voice was edged with frustration, her expression a mix of worry and impatience. "We must bring her inside, by force if necessary."

Maera's breath quickened at this suggestion. She knew that Helaena was a gentle soul, one deeply affected by the world's harshness. Determined to find a solution, Maera's gaze settled on Alicent, a plan forming in her mind. "Your Grace," she began, her voice carrying a note of certainty, "perhaps we could try a different approach."

Alicent's gaze fixed on Maera, her brow furrowing inquisitively. "What do you propose, Lady Maera?"

"Allow me to summon a bard to play a tune," Maera suggested, her voice unwavering. "Music has the power to reach places where words cannot."

Alicent's skepticism was evident, but she nodded her consent, watching intently as Maera signaled for the maid to fetch the musician. When he arrived, the skilled lute player began to strum a soft melody of the song ‘The Maids that Bloom in Spring’, With the music as her guide, Maera's stepped out into the rain, her movements graceful and fluid. She danced, her body an extension of the melody, her skirts swirling around her like a cascade of water. She focused on the rhythm, allowing it to carry her away, lost in the moment.

As the notes were carried through the rain-soaked air, Maera's eyes never left Helaena. The trance that had held her friend seemed to flicker, as if the music's touch was awakening something within her. Maera danced closer to Helaena, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation. And then, Helaena's distant gaze began to clear and her eyes focused on Maera, on the dance that defied the storm's fury. The queen's lips parted in wonder, and for a heartbeat, Maera saw the change, the spark of life returning to her friend's eyes. With a radiant smile, she extended a hand towards Helaena, her voice light and inviting. "Your Grace, will you join me?"

Hesitation danced across Helaena's features, but then, as if an invisible barrier shattered, she stepped forward, her feet moving to the rhythm of the bard's tune. Raindrops clung to her hair and gown, but her eyes sparkled with newfound life. Maera and Helaena danced together, their figures illuminated by flashes of lightning, their laughter mingling with the rain's melodic patter.

As the final notes of the song echoed into the night, Helaena's laughter rang out, a sound as beautiful and fragile as a crystal chime. She clung to Maera, her grip a testament to the strength of their bond. "We’re wet," she said, as if the realisation had just hit her

“We are,” Maera chuckled. “Come, let’s go indoors.”

Once inside the warmth of the castle, Maera and Helaena were greeted by the concerned faces of the maids who had been attempting to coax the queen back. Maera's grip on Helaena's hand remained steady as she led her friend to a comfortable sitting area, where a crackling fire offered solace from the storm's chill.

"Fetch a bath for the Queen," Maera instructed the maids, her voice gentle but firm. "Warm water and fragrant oils, please. We wouldn't want her falling ill after braving the rain." Helaena's gaze was still clouded with remnants of the trance, but she managed a faint smile in Maera's direction, silently appreciating her friend's unwavering care. The maids nodded in understanding and hurried off to fulfill Maera's request.

Helaena's soaked silver gown clung to her frame, a stark reminder of the tempest she had braved. With a reassuring smile, Maera helped her friend disrobe, wrapping her in a soft, warm blanket. As she pulled it up over Helaena’s shoulders, the Queen pulled Maera in close and whispered eagerly into her ear, “The rat catcher drops a silver coin on the floor”, causing a look of confusion to spread across Maera’s face.

Just then, the maids returned, guiding Helaena towards the bathing chambers, Queen Alicent approached, her gaze softened by both concern and admiration. "Lady Maera," she began, her voice a mixture of gratitude and wisdom, "you have proven once again the depth of your friendship and your unwavering devotion to my daughter."

“I am simply doing my duty, Your Grace” Maera stated, smiling at the dowager Queen. Alicent placed a hand on Maeras shoulder warmly, but quickly withdrew as she felt her hand become wet from the fabric

“You too have been through quite an ordeal, sweetling" she noted. "Perhaps you should also take advantage of a relaxing bath to ward off the chill."

Maera hesitated, feeling the weight of her damp clothes clinging to her skin. "Very well," she conceded with a smile. "I suppose a warm bath does sound quite appealing."

With a curtsy, she left the chambers, accompanied by Ser Arryk Cargyll, who had been standing guard at the door. His words of praise and encouragement warmed her heart, and she regarded him with gratitude. Perhaps, in time, he would become not just an ally but a friend in the treacherous waters of court.

Maera's lips curved into a warm smile as she acknowledged his words. "Thank you, Ser Arryk. But if it were not for you, I would not have been able to go to her so quickly.”

Ser Arryk's approval, Queen Alicent's gratitude, and her own determination were shaping the alliances that might one day be her support in the complex world of court. And as she sought refuge from the storm in her own chambers, her thoughts turned to the bonds she was forging and the future that awaited her in the heart of the Red Keep.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[theogonies]

No Return

prompt | nico robin x gn!strawhat!reader + childhood friends to enemies to lovers (for the @onepiece-blorboexchange event)

summary | a betrayal, a reunion, and a promise.

happy holidays @daeryn !!! i haven’t written much enemies to lovers, but it was such a good prompt, i had to give it a shot. hope i did your wish justice :3

word count | 2.5k

content warnings | just fluff really. mild enemies to lovers with some hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence including a couple mentions of blood.

i.

When you first met Robin, you were sixteen and naive.

It’s hard to believe you didn’t see it sooner. She wasn’t any older than you when she arrived on your little island in the West Blue, yet somehow she’d already earned an impressive bounty to her name and the reputation to match.

Everyone wanted a piece of Nico Robin back then. The Marines, D-list bounty hunters looking for their big break, all the crews she’d already found time to betray.

The Mafia family who ran your hometown, too. They claimed she’d skipped out on her debt, and that was reason enough for you to keep her secret when you found her squatting in your basement one day, semi-conscious and bleeding out from a grisly wound.

So you nursed her back to health, and in return, she told you stories. Adventure tales of turncoat marines and fearless archaeologists. Histories of civilizations you never knew existed.

The ones you liked most were simpler, though: a language that sounded like ringing bells. A spiced cake that was only made on one particular island. A hundred folktales about seagulls. All reminders that there was a whole world out there across the sea, out of the reach of the Five Families and the Marines and anyone who wanted to decide what your life meant for you.

“You’re too kind,” she’d told you once, when you offered her a portion of your supper for the night.

“What,” you cocked an eyebrow, half teasing and half genuine curiosity. “You think I’m going to put all this work into patching your wounds, and then let you starve before you can heal?”

“You don’t ask for anything in return.”

“S’okay,” you shrugged. “I like talking to you. That’s enough for me.”

You watched as Robin nibbled at a slice of crunchy bread, gears clearly turning in her head.

Eventually, she responded, “I can do more than tell stories, you know.”

“...Like what?” 

“I’ve been on my own for a while.” She avoided your gaze as she fidgeted with one of the tassels on her jacket, lost in thought. “It’s easier to make it at sea with a crew, especially someone with your medical skills.”

Sometimes you wonder if you still would have answered the way you did, knowing how it would end.

Probably, yes. Nico Robin wasn’t an easy girl to turn away from.

“Think it over first” she’d warned you. “You have to understand, I’m a dangerous person to be around. I understand you want to get out of this place, but it’s not enough to keep running. If you don’t want to end up worse than where you started, you have to ask yourself what you really want.”

She didn’t leave you much space to argue, but then, you didn’t exactly think it over, either. You didn’t need to, because you knew what you wanted so intuitively that it felt stupid to question it: to sail out to sea. To enter the Grand Line with Robin. To learn the history of this world together.

By the time the year was up, you’d found yourselves a small crew and a caravel to call your own. You were well on your way to leaving Robin’s history behind and becoming successful pirates in your own right.

The worst part is that you don’t know why it all changed; just that one day she was there, and the next, she wasn’t.

Even if the Marines hadn’t been mysteriously tipped off, you’re not sure there was anything else you could have done. Not with Robin’s Devil Fruit powers gone, the trust between yourself and your crew shattered.

You lost everything that day. Your treasure, your ship, your friends.

Despite everything, the loss that stung the most was Robin.

ii.

Still, somehow, in the years following you managed to stow away on another crew’s ship and make your way to the Grand Line.

Maybe it was because that was your best lead for finding Robin. Maybe just to prove to yourself that you could do it without her. All those years in-between, scraping by to survive with nothing but your wits and a sword, it never seemed like there was much of a point in looking beyond the peak of Reverse Mountain and asking why.

All that level headedness vanished your first night on Whiskey Peak.

The crew you’d traveled with slaughtered, their ship taken by Baroque Works. If it weren’t for the fact that you were a stowaway, forced to hide from them, you never would’ve had a chance of survival. As it was, the best you could do was keep to the shadows and wait for a miracle.

Lucky that you’d learned so well how to keep yourself hidden.

The next pirate crew to arrive was a ragtag bunch, headed by some kid in a straw hat. It was hard to believe that they’d survive when the crew you arrived with didn’t, but somehow, one of them, an imposing green-haired young man, managed to slip away.

You caught up to him in an alley outside, shaded from prying eyes.

“I can help you get out of here,” you promised him. “You and your crew.”

He just eyed you skeptically before turning to walk away with a wave over his shoulder. “Don’t need help.”

But he was your best hope, so you fought at his side anyway, or at least, did the best you could to keep up. Even if he was the only competent man on his crew, the man was a beast, cutting his way through Baroque Works’ members without hesitation.

By the end of it all, your efforts seemed to have paid off, because their captain thanked you with an impudent grin.

“So what are you doing here?”

You hesitated before finally answering, “...I don’t know.”

“Tch,” the green haired pirate chided. “Nobody comes to the Grand Line without a reason.”

“Mm-hmm,” their captain agreed, neck stretching distressingly far as he leaned in to inspect you. “What do you want?”

You hesitated, shock written across your face. Nobody had ever asked you that question.

Nobody but Robin.

Something about this boy put you off your guard, made you want to answer without thinking. So that’s what you did.

“Someone betrayed me once.” You bit your lip nervously, realizing that this was the first truly honest conversation you’d had in years. “I think she’s part of Baroque Works. Maybe if I learn more about their organization, I can… understand why.”

The pirates seemed to catch the sincerity in your tone, because they glanced at each other and nodded before the boy in the straw hat gave you a winning smile.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, captain of the Straw Hat pirates! We’re on our way to Alabasta to find their leader, and you’re pretty tough. Why dontcha come with us?”

When you’d told them you wanted to find Robin, you hadn’t expected that day to come so soon. But as you were sailing out of Whiskey Peak’s harbor, there she was, so casually perched on the bannister of their ship like she was meant to be there.

At first, it was like your mind shut off completely.

Limbs locked, unable to move or speak, you stared on as a ghost from your past came to life. She’d always been a good liar–something you once admired, before she turned it against you–but in the years she was gone, she’d truly come into her own, her voice honey-sweet and teasing.

But what struck you the most was how she’d grown. So much taller, and more fleshed-out, too, lithe muscles shifting as she crossed her thighs, sea breeze ruffling her glossy black hair.

Drooping eyelashes shaded her blue eyes as they skimmed across the rest of the Straw Hats, carefully avoiding looking at you.

At least until she left.

Finally, just as she was turning to go, she glanced over her shoulder in your direction. She was still smiling, but you knew her well enough to read the sadness in her gaze when it caught on you.

“If you survive, I hope we meet again,” she promised.

You couldn’t be sure if she was talking to the whole crew or you specifically, but either way, it was enough to break you from your panic.

“Wait!”

You charged forward, reaching for her wrist, her jacket, anything you could get your hands on, but it was too late; she’d already leapt from the railing of the Going Merry, and this time, she didn’t look back.

iii.

Eager as you may have been to prove yourself to your new crew, by the time you arrived in Alabasta, there was only one thing on your mind.

Ironically, in the heat of the battle, it was only thanks to the Marines that you were able to find her.

Seeing her standing there in the middle of the square, hands falling to her side, surrounding in bodies was so much like the day she left that for a moment you wanted to freeze up again, let your voice catch in your throat until she was gone like before.

But you couldn’t let her escape. Not again.

“Robin!” you called out, startled by the viciousness in your own voice as you commanded, “wait.”

She eyed you up and down, brows furrowed, before stretching her hands into the air, fingers splayed wide in a gesture of surrender.

“(Y/N),” she greeted you, her voice reserved and tense. “It’s… been a while, hasn’t it?”

“You could say that,” you said, hand perched lightly on the hilt of your sword as you stalked closer. “Haven’t forgotten the last time we saw each other, have you?”

Her face twitched at the question, eyes dropping to avoid meeting your gaze.

“How could I?”

Your hand fell from your sword, once again caught off guard by her regret. It was palpable in her tone, in the way she carried herself, in the way that she didn’t seem able to so much as look at you. All this time, you’d seen her disappearance and the Navy’s arrival as a betrayal. You’d hated her for it as much as you missed her.

And yet she didn’t seem to feel anything but grief.

“I–”

It was just a moment’s hesitation, but then, she’d never needed more than that. Her hands fell, swooping across her chest in one elegant motion, and before you had time to react, you could feel fingers clutching at your jaw and wrists and ankles.

She leaned in, breath tickling your ear as she whispered, “I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But–I don’t have time for this now. I need to go.”

Her grip was stern and unforgiving, holding you too tightly to so much as speak. And yet, it was still her, skin soft and warm and familiar pressed up against your own.

A touch that would have been reassuring, if it wasn’t accompanied by her back turning, leaving you behind.

Again.

You shouted incoherently, writhing against the hands holding you in place, but it was no use. By the time they dissipated into cherry petals, she was already gone.

iv.

You weren’t able to hold back your scream when you saw her there, crumpled on the floor of a crumbling tomb, Crocodile towering over her as his hook dripped with blood.

This time, your shock and your fear weren’t enough to hold you back.

Sword drawn, you charged forward, but still you passed through him effortlessly as his body dissolved into sand, rematerializing at the foot of the stairwell behind you. Panting, you turned to look at him, pure loathing in your eyes.

“Stay away from her.” You struggled to force the words from your heaving lungs, worn from having run all this way to find where Robin disappeared to. “She’s mine.”

You weren’t even sure of which way you meant it this time: yours to hunt, yours to long for. But evidently, Crocodile didn’t care either way, because he just peered down his nose at you, impassive and unthreatened.

“Die with her, for all that I care,” the man said with a gloating curl of his lip. “I’ve already–”

You cut him off with a scream and charged forward again, sword braced at your side. It sent shockwaves through your arm when it clattered uselessly into the wall behind Crocodile.

“Are you finished yet?”

“Never,” you snarled, voice cold and feral in a way that you’ve never felt before. “Not until you’re–”

Lips brushed gently against your ear. A whispered voice, soft like honey, instantly eased the tension in your body and the panic in your mind.

“Water.”

And in that moment, it was like all of the years between you and Robin faded into nothing. Like you were young again, perfectly understanding each other, ready to take on the world together. In one fluid movement, you charged forward as you slid the worn leather canteen from your hip, uncorked it, and splashed it across Crocodile’s chest.

This time, when you thrusted your sword forward, it met its mark: the telling resistance of human flesh.

Crocodile’s eyes went wide in shock as he stumbled backward, your sword still impaled in his chest.

“Again?” he wheezed. “What is it with–”

It was at that moment that the wall blew open.

And there he was: Luffy, your captain. You’d never felt so reassured by his bullheaded determination as you did in that moment.

“Luffy!” you called out. “Take him!”

“Mm,” he glanced at you with a short nod of agreement.

It was all the approval you needed to run back to Robin, sliding to your knees at her side. Her blood pooled around her, seeping into the cobblestone, but if she could still use her powers, if she could still speak, it meant she was alive.

“Robin,” you murmured, oblivious to the ceiling crumbling around you as you slid your robe from your shoulders and began tearing it into strips. “Robin, talk to me.”

She blinked up at you, eyes fuzzy and unfocused.

“(Y/N)? I–” she coughed and for the first time you noticed blood specking the corners of her lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I’m here now,” you promised, any memories of betrayal gone from your mind as you lifted her into your lap and began wrapping the fabric tightly around her wound. It was too thin to fully stop the bleeding, but at least it was something. Enough to keep her alive until you could get to the surface.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly, her head nestled in the crook of your arm. “I’m so sorry, I never wanted to–”

You squinted your eyes against the welling tears and bent over, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead.

“You can apologize later. I’m going to get us out of here. Together.”

Robin doesn’t seem to have the strength to speak again, but when she meets your eyes again, there’s a small smile flickering across her lips. An unfamiliar expression, one you’ve never seen her wear before: peace.

[mvtaphyzical]

(yuko araki, she/her, human) To KANON KRESS, the whole world looks like an open page. With a leap of faith, their skills in DIVINATION grows a little stronger. For TWENTY-NINE years, they have survived a world of magic with both their INDIVIDUALISTIC and CYNICAL. They work as an ASSISTANT TO THE DIMENSION WITCH, but if they could change their fate, they’d want to UNDERSTAND HER ORIGINS & WHY SHE WAS BORN WITH PSYCHIC ABILITIES (moonie, 22, she/her, est) + the unlucky charm

name: kanon emerald kress

age: twenty-nine

gender: cis female, she & her

species: human

magical discipline: divination

powers: sixth sense, spirit awareness and communication

occupation: assistant to the dimension witch

mbti: intp

zodiac: capricorn

the first time kanon kress saw a spirit she was three years old and trying to tie her shoes for the very first time.

three years prior her parents (though not by birth) had found her wrapped in a tiny blanket on the porch of their ramshackle cabin in somber town with a note pinned to her, "please help her." the only three words from her mother that she'd ever known

kanon had always been an inquisitive child, mature for her age-reticent and reserved. it was only seeing a dowdy old woman standing above her with the clear marks of death on her face that shook even a toddler's steely calm.

from that point on kanon knew she was different from everyone else in somber town. spirits appeared to her frequently, and not always with good intentions. while some were kind simply lost on their way to the afterlife others desperately wanted to find a way back to the world of the living and used her body as a conduit

in the magic averse village of somber town it was difficult to find someone who could exorcise kanon, often enduring dangerous trips through the mountains while possessed to help their daughter

her powers made her an outcast in town and she spent most of her time solitarily in her cabin, tearing through any books she could get her hands on about divination

when she was sixteen the decision was made to send her to sephia to live with a few cousins so that she could have easier access to help should a spirit possess her again

it was then she first encountered the dimension witch. maru and moro all but sprinted to drag her in when they sensed her power and her turmoil and there the dimension witch offered her a deal. she would grant her an object of such great psychic power it would protect her from possession and from seeing most spirits. but the cost would be so great that her debt would cost a lifetime for a human.

desperate to feel normal for once in her life and protect herself kanon agreed and was granted a psychic ring that dulled her abilities.

she found though she didn't mind working for the dimension witch. though she was paying off a debt she was still afforded a living paycheck for her time. she enjoyed the more mundane tasks like keeping up the shop. the job offered her a level of privilege she would have otherwise been unable to attain.

in need of her services the dimension witch sent her to college to study divination. there kanon began to come out of her shell for the first. snarky, cynical, and jaded for sure but also a deeply loyal friend and a good partner for darts.

though the question of her origin had always weighed on her mind. why had someone given her up, why had they left her in somber town of all places, why was she granted supernaturally proficient psychic abilities seemingly from birth?

as time went on kanon became more comfortable with herself and her abilities, performing increasingly more complicated tasks and responsibilities at the behest of her master.

she would have been content to live a normal life in sephia without any grand adventures had flashes of memory not begun to return to her. a woman in maroon coat, a grey rock graveyard, a candle dying in a wisp of smoke.

for the past month memories have haunted her and she can feel increasingly strong spirits attempting to make contact. as the boundary encroaches on cagliostro kanon's sixth sense warns her of eminent danger. and all she's left to wonder is if there's anything she can do about it?

connections

friends - the few friends kanon does have she holds close. she would have met them in college or working at the shop.

patrons - anyone who's entered wish fulfillment in the past thirteen years knows kanon. these people have employed her services whether it be just to get in touch with the dimension witch or see into the spirit world

ex-something? - kanon is famously reticent which makes keeping relationships up a bit of a hassle. though this one started out strong eventually her habit of hiding every single emotion she had caused them dissolve

link to the past - this person claims to have known something about kanon's family but despite her prying they've yet to give up the information much to her disappointment

somber town - a fellow resident of somber town who knew or at least knew of kanon and her reputation. now that they're both in sephia will their feelings change? or will they still regard her as an outcast?

will add more as i think of them!

[hrh-the-royals]

The Wedding Addition - Tazara / Part One

Today, we here at Royal Collection's, will start off our new series going through the wedding tiara's of various queens and kingdom's. We'll be going in order of wedding date's unless there is a repeat! Let's take a trip through history together. We'll be starting off with the Kingdom of Tazara. The throne has long been held by the Bruno family. Currently, King Carlo and Queen Andrea. As a fun fact to go along with this post! Wedding dresses in Tartosa have always been colorful and varied in design. Most common are brown, pink and Tazara tan all being the colors country. The Kingdom of Westonbury's occupation of Tazara started in 1730 and ended in 1864. During that time, due to influence and plays of power wedding dresses were typical white, following Westronbury tradition during those days.

The Allegra Tiara

This tiara was made in 1690, commissioned by Queen Allegra I for her wedding day. The tiara was simple in it's design, matching the Queen's early taste. It was created and given it's name "The Allegra" by designer Antonio Cardo, who would go on to create the brand Cardo & Co. Thus, creating a strong bond between the two. They've been a go to favorite for generations, all because of one the simplest tiara's in the royal collection. It also hold's the title of most worn and loaned out. Crown Princess Marie was last scene wearing the tiara during a state event in 2040.

Love's Hope Tiara

Next, is Queen Bianca who married into the family, who officially married into the family in 1739. Lady Bianca at the time, had always grown up around the royals. Lady Bianca was doted on as a child, being her parents only surviving child. On their wedding day, she wore the Love's Hope Crown, a new addition to the vaults. Then Crown Prince Matteo, commissioned the tiara for his bride and presented it to her a few days before their wedding day. The topaz stones in the tiara came from a necklace owned by Lady Bianca's mother, proving Crown Prince Matteo's thoughtfulness.

The tiara was brought out again, for the wedding of Crown Princess Emma in 1756. The tiara also underwent a cosmetic change, with Queen Emma swapping out the topaz stones for pearls, gifted to her by then Crown Prince Lorenzo. She saw it not only as a way to honor her mother who passed but her future husband.

Diamond Loop Tiara

Alana, 1st Duchess of Scaniq married into the family in 1755. Her tiara of choice was the Diamond Loop Tiara. Known before just as the Loop Tiara, it was made by the jewelry company, Cardo & Co. It was commissioned in 1710 by Lady Giselle Bruni, being one of her many tiara's. It was also a tiara that she often wore to the society events that called for it. Years later, the Bruni family had fallen into debt and to pay it off, Lady Giselle sold off pieces. Queen Allegra I, purchased the tiara a lovely piece and unknown prince. The tiara only went through one cosmetic change, with diamond's from Queen Allegra's 30 strand necklace being added to the tops of the tiara. It was also renamed to be the Diamond Loop Tiara and was carefully selected by Alana for her wedding day.

The Diamond Loop tiara made it's return for wedding in 1928, worn by Amalia, 1st Duchess of Claven. Amalia was given her dukedom when she married, 1st Duchess of Amorasa Anda. Who was the grand-daughter of Queen Viviana I and King Aldo.

Frosted Heart Tiara

In 1809, Queen Gianna married into the family. Known as the Gianna, Countess of Porte, she inherited her families title at the young age of sixteen. The countess grew up being friendly with the royals and it was at the time she grew even closer with the young Crown Prince Henri. She was a welcome addition not only to the family but the country. On her wedding day, she wore the Frosted Heart Tiara. The tiara was first seen on the head of Queen Allegra | in 1695. Many date that as the origin of the tiara as there is little information about it's background. The tiara hadn't been since 1755, which some link to the occupation of Tazara by the Kingdom of Westonbury. It's re-appearance came on Queen Gianna's wedding day.

The tiara made it's wedding re-appearance in 2017 on the head of the Breanna, 3rd Duchess of Claven, then known as the 1st Countess of Lueso. Lady Breanna hails from the Kingdom of Irenda. For a fun bit of history! Breanna comes from royalty herself. The Duchess of Claven is the great-grandchild of deceased Queen Agatha and King Theodore of Irenda.

Queen Allegra I Aquamarine Circlet

Following that beauty, we have another beauty that's not often worn by the ladies of the family. Queen Allegra II officially married into the family in 1833. On her wedding day, she wore Queen Allegra I Aquamarine Circlet. The tiara was purchased by Queen Allegra I for herself in 1699, as an early gift to herself for her 30th birthday. The center aquamarine stone was sourced from a broach owned by the late Queen. The tiara didn't make it's formal debut until 1701. While many appreciate the beauty of the tiara, Allegra seemed to have some regret as she rarely wore the tiara after that. The most notable tiara moment didn't come with Queen Allegra I, no, it came her namesake on Queen Allegra II on her wedding day. Since then, the tiara has only been wore a handful of times, with the last being in 1940.

The tiara was before being unofficially retired was also worn by Emma, 2nd Duchess of Scaniq in 1892.

The Great Curled Pearl Tiara

The Great Curled Pearl tiara was worn by Queen Viviana I in 1860. The young princess at the time, wanted to go with something simple in design. The tiara also served as her something old. The tiara was made in 1728 at the request then Crown Prince Matteo for his Crown Princess Bianca. The tiara was commissioned from a small local jeweler in Bianca's hometown. The main point of the design were the scroll elements, adorned with diamond's and pearls.

The Cameo Crown

Queen Aria's wedding was a cause for huge celebration. While the country had been free from the Westonbury occupation, this would be the wedding of the heir. The first in freedom, though it wasn't the first wedding to happen in the royal family until then. Still, this was the country's Crown Princes. She wed her husband, future King Dario in 1889. The tiara was commissioned by Queen Viviana I for her daughter, the queen personally oversaw the artist's handling of the cameo pieces added to the crown. While the tiara has not been used much since the wedding of Queen Aria, it is a moment in history.

And that's all for now! Part two will be published soon, so keep your alerts on!

Royal Collect d

[synergy-screams]

Meet the Gang: Charlotte Holloway

This is the first in what I hope to make a series of posts in which I introduce the different characters that are featured in Monsters of the North. What better place to start than the character who started it all? Charlotte was the very first character I created as a part of this story. At the time I had no plans of using her character as the basis of a much larger story, but I find I do my best writing when I don't set out with grand plans and instead just let it happen naturally.

Charlotte Holloway - alias Corporal Charles Holloway (c. 1863)

(Photo credit: Photoshop creation by Synergy Graves. Created using base images from Discover Lancaster and Organic Spa Magazine.)

Backstory

Charlotte Holloway was born on April 4, 1842 to a working class family in East Chatham, New York. She was a middle child, having a younger sister and older brother. Her father, Robert Holloway, suffered from a serious drinking problem, and struggled to hold down a job to support his family. In 1858, when Charlotte was sixteen, her father fell sick and died. Unfortunately, the legacy of Robert Holloway continued to haunt his family even after the man himself was dead. In the later years of his life, he had taken on a great deal of debt, leaving his family to pay it off when he died. By the start of the Civil War in 1861, they were struggling to survive and at risk of losing the family farm. That was what prompted Charlotte's older brother, John, to join the Union Army. His hope was to send his pay home to his family to continue paying off his father’s debts. This worked well and allowed the family to keep scraping by for another year.

In 1862, tragedy struck. John was sent alone on a scouting mission in a rural part of Northern Virginia and failed to return. That June, the family learned in a letter from his commander that he was missing. When this news reached the family, Charlotte took it upon herself to fill her brother’s shoes. She disguised herself as a man, going by the name Charles or Charlie Holloway, and enlisted in the Union Army herself. When her military service took her to Washington DC, Charlotte went looking for the man who'd sent her family that letter, John's commanding officer, Major Thomas Brewer.

Having formed a friendship while working together, Tom Brewer remembered John had told him he had no brothers. This brought him to the realization that "Charles" Holloway was not John's little brother as the soldier claimed, but his sister. Impressed by Charlotte's ability to disguise herself, Tom recruited her to join his unit. He was in charge of Union Army intelligence operations in Richmond, and asked her to pose as his wife as a part of his efforts to use a civilian alias to infiltrate the inner circle of some of the Confederacy's top officials. Charlotte gladly agreed, and over the course of their time spent working together, a romance began to develop between the two.

General Info

Full Name: Charlotte Holloway Brewer Preferred Name: Charlotte Holloway Gender/Pronouns: Cisgender Woman, she/her Born: April 4, 1842 Hometown: East Chatham, New York

Physical Description

Hair Color: Blonde Eye Color: Blue Height: 5'8 Race: White Nationality: American

Family & Relationships

Parents: Robert & Betty Holloway Siblings: John & Abigail Holloway Spouse: Tom Brewer (m. 1863) Children: Cordelia Kavanaugh, Minnie Tucker, Mildred Brewer Other Relationships: Jeraldine Murray (Romantic Partner from 1870 onward)

(A note about my face claims - For most of my characters, I find a celebrity face claim to help me visualize their appearance. But sometimes the face claim I found has never appeared in period-accurate clothing, so I will take the original face claim and use photo shop to create an image of my character in period clothing. I do my best to credit the original images appropriately but I am human and make mistakes. If ever there is a photo I credit incorrectly or not at all, or one that you would like me to take down, please let me know.)

[thegamer20]

Final Fantasy XVI Original Soundtrack Ultimate Edition

8 Disc Edition

Comes with a booklet

Disc 1 01. Land of Eikons 02. Away (Overture) 03. The Lion and the Hare – The Nysa Defile 04. Shattered 05. A Rose Is a Rose 06. Return of the Archduke 07. My Lady 08. Into the Mire – Stillwind 09. Sixteen Bells 10. There His Quarry Lies 11. On the Wind Borne – The Rosarian Ducal Anthem 12. Duty 13. Enterprising Traders 14. Betrayal – Phoenix Gate 15. Twin Flames 16. Found 17. Time and Death 18. The Match 19. Away 20. Winter's Bound 21. Frozen Tears 22. Tonitrua ex Machina 23. Gathering Clouds Disc 2 01. Hide, Hideaway 02. Lovely, Dark, and Deep – The Greatwood 03. Too Bloody Quiet 04. The Chase 05. Idylls of the Empire 06. Words to the Wise 07. Domina 08. Before the Storm – Caer Norvent 09. Thunderstorm 10. The Shepherd's Lament 11. A Land in Peril 12. Brothers 13. Downburst 14. Vengeance Found 15. Calling 16. Against the Wind – The Eye of the Tempest 17. Control 18. Fanfare 19. Fall from Grace 20. A Pendant Darkly 21. The Battle of Belenus Tor Disc 3 01. Whitewater – Kingsfall 02. Dying Sun 03. On the Shoulders of Giants 04. A Long Way Down 05. Out of Time 06. Aligned 07. Forevermore – The Grand Duchy of Rosaria 08. The Founder's Footsteps 09. Happier Times 10. A Prayer to Metia 11. Found (Reprise) 12. Where It All Began – The Apodytery 13. We Are You 14. Away (Refrain) 15. Press On 16. Find the Flame 17. Who I Really Am 18. The Se7enth Sin 19. A Mother's Madness 20. Unforgiven 21. Acceptance 22. The Journey Begins 23. Will of the Goddess 24. Histoire – The Holy Empire of Sanbreque 25. Sway 26. Treading Lightly – The Glass Gate 27. Reflections – Drake's Head 28. The Heart 29. Deliver Us Thunder 30. Babel of Savage Screams 31. Catacecaumene 32. The Outlaw 33. In Ashen Grip

Disc 4 01. Evening the Odds 02. Our Terms 03. The State of the Realm 04. And Melancholy Marked Him 05. Death Looks Down 06. Ghosts of the Past 07. Color and Crackle 08. An Unexpected Visit 09. An Outlaw's Uncle 10. Currents 11. Blood Beats Black – The Iron Kingdom 12. Out of the Frying Pan 13. The Promise 14. Enter the Oratrix – Drake's Breath 15. Màtham Sanomh 16. Monster 17. Fire and Ice 18. Hamartia 19.I n the Light of the Mothercrystal 20. Azure Skies 21. Desert Ministrations 22. Beasts among Beasts 23. Homecoming – Rosalith 24. Fenris Kindir 25. The Host 26. King of the World 27. To Sail Forbidden Seas 28. A Guest Most Welcome 29. Vive l'Empire 30. Sand and Stone – The Republic of Dhalmekia 31. Fanfarrado de Chocobo 32. The Thousand Tables 33. Courage

Disc 5 01. Anon Becomes a Mountain – Castle Dazbog 02. Titanomachy – Drake's Fang 03. Visions of Wind 04. Do or Die 05. Titan Lost 06. Heart of Stone 07. Consciousness 08. Champion of the Empire 09. Uninvited 10. O'er Shifting Sands Lie – The Republic of Dhalmekia 11. From the Shadows 12. My Decree 13. Rooftops – The Crystalline Dominion 14. Dreadwyrm 15. A City in Ruin 16. Facets of Rage – Drake's Tail 17. Bloodlines 18. The Flame Alights 19. Fiery Resolve 20. Beyond the Heavens 21. Ascension 22. Brotherhood 23. Kinslayer 24. Miséricorde 25. The Final Temptation

Disc 6 01. Twilight 02. Dark Designs 03. We Travel Together 04. The Desert Dims – The Republic of Dhalmekia 05. Undying 06. Under Siege – The Free Cities of Kanver 07. Furor 08. The World Won't Save Itself 09. No Risk, No Reward 10. Darkest before the Dawn – The Imperial Territory of Rosaria 11. The Parting Sea 12. Army of One – The Einherjar 13. Mighty Acts of God 14. Not Alone 15. Heal 16. Indomitable – The Kingdom of Waloed 17. Heavensbound – Reverie 18. Salvation 19. Sever 20. The Riddle 21. One with God 22. Fighting Fate 23. Bastion – Stonhyrr 24. To Boldly Go 25. A Debt Repaid 26. Rapture

Disc 7 01. Bow 02. Death Shall Me Devour 03. 'Neath the Pall 04. Once More 05. Eschaton 06. In Darkness Hope – The Holy Empire of Sanbreque 07. A Better World 08. Final Farewells 09. A Far Cry from Heaven 10. Only Forgiveness 11. The Nexus 12. Faith 13. Logos 14. Hymn of the Penitent 15. All As One 16. Horizons 17. Holos 18. My Star 19. A New Beginning 20. Land of Eikons (Reprise)

Disc 8 01. Cut from the Cloth 02. Priceless 03. Old Friend 04. Death of a Council 05. Pathetic Creatures 06. Where the Heart Is 07. Mourning 08. The Mural 09. For the Water Was a Wall 10. Away (1987) 11. The Grand Duchy of Rosaria (Unused) 12. The Imperial Province of Rosaria (Unused) 13. The Republic of Dhalmekia (Unused) 14. Mid Boss Battle (Unused) 15. Ifrit vs Ifrit (Unused) 16. The Kingdom of Waloed (Unused) 17. Ifrit vs Last Boss (Unused) 18. Ending (Unused)

Original soundtrack release of the game series "Final Fantasy XVI (Final Fantasy 16)"! Ultimate Edition consists of eight CDs. Comes with a booklet including liner notes written by Masayoshi Soken and more.

[antoine-roquentin]

obliquely, this is in reference to how formerly working class bastions in the midwest that used to elect socialists now elect republicans. if we all gave up the theory that LGBT people are normal, we might once again go back to the days where we elected socialists across the country. thomas frank, what’s the matter with kansas:

But its periodic bouts of leftism were what really branded Kansas with the mark of the freak. Every part of the country in the nineteenth century had labor upheavals and protosocialist reform movements, of course. In Kansas, though, the radicals kept coming out on top. It was as though the blank landscape prompted dreams of a blank-slate society, a place where institutions might be remade as the human mind saw fit. Maps of the state from the 1880s show a hamlet (since vanished) called Radical City; in nearby Crawford County the town of Girard was home to the Appeal to Reason, a socialist newspaper whose circulation was in the hundreds of thousands. In that same town, in 1908, Eugene Debs gave a fiery speech accepting the Socialist Party’s nomination for president; in 1912 Debs actually carried Crawford County, one of four he won nationwide. (All were in the Midwest.) In 1910 Theodore Roosevelt signaled his own lurch to the left by traveling to Kansas and giving an inflammatory address in Osawatomie, the onetime home of John Brown.

The most famous freak-out of them all was Populism, the first of the great American leftist movements.* Populism tore through other states as well—wailing all across Texas, the South, and the West in the 1890s—but Kansas was the place that really distinguished itself by its enthusiasm. Driven to the brink of ruin by years of bad prices, debt, and deflation, the state’s farmers came together in huge meetings where homegrown troublemakers like Mary Elizabeth Lease exhorted them to “raise less corn and more hell.” The radicalized farmers marched through the small towns in day-long parades, raging against what they called the “money power.” And despite all the clamor, they still managed to take the state’s traditional Republican masters utterly by surprise in 1890, sweeping the small-town slickers out of office and ending the careers of many a career politician. In the decade that followed they elected Populist governors, Populist senators, Populist congressmen, Populist supreme court justices, Populistcity councils, and probably Populist dogcatchers, too; men of strong ideas, curious nicknames, and a colorful patois....

For a generation, Kansas has been the testing-ground for every experiment in morals, politics, and social life. Doubt of all existing institutions has been respectable. Nothing has been venerable or revered merely because it exists or has endured. Prohibition, female suffrage, fiat money, free silver, every incoherent and fantastic dream of social improvement and reform, every economic delusion that has bewildered the foggy brains of fanatics, every political fallacy nurtured by misfortune, poverty and failure, rejected elsewhere, has here found tolerance and advocacy.

Today the two myths are one. Kansas may be the land of averageness, but it is a freaky, militant, outraged averageness. Kansas today is a burned-over district of conservatism where the backlash propaganda has woven itself into the fabric of everyday life. People in suburban Kansas City vituperate against the sinful cosmopolitan elite of New York and Washington, D.C.; people in rural Kansas vituperate against the sinful cosmopolitan elite of Topeka and suburban Kansas City. Survivalist supply shops sprout in neighborhood strip-malls. People send Christmas cards urging their friends to look on the bright side of Islamic terrorism, since the Rapture is now clearly at hand.

Under the state’s simple blue flag are gathered today some of the most flamboyant cranks, conspiracists, and calamity howlers the Republic has ever seen. The Kansas school board draws the guffaws of the world for purging state science standards of references to evolution. Cities large and small across the state still hold out against water fluoridation, while one tiny hamlet takes the additional step of requiring firearms in every home. A prominent female politician expresses public doubts about the wisdom of women’s suffrage, while another pol proposes that the state sell off the Kansas Turnpike in order to solve its budget crisis. Impoverished inhabitants of the state’s most scenic area fight with fanatical determination to prevent a national park from opening up in their neighborhood, while the rails-to-trails program, regarded everywhere else in the union as a harmless scheme for family fun, is reviled in Kansas as an infernal design on the rights of property owners. Operation Rescue selects Wichita as the stage for its great offensive against abortion, calling down thirty thousand testifying fundamentalists on the city, witnessing and blocking traffic and chaining themselves to fences. A preacher from Topeka travels the nation advising Americans to love God’s holy hate, showing up wherever a gay person has been in the news to announce that “God Hates Fags.” Survivalists and secessionists dream of backyard confederacies out on the lone prairie; schismatic Catholics declare the pope himself to be insufficiently Catholic; Posses Comitatus hold imaginary legal proceedings, sternly prosecuting state officials for participating in actual legal proceedings; and homegrown terrorists swap conspiracy theories at a house in Dickinson County before screaming off to strike a blow against big government in Oklahoma City.

the problem with this simple story is that social liberalism actually grew in lockstep with an economic policy tailored to the poor. in the 70s, the most common place to get gender reassignment surgery was at a catholic hospital in small town colorado. in 2010, in response to deep opposition in the town, the practice was forced to move to california. the second most common place was at a baptist hospital in oklahoma city, where such surgery was viewed as routine until a number of religious leaders decided to oppose it in the 70s. at the same time, many other religious leaders spoke out in favour of the surgery, saying that it comported well with religious tenets.

likewise, colorado legalized abortion in 1967, as did states like kansas, missouri, georgia, and north and south carolina prior to roe v wade. today, these states are considered anti-abortion and anti-lgbt hotspots, yet prior to the late 70s, compassion for such people was viewed as paramount in the life of america’s christians. so what happened? it clearly wasn’t an emphasis on the social aspects of poor american lives that shifted the political arena in favour of religious conservatism. rather, as thomas frank points out in the same book:

Nobody mows their own lawn in Mission Hills anymore, and only a foot soldier in its armies of gardeners would park a Pontiac there. The doctors who lived near us in the seventies have pretty much been gentrified out, their places taken by the bankers and brokers and CEOs who have lapped them repeatedly on the racetrack of status and income. Every time I paid Mission Hills a visit during the nineties, it seemed another of the more modest houses in our neighborhood had been torn down and replaced by a much larger edifice, a three-story stone chateau, say, bristling with turrets and porches and dormers and gazebos and a three-car garage. The dark old palaces from the twenties sprouted spiffy new slate roofs, immaculately tailored gardens, remote-controlled driveway gates, and sometimes entire new wings. One grand old pile down the street from us was fitted with shiny new gutters made entirely of copper. A new house a few doors down from Esrey’s spread is so large it has two multicar garages, one at either end.

These changes are of course not unique to Mission Hills. What has gone on there is normal in its freakishness. You can observe the same changes in Shaker Heights or La Jolla or Winnetka or Ann Coulter’s hometown of New Canaan, Connecticut. They reflect the simplest and hardest of economic realities: The fortunes of Mission Hills rise and fall in inverse relation to the fortunes of ordinary working people. When workers are powerful, taxes are high, and labor is expensive (as was the case from World War II until the late seventies), the houses built here are smaller, the cars domestic, the servants rare, and the overgrown look fashionable in gardening circles. People read novels about eccentric English aristocrats trapped in a democratic age, sighing sadly for their lost world.

When workers are weak, taxes are down, and labor is cheap (as in the twenties and again today), Mission Hills coats itself in shimmering raiments of gold and green. Now the stock returns are plush, the bonus packages fat, the servants affordable, and the suburb finds that the princely life isn’t dead after all. It builds new additions and new fountains and new Italianate porches overlooking Olympic-sized flower gardens maintained by shifts of laborers. People read books about the glory of empire. The kids get Porsches or SUVs when they turn sixteen; the houses with asphalt roofs discreetly disappear; the wings that were closed off are triumphantly reopened, and all is restored to its former grandeur. Times may be hard where you live, but here events have yielded a heaven on earth, a pleasure colony out of the paintings of Maxfield Parrish.

america's workers and small farmers were saved by the reforms of the 1930s, as frank explains, then crushed as the wealthy found out how to squirrel away their taxes (in part thanks to the collapse of the british empire), accumulate wealth away from prying eyes, lobby the government for preferential treatment, and between 1976 and 2000, triumph completely in the political domain. mission hill donates more money to politicians than the rest of kansas combined. unions are swamped in state politics, and see declining fortunes. as a result, neoliberal social atomization takes effect, which sees even workers demanding beggar-thy-neighbour policies. and when thy neighbour is socially distinct from you, it becomes easier to justify voting for such politics based on a survival instinct. the majority of the working class tuned out and do not vote any more. among the rest, low skilled working class jobs in highly stratified and inequitable cities vote democrat, hoping for some patronage from the white collar creative class voters they serve, while blue collar skilled workers tend to vote republican, devoid of any examples of class politics in their lives with the death of unions and hoping to keep their share of wages against their only opposition, the tax man.

ultimately, any socially liberal politics sustained by donations from rich big city donors is unsustainable. on the other hand, the notion that “woke” politics is holding back leftism is, save for a few clearly absurd situations (robin diangelo, for instance) also wrong. economic leftism leads to social leftism, because respect to the working class leads to respect for its identities. neoliberal atomization is a much deeper force than can be surmounted at the ballot box, even in a primary, but it is always an economic force first and foremost.

[365daysoflesbians]

MARCH 3: Mademoiselle Raucourt (1756-1815)

Tragic actress, sex symbol, and lifelong lover of women, Mademoiselle Raucourt was born on this day in 1756. After rising to stardom in the 1770s, Raucourt’s sexual exploits soon became the talk of France, branding her the “Chief Priestess of Lesbos.”

Raucourt was born Françoise-Marie-Antoinette Saucerotte in Nancy, France. Her father was a poor travelling actor and began teaching his daughter the ways of the theater at a young age. She appeared on stage for the first time at age twelve and by sixteen she was a household name. Far surpassing her father’s career, she joined the Comédie Française, France’s premier theater, in 1772 and quickly rose to prominence.

Along with the fame came fortune, as well as many lovers. Raucourt slept with men when it benefitted her career, but made no secret of the fact that she preferred women. She was a lover of the famous opera singer Sophie Arnould and was rumored to be the head of a ring of lesbians known as the Lodge of Lesbos. Gossip rags ran countless stories on her sex life, writing:

“There exists, it is said, a society known by the name of the Lodge of Lesbos, but their assemblies are … mysterious …. It is said that our superb Galathée [Raucourt] is one of the chief priestesses of the Temple

Mlle de Raucoux [sic] of the Comédie Française, who is obsessed with her own sex…has given up the Marquis de Bièvre to surrender herself to it more freely.

Raucourt lead a raucous life and was soon in debt for 100x her annual income. She fled to Brussels to escape her creditors, but eventually returned to France only to find her reputation tarnished. It took a letter from a friend in a very high place - i.e. Queen Marie Antoinette - in order for the Comédie Française to readmit her into their employment. She soon made a grand return to the stage, and on opening night Sophie Arnould arrived with a “cabal of tribades” to welcome her home.

Things went south for Raucourt once again when the revolutionaries gained power. A well-known royal sympathizer, she was soon imprisoned alongside fellow royalists of the Comédie Française. However, her fame was so great that a fan eventually helped her escape after only six months into her sentence. 

A Revolutionary-era pamphlet includes a caricature of Raucourt. The satirical narrative features Raucourt delivering an impassioned please that “sodomites” and “tribades” should be free from “ordinary fucking” (“la fouterie ordinaire”). 

It was during her time as a convict that Raucourt met the women who would become the second great love of her life, Marie-Henriette Simonnot-Ponty. The two began exchanging letters after Raucourt’s great getaway, and it wasn’t long before the two were safely reunited and lying low in a quaint village outside Orléans. Raucort enjoyed a brief third act once Napoleon came to power, acting as a cultural ambassador in Italy, but had mostly mellowed out in middle age. While on tour away from Ponty, she wrote to her lover, “You are so necessary to my existence that far from you I am nothing but a shadow.”

Only a few months after her return from Italy, Raucourt passed away in the home that she shared with Ponty. She was such a beloved figure that when the local church refused to grant her a proper burial, the public broke down the church doors and incited a riot. The crowds were only abated after an almoner was sent by King Louis XVIII to calm the fervor. Today, she is buried in the Père-Lachaise cemetery. 

[luvreyn]

My Manhwa List (2020) Part 14

I dont know about you but I’m feeling 22! I have two things to celebrate, first is that one and second, ATHY IS COMING BACK ON NOV 30!!!! YAYYYYY So on to the list

The Lady I Served Became a Master

Summary

When Sua wakes up inside the world of her favorite novel as the character of Blair, she is determined to help the female protagonist, Chloe, get through the darkest period of her life. For years, Chloe has had to endure discrimination and abuse for being an illegitimate child. Blair becomes her maid and confidante, and the two form a special friendship. But Chloe turns out to be quite a different character than the one described in the book. She wields black magic, sends Blair to fetch her mysterious potions, and seems totally uninterested in any of the male lead candidates. Then one day, a handsome man who looks an awful lot like Chloe shows up at Blair’s doorstep. Could it be…the lady she used to serve?! All bets are off as plot twist after plot twist unravels in this unpredictable tale of love and redemption. Based on the hit novel.

THOUGHTS AND WHY READ THIS

- plot = 4/5

- art = 4/5

- comedy lmao

- all the male leads are handsomeee (dibs on the magician)

- i wish there was more updates huhu

- the ml is a blushing tomato lmao

- ^ he’s so whipped

- oblivious but understandably cute mc

- isekai

- conclusion: entertaining read!!

I am the Real One

Summary:

A prophecy foretold that the Grand Duke would only have one water elementalist born from him. Though she lacks her father’s affection, Keira knows she’s destined for those powers. But after years of doing what was right and proper of a noble, she’s executed after the conniving Cosette appears, claiming to be the Grand Duke’s real daughter. But then—Keira wakes up with newfound purpose: make changes, allies, and even friends before it’s too late. Will it be enough before Cosette hatches her plot?

THOUGHTS AND WHY READ THIS

- art = 5/5 i luv

- plot = 5/5 i’m giving it a five cause i saw spoilers and yas!! 

- MC is so pretty drunk, innocent and so cute

- adorable mc!!

- idk who ml is and idc

- in this story, we dont tolerate jerk abusive fathers

- back to the past theme

- verdit, recommended!

Am I Your Daughter?

Summary:

Adopted by the abusive Count Zackary, Hailynn is imprisoned for over a decade but a tragedy sets her back in time and she’s now eight years old again! Eager to escape the horrors of her previous life, Hailynn runs away and crosses paths with a brave boy and the protective Duke Callisto. When a magical potion reveals she belongs to the powerful Callisto bloodline, the chaste Duke swears she can't be his! What is the secret behind Hailynn’s birth? And will she ever find a family that’ll love her?

THOUGHTS AND WHY READ THIS

- plot = 3/5

- art = 3/5

- mc is kinda boring tbh idk why

- staying for the familial love that i miss (come back soon baby athy)

- back to the past theme

- verdict, an okay read

Crown of the Deep Green

Summary:

I was a normal grad student until I woke up in a world right out of a novel I wrote as a teen. But danger’s on the horizon—the character I became was originally destined to die AND people are out to get me! Even though this character’s past was full of villainy, I’m using my insider knowledge to survive the flame of the Azure Ring, settle debts, and make things right for the House of Latia! Can I earn the trust of the hero and get ahead in this world? Are there secrets that even I don’t know?

THOUGHTS AND WHY READ THIS

- DOOOODDD OMG

- art = 5/5 i just love it good-tier art

- plot = 4/5 

- i love the ml!!

- idk what to do with the knowledge that they’re step sibs even though they’re not blood related so i’m just gonna.... idk

- cute cute

- i s e k a i

- we will see how it goes but i’m enjoying rn cause of the art

- verdict, i wanna read more!

My Sister Picked Up the Male Lead

Summary:

My name is Amy. I'm glad to have been reborn as the main character's little sister in a novel from my past life but... On the morning I turned sixteen, my sister said she prepared something special for me and had picked up a man from the woods?!!

THOUGHTS AND WHY READ THIS

- idk if i already put this on a previous list?? but oh well

- art = 4/5

- plot = 4/5

- isekai

- one thing i just couldnt overlook abt this is that he’s forcing her to stay (spoilers) but we will see

- protective older sis that i luv

- magic!!!

- capable mc so hooray

- verdict, i absolutely need more!!

[mosiee]

Newsies as things my coworkers and I have said part 5

David: so I had to deal with the donations while you were gone

Albert: so YOU took my boxes

David, ignoring him: I totally didn’t eat so many chocolates that were there

Albert: okay Davey

David: I did

Albert: okay

David: I ate SO many chocolates

Albert: I know Davey

David: I hope no one needs me Sunday or Monday, not that they would, but me, Sarah, and Les are going camping

Spot: In the woods?

David: yeah, finally in the woods

Albert: to the big foot place again?

David: yeah— big chuhungus or whatever it’s called

Jack: did you just say big chungus?

David: I don’t remember what the site is called okay

Jack: *being his annoying self*

David: Jack if you don’t shut up I’m going to peg you

Albert:

Spot:

Jack:

Race: Dave you can’t say that in the work place

David:

David: NOT LIKE THAT YOU HOSERS

David: *putting things away*

Mush, coming up behind him: what are you doing, stepbro?

David, dropping everything: wHAt did you just say to me??

Mush, dropping dowels everywhere: oh no, I dropped my wood stepbro

Davey: Mush please—

Albert: yeah yeah look at me, I’m David and I don’t have debt and have fourteen grand saved

David: excuse you it’s sixteen grand

Race: SHARE THE WEALTH DAVE

Spot: yeah postmates me some food why dontcha

David: it would be more but I simp for a lot of my streamer friends

Albert, sputtering: you whAT

David: oh yeah I toss them gifted subs all the time

Race: what did I JUST say

David: Race become a streamer and I’ll simp for you too

David: guys Mush keeps calling me stepbro

Spot: he’s calling everyone stepbro

David: okay but why

Mush, coming out of nowhere: got a problem with it, s t e p b r o

David: *has a heart attack*

David: *dancing while putting things away*

Albert: you’re making him sad

David: what?

Albert: *gestures to Jack* he doesn’t have his phone so he can’t listen to his music

Jack: I’m just kinda vibing with the store music

David: I’m so sorry I wasn’t thinking

Sarah, leaning on David’s cart: Davey...

David: no. I know that look. I hate that look

Sarah: so the trucks going to be just a little late

David: sorry I can’t hear I’m choosing to ignore you

Sarah: can you do— 3-7 on Thursday?

David:

David: *vomiting noises* yeah

Sarah: don’t hate me

David: I’m just gonna adjust my availability to not available on Thursday’s so I’m spared this horrible information

David: *texting Race*

David: you and your (s/o) can have one if you want

David: *sends screenshot of three shiny rayquaza*

Race: *typing for three minutes*

Race: FUCK YOOOOOOOU

[nekojitachan]

Hmm, slowly working on Casts a Shadow ch8 while trying not to be distracted by the MDZS fic (so many ideas!). Trying to decide to post the next CAS chapter or upload the Raven!Andrew soulmate fic this weekend.

Either way, here’s a sneak peek at ch2 of CAS. Warning for the Nest, and dealing with sexual harassment in a... removing parts way.

*******

“You are such a speedy little demon; we should put a bell on you so we can at least keep track of you on the court,” Kari complained while she tousled Nathaniel’s hair. He grimaced at the affectionate gesture but allowed it since the offensive dealer was one of Natalie’s friends.

“You’re gonna give your mark fits once you’re an official Raven.” Octavia frowned as she handed over her apple. “We need to bulk you up some more by then.”

“He just burns it off,” Natalie said as she gave Nathaniel a slight nudge in the side. “This one seems built for running. Maybe he should be a striker or a dealer.”

“I like running,” Nathaniel mumbled after he swallowed a bite of apple; it was crisp and tart, just how he liked them. “And I do fine as a backliner.” He certainly had no problem blocking Riko and Kevin.

The three young women agreed and commented that lack of size didn’t equate to lack of toughness; Octavia and Kari were two of the newer Ravens, both sophomores, and among the few women on the team.

The Ravens – or at least some of them – had stopped being so standoffish with Nathaniel and Natalie in the last few weeks. Part of it had been them noticing the split (such as it was) between the two of them and Riko and Kevin (the ‘heirs’ of Exy), and part of it had been when John, an asshole freshman striker, had heard about Natalie’s sixteenth birthday and thought it a great idea to ask her if she was now ‘ready for some fun’.

Natalie had immediately pulled a knife on him and asked if he was ‘ready to live life as a eunuch’, while Nathaniel told her to leave him his balls and go for his dick instead.

For some reason, that had endeared the handful of women Ravens to them, and earned them the respect of some of the men. It also meant that Nathaniel had to put up with people messing with his hair and teasing him about his height (more the lack of it), about them being ‘asked’ to fetch drinks, snacks or other items during their downtime… but no one tried to hurt them.

(Other than Tetsuji when they messed up drills or practice, or Riko with his tricks out on court, but that didn’t count.)

Nathaniel supposed he could put up with becoming the Ravens’ ‘unofficial’ mascot when it made Natalie smile and got him extra fruit.

After lunch, everyone returned to their rooms or one of the common areas to study during the short time before the final practice of the day; Nathaniel and Natalie usually went to her room to do their homework together. They passed Riko and Kevin in the hallway since their rooms were nearby, and of course Riko couldn’t resist getting a taunt in while passing.

“Ooh, what class is it today? Reading for dummies?” He laughed at the pathetic joke while Kevin gave them an apologetic look; long used to the asshole’s antagonistic behavior, Nathaniel and his sister simply ignored him (which they knew would affect him the most).

For once, Riko left the insults at that, which was a surprise; he enjoyed taunting Natalie over the fact that, despite her being sixteen, she wasn’t that far past Riko and Kevin in academics since she’d dropped out of school after joining the Bloodhounds. She’d done an incredible job catching up while living in Baltimore, but Tetsuji’s intense training regime didn’t leave her much opportunity to study ahead so there was talk of holding her back at least a year, probably two, which would grant her more time to work on her Exy skills.

(Perhaps it was selfish of him, but Nathaniel wouldn’t complain about having Natalie around the Nest longer.)

They didn’t say anything until they were in Natalie’s room. “He’s been a bit odd lately,” she said as she fetched her laptop.

(There was no question about who ‘he’ was.)

“He’s an asshole,” Nathaniel muttered as he dug through his bag for his own laptop. “What’s odd about that?”

“It’s just….” Her brows drew together as she stared at the device’s blank screen then shook her head as she powered it on. “He was so angry when he found out about us swearing to Ichirou, but the last few days he’s been less antagonistic.” At Nathaniel’s dubious look, she rolled her eyes. “For an asshole.”

“Maybe he’s plotting something,” Nathaniel suggested as he logged on to his online classes. “Maybe he thinks he’s figured out something so much better than messing with our beds in that little asshole snake brain of his.”

Natalie smiled as she bumped into his left shoulder. “Tell me how you really feel about him.”

Like he needed an excuse. “He’s an asshole snake of a bastard who-“

His sister cut him off by smacking him lightly over the head with a pillow. “I think I get it!” When he batted the pillow aside and glared, Natalie grinned and pointed at his laptop. “Show some of that creativity for the essay you have to write for English.”

“School sucks almost as much as Riko,” he grumbled as he clicked on the mentioned assignment. “Hey, I’ll do your math if you-“

“No,” Natalie said, smile gone as she focused on her own lesson plan. “You need to learn more than math, Ram.”

“Why, when we’ll be playing Exy and doing stuff for Ichirou.” He narrowed his eyes when he spotted his latest reading assignment. “We gonna debate Pride and Prejudice while slitting some guy’s throat?”

“Perhaps,” she mused while she typed something. “You never know what triggers some people. Might be the thought of figuring out a calculus problem or they’ll lose a finger, or hearing the breakdown of War and Peace’s plot.”

Nathaniel gave his sister an intent look for several seconds. “You’re terrifying, you know.”

Natalie’s special smile returned, the one which she mostly reserved for him, the one that brought out the dimple in her right cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He resumed lying down next to her and forced himself to start on the detested essay. “Hey, why do people hate math so much?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Hmm, not sure, maybe because it doesn’t come to them as easily as it does you. Just like how you pick up languages.” She flashed the special smile again. “But not essay writing.”

“That’s for you to do.”

She hummed in pleasure and stroked a hand over his hair in agreement.

They studied for the rest of the hour (Natalie corrected his essay once he had it written, and he checked her math – they still covered each other like that), then they got ready for the last practice of the day.

There had been some uncomfortable stares from the Ravens when Nathaniel had first changed with them, as they took in the knife and burn scars on his chest and back, but now they no longer paid attention to them. Instead, they teased each other about who would score the most points or rack up the most blocks, then took turns rubbing Nathaniel’s head on the way out to court.

“Why?” he demanded to know as he fended off Gerry’s hand.

“For good luck of course!” the older backliner declared with a laugh, while his partner, Liam, nodded in agreement.

“Your fault for being a redhead, Nat,” Omar called out while he tugged on his gloves. “And so adorable. You should-oof.” He stumbled as Riko ‘accidentally’ swung his helmet at the junior striker while he stormed out of the locker room, a quiet Kevin ever his shadow.

“Spoiled little brat,” Omar muttered as he rubbed his ribs, a sentiment that was echoed by a few other Ravens; Nathaniel wisely kept his opinion to himself (even if it was much the same). He might badmouth Riko to his sister all the time, but they were still Moriyama property even if they now answered to Ichirou and not Tetsuji.

Tetsuji had Nathaniel, Natalie, Kevin and Riko work on drills while the official Ravens warmed up, then scrimmage together for a while. Nathaniel enjoyed the matches because even if Riko was an asshole who always used excessive force against him (which Tetsuji ignored), he was a talented asshole, along with Kevin (who wasn’t as much an asshole as Riko’s toady).

When it was time for them to stop and join in with the Ravens, Tetsuji ordered Nathaniel and Natalie to go back to working on drills; Riko smirked at them as he and Kevin left to join the older players. Nathaniel opened his mouth to complain about being deprived of scrimmage time, except Matsumoto offered to call out drills for them.

Tetsuji nodded in approval while Nakamori and Akagi fell in step behind the ‘Master’; normally, Nathaniel was uneasy around older men (especially ones his father’s age), but Matsumoto was in his early sixties, possessed a quiet voice and kept his hands to himself.

He was also very pragmatic and while he might be one of Tetsuji’s assistant coaches, he realized that ‘the Master’ and his grand Castle Evermore only existed with the main branch’s blessing. That meant he often passed along useful bits of information to Nathaniel and his sister.

They spent half an hour going through the eight Ravens drills (which they’d perfected) in the random order Matsumoto called out, knocking down cones again and again. It was while Nathaniel was setting up the cones yet again that he caught Matsumoto leaning toward Natalie and whispering something in her ear.

He had to wait until after dinner to find out what it was; Natalie joined him in his room. “It seems that someone owes a debt to Kengo, and the only way he can pay it back is to offer up his son, who plays Exy very well,” she explained in French.

For a moment, Nathaniel felt an intense wave of anger at the thought of another kid being sold to the Moriyamas, of having a father like his, before he shoved the thoughts aside. He jumped a little when Natalie gave a gentle touch to his left cheek (scrubbed clean for the night of the stupid ‘3’ which Riko insisted he bear). “I think it’s why Riko’s been acting up lately. Matsumoto said that he overheard Tetsuji telling Riko that you’re getting a partner, so he probably knows about the kid’s background.”

Nathaniel huffed as he rubbed his sore ribs, the ones which Riko had smacked with his racquet earlier in the day. “Knowing the asshole snake, he’s probably expecting a new ‘toy’ to play with.” One his big brother wouldn’t snatch away this time.

“Perhaps.” Natalie didn’t appear pleased with the thought, but there wasn’t much they could do about Riko’s personality worsening by the month. “Come, time to practice.”

“Slave driver,” Nathaniel groaned even as he climbed off his bed and slipped free the knife he kept sheathed on his left ankle at all times; he figured the sooner he suffered through their nightly fighting practice, the sooner he could sleep.

More like pass out on his bed, by the time they were done.

Jean Moreau arrived two days later, a young Frenchman around Kevin’s and Riko’s age, with black hair, grey eyes, and a massive attitude problem. He glared down his nose (of course he was taller than Nathaniel) at everyone but the adults while Tetsuji introduced him to the rest of the ‘Perfect Court’ (as Riko had dubbed the four of them). “Nathaniel, Jean will be your partner. He’s a backliner, too.”

“Understood, sir,” Nathaniel said with a slight bow.

“You’ll teach him everything he needs to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll be-“

“I don’t want to be here!” Jean complained in French as he tugged on the front of his new uniform, which bore the number ‘4’. “All of you can go to hell, I refuse to-ow!” His pale grey eyes grew wide as he stumbled forward beneath the force of the blow to his back from Tetsuji’s cane.

“You’ll speak English,” Tetsuji reprimanded while Riko smirked and Kevin stared off into the distance as if he wasn’t participating in the whole ‘here’s a new possession’ thing.

“I’ll speak whatever I wa-ow!” That time, Jean was knocked to his knees, where he was hit several times before Tetsuji relented; Nathaniel was disgusted to notice the gleam of pleasure in Riko’s dark eyes over the abuse.

[ladyleahcat]

Seraphine’s Lore Rework

So.. I have to say that I was really hyped for Seraphine. I followed her in social media and I really liked her design. But, after her lore and abilities were revealed, it just felt... out of place in Runeterra. Her in-game abilities don’t make sense with her natural gift. She doesn't have a grand purpose, or breaking point in her story that motivates her to be... you know, a champion. So, I tried to fix the lore. Please be kind, and let me know what you think (English is not my native language, so there may be some redaction mistakes). 

I don't have an extensive knowledge of the LoL universe, so here goes nothing! (I took the official one and changed a little bit too much... I kinda throw away the dream of unity between Zaun and Piltover. And knowing that the Brackerns communicated through MUSIC it´s a fact too rich to ignore. I did a little reseach and took some terms and ideas from Skarner’s short story).

As a child, Seraphine always loved music, especially her father’s lullabies. The songs were beautiful, but sad. He and Seraphine’s mother—two lifelong Zaunites—always dreamt of a better life in the City of Progress. But poor as they were, they did everything they could to give their only child a decent life in Zaun.

Leaning out the window of their hexcoustics workshop, where broken sound tech was made to play again, Seraphine sang along with the dark streets. The constant sound of the leaking pipework, working machinery and wispered conversation was her companion.

Over time, Seraphine realized she could sense songs too private, too personal, for any ordinary person to hear. And as she grew, so did the intensity of her gifts. She heard every person’s soul, loving or cruel—turning the streets she’d once loved into an overwhelming cacophony of conflicting desires. How could she make sense of the voices if none of them harmonized? Some days, she hid shivering in a corner, hands over her ears, unable to hear herself above the chaos and feeling her sanity slowly escape.

Seraphine’s parents couldn’t bear seeing her struggle. Even scraping together their savings, they knew it was not enough to help her. Risking their own safety, they made a deal with powerfull mechants in Zaun´s black market to purchase a shard of a rare hextech crystal. And so, they crafted a device that dampened her magical hearing. For the first time in years, there was silence.

Within that quiet, though, Seraphine heard something—someone. The crystal had a consciousness. But it was hard to hear, and harder to comprehend. Seraphine, awed, asked for guidance. But the crystal refused communication. She made her goal to achieve understanding of this rare soul, but her attempts were interrupted by tragedy.

The debt of the crystal was greater that what her parents could pay, and the mechants, tired of waiting, decided to claim the price in their own way. On the darkest of the nights, the rumbling sound of incessant knocking on the door accompanied by violent threats awoke the family. Taking their few possessions, they intended to flee, but, Seraphine´s father knew they would be followed. Giving his wife and daugther one last kiss, he ordered them to run and never look back, while he faced their attackers. They did, and in the distance the sounds of gunshots rang out. Seraphine was ten when she saw her dad for the last time.

Full of sorrow, the broken family got to Piltover with almost nothing. There were difficult days of cold and hunger until Sera´s mother could grab a job at a hextech workshop, as she refused to sell the crystal, see her child suffer, and let her late husband´s sacrifice go to waste.

Seraphine refused to sing the first months in Piltover, as it didn´t feel like home anymore, and it hurt to much to remember, while she also felt all their disgrace were her fault. One day, through her pain, she finally heard a distant voice. The lethargic soul hidden in the crystal slowly opened up to her. It told her stories and songs of the old brackern race. About how it once was big and respected, and how the greedy softskins destroyed it to gain the power of the crystal namestones hidden within their bodies. Horrified, Seraphine realized how the city that surrounded her was powered by the brackern, and so, she asked the voice why it had decided to share all that information with her. With a kind voice, it answered that she had a unique talent to hear souls and songs, and, that she could understand the pain of loss after what she had been through, just like it had lost its kin a long time ago. Then, the soul inside the crystal proposed a way to help them both.

The brackern knew Seraphine had a gift, and he could teach her to amplify it with magic. To give her voice power, potency and purpose. She could ease, enchant and thrill the crowds, gain fame and fortune, and give her mother a better life. But she could also inflict pain, make suffer and bring death to those who took her father away. The soul only wanted something in return.

There was an old ritual that brackerns knew about. The content of their namestones was to precious to get lost, and they designed a way to bring their race back if something ever went wrong. The proccess requiered to gather a great amount of brackern crystals in a hidden temple within the deserts of old Shurima. But it demanded a great price. The same amount of souls of a single different race in exchange for the awakening of each soul of the dormant one. The brackern wanted them to be human, as it seemed as a fair exchange. The enchanting dreamsong to fulfill the process had to be sung by a representative of each of both races. And she was the perfect candidate of her kin to do so.

Seraphine felt dread all over her body and refused, at first, to cooperate with the crystal; imagining the amount of people she would be required to slay. But as the weeks passed, and she and her mother keep on struggling to survive each day, Seraphine decided to agree to the plan. The brackern teached her a melody to seal their agreement, and with it, theirs souls were bounded to commitement, while allowing their magic to flow and combine. Their practice together begun. Each night, Seraphine grabbed her crystal and escaped to the superficial sewers of Zaun to rehearse. Slowly, she learned to manage the noise. Seraphine felt the crystal´s influence as it helped her understand how to resonate with a crowd, to sing with them, using her dampener less each day. Soon, she realized her full potential, and started to develop dangerous skills as well as the brackern teached her magic enchanting melodies of old. It took them years of practice. When she felt ready, Seraphine asked her mom for help to turn her dampener into an amplifier to test her full abilities.

The first time she performed in front of an audience, testing her skills, she was sixteen, and nervous beyond words. She choose a poor street of Piltover to start. With simple clothes and just her amplifier made of old recicled hextech, she started singing. And soon, a crowd gathered enchanted with her lovely voice and bewitching melodies, as she could take all of their personal songs and hopes to turn them into heart touching harmonies. The first day she collected so many coins that her mother and her were able to buy new things for the first time. With each passing day, the crowds were getting bigger, the profit was growing, allowing her little family to slowly achieve the life they always dreamt of. Still, something was missing—in the crowds, and in herself. She knew her father’s crime was still impune and with each song, his memory was painfully revived. She wanted justice.

Using her newfound richness, Seraphine located the merchants that took her father's life and (by her crystal's indication) collected a vast amount of a very special type of mineral, native from the Shadow Isles. Taking advantage of the cloak of night and her growing abilities, she descended into Zaun to make them pay. She infiltrated their place, lured the group of men and their leader with a beautiful melody and then took their lifes with one of the most complex ancient songs the brackern had teached her. Following the elaborate instructions, she absorbed the bodies and souls of the criminals into some shards of the minerals she brought with her, trapping them forever. These were the first souls she would need for the ritual. Taking advance of her accomplishment, she took all of the remaining brackern crystals keept by the band, and then, her mission started.

Although she felt guilty about her actions, she knew that, finally, she had made justice by her own hand, and had found a purpose for her gifts. The brackern's namestones had been waiting for a long time for someone that could listen their dreamsongs and help, and that was exactly was she was about to do. She was born for it. Seraphine knew there was no way she could take all of the brackern crystals in Runeterra, and that not all human souls are aware of the horrors behind the powerfull fuel of hextech, but there were enough gilty ones that she could execute.

Armed with a platform to keep her precious brackern crystals hidden and safe, and also her trapped human victims, she has become the premier star in both Piltover and Zaun. In the public eye, she uses her playful apearance and beautiful voice to enchant the crowds and win their hearts and favor, while she listens for the brackerns old voices slowly awakening inside their cores and calling out for her, singing gladly their dreamsongs. In the shadows, it´s her duty to retrieve them to safety and trap the souls of those who are greedy enough to collect them. She knows one day, she will gather enought of them to make the journey into Shurima´s desert, looking for the one called Skarner that the ancient spirits talk about and being able to, at last, fulfill her destiny.

(I know it’s not that great, but let me know your thoughts and suggestions :3 ) Disclaimer: These characters belong to Riot Games. I don’t own them, I just did this for fun.