#when have you ever positioned them in a father/son kind of relationship?

[anchy2006]

No. Just no.

[augustjoy]

My Valentines

Based on the following ask: @lucreziaq2001  Thanks🙂. Here's the new request: It is inspired by this video= https://youtube.com/shorts/DveJG0lXFQM?si=HAU2VM0SkjIf8O3H . It would be a One Shot in which Spencer and a female reader have twin daughters aged 5 and on Valentine's Day, Spencer takes the day off work to make sure he is not away on a case and takes the girls out. He brings them flowers and basically shows them how he'd like their future boyfriends to treat them. I think it would be very cute. If you'll write it, thank you💜. You pick the twins' names. – Hi gorgeous, I love this fic idea, also Reid is 10000000000% a girl dad – you won’t convince me otherwise. I hope you love it

Spencer Reid x Wife! Fem Reader Fluff Word count: 1716

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, mom! reader, mentions of pregnant reader and pregnancy, mention of valentine’s day, dates, mentions of food, promoting positive relationships, implications of Spencer having a tough upbringing, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

When you found out you were pregnant, Spencer was over the moon. He couldn’t have been more excited to expand your family and become a dad. Here’s the thing about Spencer though, he liked to do research…too much research. You had to tell him to stop giving you statistics about pregnancies and things that could happen to the baby.

Finding out it was twins, that only made things worse. Spencer didn’t let you do anything, always making sure you didn’t do any lifting and that you weren’t on your feet for too long. He needed to ensure that you were okay at all times, not wanting to risk the health of you or your unborn twins.

Four weeks after the discovery of it being twins, you’d gone in to find out the sex of the babies. You’d been hoping for a boy and a girl…but you knew Spencer only wanted girls. He’d told you time and time again that he wasn’t super masculine, and he was scared of having a son…he felt like he’d fail him. Of course you had reassured him, telling him that he’d give your child, regardless of gender, all the love in the world.

He jumped for joy when the doctor confirmed it was fraternal twin girls.

--

Spencer had gone through hundreds of thousands of potential names for your girls, and after vetoing the majority of them, you’d agreed on two names:

Audrina: An English name that means "noble strength".

Iliana: A Spanish name meaning ray of light.

He’d wanted their names to hold meaning, he wanted them to know that their names, their souls, their existence brought the two of you strength and light. And when Audrina and Iliana were born, the names fit perfectly. You’d been worried that you’d see them and it wouldn’t feel right, but in that moment, nothing had ever felt more right.

--

He’d been the most attentive father, explaining to you that he wasn’t spoiling your girls, he was simply setting the bar as high as they deserved it to be. In the four years of fatherhood, Spencer had made sure to prioritize his girls (including you of course). You’d take the girls on mother-daughter dates, going to the zoo, the children’s museum, the park, lunch, the list goes on. Spencer had also adopted this tradition; he’d wanted to go and spend time with them 1:1 too.

This year, he’d decided to start a new tradition. The day before Valentine’s Day, he was going to take the girls out for a date. You were going to get the girls dressed and done up and he’d pick them up and take them to a “fancy” dinner. February 14th was reserved for you.

--

Spencer let you know that the girls would need to be in semi-formal attire, and he’d be picking them up at 6:00 pm. He had started their day off by giving them a gift certificate to your nail salon, so you could take them to get their nails done.

You’d taken them right after lunch, Audrina went with a glittery pink, while Iliana chose a neon purple, you’d gone a little simpler, a French tip.

Once you got home, you let the girls play for a little bit before curling their hair and styling it. The girls had matching outfits, light pink sweaters covered in lip prints, paired with a light pink tutu-style skirt. Their shoes are where they differed, Audrina wore these red cowgirl boots (she’d been exclusively wearing them lately) and Iliana wore her high-top converse – wanting to match her dad.

By the time the girls were completely ready, Spencer was just arriving home. He’d prompted the girls this morning, informing them that he’d be taking them out on a real father-daughter date. They replied with squeals, thrilled to be going out with daddy…while you were excited for a night off and a date with the bottle of wine you’d been saving and your bathtub.

--

A knock on the door had the girls running, tripping over one another to answer it.

“Girls slow down! The last thing we need is scraped up knees to go with your outfits.” You shook your head.

Opening the door you were met with three bouquets of roses, each a different shade. You couldn’t help the smile that took over your features, even though this night wasn’t about you, he’d gone out of his way to make sure you felt acknowledged as well.

“Hi baby.” You greeted.

“Hello, my gorgeous girls.” He handed each of you your flowers, happily taking in the sight of your adorably matching daughters.

“Daddy! Daddy! Are we going now?” Audrina shouted.

“Well babygirl, are you both ready? I don’t want to rush either of you.”

“We’re ready!” Iliana said grabbing her tiny toy purse.

Spencer leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips as goodbye, before leaning down and placing a big smooch on each of the girls cheeks. You lent down and followed suit.

“I love you guys, have fun!” You called as they made their way to his car.

--

Spencer took the time to open the door for both girls, assisting them into their car seats, letting them choose the music they listened to on the way to the restaurant. He’d chosen a nice steakhouse; one you had frequented on special occasions, he knew the girls liked the food there and would actually eat something.

He helped them out of the car and held each of their hands as they headed up to the entrance, once again holding the door for them.

“Reservation for Reid.” He told the maître d.

Once the three of them were led to their table, already accommodated with booster seats for the girls, he lifted them one by one into their chairs. They were all smiles, enjoying the attention they were getting. Though the girls don’t really notice…it truly kills Spencer that he still has to work so much. He’s done a lot to lessen his workload with the BAU, taking a few months of the year to teach at the university so he doesn’t have to travel with the team. Needless to say, nights like these were his favorite.

--

“Alright girls, what would you guys like to drink?” He asked

“Juice please.” Iliana replied.

“Can I have sprite?” Audrina asked.

“I will tell you what, if you both want a sprite, you can have one…after that, how about we switch to juice or water?” Spencer negotiated.

“Okay!” Audrina replied.

“I want a sprite too!” Iliana changed her mind.

“Sounds good.”

--

The night was continuing on wonderfully, Spencer had ordered the food, steak and French fries for the table, promptly cutting the steak into bite size pieces for the girls. Conversation flowed easily, the girls told Spencer about what they learned in preschool this week, they talked to him about getting their nails done, showing him their now-greasy fingers.

He had been listening intently when Iliana asked him a question.

“Hey daddy, why did you bring us here?”

“Well sweetheart, one day when you are much, much older, you will have a Valentine of your own…” He began.

“Like you and mommy?” Audrina interrupted.

“Yes, just like mommy and me. You’ll each have a special person, and I want to make sure that you understand how important it is to make sure someone is treating you right.” He explained.

“Like you did?” Iliana inquired.

“Yeah baby, like I did today. But I also want you guys to know that not only does someone need to treat you well, but you need to treat them well in return. Like mommy and I are always doing things for one another, trying to meet one another where we’re at.” He finished.

Both girls nodded, clearly not old enough to really understand the weight behind the words Spencer had shared. He just knew that he’d have to continue this tradition of showing the girls what love looked like, not only through these little dates, but also through his interactions with you.

 --

When they arrived home, he had a teddy bear on each of the girls beds waiting for them (you’d been so kind as to place them there after they left). They’d been so excited, giving Spencer no trouble when he put them to bed.

He found you soaking in a bubble bath once he made his way to your shared room. He was so happy to be with you after a long day.

“Hey sweetheart.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Hi baby, did you guys have a good time? I got your picture!” You smiled recalling the adorable photo of Spencer sandwiched between your daughters, each of them pressing a kiss to his cheeks.

“We did. I will say, I am glad to be home though. Can I join you?” He asked

“Of course.”

--

Spencer had gently slid in behind you, holding you close to him. The two of you just relaxing after a long day. You leaned back, nuzzling further into his grasp, releasing a deep breath.

“You alright?” Spencer questioned.

“Yeah, he’s just especially active today.” You said, letting your hands run over your prominent bump.

Spencer reached his hands up and ran them along the expanse of your belly, feeling the kicks of your unborn son. His chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Spencer let out the quietest of sighs, and if you hadn’t been paying close attention, you’re sure you’d have missed it.

“You okay?”

‘“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Spence, you’re going to be a great boy dad. Just like you are with the girls. I know you’re worried, but if anything, your experiences will allow you to teach our son compassion and the ability to express his emotions. He will be capable of making someone incredibly happy, because he has a daddy that makes me so happy.” You gushed.

Spencer sniffled lightly before pressing his lips to the side of your neck. You could feel his lips turn up into a smile, bringing one of your own to your lips. You truly loved him, and you knew from the moment you met him that he’d be an incredible husband and father, and he continues to prove that every passing day.

[microsofttothemax]

the resentment leo would have with splinter post-krang. i genuinely think they would take a bit for them to recover and be comfortable around each other

why do i think that? here’s some reasons. this is gonna be a HELLA long analysis so be prepared. sit down, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive in

in the movie, after raph was taken, leo goes on a whole rant about how he got the key, he gets the answers, and he will get raph back. yes this is irrational and brash, but not in leo’s eyes. in his eyes, this is a foolproof plan that will work

splinter attempts to intervene, and tell him like it is. “it’s not your plan, you need to work with your team.” however, it comes out as a sharp sting to leo’s previous attitude

“My son, listen to your team. This is not about you.”

it’s meant to be sensible and wise, but to leo, it’s a jab at him. it’s a stab at his cockiness and self-centered attitude, and it reminds leo of why they’re even in this position in the first place. which he hates

most of all, it’s splinter saying it. it’s his father telling him that it’s not about him. because to leo, he’s always been last place to splinter’s affection, and it’s like splinter’s confirming it here

don’t believe me? here:

splinter talks to leo, and it seems that for a minute, he listens to his father’s words. that maybe he should really stop and listen. maybe he should stop and think of a plan, listen to his brothers’ input.

but the second splinter says it’s not about him? leo shuts down. he pulls away from splinter, and refuses to listen to him. and while splinter may be right, it was something leo never wanted to hear

it’s obvious that he has a somewhat testy relationship with his father, and splinter is trying to make up for it by giving leadership advice. but to leo? this is the guy who made him leader to seemingly mess with him, never bothered to give him attention or praise on his accomplishments, and never truly knew leo beyond his “acting as the best to save face” charade

which brings me to another reason. no, i do not think splinter was ever abusive or purposely neglectful to leo, or any of the boys for that matter. but its clear theres a bit of a rift between him and leo. i think that he kind of resents leo a bit (without meaning to) because he sees himself in him. he sees the irrational movie star who never thought ahead, and made too many mistakes to count

an example would be when leo got punched by lou jitsu two times. none of his brothers got punched, why just him? and sure it could be a running gag, but i find it also to be intentional

maybe deep down, splinter still resents leo for being so much like his irrational, unreasonable younger self. that every time he sees leo, he sees his stupid past self, and without meaning to, he at times hates leo because of it. and if he doesn’t hate him, he seems to resent him to some extent

splinter also has plainly stated that donnie was the funniest one to him, (s1ep 1, mystic mayhem) and outright laughed when leo asked if he was the favorite son (rottmnt wake-up alarms on youtube, timestamp 1:59) leo also staight-up said that he was splinter’s least favorite (s1ep 4b, down with the sickness)

so yeah, i can see the resentment leo may have for his father deep down. it could be pretty apparent post-krang, hidden behind his jokes and teases

now don’t get me wrong, they have their moments of bonding, and i do love to read little drabbles and fics where they hug and heal. however… realistically speaking, it would take a while for them to get to that stage of father-son bonding post-krang. with splinter naming him leader out of the blue, to the missing lou jitsu posters on the walls of leo’s room in the movie — and we’re definitely talking about that in a later post, trust — i would bet their relationship as father-son pre and post-movie would be extremely rocky.

another reasoning for this could be that splinter often underestimates and undermines leo’s abilities and accomplishments. far as i’ve seen, the most reaction splinter’s given to leo’s accomplishments is an eyebrow raise

for example, when outsmarting big mama, leo was genuinely proud of spending time w his dad and showing him his abilities. he genuinely thought they were working together. however, splinter didn’t say he was proud or anything, just complained he wished he’d brought donnie (s2ep 2, many unhappy returns)

“I knew I should have brought Purple.”

ouch. that mustve hurt a bit

and yes, i will admit, leo was being a bit of a little shit in this scene, and yes, he could’ve told splinter of the plan before starting to yap and blab to big mama about the plan he cooked up. however, the response splinter gives is not much better. essentially, he’s saying, “i don’t like this kid or his plan, so therefore i think i should’ve brought one of my favored children to solve the problem better.”

and before you go and tell me donnie could’ve outsmarted big mama the way leo did, think for a moment. leo fully admitted to manipulating and lying in an episode before

“I don’t lie, I just… change the truth.”

whereas donnie cannot tell a lie to save his life. i love him, but the guy is a shit liar. he has failed multiple times at it

“We are just typical normal humans.. who got lost in the middle of our normal… everyday human lives— nailed it.”

“Uh… nothing. Just having a typical, normal, mystic-free day.” “What? I said mystic-free.”

“Why aren’t you guys more upset?”

“Oh. This… hurts me. Uh… I’m very sad…?”

raph & mikey aren’t much better. mikey straight-up started sweating when he had to lie to splinter about piebald, and raph has so many different stinks/scents to him that it’d be easy for others to tell he was lying

also, mikey has doctor delicate touch. who does not know what lying or “don’t be blunt” means

and donnie’s really only being extremely straightforward with what he thinks or about what’s going on around him. so it makes no sense as to why splinter would want to bring donnie along to outsmart big mama, unless he genuinely doesn’t enjoy leo’s presence, which seems to be the case

now all of this is evidence to point towards a very unsteady father-son relationship with these two. yes, splinter seems to be a very lenient father, and i genuinely think he wants to be a good dad. however, oftentimes that leads to miscommunication and misread moments, empty promises, and overall neglecting behavior on his part, all without meaning to

so while he does try harder to be there for his sons later in the show, it’s pretty obvious that one brother — who thrived off any attention possible — probably stopped caring about that validation after all that he went through. splinter gives, but leo doesn’t take. he doesn’t bother to, because he thinks it’s either a prank of some kind, or because he just genuinely doesn’t care for his father’s input anymore.

(this was based on that one post about splinter & leo by @midwesternvibes, i just figure i revisit that bc i’m thinkin about it again)

[bangtanficsforyou]

Hello, Love (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don't know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister's fiance wasn't it.

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

A/N: Based on a movie 😏📸. Also, here's a post explaining why I disappeared.

Playlist | Patreon

“So you’re getting married tomorrow, huh?” the rhetorical question slips from your mouth with a smile. A smile that in every way looks, forced. 

You don’t know what you were thiniking. But a part of you, just wanted to have a conversation with your sister. Maybe you had hoped for it to be like one of those conversations. The kind that you’d see in movies, taking place between two sisters, when one is about to hit a big milestone. 

Maybe a little reminscing about the old days. A little recallation of the past times when you both got into trouble. Joking about the embarassing moments. A little laughter, a few tears and hearts filled with warmth. 

“Yes, I am,” your sister replies without bothering to look up.

You linger at the doorway for a moment and then realise how stupid you were. 

You nod, knowing very well that this is pretty much the end of the conversation–if you could even call it that. You let the door shut quietly and slip out of the room.

Tomorrow, your sister is getting married. Your elder sister, to be more specific. 

She is getting married to the man she loves, to the man she has been in a relationship with for seven years.

The man, who unfortunately happens to be the one you have fallen in love with, in the span of these last few weeks. 

Oh how did you get into this mess and expect it to result into anything other than heartbreak?

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The loud music playing through the speakers tempts you to join the ongoing celebrations. You look at the joyful faces of your family members and a smile appears on your face. Lord knows when you will be seeing them next.

“Please take care of yourselves,” you whisper, knowing very well that you should leave as quickly as possible.

However, your gaze lingers on one person in particular. Your father.  Oh, how you wish you could just hug him once before leaving. But that might not be a smart move. Your resolve might weaken on feeling his arms around you. No, you cannot afford that.

You take a deep inhale and turn away from the wedding celebrations. You march towards the exit gate with hurried steps. Your feet however, come to a halt when you spot one of your friends chatting with some guy near the gate. Shit. You turn away immediately and flee the spot before she can spot you.

Once you’re sure that there is no way for her to see you, you release a sigh of relief. You have no idea how you’d have explained the bags and luggage you’re currently carrying, had she seen you.

The thought of that makes you feel more urgency to leave this wedding venue. You look around frantically hoping that there would be some other gate. You do spot one, however, there stands your father’s uncle’s son’s son, who has seemingly found this to be the ideal smoking spot.

A few moments later, you come to the conclusion that there is indeed, only one way to escape this place. You need to climb over the wall.

You find a quiet place, away from the crowd, that has very dim lighting. You throw your bags over the wall and wait for the thud to confirm that your bags have landed on the other side. Then, you roll the sleeves of your shirt up and get ready for the difficult part; the climbing.

Thanks to your experience with tree climbing, you somehow successfully manage to climb the wall at your second attempt. However, it’s that wired fence that causes you more trouble than you would have ever imagined.

Somehow, it gets stuck to the back of your shirt in such an awkward position that you cannot even grab a hold of it properly. The only way for you to get your shirt unstuck would be to pull the piece of cloth hard enough. But then you cannot do that. It will tear your shirt and boy, where will you go and change now?

Slowly, very slowly, you move the shirt, hoping somehow, it would get freed from the wire.

Okay, so maybe a little this side–a little on the other–no, wait this is not–

“Are you leaving or are you arriving?”

A voice speaks, startling you to your very core. You look up and feel extremely relieved upon realising that this man happens to be someone who’s completely unknown to you.

“Well as of now, I’m stuck,” you trail off, hoping that the guy would catch the hint and help you.

Thankfully, he does.

He gathers a couple bricks that were laying around and tip toes on them for his hands to reach the wired fence. Despite not being able to see how the wire has gotten stuck in your shirt, his hand somehow still manages to do the job smoothly.

Once you’re free, you’re quick to get down. Dusting off your clothes, you pick your bags up. “Thank you, for helping me.”

“Considering that you got down on this side of the wall, I’m going to assume that you’re leaving.” He observes.

You look at him for a moment and then nod. “Yes, I am.”

“Do you need help with the bags?”

A smile appears on your lips at his words, as you think this guy is a little too nice for his own good. “Sure, that’d actually be helpful!”

Nodding he bends down to pick up the bags. He’s surprised when he realises how heavy your luggage actually is. “Damn, these are heavy.”

“I know,” you glance at your watch. “Let’s get going.”

It takes him a split second to process as you start walking immediately after the words are out of your mouth, without so much of a second glance at him. Your quick movements make him trail behind you, as you make your way through the playground which connects to the main road.

Having given up on catching up with you, he looks around and sees a bunch of kids playing football on one side of the ground. While the other side remains occupied with kids playing cricket. The scoreboard catches his attention as it reads “6 required from 3 balls”. That’s intense, he thinks.

His eyes remain fixed on the match as his feet continue to move. The bowler bowls and he watches with excitement as the batsman flicks it for a single. As the strike rotates, the scoreboard now changes to “5 required from 2 balls”.

The second last delivery of the match and much to his surprise, it’s a full toss. The ball connects right to the centre of the bat and goes straight in the air. His eyes follow the ball and he watches with a bated breath as he waits for it to be either a six or a four.

His jaw drops open, when the ball is caught–by you. You aim the ball straight at the stumps and before the runner can reach the crease, the ball hits the wickets, dismissing the bails.

“OUT!” 

A unanimous shout breaks out, celebrating the wicket. The tension breaks as the match is now in favour of the defending side.

Suddenly, the bags aren’t as heavy as they were moments ago and he rushes to catch up with you. “That was such a cool throw.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a smile.

“Do you play cricket?” He queries, his eyes shining bright with excitement.

“I once used to. Nowadays, I don’t really get the time to play.” You shrug. “I love watching cricket though.”

“Did you watch yesterday’s match?” His excitement heightens.

“No I didn’t, but I did watch the highlights.”

“You missed one of the greatest matches of all times,” he shakes his head, emphasising his point with a dreamy smile on his face.

“I just don’t like watching ODIs,” you comment. “I think cricket matches should be of twenty overs. Four hours and the match is done.”

“I mean sure, T20Is are good, they are explosive in nature,” he agrees. “But nothing beats the longer formats of cricket.”

“Well, i am yet to get the hang of them,” you muse. “Maybe someday, I will get the hang of ODIs.”

“Maybe a India VS Australia match would do it for you.”

“Oh! I live for the sledging in India-Australia matches.”

“But then, the real spirit of cricket is in test matches! Five long days for one match and yet the match might be a tie. It really does test a man’s patience,” he speaks, his hands moving animatedly with each word. “Maybe that’s why they are called test matches, you know?”

“Kudos to the players playing these matches, because I do not have the patience to watch a test match. Can’t imagine playing it.”

“You should try watching a good bilateral series sometime, I bet you’ll like it.”

“Oh, I have definitely tried watching test matches before and I remember in half an hour, the scoreboard changed from 243 to 245. That was pretty much it for me.”

Your words cause him to cackle. “Maybe someday, you’ll realise the beauty of test matches, who knows?”

“Maybe. Someday.”

A brief moment of silence falls between the both of you.

“Who’s your favourite player, right now?”

“Has to be Steve Smith!” You claim proudly, without a second thought.

“Dude has got a bright future in cricket, that’s for sure.”

“I love how smoothly he hits those shots. It’s a treat watching him,” you add, your admiration for the young player visible in your eyes.

He hums and lets the conversation die as you both approach the main road, which is from where he assumes you’re about to take some vehicle to continue the rest of your journey. His assumption is proved right when you start waving at a taxi approaching towards the both of you.

“Airport?” You ask and upon receiving a nod from the driver, you start loading your luggage in the car. Once everything is settled, you get in as well. Locking in the door, you wave at him and ask the driver to get going.

He watches as the taxi sets to motion with a small lingering smile on his face. He is about to turn around and leave when the car stops and you poke your head out of the window.

“You want to tag along?” You ask loudly to be heard through the newly made distance between the both of you.

He is bewildered on hearing your words. “But the wedding---,” he points in the direction where the wedding ceremony is being performed, instead of completing his sentence.

“Are you the one who's getting married?” You answer with another question.

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide with confusion. How on earth are you saying this so casually?

“Then come along.”

He cannot see the whole of your body as only a portion of it remains poking out of the window and he has only known you for a very brief moment, but for some unknown reason he feels so sure that you must have shrugged as you said those words. And for some odd reason, with how casually you’re treating the situation, he feels the oddness of the situation fade.

“I cannot just leave the wedding like that,” he replies.

“Okay, then. Have fun.”

You do not sound disappointed at all. You sound just as casual, he thinks.

“Have a safe journey,” he yells, as you retreat back inside the car.

A faint, i will, thank you, greet his ears and he shakes his head to himself. You are something, he thinks with that same smile as he heads back to the wedding.

“Dude, I met a 8.5 outside!” He tells his friend the moment he’s within earshot.

His friend doesn’t look at him as his gaze remains fixed somewhere else. “Forget about an 8.5. Look there, there’s a literal 10 right in front of your eyes.”

He follows his friend’s gaze and it leads him to one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, in his entire life. A ten indeed.

“Wow.” The breathless one word sentence escapes his lips without his permission.

His friend smirks at the reaction. “She’s the bride’s sister. She’s a model but is soon going to feature in some short films.”

The words barely register in his head as the girl locks eyes with him. Maybe he wasn’t discreet with his gawking, after all. What absolutely leaves him speechless, however, is when the girl gives him a shy smile.

The interaction isn’t missed by his friend as he whistles slowly, before murmuring, “Here’s to hoping you’re smart enough to understand what that smile means.”

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire (Pt. 1)

Summary: Y/n Archeron is an adaptable person. As long as there is a warm fire to breathe life into her soul, she can find strength. Even after all they've been through.

Pairing: Future Eris x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 1,400

Notes: This is my first fic ever and it is hardly proof read haha I have a lot of ideas for this story, so it will have a few parts ! There is no Eris in this chapter, but he is coming ! What do you think the reader's gift from the Cauldron will be ? Please give me lots of feedback and I hope you enjoy ! Also if anyone has a better title suggestion I'm open to them !

Credits: @enchanthings created the beautiful text divider ! And @reveriesources made the gorgeous 'comment and reblog" banner at the bottom !! Thank you both !

Part two

Y/n Archeron has always been an adaptable person. When their father lost their fortune, when their mother died, and when they were forced to move into that shitty little cabin with only one bedroom, she had remained positive. Her and her twin sister, Feyre, learned to hunt together, forage for berries, and steal bread from the baker down the road. Y/n prided herself on being fast enough to never get caught, but if there was ever a close call, Feyre was standing by with a distraction- usually a rodent she would release to run into the house and cause chaos.

If ever the family couldn't find her, she could always be found by a fire. It made her an asset to the family, to be able to always start a fire and cook whatever meat her and Feyre caught, but it also made her “secret” hideouts pretty pathetic. As a child, when she was sick or sad, she would be by a fire. It was the only thing that seemed to sooth her. When she was happy after a good day of hunting and gathering or an afternoon of flirting with the baker’s son to get free bread, she would want to have a fire to celebrate. She would dance around its edges well into the night, even if there was no music to be heard.

That desperate need for warmth and comfort almost had her knees buckling as she and her sisters were ripped from their home in the middle of the night, blindfolded, gagged, and dragged to a land they had only heard of.

When the blindfolds and gags were removed, y/n looked around the large room, to her older sisters, Nesta and Elain, and finally they fell on her twin. Feyre looked to scared and helpless. Y/n had never seen that look on her face. Feyre was so brave and the last time they’d seen her she was so determined and fierce. What the hell happened?

Feyre was nervous about being in the mortal lands with Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian. She hadn’t seen her sisters since before she went under the mountain and becoming Fae. She hadn’t seen her twin since she was dragged to Prythian by Tamlin. Nesta told her that Y/n has been going out to search for her, only stopping at home for a few days at a time to make sure Nesta and Elaine had food to eat. Y/n was out on on one of her searches the last time Feyre was here, and she desperately hoped she would be home this time. She needed to see her twin. Not only to have someone on her team against Nesta, but because she relationship with y/n was the most important one in her life, and she needed to tell y/n everything that’s happened.

Making it through what she thought was going to be the most awkward part, the introductions at the door, Feyre and her friends found themselves in an even more uncomfortable position. Sitting at the table silently, Nesta staring daggers at them, and waiting for y/n to get home.

“She might not show up today. You know how she likes to take her time on her hunting trips. She could be out all night and getting back home in this weather would be a stretch. Travelling isn’t as easy for us humans as it is for your kind.” Nesta stated coldly, refusing to look at Rhys, Azriel and Cassian, the two Illyrians standing cramped in the corner, trying to make their wings as small as possible. “We might as well start without her. Tell us what you’re doing here so you can leave. Y/n can get caught up later.”

Rhys opens his mouth to pick a fight when the front door slams open.

“Nesta I’m back! You won’t believe the size of the deer I got! Can you help me clear the table so I can drag it in here?” At the sound of y/n’s voice, Feyre lets out a sob. “Nes?” The sound of footsteps fill the hall as y/n rounds the corner into the dining room. Her eyes scan the room, making eye contact with Nesta before clocking the three strange males in the corner, and then finally at her twin. Y/n fell to her knees.

Feyre is up in an instant, running to her sister and holding her tight. Y/n holds her just as fiercely as sobs wrack both their bodies. Either Feyre doesn’t notice the blood covering y/n from the deer sitting outside, or she simply doesn’t care. When breathing is once again possible, y/n cups her sisters face in her hands and just stares at her for a long moment. Feyre holds her breath as y/n takes in the delicately pointed ears and the elongated canines. “Fey…you look so beautiful.” Her hands fall from her face as she suddenly realizes what’s happening. “Are you okay? Why are you here? How are you here?” The questions start to become frantic as y/n also realizes that none of the males in front of her are the one who took her away. The one who Nesta had told her Feyre was in love with and going to save. She studies them a second longer and takes note of the dark hair, the violet eyes, and then the wings of the other two males. Wait- wings!? Y/n’s eyes dart between them and then settle on Feyre.

“Y/n, this is Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. His Spymaster, Azriel, and his general, Cassian.” The three males gave Y/n a small smile and a wave as she and Feyre rise to their feet.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Y/n looks just at Rhys then as she says, “Am I to assume that you are the reason my sister is glowing? Not that she wasn’t always stunning, but there’s something about you Faeries…”

Rhys smirks at Feyre as she rolls her eyes, but looks back to Y/n when he says, “I’m afraid so. But she is just as much to blame. Had to be the hero.” His eyes soften with the last part, almost something sad but proud flashed in his eyes before it was replaced by a self-assured, arrogant mask.

“Thank you.” Y/n says with all the sincerity she can conjure in that gaze, as tear once again form in her eyes, and she tugs her sister into another tight embrace. “I want every. Single. Detail of your story, sister.”

Now obviously being kidnaped was less than ideal, but again, Y/n is adaptable. She scanned her surroundings and tried to make sense of what lay before her. In the middle of the grand room, what looked to be in a palace, was a massive cauldron. Standing around the cauldron, on clearly opposing sides of the room, were Feyre, Rhys, and his Inner Circle as they called themselves, and on the other side stood who she predicted to be Tamlin and Lucien. Feyre had told Y/n the whole story. From falling in love with Tamlin, to going Under the Mountain. About Amarantha, the bargain with Rhys, Tamlin locking her away, Lucien standing by doing nothing, and their almost wedding.

With y/n and her older sisters standing at the front of the room, nearest to the cauldron, it was easy to piece the puzzle together. In a whirlwind, y/n fought back with Nesta to keep the Hybern soldiers from putting sweet, innocent Elain into the cauldron. Holding their breaths, they waited until a barely conscious Elain was tipped out of the dark waters. Feyre and the Inner Circle were in various forms of gravely injured, or being held down by the King of Hybern’s magic.

The next to be forced in was Nesta, but trust that she put up the fight of her life, along with y/n. It was of no use, and before she could be fully forced under, that wicked finger pointed right at the King. A gesture so full of wrath, the King had the decency to pale just slightly. When Nesta was dumped from the cauldron, she crawled straight to Elain and wouldn’t let anyone else touch her.

There was no one left to fight for y/n. She was so cold and she felt so helpless as she trashed in the soldiers hold that as soon as her feet touched the warm water of the cauldron, she let the water engulf her. Distantly she could hear Lucien calling out to Elain, but y/n wasn’t sure why. She couldn’t seem to care as she let the warm water embrace her and take over all her senses.

Taglist: @abysshaven @stained-glass-eyes0708

[casuallyimagining]

Selfish. || myg.

Less of Them - Two: Selfish.

NSFW. minors dni

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 5,461

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: implied domestic abuse, controlling behavior, depression, arguing, a slap, blood, discovery of a dead body, murder

Notes: thank you to @oddinary4bts for beta-ing this

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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There’s a bustle in the castle that hasn’t been here for a year. It’s like the very stone–polished, whitewashed, ancient–is vibrating with excitement. After all, a royal wedding is an exciting time, and everyone must play their part. The cherry trees, hundreds of them across the property of the castle and in the castle town, are close to blossom. The merchants are busy building and sewing and crafting and baking. The stewards and keepers have cleaned the castle walls inside and out more times than can be counted.

You cannot find it in yourself to match their enthusiasm.

You stand on a pedestal facing a floor-length mirror, a seamstress on either side of you. They haven’t stopped touching you since they’d walked into the room. Slipping garments onto your body. Primping and adjusting the fabric so it lays just right. Measuring, pinning, tucking, tacking. The silk is heavy, like lead on your limbs, and they just keep layering it on. All of it is an elegant cream color–not white, despite tradition. Daniel had instructed the royal seamstresses. It was because of him, after all. White is too pure, too untouched.

Maybe, under different circumstances, worn by someone else, you would find the gown pretty. The silken fabric is soft and luxurious, a delicate floral pattern embroidered into the sleeves. The skirt is plain, but it flows well, and it’s a slightly richer color than the rest. There’s a small loop at the waist where a luck ornament will be attached. You haven’t seen it yet–the queen mother hasn’t yet presented it to you–but the handmaids have told you that it’s meant to bring many sons.

But honestly, you’ve avoided looking–really looking–at any of it, your focus solely on the leather toe of your shoe sticking out from under the fabric of your dress. You were never too mesmerized by your reflection, but now… It’s hard to reconcile what you see with what used to be there. Your hair is longer. You’ve lost weight. A bruise peeks out from under the collar of your dress. There’s a hollowness in your eyes, and worse, there’s a hollowness somewhere deeper. A meekness that you don’t recognize, but that’s been gnawing at the edges of you for nearly a year now. 

You don’t recognize yourself. You don’t want to recognize yourself.

“Have you seen him yet?” You hear one of the handmaidens ask as the seamstresses pin the fabric at your sleeve.

The other handmaiden groans softly. “I’ve been stuck inside all day. Kagha asked me to shine the silver.” Kagha is the stewardess of the castle, and she’s been running around like a crazy person of late trying to prepare for the wedding.

The first handmaiden leans closer to the other. You’ve seen her around, but you have no idea what her name is. “He’s gorgeous,” she whispers, so quiet you almost can’t hear.

“Shame he’s from the forest,” the second handmaiden laments, standing. Her arms are full of linen.

You hum. It’s been a long year. A lonely year. You’ve learned a lot, and you know you’ve done a lot of growing to meet the needs of the position you find yourself in. But that doesn’t mean that the path hadn’t been lonely. And you’d finally managed to convince Daniel to allow you to send a letter to your father, asking him to send you someone to serve in the castle.

Based on the handmaidens’ reactions, he’s sent Seokjin. 

It makes sense. Out of anyone your father could have sent, Seokjin is the most likely to fit in at the castle and in Castle Town. He’s charming and smart, and knows how to hold himself at court. And, more than anyone, Seokjin knows–or assumes–how careful one must be in this life, too. 

There’s an excitement bubbling in you that you haven’t felt in a while. Your step-brother. Here. Finally, a friend. You leave the seamstresses when they’re finished, an almost giddy bounce to your step. It leads you all the way to the King’s Council Chamber–if Seokjin is here, that’s where he’ll be. Daniel may not have greeted you on your arrival to the Ironhold, but he would certainly not risk snubbing the eldest son of one of the old families.

You stand outside of the council chamber, suddenly unsure. The excitement has faded, replaced with the roiling unease that comes with being anywhere near this room. You should wait. As excited as you may be to see Seokjin, you don’t want to risk Daniel’s ire at your interruption. So you stand there, outside the door, far enough away so that you aren’t in anyone’s way. 

After a moment, you can feel your heartbeat start to pound in your ears. Maybe waiting is a mistake. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can make it back to your chambers. Maybe you can wait there. You nod to yourself. That’s a better idea. You’ll wait for them to come to you.

You’ve just turned to go when the door opens, the hinges creaking lowly with the motion. You can hear Daniel’s voice, but it’s Eden, Daniel’s younger brother, who walks out first. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, half fleeing, and you can hear him make a little noise of surprise. It doesn’t last long, though, because as soon as Daniel spots you, Eden’s face schools into something neutral.

Daniel stops mid-word to question you. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” Your words stick in your throat. You shouldn’t be here, but you’re frozen in place. And then, just when you think things can’t get worse, a dark head of hair and curious, feline eyes poke out from around Daniel’s form.

You freeze, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole. You feel yourself wilt, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of how you’re standing, how awkward your arms feel at your side, how rigid your spine feels.  It’s not Seokjin. You could never be that lucky.

Daniel stalks toward you and roughly grabs your upper arm. His fingers dig in, pressing into your flesh. You wince ever so slightly–it hurts, the bruise already there is an angry deep purple–but quickly, you school your face into something more pleasant.

“We’ve talked about this,” Daniel says. His voice is even, but you can hear the undertones.

You should not be here.

You’re embarrassing me. Again.

We will discuss this again later.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out softer than you’d like, and you wonder if he can hear the slight tremble, or if it’s just you. “I… I thought it was Seokjin and I…” You trail off, eyes falling to the stone floor.

The king jerks you closer, grip like a vise on your upper arm. “You what?”

“I got excited.”

He hums. “I see.”

Off to your left, Eden clears his throat. “Brother. You have a meeting with Mother and the High Priest in the garden soon. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Daniel nods and squeezes your arm. “We’ll discuss this later.”

The brothers leave, and suddenly, the hall is quiet. The few guards that had been milling around follow Daniel and Eden out. You clear your throat, unable to meet the dark eyes that watch you curiously. He’s never been to the Crownlands, and your brain latches onto an idea. 

This doesn’t have to be awkward.

“Have you seen the grounds?” you question finally, shifting your weight.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Would you like to?”

You can feel him looking at you, can feel the questions hanging in the air. Thankfully–and surprisingly–he says nothing, simply motions for you to lead the way.

“The castle was built nearly 800 years ago by the Choi family. Because of tensions at the time between the royal family and the rest of the old families, the Ironhold was built to be nearly impregnable, with oil chutes built into every staircase and balistraria in every exterior wall.” You gesture to one of the arrow slits in the wall, where the sunlight from the mid-spring sun peeks through the thick stone. You know that he knows all this–he sat through almost as many of your father’s history lessons as you did–but it helps to keep talking.

And to his credit, Yoongi listens patiently. He follows dutifully at your side, pausing to look at things you point out and nodding along where appropriate. You can’t show him everything–that would almost be impossible as the castle grounds are so large. But you walk him through parts of the gardens (“There are over 1,000 cherry trees on the castle grounds.”), and show him the fish ponds (“The fish have been imported from the Eastern Coastlands. Some of the koi are descendants of the original fish brought in when the ponds were built 300 years ago!”). You walk past the Queen Mother’s private residence in the southern part of the castle grounds and show him the knight’s barracks and the training grounds. 

All of the buildings on the castle grounds look the same. It had taken you a few months to actually learn where everything was and what each building housed. Tall, sloping, whitewashed walls, deep blue tile roofs, sharp corners and rectangular windows. A far cry from the curved staircases and round windows and dark woods of Castle Blackwood. 

Re-entering the castle proper, you show him the Grand Hall, where important dinners are held, and the king’s dining room. And finally, finally, you end the tour of the castle grounds on the second floor of the western tower where your chambers–and the chambers of personal guards and hand servants–are. You’ve known for a while that there was a room designated for your own personal guard, so you end up in front of that door.

“This is yours,” you tell him, gesturing to the door. It’s not as thick or as dark as the ones back at Castle Blackwood, but you grew accustomed to those small differences long ago.

He stands there, his hand on the brass doorknob, gaze soft as he takes you in. You can see his eyes dart briefly to where the bruise peeks out from under your collar and feel yourself shrink away. You don’t want to know what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Come in.” His voice is gentle, almost as if he’s speaking to a wounded animal. “Let’s catch up.”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It’ll make it harder to move forward–to move on. But then he says, “Please,” and you’ve never been able to resist the softness of his eyes. So you let him lead you into his chambers and shut the door.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you in a dress,” he says quietly. He stands in front of you, a little awkward. He keeps rubbing his hands together, patting down his trousers. It’s little comfort to know that he’s just as nervous as you are.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?” You don’t mean to snap, but it just kind of happens. You aren’t sure what this means–what it means for him, let alone what it means for you. There’s a pit in your stomach that feels almost like you swallowed a rock, and you do your best to steady yourself.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you here? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t it have been Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any- anyone else?” 

He reaches into his doublet and pulls out a folded piece of parchment. It’s a little crumpled, the edges a little worn, like it’s been read many times. You catch a glimpse of a forest green wax seal still clinging to the top edge, and immediately you know what it is. 

“Maybe we’re both a little selfish.” The way he says it, you can feel your heart sink. 

Of course you know what the letter says. It haunts you, but at the time, you thought you were doing the right thing. You still do. 

I hope that, in time, you can move on. That eventually, you will find yourself in love. That you will find happiness again. It’s selfish, but I will only be able to live through this with the hope that you are happy and living a life that is worthy of the care you’ve shown me. 

Find someone who loves you as much as I do. For my sake, if nothing else. 

You want him to be able to move on and live his life. You want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy. And you would sacrifice your own happiness a hundred times over if it meant he could have the life he deserves. 

Yoongi reaches out, and your heart races. You tense, an automatic reaction, and his hand pauses mere centimeters from your cheek. A look of confusion crosses his dark eyes that quickly morphs to understanding and then sadness. His hand falls back to his side.

“How did you get that bruise?” His voice is casual, but you know him, can practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

You tug the collar of your gown so that it covers better. “I tripped.”

“And bruised your shoulder?”

“I’m still getting used to the gowns.”

He hums. You know he knows you’re lying. But you aren’t sure how much you want to allow him back in yet. You aren’t sure how much you want to drag him down with you. 

He sighs, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he looks at the letter that’s still in his hands. “I tried,” he says softly. “For the first few months, I thought that if I could just convince myself that I was mad at you, it would be easier. I tried so hard to hate you, to blame you for leaving, make it your fault.” He looks up at you, then, and you can see a shine to his eyes. He reaches out again, but this time, the tips of his fingers brush against your hand. “But I couldn’t. It’s not fair, but it’s even less fair for you. And I want to be here. I know it won’t be easy, but I want to be here with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Your eyes sting, and there’s a lump in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down. 

Hours later, you’re alone in your chambers. Dusk has fallen, the handmaidens have already been through to light the few candles on the tray near your bed. You sit on the chaise under the open window, a gentle spring breeze lightly caressing your skin. Silently, you stare down at the wooden box in your hands.

It’s dusty. You haven’t touched it since placing it on the shelf when you’d first arrived in the Ironhold. You can see the fingerprints from how you’ve held it over the past half-hour. Gently, you wipe the dust from the gilded leaves of the thistle and press them in. A soft ‘click’ echoes through the inside of the box. 

You take the contents out carefully. Sketches from one of the artists in the Forest Town–one of you, your father, your step-mother, and Namjoon and Seokjin; the other of you and Yoongi. You look much younger here, even though the drawings were only done a few years ago. It feels like an eternity. The real reason you’d pulled the box off the shelf, though, is still in your hand, wrapped delicately in a piece of cloth you’d ripped from a pair of your trousers.

Once it’s unwrapped, you hold it between your thumb and your forefinger and inspect it in the low light. 

Part of you feels guilty that this is the first time you’ve looked at it in almost a year, that you can’t wear it, even on a chain around your neck, or at the very least that you can’t display it in some way. You shouldn’t have accepted it. But there’s no way you could have known it would have spent a year hidden away in a secret compartment in a wooden box, wrapped in the fabric of the trousers you can no longer wear.

You suppose there are things about the world your father couldn’t have thought to teach you.

He couldn’t have prepared you for everything you’ve learned here. How to break yourself down, brick by brick, and rebuild from the ground up. How to change how you talk, how you think. To change your personality to be more likable, less loud, less prominent. To change how you walk, how you stand, how you take up space. A good queen knows when to enhance her king’s spotlight, but also how to fade into the background. She’s firm but quiet. She defers to her husband’s opinions, she doesn’t shape them. And certainly, she knows naught of how the king’s court functions.

He could never have taught you that there’s a special kind of loneliness reserved only for future queens, when you arrive in a new city and no one knows you and no one likes you and no one wants to know or like you. You’ll just be another fixture in the Crownlands, a figurehead with no power, a vessel with no thoughts. There for one thing–maybe two, if you’re lucky–and ignored the rest of the time.

You miss home, miss having things to fill your time with. You miss the activity of Blackwood Castle–there was always something going on, even if it was something minor. Now, you feel as though you spend most of your time daintily draping yourself across chaises and windowsills, watching the world pass you by. You’d tried to go to the library once and were barred entry (“The queen has no need for such knowledge!”). You’d been banned from the council chambers (“How dare you embarrass your king in front of the Eastern traders!”). You couldn’t watch the knights spar, couldn’t sit by as the dog trainers did their work, couldn’t stroll the streets of the Castle Town.

The sound of guard boots in the hall draw your attention, and you jump, hurriedly re-wrapping the ring in cloth and slotting it and the two drawings back into the secret compartment in the box. You press the thistle flower and manage to wipe the rest of the dust off the front just as the door to your chamber opens.

Daniel stands there, the Realm’s unshakeable king, smelling of wine and grinning like the dog that caught the hare. He doesn’t say anything, merely shuts the door behind him and yanks the bolt in place to lock it. You embrace him as he approaches, allowing him to push you back onto the bed.

After he leaves, you stare at the ceiling and hope that someday soon, you’ll start to feel less hollow again. 

It takes mere days for Yoongi to fully integrate into life in the Ironhold. Or, perhaps, integrate is the wrong word. It takes mere days for him to disappear. Once it’s clear he’s there to stay, he’s no longer a novelty, overshadowed by the wedding looming over the next couple days. He goes with you to dress fittings, sits behind you out of the way when you meet with the clergy. He even accompanies you to meet with the Queen Mother. You’re shocked that she allows him to stand in on your conversation, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re a little glad she does.

“My knights followed me everywhere over the years,” she says casually, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I expect you’d want yours to do the same, forest bumpkin though he is.”

The Queen Mother sits at a small table near the window. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, simply stares out at the garden as if she’s inspecting the very plants for quality of growth. It’s uncanny how much her sons have inherited from her. Daniel has the same intense, calculating gaze, and both he and Eden have her high cheekbones and downturned lips. They’ve all got the same dark, glossy hair and downturned eyes.

You stand there, waiting for her to address you again. It’s awkward, but you dare not move. You can feel Yoongi’s presence behind you–he’s been quiet all morning, but you can tell that he has thoughts about life in the castle. You ignore him. Instead, you focus your attention on the table in front of you and the Queen Mother’s cup of tea.

Finally, the Queen Mother brings her attention back in your direction, leveling a gaze at you that reminds you just how scrutinized you’ve been since you arrived at the Ironhold nearly a year ago. She studies you for a moment before raising her teacup to her lips. “I suppose you’re expecting me to give you the norigae for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

That had been why you thought she’d called this meeting. The seamstresses who’d been working on your gown said the Queen Mother would give you a lucky decoration. They’d said it was a big honor, that it was tradition. Now, you’re unsure. Still, though, you nod quietly.

The Queen Mother hums. Her gaze burns into you, and when you fidget where you stand, she frowns. “Danny has said that your dress is to be cream.”

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s not white.” Her tone is as sharp as her glare. It’s an accusation.

You swallow. “I do as my king asks.”

“The traditional norigae has been passed down for generations in the Choi family,” the Queen Mother says. She does not look at you, merely glares down at her tea cup. “It’s supposed to bring great luck to the marriage and many sons. It’s meant to be given to a king’s bride to both welcome her into the Choi family and celebrate the pure gift she brings with her.”

It scares you a little, how she says it. It almost sounds like a threat, though you aren’t quite sure what she’s threatening you with. What you do know, though, is that you probably should be scared of whatever it is.

“Do you think you deserve that?” she questions.

“I…” 

You aren’t sure what to say. You aren’t sure there’s anything you can say. You’ve willingly allowed Daniel into your bed when he’s come calling. He’s the king and the man you are to marry. This is your life now.

Her question lingers as you wrack your brain for something–anything–to say. Thankfully, she puts you out of your misery.

“I suppose I must. Tradition is tradition, after all.” She sighs. “I will give it to the dressmakers tomorrow before the ceremony.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“You may go.” There is no room for argument. 

The trek back through the gardens and to your chambers is silent. Yoongi is quiet as he follows you, the only signs that he’s there are his shadow following yours and his footsteps echoing off the stone floors of the castle. He shuts the door behind you as you enter your room, sliding the steel bolt into place to lock it.

“That’s not necessary,” you tell him, collapsing onto the chaise at the foot of your bed. You’re exhausted, and there’s something heavy growing in your chest. “You can return to your own chambers. I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

He doesn’t move, and when you look up at him, you can see the conflict in his eyes. After a moment, he seems to decide on something, because he takes a cautious step forward.

“You know you don’t have to put up with any of this.”

“What?” You have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“We could run away.” He’s closer now, kneeling in front of you. Carefully, he takes your hand, holding it as though it were glass.

You shake your head. “You know that’s not possible.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand, dark eyes pleading. “We could go somewhere far away. Somewhere they couldn’t find you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“You’re exactly who I’m worried about.” His tone is firm. “This place is poison, it’s… it’s-”

“It’s fine, Yoongi.” His touch is electric on your skin, and you jerk your hand away, burned by his proximity. “This is my duty. This is my life.”

“It’s not fine!” He stands, clearly frustrated. “You don’t deserve how these assholes treat you. No one does. The Westerlands can deal with whatever comes from-”

“Loyalty does not yield.”

“Fuck that! Have some sense!”

“Get out.” You say it as loud as you dare, not wanting to draw the guards but desperate, so, so desperate, for him to leave. When he doesn’t move, you pick up the closest thing to you—a soft-bound journal—and throw it at him. The book hits him in the chest with a dull thud and plops to the ground. 

A pillow follows. Then another. A blanket. Your hair brush. Anything you can get your hands on, you hurl in his direction. If he would just leave and let you rest. You’re exhausted. Dear God, why won’t he leave? Eventually, you’re out of ammunition, everything else around you being too heavy or too large to throw with any sort of accuracy. Yoongi, to his credit, has stayed stock-still throughout the ordeal, unflinching despite the onslaught.

You stalk over to him, blood pressure rising. There’s a headache stirring behind your eyes. The pit grows inside of you. “Go. Now.”

“No.” He says it so calmly.

“Stubborn fool. I will send you home.”

“Listen to yourself,” he pleads. “This isn’t you, you don’t-”

Your palm stings. 

Why does your palm sting? 

You look down, confused, and see your skin a shade of angry red. Movement in front of you draws your attention. For the first time since you’d thrown the journal, Yoongi moves. His hand comes up to cup his cheek; your gaze follows his arm as it moves. There, hidden by his hand, his skin begins to blossom pink.

It’s like you’re sucked out of your body. You can see yourself standing there, cradling your stinging hand, staring in bewilderment at the red that blooms across his skin. A silent moment passes. But then you feel something, deep within you. At first, it’s nothing more than a tremor, a slight tremble within you, but then it builds. Your heart races. Whatever was left of you—whatever you’d been able to claw and cobble together over the last year—implodes. You can feel it shatter within you, a thousand times more powerful than the initial destruction. And with it, you crumble.

Yoongi approaches you cautiously, like he’s coming up on a wounded animal. “What can I do?” he asks, his voice soft, kind. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Leave,” you beg.

You regret it. You regret contacting your father. You regret asking him to send someone. Why you thought having any of them here would be helpful–or why you’d never considered it would be him–you’ll never know. You can survive here–you were surviving here. But at what cost?

It hits you hard, blindsiding you like a sudden storm. The truth is, you’re scared. What if the old you–the you he fell in love with… What if she’s gone? What if she can’t come back? What if she died the day you climbed into that carriage, replaced by this hollow husk of a person you are now?

You suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here. Yoongi is here. Tomorrow, you will marry Daniel. And from there, you will take things as you have. One day at a time.

Eventually, you manage to pull yourself together. Your face still feels stiff and puffy, but you refuse to remove the cloth you’ve draped over the mirror, so you don’t know if it really is. You’ve got a headache–all the pressure behind your eyes and in your cheeks is enough to make you feel like your head is splitting open. Part of you just wants to go to sleep. But it’s barely mid-afternoon, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

The wedding is tomorrow, but you’ve gotten almost no direction from anyone on what should be happening. You suspect that something should be happening, but you have no idea what it could possibly be. As a child, you spent more time climbing trees and tormenting Namjoon with Yoongi than dreaming of your wedding, but even still. This feels like a business transaction.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and it takes a moment for you to gather yourself. Your mind is a little hazy as you slide the bolt unlocked and open the door, but when you see Eden standing there, you force yourself to come to your senses. The prince bows slightly with his head, inclining it forward ever so slightly. It’s respectful, but only so much–he’s still the one with royal blood.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, stepping into the room. You haven’t really invited him in, but you step aside anyway and close the door behind him. “I heard that mother may have accosted you over the norigae this morning.”

“She was within her right,” you tell him softly.

Eden hums. “Still. You’re to be part of this family. Mother is just disappointed that she won’t be the most important woman in Daniel’s life anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s remotely true.”

He snorts, a wry smile on his lips. In the year you’ve been at the Ironhold, Eden has become your favorite person here. You don’t particularly trust him, but of everyone that lives in the Crownlands, he seems the most normal.

Casually, Eden wanders over to a window, looking out over the courtyard several levels below. “It is my hope that things will get easier for you in time.”

From where you’re sitting, that seems almost impossible. But you don’t want to quash his optimism. So you smile politely and nod.

“I brought you something,” Eden tells you, and the way he says it, it sounds almost like a conspiracy. 

Carefully, he pulls a long strip of fabric out of his pocket. It’s a beautiful silk, red as blood–the chosen color of House Choi. He holds it out with both hands.

“Technically, my brother should be giving this to you,” he says as you take it. “But I don’t think he cares so much about keeping to every tradition. Just the ones that are convenient to him.”

You can feel something thin and hard inside the silk. Eden nods, and you gently unfold the fabric. Inside is a hairpin, shiny silver and around the length of your hand. The end is an intricate dragon head, expertly forged, and in its mouth, a bright red gem. The same dragon that stands resolutely on the Choi family crest. It’s pretty, but something about it makes your heart hurt.

“Tomorrow, you will become a dragon,” Eden says. “You should be able to dress like one.” 

“Th-thank you.” You can barely manage it, and you hope that he takes your struggle as emotion and not the war that’s starting to wage within you.

After Eden leaves, the hours pass slowly. You aren’t sure what time it is when Daniel stops by your chambers. He barely speaks to you, but you can tell something is different about tonight. He stays longer after, falls asleep in your bed, on top of the coverlet. You aren’t sure when you drift off, only that you do.

You aren’t quite sure what wakes you up. It’s late. Or maybe early. It’s pitch dark–you can’t even see candles in the windows across the courtyard. Mysteriously, Daniel is still beside you. You’ve awoken on your side, so you can’t see him, but you can feel the dip in the mattress and the pull of his body on the blankets.

But there’s something else. Your blankets almost feel damp, the linen heavy with an extra weight. You sit up, curious, and immediately notice a spot that pools around Daniel. It’s soaked down deep into the mattress, the spot dark, almost black, in the dark of night. You reach out and touch it, and though you aren’t sure what you’re expecting, it’s sticky.

“My king?” you ask softly, touching his arm. He hasn’t moved since you woke, and you have a sinking sense that something is horribly wrong. When he doesn’t rouse, you shake him. “Daniel?”

There’s no response. His arm is stiff. He does not move. Your skin is sticky. You shake him harder, so hard that he rolls over. For a moment, you believe he’s awake. But then you see the cloth sticking out of his parted lips. And the gaping hole in his neck.

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xxiii – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,500+

masterlist

“You are being awfully quiet, my dear.” 

Y/N blinked, getting mentally awoken by Leonora’s comment. “Sorry, I just…I don’t think the hand-made gown tailored specifically for me was necessary.”

Leonora looked confused. “And why is that?”

Y/N’s gaze couldn’t lift from the floor as she answered, “I do not think it is wise for me to attend the celebration.” 

All of the servants and seamstresses froze from the statement and subtly looked at their Lady of Autumn for indication of how they should react. 

But Leonora, calm and collected per usual, just gave Y/N a gentle smile. She nodded to the seamstress that was kneeling at Y/N’s foot to continue her work. 

Then she looked up at Y/N without judgment or worry, but with an encouraging smirk and soft eyes. “Why would it not be wise for the mate of our new High Lord to attend his coronation, Y/N?” 

The witch finally looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. “Will it not give the people of his Court the wrong idea? I am not the next Lady of Autumn, nor have I accepted his bond. I do not wish to put Eris in an uncomfortable position.” 

Leonora gave a sad nod. “I see…” she sighed. 

She turned around and gave everyone in the room a soft request to leave the two of them. 

Y/N’s heart started beating faster as she watched them all quietly exit. 

Was Leonora about to scold her? Yell at her for refusing to accept her son as his mate? 

No, that couldn’t be it.

Leonora had been nothing but kind to Y/N since they met. Never once did she pressure her on behalf of Eris. She hardly ever brought up their relationship. Most of the time, Y/N felt like Leonora was just happy to have a new female friend in the Forest House, especially after so long of being a prisoner here. 

Leonora offered Y/N her hand to help her off the platform she was standing on for the seamstresses. Then she held both of her hands gently as she told her, “You forget, Y/N, that you are more to Autumn Court than simply the mate of its new High Lord.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. 

Leonora smiled. “You are their savior. Yes, it was Eris who slayed Beron in the end. But he would not have had the courage or strength to do so without you. Most in this Court despised and feared Beron Vanserra. You have given this Court a chance for change.”

Y/N’s face grew hot from the praise. 

Leonora gave her a sympathetic look before adding, “But also I cannot say that as Eris’ mother, I do not also have selfish motives, as well. You make him stronger. I worry how he will be if he if he goes through such a coronation alone.” 

“But you and Lucien will be there,” Y/N tried to argue. 

Leonora tilted her head and gave her a look. “It is not the same, and I think you know that, my dear.” 

Then she looked down at the beginnings of the dress on Y/N’s body that the seamstresses had begun.

“As for the dress, Eris wishes to spoil you with finery and I can’t argue with his intentions,” Leonora teased with a smirk. 

But her expression sobered. “However, I know neither he nor anyone else will fault you for avoiding such a celebration. So much has been thrust upon you, and in so little time. You must do what is best for you.” 

Y/N frowned and looked down at herself. “I will let them finish the dress – if only to please everyone. I would feel bad for throwing away all their hard work they’ve already done.”

Leonora nodded. “I think that is a wonderful idea.” 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

In the following weeks, the Forest House was bustling with activity. 

Apparently, the coronation included inviting every High Lord and Lady of of Prythian. 

Which meant the servants and cooks were frantic with preparations. Lucien had explained to her that the staff saw this as an opportunity to show why Autumn Court should be considered the best of Prythian. With a new High Lord came a new chance to prove that Autumn Court could change for the better and they were not to be overlooked. 

Therefore, Y/N tried to stay out of everyone’s way. She either hid in the library, continuing her personal research or she was in her workshop, keeping herself busy with spells and potions. 

However, on the day of the coronation, she stayed hidden in her bedchambers, scared that leaving would only bring attention to the fact that she would not be attending the festivities. 

Maids and seamstresses had knocked on her door early in the morning. But Y/N simply ignored them, not wanting to see the looks of disappointment when she told them she would not be going to the coronation. 

Y/N tried to distract herself by the fire, sitting on a chaise lounge with a romance novel in hand when more aggressive knocking came at the door. 

She planned on ignoring it again, but then she recognized the group of voices on the other side. 

“Y/N, if you do not open the door, we will break it down!” Nesta threatened loudly. 

She jumped up and hurried to the door to whip it open. 

On the other side, were her three Valkyrie sisters: Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie. 

Not only that, but they clearly dressed and done up for the coronation.

Nesta wore a simple black, velvet dress. But it was not simple in the way that it fit her body like a glove and edged toward risqué. Y/N had always appreciated how Night Court attire never strayed from being seductive and showing skin. Gwyn wore a more elegant black dress, which made Y/N wonder if Nesta was using her mate’s money to buy her friends luxurious gowns. Emerie wore leathers, that could have been a warrior’s uniform, over pants. Though less feminine, they were still formal and lavish in their own way.

When the Illyrian saw Y/N eyeing her outfit, she shrugged. “I was never really one for gowns…”

“You all look beautiful,” Y/N muttered. “B-But w-what are you doing here?” Y/N gasped in shock. 

“We’re here for you, obviously!” Gwyn urged and pulled Y/N into a warm hug. 

“Eris invited us,” Emerie confirmed with a smile, also walking into her rooms. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Nesta asked, looking Y/N up and down as she closed the door behind them. 

Y/N frowned. “I…I am not going.” Her eyes stayed down, scared to see their reactions to such a confession. 

But, without hesitation, Gwyn announced, “Then we will stay in here and drink ourselves silly!” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped at how unfazed her friends were. “B-But you will miss the festivities. And you all look so lovely.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes. “This will not be our last opportunity to dress up. We would much rather hang out with you than all the stuffy High Lords and their nobles.” 

Then Emerie nudged Nesta. “But we must still tell her our plan.” 

“Plan?” Y/N questioned, eyes scanning all of them. 

“Helion Spell-Cleaver will be in attendance!” Gwyn squealed. 

Y/N’s brow furrowed, immediately thinking of Leonora and Lucien. She wondered if the Lady of Autumn would ever reveal to her past lover and her youngest son of the secret relation. Or if Leonora would ever follow her heart and return to Helion. 

“Yes, all of the High Lord’s have been invited…” Y/N muttered, not understanding their clear excitement. 

“Helion is the sole owner of the last of the pegasuses,” Emerie explained. 

Nesta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And he makes sure to remind everyone of it, using them as his transport to any event he possibly can.” 

Y/N’s amusement dropped for concern. “Please, please, please tell me you do not plan on stealing Helion’s pegasuses.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Gwyn brushed off. “However, we do plan on sneaking into their enclosure to give them some pets.” 

“And perhaps seducing Helion into giving us one or two…” Nesta added while looking at her nails. Y/N gaped at her. “What? He’s already propositioned me to join an orgy once when I visited Day Court.”

“Yes, before you accepted Cassian as your mate!” Emerie pointed out. 

Nesta quirked a brow. “Who said Cassian would not be participating?”

“Those smutty books of yours have given you too many ideas,” Y/N laughed. 

“More like inspiration,” Nesta corrected. “And inspiration that my mate is very enthusiastic about trying.” Then she pointed to the book Y/N had been reading when they arrived and quirked a brow. "Do not pretend you are above them."

“OK. Enough about your bedroom habits!” Gwyn interrupted. Then she turned her attention to Y/N. “Are you in or are you out?” 

The witch smiled. “Of course I’m in.” 

Minutes later, they were sneaking around the Forest House, Y/N led them toward where she assumed any guests horses would be quartered for the night.

But before they could reach it, a gust of wind wrapped around the females. 

“He…needs…you,” The wind whispered to Y/N. “Go…to…him. He cannot…do this…without you.” 

Y/N froze in the hallway. 

“What? What is it?” Emerie asked. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. “Eris needs me. I will catch up to you later.”

“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” Gwyn cried. “As if we would make you go alone.”

“She’s right,” Nesta added. “Someone needs to do your hair and makeup.” 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Eris swore his back had a metal pole along his spine with out tense and stiff his posture was. He knew his expressions were cold and unwelcoming. But he was in a room with too many people he had yet to decipher friend or foe. The nobles of Autumn Court smiled at him, but most only wanted good favor with the new High Lord. And for those that weren’t smiling, there were plenty that looked at him with fear or uneasiness, trying to gauge if he was just as bad as Beron. 

His mother kept giving him tense, but encouraging smiles every time he spotted her in the crowded hall. 

When to use his mask and when to reveal his true self, Eris did not know. 

It was easier when Y/N was by his side. She eased him, reminded him of who he truly was. The mask never felt needed when her scent surrounded him. 

But his mate was not here, nor was she coming. 

And Eris couldn’t blame her. These events of politics and groveling were conniving at their best and boring at their worst. If he could skip it too, he would have. But that was no way to officially take over the throne of a broken court that needed mending. 

Eris once again caught sight of a group of courtier daughters. They whispered and giggled at him, hardly even bothering to subdue their staring. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed how they seemed to edge closer and closer as the night went on. 

Yes, Eris was handsome and powerful. Female attention was not something he was unaccustomed to. But he knew what those females were truly after were the wealth and power being married to a High Lord would bring. It didn’t matter that everyone knew of his mortal witch mate. They wanted him for themselves regardless. 

His attire did nothing to help him blend in to the crowd. New, custom armor glinted against the thousands of candles and faelight surrounding them. And the blood red cloak stood out – even in Autumn Court.

Eris threw back the rest of his faerie wine, hoping he could get drunk enough to keep his wits about him, while also making the evening go by faster. 

“Another?” A male voice offered from over his shoulder. 

Eris turned to see Rhysand handing him another full glass, Feyre glued to his side with a knowing smirk. 

“I promise I did not poison it,” Rhysand added.  

“At this point, you would be doing me a favor,” Eris grumbled, taking a sip immediately. 

Rhysand smirked. “Already over being High Lord, Eris?”

“I became High Lord to make my Court a better place, not to rub shoulders with nobles and courtiers who wish to use me to gain favor…”

“And I’m sure being away from Y/N is only making your mood more sour,” Feyre muttered more teasingly. 

“She may do what pleases her. I’m sure her Valkyries have found her by now and are keeping her company.” 

“Are you quite sure about that…” Feyre asked as she looked behind Eris. 

The High Lord of Autumn Court quickly turned to follow her gaze. 

At the entrance of the great hall stood Y/N. 

Eris felt the invisible string attached to his heart go taut. A feeling Y/N had not experienced, and probably never would. 

Despite her entrance not being formally announced, many had gone quiet and began to stare. 

Someone had pulled Y/N’s hair up and done her makeup. Though Eris found her beautiful regardless, the level of glamour around her made her magnetic. 

Meanwhile, Y/N held her head high as she slowly, yet confidently, walked further into the room. She was doing a good job of ignoring the scrutiny, but Eris could tell that she was more than aware of the staring. 

Her dress fit her perfectly. And while most attendees wore green and the rustic browns of the court, Y/N had not strayed away from vibrant red, almost looking as if she were glowing like fire itself. Eris realized it matched with his own cloak. There were strips of black in her gown that felt like a call out to her short time in Night Court, where she had already gained respect and acceptance.

Eris wanted to go to her immediately. But he had to hold himself back. There was a reason she was late and walked in alone, instead of on his arm. It was clear that she worried about making his court believe she had accepted the mating bond. 

But if Eris had his way, he’d use his magic to shove everyone out of the path from Y/N to him. He’d stop any conversation he was having – no matter how rude or undiplomatic it was – to give her his full attention and affection. 

“Will you not go to her?” Feyre asked, concern obvious in her tone. 

Y/N’s friends of the Night Court were unaware of the the change in her relationship with the High Lord of Autumn. They did not realize how far the two had come, how much had changed. Everything was so much more complicated than how it had begun: a male desperately hiding his mate in a court that was not his. 

–🍁–

Y/N felt the eyes on her. She wondered if all of them were judgment or if there was also just innocent curiosity. 

She wished she’d forced the Valkyries to drink heavily with her before leaving her bedchambers, because being sober for this felt like a cruel torture. 

The three of them convinced Y/N that she needed to walk in without them. That she needed to walk in confident and independent.

But Y/N underestimated how many stares she'd receive in return.

So, she decided to straight line to where refreshments were being served. Feyre had once warned her away from fae wine, for it is far too strong for mortals to consume in the same manner as fae.

But right now, Y/N didn’t care. 

Of course she couldn’t make it there without overhearing a group of females. Whether they had noticed her arrival, she had yet to discern. 

“Now that his dreadful father is dead, I wonder where the High Lord will find his…entertainment,” one female said somewhat quietly. 

Another chimed in with, “I once heard he would only bed harlots at pleasure halls in other Courts, in fear that Beron would kill any female who could sire a child from him.” 

“But now he has a mate. Surely that means any and all of our efforts will be wasted,” a third female added. 

“Oh, please.” The first female scoffed. Y/N didn’t have to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. “She is not even a fae. Truly, how long do you believe we will have to stay away before her mortal life ends?” 

This is a terrible mistake, Y/N thought. She should have never shown her face here. This was exactly what she had been wanting to avoid. 

Obviously Eris was a desired male – High Lord or not. And who was she to get in the way of him finding a suitor that was of his Court, of his own kind? 

But, suddenly, the females stopped talking abruptly. 

Had they finally noticed Y/N’s presence? Did they even care enough to make sure she didn’t overhear such things? 

“High Lord Eris,” the first one greeted overly sweet. “How lovely of you to join us.” 

Y/N whipped around to find Eris’ eyes already locked to hers as he stood a few feet away from her. 

He ignored the female High Fae entirely, not even glancing in her direction. 

Y/N didn’t know how to address him in such a setting. She looked around before starting to lower her head into a bow. 

You do not bow to anyone, Rhysand’s voice suddenly snuck into her head. 

With her dress and fanciful jewelry, Y/N had removed her protective amulet that stopped any daemati from entering her mind. That meant the High Lord and Lady of Night Court were free to speak to her mind freely.

Ignore them, Rhysand added. He has been waiting for you all night. 

Eris didn’t greet Y/N verbally. Because nothing would’ve felt right. 

But his eyes said everything. 

And slowly he offered her his hand. 

Y/N’s chest heaved as she put her glass down before stepping forward and lightly placing her hand in his grip. 

Without breaking eye contact, Eris lowered his mouth and kissed it. 

Without hesitating, he pulled Y/N to him and tucked her hand under his arm so it gripped his bicep. Then he placed his other hand over it, securing her further to his side. 

Without asking for direction, Y/N quietly followed him as he guided them to the center of the room. 

There was suddenly a female gasp from behind them. Eris didn’t turn, but Y/N looked over her shoulder to see that the first female from the group was covered in red wine. So much so that it was dripping off of her fine gown.

And there was Nesta… holding an empty glass with a smug, but melodramatically innocent look. Gwyn and Emerie were trying to hide their amusement.

"My mistake," Nesta gasped deviously.

Y/N didn’t know when her friends had joined her, but clearly it was early enough that they had caught the dreadful things those females had been saying about her and her mate with their fae hearing. 

Then there was a screech of fear and a soft growl. 

She looked down to see that her new little pet fox, Ronan, was nipping and growling at the group of rude females. How he escaped from her bedchambers was beyond her. But clearly he didn’t like being away from her. 

Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the sight. 

Then she whistled softly and Ronan’s head snapped in her direction. He didn’t need another command, so he floppily ran to her and Eris, trotting along beside them. 

When she turned forward again, Y/N realized Eris was leading them to the throne. 

And with the wave of his hand, Eris pushed his throne over a foot and a second one appeared magically beside it. 

Y/N’s head whipped to him, wanting to ask him what in the Cauldron he was doing. 

But then she realized he was making a statement. There were some who would question her and her relationship with their new High Lord. But Eris was announcing to everyone that she was to be treated and respected as their High Lady, whether she accepted his bond or not. 

“Eris,” she whispered in a hiss. 

Her anxiety was skyrocketing at the statement he was about to make. 

But he ignored her subtle plea, and instead just said, “Head high, little witch.” 

He guided her carefully up the steps that led to the throne and waited for her to sit before he took his own. 

The room quieted and turned their attention to Eris. 

Y/N controlled her expressions, but her heart was racing from confusion of what she was meant to do. 

They will crown him now, Rhysand’s voice entered Y/N’s mind again. He wants you at his side, therefore you belong there. Act like you know it. 

Y/N found both Rhysand and Feyre in the crowd, which was fairly easy since they were the only people wearing black in a sea of mostly Autumn Colors – except for the other High Lords that were in attendance. 

The couple gave her encouraging grins. Then she found Cassian, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie standing next to them, doing the same. 

Cassian gave her a proud and beaming smile. 

Y/N listened as one of Eris’ advisors started speaking the ritual of crowning the newest High Lord. 

It was shorter than she expected. Though she struggled with paying attention, too focused on maintaining her posture and composure while being put on the same display as Eris. 

Then the advisor was standing behind Eris, slowly lowering a rustic golden crown atop his head. It was in the shape of fallen leaves, with subtle hints of autumn red and green in the detailing. 

As soon as it settled on his head, Eris turned to Y/N with his hand outstretched to her. 

Without hesitation, she took it.

Together they stood. 

The room immediately lowered into a bow – except for the other High Lords, who only subtly bowed their head in respect. 

Y/N found Leonora’s gaze amongst them and she had a proud smile on her lips, but it was not only directed at her son. 

Eris helped Y/N sit once again. 

People started moving closer toward the throne. 

Y/N realized the courtiers and lords were swearing their allegiance now. 

A male high fae stepped forward first, bowing his strawberry blonde head deeply. 

“Lord Foley,” Eris greeted indifferently. 

The male bowed his head again and then turned his gaze to Y/N, opening his mouth to formally introduce himself to her. 

“You are Eoghan Foley?” Y/N asked him before he could speak. 

The males eyes widened in surprise. 

“You own the majority of farms in the south east territory, correct?”

The male looked even more surprised. 

Eris smirked at his mate, deciding to let her speak while he watched. 

“You are known for paying your farmers the most, even when Beron underpaid you in an attempt to raise competition amongst other lords.” 

Eoghan bowed his head. “My workers deserve a fair wage, Lady Y/N. When treated with respect they are more inclined to stay and there is less loss.” 

Y/N then turned to Eris, having a silent conversation with their eyes. 

“And for that, you shall be rewarded,” Eris’ voice came out strong and confident. And the entire room could clearly hear it. His gaze moved about the room. “The days of exploitation are over. Those of Autumn Court deserve to be paid for their work. Such competition only turns us against each other.” His eyes moved back to the lord. “A bonus will be delivered to you before nightfall tomorrow, Lord Foley.” 

The male looked taken aback at such a decision. He half-expected to find that Eris was no better than his tyrant father. But he was instantly proven wrong. 

“T-Thank you High Lord Eris,” he said with another bow. Then he looked up at Y/N before turning his gaze to the floor. “And to you, Lady Y/N. Our people are already indebted to you for bringing Autumn Court back into the light.”

“I hear your wife is a talented sculptor, Lord Foley.” Y/N noted with kindness in her eyes. “I hope to see her work for myself someday.” 

“Any time you wish, Lady Y/N.” 

“Enough business and politics for tonight,” Eris announced once Lord Foley had moved back into the crowd. 

Then he eyed the other High Lords who were in attendance. All of them had been studying him and his interactions carefully. “Otherwise, we shall be spilling Autumn’s secrets to our guests who have their own Courts to govern.” 

His courtiers laughed lightly at his joke. 

With the swipe of Eris’ hand, the lighting in the room darkened to a moodier setting. And the symphony took their signal to begin playing music. 

The guests started coupling up to dance. 

Once again, Eris stood and offered Y/N his hand. 

She took it, but moved close to his side so she could whisper, “I do not know these formal dances.” 

Eris squeezed her hand tightly. “Trust me,” he simply whispered back.

When they entered the center of the dance floor, Eris pulled them into the proper stance. “I will lead. Just relax and do not overthink it.” 

And Y/N did just that. 

Either the steps were not as complicated as she had presumed or Eris was good dance partner. But they swayed across the floor. And despite hundreds of eyes watching them, the room disappeared around them, and it was just them. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Eris whispered in her ear as he pulled her even closer. 

Y/N knew this closeness was more immoral and informal, but she needed it. And if it was improper, Eris didn’t seem to care one bit. 

“I hardly did anything,” Y/N admitted softly. 

“You did more than you could ever understand,” he countered quickly. “You continue to be my savior, Y/N.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Y/N confessed softly. Her lips quirked as she added, “The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others.” Repeating her past statement from the night he had confessed how lonely he'd once been in this court.

Eris stopped abruptly, pulling their dance to a halt.

His eyes slowly went from her eyes to her lips. 

Y/N knew he wanted to kiss her. She could feel it. And she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want him to, as well.

Eris was calculating how safe it was to show such affection to his mate so publicly. Another voice in his head was telling him he should to whatever he damn well pleased. 

A deep voice cleared their throat behind her. 

They turned to see Cassian standing with his hands clasped behind his back. 

He gave a polite bow to them. “I was hoping to share a dance with my favorite witch.” 

Y/N smiled at his playfulness. But she also saw the hidden message in his gaze. Her friend was trying to save her if she so wanted it. 

She turned back to Eris, half expecting him to be giving the Illyrian a death glare. But the High Lord only nodded, and slowly removed Y/N from his grasp. 

“She has much to share with her friends,” Eris offered him.

“Shall we?” Cassian asked her with his hand offered. 

The Illyrian's dancing just further proved how skilled Eris was. But Y/N didn't mind Cassian's clumsy feet.

“I am the only witch you know,” she glared playfully at him. 

“Yes, but if I were to ever meet any more, you would still be my favorite.” He spun her sloppily, ignoring the steps everyone else was following. 

He lowered his voice as he said, “I only wanted to offer you an escape. It seems tensions are high between the two of you…” 

“Thank you,” Y/N told him with a frown. “I fear I am lost.” 

His brow furrowed as he turned them. “How so?” 

Her eyes surprisingly welled with tears. “Cassian…I-I-I love him.”

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

I know it took me a long time to update. But I worked really hard on this. And I loved putting together everyone's outfits. 🥹

Please leave a lovely comment. You know I love a book report. @pancakefancake

[theadhddimsenion]

Some notes of mine on how the heroes of helluva boss contrast with the villains.

Let's start with my boy the helluva boss himself blitz and his ratshit father and stupid wannabe striker.

Blitz as it is well known is someone who was raised to belive that his self worth was not tied to what he believes it to he but how much he can offer to the otherside of the relationship and when the circus burned down as a result of his honest mistake he was convinced that showing any kind of emotional vulnerability would cause everyone he cared about to burst into flames. In short blitz is the type of guy who will give you all the love and affection in the world but the moment you try and love him back he panics, runs and tries to push you away because he thinks he's only worthy of giving and never receiving.

But despite him struggling he turned that self hatred into a mission to help people like him. Those who had cruel and exploitve fathers (moxxie), those who felt ignored and cast aside (millie) and especially those who were unfairly screwed over by the unfair world of hell (loona).

Now let's take a look at what cash and striker have done. Blitz created the one place where imps (and one hound) can work for themselves without being beholden to the rich and powerful. Meanwhile cash made his circus off the backs of rich costumers like paimon and exploiting those around him like fizz and barbie and blitz.

Where blitz did his best to help his fellow imps rise above their station striker turned to pettiness and spite. Turning his hatred outward rather than inwards onto the royals needing someone to blame of his misery other than himself. Setting out on a crusade for vengeance against a system that had wronged him but rather than do anything to help his fellow imps he instead became grew a massive ego and even adopted the same superiority complex that the nobles had and even began working with them! Betraying his own ideals and dogma just to get more power to compastate for how week he felt all those years ago. A house slave in revolutionary clothing.

Next up stolas and how he is a better person than paimon, Andy and stella put together.

Stolas was neglected and denied agency and love his entire life and despite what his antis might say he still did a far better job of parenting than paimon ever did. Remembering his daughter's name for one thing and fighting tooth and nail to protect her childhood from the sheriking harpy that made his life a both figurative and literal hell! His only real mistake as a parent is not realizing that the childhood he had fought so hard to protect was coming to an end.

Now let's talk about stella who instead of trying to make the best of an arranged marriage turned to spite and anger to validate herself and took enjoyment out of watching someone like herself held in position against their will suffer more than they already were! And then theirs andy who instead of recognizing the portentous charade that the goetia court life is for what it was like stolas did, embraced the greed and envy of the whole system and instead of trying to be content with what he had dedicated his life to further himself through any means nessacry. Not to mention the fact that seems to be scared of his own sexualtiy which say what you want about stolas he isn't trying to convince people he's straight by yelling about his siblings attractiveness.

Then there's moxxie. Too often dismissed as a coward and a kill joy he how proven himself to be a better person than crimson ever was by the mere fact that he is willing to actually do his own dirty work. I mean think about it when's the last time crimson fought his own battles? Answer. Not fucking once!!!

Think about it. Crimsons a mob boss and has never actually tried to take part in any battle personally unless he was certain he could win. In exes and ohs he couldn't even face his own son unless he was certain moxxie wasn't going to stand up to him. And both times he had others fight on his behalf and neither times it worked. You all saw how he was cowering when millie dealt with his goons! Moxxie may not be the toughest imp around but he never tried to force anyone to do anything that he wasn't willing to do himself!! Theirs also the theory that crimson Is in denial over his own sexualtiy which works so well to me because of how it fits in perfectly with his character!! Crimson is all about trying to be a tough guy while simultaneously not having the guts to do any of the work himself!! So him projecting his own insecurities onto his son and abusing him for it because he knows that moxxie is stronger than him in both mind and body fits him so well!!

Mille well her arc seems to be just beginning and only time will tell if she will have her own villain that embodies her feelings of being ignored and always second place as well as her need to help others while ignoring her own struggles.

Loona is a lot like her father though the key difference is that while blitz has had time to prefect his fake asshole act loonas tends to Crack a lot more easily as seen in queen bee and the two latest episodes. But she also seems to share some of stolas's issues as in due to being locked up and neglected her whole life she has no clue what a healthy relationship looks like or any kind of normal non volient social interaction looks like. She's in many ways both a foster Child and a shelter pet both of which tend to have poor to nonexistent social skills and if the situation is practically bad voilent attitudes. Loona exhibits a lot of these traits but while her willingness to be open with her father has certainly improved she still has a long ways to go with her social skills.

As @cute-little-fly pointed out. Loona is likely going to have to learn the same lesson the main character of means girls did. That trying to recreate social patterns, especially negative ones, is ultimately not going to work out in her favor. While we do see her with friends at the end of sinsmas she seemed to rely on dunking on Vicki as a means of connection and while Vicki definitely deserves it building a relationship on mutual hatred isn't exactly a strong foundation.

And speaking of Vicki i have already discussed why I believe that she would be the perfect candidate to serve as the striker to loonas blitz.

1. She seems to have some level of social sway and the social scene is far from loonas stronge suit as I said.

2. Loonas development hinges on her learning to be open with others and make friends and Vicki is in the perfect place to hinder that.

3. She has some knowledge of loonas past given how she had that photo of her and knew her old nickname "loonatic".

4. The thematic reasons of how Vicki could embody what would happen if loona never stopped trying to put others down in order to validate herself by being basically the hellhound verison of Regina geogre.

5. and finaly the simple fun of the goth wolf/husky vs the valley girl poodle.

[all-pacas]

what are ur hcs about chase's retcon sister ?!!

SO MANY

her full name is danielle maria chase. since she was a baby, though, everyone has mostly called her ellie; as she got older, she started to prefer elle or ella as a more "grown up" version (she did briefly dabble in danny but it didn't stick). chase is the only one who has ever consistently called her "danielle," and he is the only person she accepts her full name from: when she was born he had a brief twelve/thirteen year old boy snit along the lines of "he's too grown up to use a cute nickname", but it kind of stuck.

she takes more after rowan in appearance. she has brown hair (sun-lightened), dark eyed, has a darker complexion. she's fairly tall, and has a permanently underweight/bony look to her - part of it is just her build, part of it is the years of drug use and addiction and not eating in order to buy more drugs. despite their coloring, she and chase do look decently alike. not identical, but you can tell they're related.

she is a habitual hair dyer. went through a pretty long "goth" phase (she wasn't really, she just wore a lot of makeup) and had her hair black, went purple for a while, red, etc. feels weird about going blonde, jokes about it like, i'm from a family of blondes, i need to distinguish myself!

has a massive, massive inferiority complex and hates herself a little. a lot. compared to her brother, who is massively talented and good looking and dad's favorite in danielle's eyes -- rowan never paid her any attention, positive or negative -- she feels like a failure. she failed out of uni. she's an addict. her mother was an extra on baywatch or something, absolutely gorgeous, and danielle is gangly and has a big nose. her father was rich and famous and well respected. she feels like the black sheep of the family, the loser, the pathetic one. this is part of why she turned to drugs and partying, to escape it and pretend she doesn't care.

she hated chase for a long time. he left her when she was fourteen. moved to america. he was the only parent she ever had, and she resented him for it. once she got older (and had mandated therapy in rehab) she did realize he was in a fucked up situation and shouldn't have been her parent etc. but the resentment and jealousy doesn't just go away, and danielle is… bad at emotions, not in the way she represses them like her brother, she just can't handle having them.

she started drinking in high school, at first just to "be cool" and party and seem edgy and confident. she used drugs as an emotional crutch. a way to escape. chase did not handle this well. he immediately spiraled into "this is just like mum, i'm going to have to take care of you," he got really judgemental and cruel about it. all from a place of genuine fear, but. she had reasons to be angry at him, you know? it was a cry for help and chase was just like no, bye, i'm moving to new jersey.

her relationship with rowan was in some ways better than chase's was? rowan just… didn't care about danielle. he took her in after their mom died, because she was a minor. he gave her a room, got her in school, but where he was constantly pushing chase towards med school and being a good son and doing what he was told, he just sort of… left danielle alone. because he had no interest in her or expectations for her. naturally, chase saw this as "dad loves her and is always pushing me."

rowan did pay for danielle to go to rehab. at first, i think he was genuinely sorry his daughter was following in her mother's footsteps, and trying to intercede. but when danielle kept struggling, he washed his hands of the situation. she was cut out of the will too.

chase lowkey was financially supporting danielle for a couple years after rowan died. (when he was double dipping in s2, it was to earn money to pay for a stint in rehab.) he always offered, he feels a lot of guilt about her as angry as she also makes him, but she also… would spend the money on drugs a lot of the time, at least at first.

despite this, they didn't talk much. too much bad blood and jealousy and resentment between them.

she did finally get clean. around s5-6 (with a couple of backslides). she got really into like. hiking. camping. super outdoorsy athletic stuff. exercise as a way to keep sober.

had a kid around s6. absolutely accidental, one night stand, she never told or cared about the father. she's lowkey… super impulsive, makes chase look like foreman in comparison lol. she got pregnant and was like "this is a sign! i'm going to be a mum and get my life together!" surprisingly and against all odds, this did seem to work. somehow. (she named her son noah robert chase. she hasn't told her brother this. chase will cry.)

when chase called her in s8 it was after 2-3 years of no contact. she was like "btw you have a nephew :)" and he felt a migraine build up hahahaha - he's forever going to see her as a little girl he has to take care of and resents, and she's forever going to see him as the perfect shining big brother who abandoned her, who she's jealous of and also adores. but they're trying.

she eventually marries a slightly older guy with kids from a first marriage and an Actual Ranch, like as stereotypical as you can get, they met in AA, she just runs around wrangling animals all day, but she lowkey becomes a Horse Girl and that's great for her ok

[hello-nichya-here]

Andrew might have romantic feelings for Renee?

I've read on the wikia, nothing is mentioned about that at all.I have a feeling that it might be true (?) if you interact with Renee as Andrew during the kidnapping ritual, which then triggers a special cutscene where Ashley gets really mad about Andrew. This was before I even know Andy and Renee exists.

Which brings me to another question: as we saw in Chapter 3, Andrew is already sexually experienced. So, if he does have feelings for Renee, could she have ever insinuated something to her son under the excuse of "teaching" him? Considering how messed up this family is, I wouldn’t be surprised at all.

Anon, there's a reason that "possibility" isn't mentioned. Because it canonically is not a possibility. Not at all. Not a single solitary chance in hell. Here's what we know about Renee and Andrew's actual dynamic with each other (spoilers, it's not at all simmilar to any kind of Mom X Son incest) and with their actual partners:

1 - Much like Renee only refers to her mom as "bitch" or to Ashley as "mistake/embarrassment" in her head instead of by their actual names, she mentally calls Andrew "accident" and "disappointment." He isn't the """""favorite"""" child because she has any real affection for him, but because she hates Ashley that much.

2 - The only use Renee sees in her son is being her fall guy. Don't want to actually parent her child? Tell Andrew that's his job as Ashley's older brother. Don't want to take care of her in-laws garden? Tell Andrew to do it. Some shady company is trying to harvest organs through a false pandemic? Literally sell Andrew to them, so he starves (and is stuck with Ashley) in her place. Don't want to deal with Ashley demanding her to not be the worst mother ever and actually help her not starve? Tell her to bitch to Andrew about it.

3 - Renee only ever speaks positively about Andrew as a way to manipulate others - wanting to impress her mom, wanting to hurt Ashley's feelings, trying to make Andrew feel obligated to be the replacement parent, etc. And much like with Julia, Andrew's not truly attached to his mother (or father), but to the IDEA of normalcy, which includes a normal family, aka not hating his parents and not being hated by them. But unlike Julia, Renee is such a vile person that even if he magically got over his feelings for Ashley, their dynamic would still never be normal because her complete failure as a mother is why Andrew is the way he is in the first place. Their "relationship" is completely shallow and exists solely because they feel they have no choice but to pretend everything is fine.

4 - Andrew very much resents his mom for the fact that she manipulated and coerced him into doing her job his entire life, for selling him and Ashley out to starve, for being yet another obstacle in his path towards Ashley - and he even explicitly blames Renee for said feelings existing in the first place, leading to a scene in which he vents about it while kicking his mother's skull away, screaming "This is for Ashley!"

5 - Andrew canonically only ever had sex with Julia, and only because he felt forced to "prove" he was not attracted to his own sister - and he actively fantasizes about fucking Ashley instead, including asking Julia to style her hair like she does. Even when trying to win her back over the phone, he can only do it by professing his love while looking into his sister's eyes, aka confessing to her while pretending to confess to Julia. That boy is Ashley-sexual, plain and simple.

6 - Much like Andy is the only thing that Leyley cherishes in the whole world, Renee doesn't seem to care about any living thing other than Douglas, her husband. He's the one person she lets her guard down around, the one person she shows genuine affection for, and she'll lose her shit if anyone so much as says a single negative word about him, let alone hurt him. She's Douglas-sexual, plain and simple.

7 - Ashley loses her shit whenever Andrew so much as breathes without her being around (aka her not liking it if Andrew doesn't immediately side with her instead of with their mother doesn't mean jackshit because she'd react like that to him going to buy a beer without telling her first) and actively threatens to kill Julia (and did accidentally kill Nina) as punishment for trying to pursue him romantically. Meanwhile Renee cared so little about Andrew (and he shared so little of his life with her) that she didn't even know he had a girlfriend in the first place, despite that relationship going on for a long, long while, and she gives no fucks once she finds out, meaning her reaction to the possible affair between her kids is genuinely about her being disgusted by incest (or at the very least not liking the fact that it's make her look bad).

8 - Andrew never expresses any jealousy when seeing how much his mom loves his dad. But he hates the thought of any guy so much as looking at Ashley and is even jealous of the demon they summon, going as far as kissing Ashley in front of it to both stake his claim and to try and remind his sister that he IS willing to give her anything she wants and thus she doesn't need anyone else, ever, for anything.

Like Andrew himself said, "Andy and Leyley" is a love story. A love story between the two siblings and nobody else. And Renee and Douglas are very clearly what their kids could potentially grow up to be, meaning there's nobody on the fucking planet that could catch her eye other than her husband.

Fanon can be anything you want, but let's not kid ourselves here, the canon for this game is very much set in stone - Andrew either pursues a relationship with Ashley and they live miserably and/or happily ever after, or they die together (be it by being murdered by cops/demons, a romantic suicide, or a romantic murder-suicide). He and Renee, at best, felt nothing for each other, and at worst openly loathed each other (and NOT in the love-hate way).

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Love your bay children series! Can you please write how the bay turtles are as uncles and how their nephews and nieces are with them <3

Du skriver även jätte bra! Puss och kram

The Kids and Their Uncles (Fluff)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I’ve made these with the focus on you and said turtle’s childrens’ relationship with one of the uncles. Hope that makes sense, lol. Oh, btw, the advice Leo gives Mini is actually one my psychiatrist gave me. Hopefully it also works for others💚

Og mange tak! Jeg har også øvet mig længe💚

(D/W/N) = Donnie’s wife’s name.

Warnings: None💙❤️💜🧡

Leonardo:

“Uncle Mikey!”, 16 year old Romeo called out, holding his odachi high above his head, gleaming with pride when Michelangelo entered the dojo. “See what I can do!” What followed was a series of fast movements that ended with him posing with his odachi just in front of him, shining in the light.

Gerardo let out a sound of amazement, while Marcello rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Show off”.

“Wow, when did you learn that?”, Mikey smiled, knowing how hard his oldest nephew had trained, since Master Splinter first gave him his odachi at the age of 15.

“I learned it myself”, Romeo said proudly, before swinging the odachi in a manner that reminded Mikey of a teenage Leonardo. No doubt that was the oldest son of the fearless leader. “I’m going to show dad later. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“You’re asking if your father will be happy to see something you have learned yourself?”, Mikey asked, his serious tone breaking with his smile as he ruffled the top of Romeo’s head, letting his nephew know that he was joking. “Of course he will. That’s the kind of stuff that will make your old man proud”.

“Me too!”, Gerardo yelled out, mimicking his oldest brother’s moves, but without any weapon in his hands.

“Leo! Is that you?”, Mikey asked jokingly, making the 10 year old laugh loudly, before Romeo put his weapon away, so he and Gerardo engaged in some light hearted sparring, their laughter echoing loudly through the dojo.

Mikey turned to find his other nephew sitting in the corner of the room, watching his brothers run around with a small scowl. Mikey was no stranger to Marcello’s tempered episodes, having been present to many of them, or at least within ear shot. So as he made his way over to the 13 year old Marcello, he knew exactly what was going on. But he would let the young half mutant have a chance, at explaining what he was feeling.

“Hey there, big guy”, Mikey said, taking a seat on the floor next to the grumpy teenager. Marcello shot him a look and greeted him with a small hey, resting his chin in his hand. “Why are you sitting over here?”

“Because those two are taking up the whole dojo”, Marcello mumbled, nodding to his brothers. “A guy can’t get space around here”.

Mikey watched Marcello have his brothers for a moment, before he decided to stand, turning to his nephew with a smile. “Well, guess we then have to make some space”, he said, Marcello looking at him in curiosity. “Ever tried nunchucks before?”

“No”, Marcello answered, unable to hide his smile as he stood up. “Can I try yours?”

“Of course you can”, Mikey said, pulling his nunchucks from his belt, holding them out in front of Marcello, watching his face light up even further. And Mikey’s next words only served to make him smile even brighter. “Time to show your father something the others can’t”.

Raphael:

Raph had never really been good at meditating. He had never really liked it, and he generally had a hard time keeping his mind calm for so long. But he did really want his children to learn it. Or at least get familiar with it, should they ever get to a position where they would need it. And therefore Raph asked Leonardo for help. Leo had always been a natural at meditating, and had for the most part successfully taught his own children to do it, so maybe he could teach Raph’s children the same.

And that was how Leo ended up in the dojo with his nephew and two nieces, helping them clear their minds, the same way that had worked for his own children. But Leo soon found himself facing a difficult situation - these were his nieces and nephew, the children of his hot-tempered and at times inpatient brother. And that much was obvious, from the way the three children had a hard time sitting still, almost refusing to go too far into their own heads.

As Leo spoke about slow breathing, keeping their eyes closed, and bringing their thoughts to focus on the said breathing, only Joan seemed to be able to sit still, wanting to get this over with, so she could go back to whatever a 13 year old teenage girl liked to speed her time with. But her younger siblings weren't finding it as easy. 6 year old Ragnar had a hard time concentrating, his attention being grabbed by every sound outside the dojo, creating all sorts of images in his head. All from his mother and father watching television, to a monster breaking through the entrance of the lair, making him uneasy. Minerva however, just couldn’t sit right. Her legs kept falling asleep and her skin kept crawling, her knee impatiently bouncing in its bent position, pushing up against Joan, drawing an irritated sigh from the frustrated teen, who had just managed to empty her head for a short moment.

“Mini, stop moving your leg”, Leo said without opening his eyes, causing Ragnar to look at him in amazement. How did he do that?

“But, uncle Leo”, Mini said, laying down onto her back, stretching out on the dojo floor. “Meditation is so hard and boring”.

“If you shut up, it maybe wouldn’t be so hard”, Joan mumbled, shooting her little sister a look that made Mini sit back up.

Leo opened his eyes, taking a moment to study Mini as she still couldn’t sit still. “Can you say why it's hard and boring? It’s okay, there’s no right or wrong answer”.

Mini sat for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek, thinking her answer through. "It's hard to empty my head”, the 9 year old mumbled.

Leo looked at Mini and thought for a moment, before he finally smiled at her, noticing the relieved expression on her face.

“That’s okay”, Leo said, adjusting his legs. “It’s very hard to just empty your head, especially when you’re used to thinking a lot. What you can do instead, is to notice your thoughts. Take note of them and let them be. Don’t fight them, but let them flow naturally. Hopefully that will feel easier”.

Mini nodded with a bright smile, before folding her legs once more, actually being able to sit still this time. Smiling at the sight, Leo turned his attention towards Ragnar, noticing how he kept throwing glances at the dojo doors.

“Do you want to sit next to me, Ragnar?”, Leo asked, holding out his hand to the small boy. Ragnar nodded before making his way over next to Leo, taking a good hold of his hand, before he sat down next to him with his legs crossed, for once not looking towards the door, when he heard the small sounds coming from the other side.

Donatello:

Sometimes it just happened, and Raph wasn’t really sure how. He would walk into a room, find his nephews and nieces playing with something, either with or without his own children, and suddenly he would be sitting down with them, playing along, all full of life and energy. And today wasn’t any different.

Raph had found his 10 year old nephew, Galileo at the kitchen table, scribbling away at pieces of paper with thick colorful crayons, and a concentrated expression on his face - one that very much reminded Raph of Donatello, whenever he was in deep concentration inside his lab.

Raph had asked Gali about what he was drawing, and soon he sat with his nephew at the kitchen table, drawing all sorts of stars and action heroes, causing Gali great amusement, as they took turns adding to the drawing. However, as the two of them continued their drawing game, they were soon joined by Marie and Dorothy.

The two 5 year old girls sat at the table, grabbing their own pieces of paper and a handful of crayons, only for their attention to be fully caught by Gali and Raph’s drawings. And of course, the two girls wanted in, wanting to join their older brother and their uncle.

“Can we play too?”, Dorothy asked, trying to touch the paper with her pink crayon, only for Gali to turn to her with a dirty look. A look that even Raph has seen many times, whenever Gali felt like his sisters crept in on his personal space.

“No, me and uncle Raph are busy”, Gali said, doing a hand movement, as if he was trying to shoo his sisters away.

“But we want to play!”, Marie whined, her green crayon in hand.

“I said no”, Gali said, turning his back on his sisters, pushing his paper further away from them. And of course, this action caused tears to gloss over the girls eyes, looking longingly at the paper he and Raph had been drawing on.

“You know what?”, Raph suddenly said, catching the attention of the three children once more. “I have a better idea”.

Standing from the table, Raph grabbed the stack of paper, before splaying them out over the kitchen table, until the whole surface was covered in the white paper. The three kids, seeming to understand what Raph was doing, looked up at their uncle with wide smiles, grabbing onto the crayons with excitement.

“Let’s draw the biggest drawing ever!”, Raph said, watching with a happy smile, his nephew and niece smiled at each other, before turning their attention towards the many papers in front of them.

As Raph and three kids continued their drawing, the other kids slowly came to the table, taking a look before adding onto the large piece themselves. It didn’t take long before all the kids of the lair sat around the kitchen table, drawing until there was almost no crayons left.

Michelangelo:

1.5 year old Luis had been sick for a few days now, crying for both you and Mikey at all times. The poor little guy was teething, and with that came sickness and pain, and so, you and Mikey was hung up, spending most of your time with your crying child, trying to soothe the pain in his gums. And this left Sunny BORED. Ever since Luis had gotten sick due to his teething, Sunny had been a bored and sighing mess. She wandered around the lair, waiting for the moment Luis got better, so either you, Mikey or maybe even Luis could come play with her. But until then, she would have to entertain herself, or find someone else to do so. And that was how she ended up in the lab with her uncle, draping herself over a small table on the other side of the room, with a small installation of the solar system on it.

Donnie saw his niece enter the lair, and spoke to her without looking away from his work. “Hey, Sunny. How’s it going?”

“Bored!”, Sunny groaned, resting her chin on the table, her eyes staring at the small earth in front of her. “Luis’ sick, so there’s nothing to do”.

“That doesn’t sound good”, Donnie said, turning his chair so he could watch Sunny, making sure she wasn’t getting her fingers into something she shouldn’t. She had a tendency to touch whatever she found interesting. And just as Donnie had thought, she was now poking at the miniature solar system. “Have you asked Gali if he wants to play?”

“He’s reading with aunt (D/W/N)”, the girl mumbled. However, her flighty attention and curiosity was very soon taken by the miniature she was playing with. “What is this?”

“That?”, Donnie asked, rolling his chair over to her. “That’s the solar system. The one you’re touching right now is earth”.

“Earth”, Sunny repeated, her attention jumping to the small white ball beside it. “What’s this?”

“That’s the moon”, Donnie answered.

“The moon?”, Sunny asked, her eyes shining with excitement. “Like the one in the sky?”

“Yes”, Donnie smiled. “Like the one in the sky”.

“Do there live fairies on the moon?”, Sunny asked, pushing the moon spindle, so it made a rush of circles around the earth.

Donnie chuckled at her question. She was truely Mikey’s daughter.

“Do you want fairies to live on the moon?”, Donnie asked, watching Sunny study the solar system. His niece looked at him and nodded. “Then in that case, there lives moon fairies on the moon. But they are hard to find. They neither like robots or beings that aren’t fairies themselves”.

“But I’m a fairy!”, Sunny exclaimed.

“You are!?”, Donnie asked, acting surprised. He looked around, acting as if he was thinking, making Sunny laugh. “But we’re in my lab! There are robots! Come on fairy, let’s get you out of here and find some of your fairy friends!”

And with a loud giggle, Sunny ran out of the room, waiting for Donnie to close the door to the lab behind him, before they continued their fairy game in the living area.

[senlinyu]

Since ao3 is down, here is a thing that was supposed to be a twitter drabble but it got too long so I forgot about it for eight months.

Dying Wish

//open ended, pining Draco, theomione, Dramione (vaguely), Tragic Theo.

Almost everyone said that Theodore Nott marrying Hermione Granger was unexpected but not surprising. Theo had always been academically insufferable, and Granger was infamously so. The relationship could have almost been called inevitable.

Everyone had stories about the absurdly saccharine workplace romance that unfolded. Coworkers by coincidence, they both showed up for a cancelled meeting, the waiting led to a shared project, and from there a whirlwind relationship.

They were engaged within a year.

A beautiful couple, a perfect match. Despite Theo possessing the near fatal flaw of having been in Slytherin, he compensated for any suspicion held by Granger’s friends by having a tragic life story practically from the moment of conception. A mother who’d died horribly young, and a monster of a father who’d always considered his son a bitter disappointment.

Theo had never taken the Dark Mark, he’d played no part in the war. He was self-deprecating and funny, and knew how to make people like him because he cared about people liking him. The kind of man who was perfectly happy to become ‘Hermione Granger’s husband,’ unlike the previous boyfriends who always wanted her bright but not ‘too bright’.

Draco was happy for Theo. In a very detached and uninvolved way. He wasn’t such a cunt that he would resent his best friend for finding love, even if it was with a person he habitually went out of his way to avoid.

Granger was, after all, a menace with a vicious protective streak, and a known right hook. Draco, in fact, knew it personally. No one was ever going to hurt Theo again, she would make sure of it.

Theo, for his part, had spent his entire life looking for someone who’d let him love them completely. Someone to give his heart and soul to. His adoration for Granger was nauseating, an ocean of unplumbed depths.

The stars seemed to align for them, every piece falling into place to create a perfect match: Two positively revolting swots joined in matrimonial bliss, happy as could be.

No one asked Draco if he wanted to be in excruciating proximity to the entire affair, and yet he somehow was. He helped Theo plan his proposal, and then had to listen to Theo practise his speech over and over without wincing, and then illuminate over five hundred fairy lights , cue a quartet, and then fling a garden’s worth of rose petals into the air, before apparating silently away.

He was the best man. He planned Theo’s stag night. Slapped him across the face when he started hyperventilating, kept the rings from getting lost, and signed as witness to the union.

When it was done and they were off on their honeymoon, he left the reception, and went to Greece for six months in order to detox from the entire revolting affair.

When he finally forced himself to go back, he coddled himself by ignoring most of their invitations, and only accepted the ones where he could arrive late and leave early and barely speak to the hosts.

Eventually Theo stopped bothering him.

After all, it was bad enough to hear how revoltingly happy they were together without seeing them.

Malfoys were emotionally repressed on principle. His father used to say that falling in love was something only poor people did.

If Draco had to witness Granger making cow eyes at Theo, he would suffer indigestion, and his mother had always said he was constitutionally delicate.

He didn’t particularly like company anyway, and Theo’s friends were mostly Granger’s friends, which was not a circle Draco ever felt comfortable in.

His uninvolvement was going swimmingly until he received a short, informal note in shaky writing.

‘I need to see you. Please come. Theo.’

Draco had always been better at refusing formal invitations than personal ones. What the fuck would Theo suddenly want? After all these years?

He tried to ignore it, but the vagueness ate at him, niggling at his curiosity until he gritted his teeth and apparated to Nott manor.

Instead of an elf, or a butler at least answering the door it was Granger herself who opened it.

“Malfoy, you’ve finally come. Theo will be so relieved.”

He swallowed hard.

It had been a few years since he’d seen her in person. Wasn’t she supposed to be blissfully married? Weren’t happy people supposed to glow or something?

She’d been glowing at the wedding. Draco remembered all clearly the way her face had lit up when all the lights illuminated and music started, and Theo, despite Draco’s repeated warnings, was on his knees reciting a poem he’d written for her.

Draco had nearly died from second hand embarrassment.

The memory of how happy she’d looked while Theo compared her to the moon in iambic pentameter before hundreds of people, had been seared irrevocably into his skull. It would probably still haunt when he was a ghost.

She was not glowing at all now. She looked sad, and tired.

“Granger,” he said, even though he was excruciatingly aware that she was married.

He expected her to correct him out of habit, and then he’d retort that she would always be Granger to him, and then they would exchange empty banter and it would pass as conversation, but instead she just said, “Theo’s upstairs,” and led the way.

Draco expected to be led to a study, or a horrible mad scientist type lab designed for two, but instead it was a dark bedroom.

Draco baulked at the doorway, and Granger went in. He could hear the hushed murmur of voices and then she came back.

“He’s awake and having a good day, call if you need anything.” Then she left him there.

Draco watched her vanish back down the stairs before setting his jaw and entering the room. Theo was pale as a sheet, propped up with pillows, his face lit up at the sight of Draco.

“You did come, you old bastard.”

“Yes,” Draco said awkwardly. “Is Granger finally poisoning you for your family fortune?”

He’d prefer to avoid greetings or comments about how long it had been, or asking what was wrong. It was clear that something was incredibly wrong. Theo was thin and greyish, everything about him faded, not at all the picture of health Draco had assumed he would be.

That he was supposed to be.

Theo gave a wan smile. “I wouldn’t blame her, but no. My mother, you might not remember, it was a maladiction that killed her. Apparently I inherited it. Another thing my father didn’t manage to beat out of me.”

Draco’s chest clenched. “Theo, I’m—”

Theo shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ve—worked through it. Mostly. There are stages to grief apparently. That’s what the books say. I’ve moved through denial, anger, bargaining and depression. It’s not entirely a linear process but I’m mostly at the acceptance point now. Figured we should say goodbye.”

Draco just stared at him. “You can’t be serious. You invited me here for goodbyes? Fuck off. You can’t just give up like that. You’re married. You have a wife, you can’t die and leave—“

“If there was a fucking cure, Hermione would have found it,” Theo cut him off, his usually soft voice hardening in a defensive way that startled Draco. “We’ve looked. We’ve tried everything. You’d know that, if you’d ever come around. She’s been trying for years. Admitting she couldn’t—she tried so hard.”

Draco felt like he’d been struck. “I—I’m sorry. Of course you did. I’ve been away. Busy. I have responsibilities.”

Theo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s alright, I know now why you didn’t.”

Theo sat up slowly. His body seemed shrunken, like a breath of wind could carry him away. “That’s why I needed to see you. I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for not realising it sooner. I should have. Looking back—it’s so obvious.”

Draco forced a laugh. He had no idea what Theo was talking about but he was really not enjoying the conversation.

“Realising what? What’s obvious?”

“That you’re in love with Hermione.”

Draco’s entire body went stiff, something inside him crumbled and died as his heart stopped completely. His voice failed him the first several times he tried to speak. He looked away, clearing his throat repeatedly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You sound mad.” He fidgeted with the potions on Theo’s bedside table, peering at them. “What kind of potions does Granger have you on?”

Theo slumped back, his eyes fluttering closed, his eyelids looked almost bruised with exhaustion. “I think back a lot. Mostly the years since the war, once my father was gone and things were getting better. I was remembering how much time we used to spend together. You were doing community service for probation, that elves thing Hermione founded. And I was going from one bad relationship to the next like some sad puppy.” He opened his eyes. “I was remembering how whenever I told you about anyone I dated, you always used to sneer and said they weren’t good enough for me, and gave the worst relationship advice ever. You Sabotaged me.”

“You had terrible taste,” Draco retorted, still sorting through the potions and still not liking at all the direction the conversation was going in. “It was a mercy on my part.”

“When I told you about Hermione, that I ran into her, and I asked you what you thought, do you remember what you said?”

“I can’t say I do,” Draco lied.

“You said I’d never be good enough for her. Then the next week, you came around again, and I remember you looked terrible and I assumed you’d had another fight with your parents, and you told me if I was serious, I should get a job at the Ministry, mentioned the rumour she’d had a time-turner at school. She was the only person you gave useful relationship advice about. Looking back, I don’t think it would have happened without you. Any of it.”

“Theo—“ Draco shifted awkwardly, having run out of potions to look at, “—it was just a joke, You can’t assume things like that. Granger? Really? Of anyone I could have feelings for. Your wife?” He exhaled raggedly. “Have you forgotten our history? Unlike you, I was a Death Eater. I was in the war. Even before then, I was awful, and they brought her to the manor and I—“

He’s rambling, he knew he was rambling. He needed to fucking shut up.

“I would never have been able to—“ His voice failed and there was a stone lodged in the bottom of his throat and he just stood there trying to keep from smashing everything within reach.

He needed a drink.

He threw a hand up, suddenly angry and turned on Theo, glaring. “It was just a fucking joke. I don’t even remember it.”

Theo simply nodded. “You were right though. I wasn’t good enough for her.”

Draco scoffed at that, turning away, inspecting the view. “I’m sure you did just fine. I always heard that you two were revoltingly happy. People said you were like some storybook couple. You two were good for each other—that’s really all that—“

He was stammering again.

He cut himself off. “You were happy together. Everyone said you made her happy. And I don’t do happiness, it gives me a rash.”

“Shut up,” Theo’s voice sharpened. “Fuck. I forgot how much you talk when you’re lying.”

He gave a heavy sigh. “You wanted us together, didn’t you? You engineered it.”

Draco gave a long suffering sigh. “Theo, you’re a moron. Just because you claim to be dying doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with a conspiracy theory that I’m in love with your wife.”

“Fuck off. You were my only friend, and you were the only reason I didn’t accidentally sabotage the relationship. All the times I would have rushed things, you stopped me. You were the reason why I managed to pull off all my harebrain romantic schemes. You made it work. And somehow I ended up married with the friends and family I always wanted, that you knew I wanted, and where the fuck did you go? Where have you been since then? Not here, that's for sure.”

Draco glanced out the window. “You wanted a new start, Theo. It was all you talked about once your father was in Azkaban. I was the past. Once you were married, you didn’t need me anymore. I was a hindrance.”

“You manipulated me,” Theo said, looking unreasonably infuriated for someone who’d gotten to marry the love of his life. “You self-loathing fuck. You thought you had it all worked out, had everything puppet-mastered. You nudged me right into her path to love her for you. Pushed us together so you would be alone the way you’ve convinced yourself you deserve to be.” He sounded winded. “Fuck. I’d punch you if I had the strength. And the thing I’m the most pissed off about, is that I was so enamoured, I didn’t notice. I thought it all worked perfectly that time because it was meant to.”

If Theo was expecting a confession he was going to be terribly disappointed.

“Maybe it did. I don’t know what you expect me to say about any of this. Even if any of that were true, what does it matter?”

“It matters,” Theo said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“It matters because you have to take care of her when I’m gone.”

Draco’s heart stalled for a second time, but he recovered faster. “I’m sure you can get everything arranged in advance so she’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now. I can’t ask her friends to do this. They love her, but they don’t understand how to care for her. She takes care of everyone, but she doesn’t remember to take care of herself. She needs someone to be selfish for her, who will do whatever it takes to put her first. I can’t be your proxy anymore, it has to be you now.”

Draco’s neatly manicured nails were biting into his palm, he didn’t even know when his fists had clenched. “Theo…”

“I have spent so much time worrying about her, feeling like I can’t go because who’d be here to make sure she was alright. I’ve considered everyone, and when I got to you, I brushed you off at first, because you used to talk about how you couldn’t stand her. But eventually I wondered, why did you do so much to bring us together? If you really hated her so much. You always knew what she’d like. You figured things out about her that it took me ages to piece together. And you’re actually a rather shit liar, now that I’ve been thinking about it, if you’d really hated her, you would have been a lot nastier than you were.”

“I still don’t see the point in this conversation,” Draco said in a bored tone. “Granger can take care of herself. Especially with your fortune.”

Theo exhaled, like he was too tired now to fight anymore. “You are missing the point on purpose and we both know it.”

Draco did not know any such thing, still it was difficult to keep looking at Theo and he turned away.

“You did a good job at it. I’ll admit, you are the manipulative person I have ever known, if I weren’t dying, I probably would have never known. But now it’s my turn to be manipulative.”

“Well a good rule of thumb is not to tell the person you’re trying to manipulate that you’re doing it,” Draco said in a dry voice, turning to face him.

Theo was holding up his wand and had a wry smile on his face. “Fair enough. But I do have one final piece of leverage.”

Comprehension slowly dawned on him. “Theo, don’t you—“

“Draco Malfoy, it is my dying wish that you care for my wife when I am gone. Support her in her grief, and help her find joy in her future. Be there for her once I can’t be. Help her find herself again. Do you accept?”

Death Wishes were magic out of old grimoires. The kind that only insufferable people like Theo Nott would know how to perform.

Usually they were curses pronounced as the person died, but a rare iteration was rather like an Unbreakable Vow, if Draco refused, Theo would not pass on after death but instead linger as a ghost, attempting to fulfil the wish himself. If Draco accepted and then broke his word, Theo would come back from the afterlife and haunt him.

Bullshit all around either way.

Theo’s wand pulsed with magic, waiting for Draco’s answer.

Draco stood glaring at him. “I hate you.”

Theo glared right back. “If you weren’t such a self-sabotaging, self-loathing moron I wouldn’t have to do this. You think I want you hanging around my wife? I don’t. But being your proxy was also a shit realisation, consider this my way of getting even. You will make Hermione happy and you will get over your self-hatred and do it yourself this time or I will haunt you and I will make sure Hermione knows exactly why it is that I’m doing it. Do you accept?”

The magic was humming louder, growing brighter and Theo was beginning to turn translucent as though the magic was draining his life from him.

“Fine. Yes! I accept.”

The magic flared out and flew across the room, striking Draco and fading into him. He clutched at his chest but the light had gone.

He looked up.

“Fuck you, you manipulative bastard,” Draco finally said, his heart was pounding.

Theo just gave another wry smile. “You know, that’s exactly what I wanted to say when you walked in.” He sank back into bed, looking winded. “I’m glad you came to see me. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t and I was going to have to come up with a whole extra scheme. You saved me a lot of trouble. All worth it for Hermione though, right?”

Draco turned without another word and headed toward the door, desperate to be gone, even though he could feel Theo’s wish like a brand inside his soul waiting to come alive.

“You should go see Hermione,” Theo’s voice followed him, already threatening to haunt him. “You know, she admitted once to fancying you a bit back when you were volunteering at the charity. She’d planned to ask you out, but you never came around after your probation was over.”

[karizard-ao3]

If you made a teen pregnancy fic how would it go?

Since I get to pick, I choose Ranma and Akane for this one, because even though it is FAR less likely that Ranma would, of his own accord, be able to work up the courage to even kiss Akane, let alone knock her up, any time before his 21st birthday, his world is rife with magical charms and nefarious potions etc, so there is no reason that he and Akane couldn't both, through a comic series of errors, both ingest some inhibition inhibiting bon bons one night while they are alone at the dojo (perhaps Genma purchased them for Nodoka, who won't give him the time of day now that she has her son back), and, thanks to their effects, one thing leads to another and they declare their love and then consummate their relationship. They wake up the next morning back to their old selves and wildly embarrassed. They can't even look at each other. Ranma is beet red and runs away every time Akane tries to talk to him about what happened because he thinks she'll be mad at him, but him avoiding her hurts her feelings, and then it hurts her feelings even more when he finally gets brave enough to apologize and makes it sounds like he regrets it.

By the time their families return from wherever they were, Ranma and Akane are in what appears to be a run of the mill fight, so no one thinks that much about it.

They sort of make up and individually resolve to ignore what happened until a few weeks later when Akane realizes she's late (maybe she and Ranko are synced up? Or would Ranma only have the outer female sex organs but not a uterus? How thoroughly does the curse affect his insides? I guess it doesn't matter since he's not the one pregnant - although imagine an AU where Akane falls in the Spring of Drowned Boy... Oh, the gender bending hijinks).

Anyway, her period is late. She skulks off to get a pregnancy test. It's positive. She freaks out. Now she's mad at Ranma again. He corners and demands to know what he did this time. She shows him the test. He doesn't know what it means. She has to explain, and then he goes white as a sheet. Falls all over himself apologizing, promises to marry her. She is like, "No, thank you! I won't be have you marrying me out of obligation" which makes him super mad because he takes it as a rejection. It's a whole thing.

They try to hide it while they figure out what to do and how to tell their families, but Nodoka sniffs them out almost right away. You know how she is. She pulls Akane aside and asks if she is pregnant and, a little coldly, who the father is. Akane says it's Ranma and Nodoka is ecstatic. Starts tearing up and saying how her boy is a man among men because he ruined a young girl's future by getting her pregnant out of wedlock. You know how she is.

She scampers off to tell the rest of the family.

And thus, the secret is out.

The rest of the fic would be them dealing with becoming young parents, discussing whether they want to keep the baby (they do), and Ranma sorting out all his various suitors so he can show Akane that he is really serious about making it work with her when he finally tries proposing again. Maybe this isn't the order he would have picked to do things in, but he's a School of Anything Goes Martial Artist. He can roll with the punches.

I'm sure there will be all kinds of shit going on. The other girls won't take it well, and Ryoga will for sure try to kill Ranma. Kuno also will probably try to start some shit.

But, in the end, they have their baby and Nodoka babysits for them so they can go to school and Ranma and Akane make absolutely certain that Genma never, ever, under any circumstances takes the baby away to train. He is probably not allowed alone with the baby at all. But, he's a bit better as a grandpa/ panda, so they don't have to worry.

[naavispider]

I often see people describe Spider as a neglected child. Do you think that is totally accurate? Would Norm and the other scientists have set rules and boundaries? If Lo’ak and Spider did something stupid together would Jake punish both of them? What would a scene like this look like?

This is a very big question, in my opinion, and seems to have divided a lot of people depending in their answer. I think I can see it both ways. Spider is clearly a child that has grown up without a stable parental figure, and has lived his life trying to fit in where there seems to be no natural slot for him to do so. I do think he is relatively well adjusted, he's formed strong relationships with those his own age and he clearly has strong morals, all of which are accomplishments in themselves given the circumstances. Anyone else in his position would obviously struggle to deal with so much (being displaced by war, not having a stable family, and generally being an outcast by the tribe). If you add the daddy issues on top, which have provided him with a fluctuating sense of identity ever since he was old enough to understand who is father was, it's no doubt that Spider is definitely a special kid and extremely strong to have been through what he has, and come out the other side remarkably 'unharmed'.

We also can't ignore the fact that he was outrightly mistreated throughout his childhood as well. This is more obvious in the comics from the comments made by Neytiri, but there is also all the subtle ways in which he was excluded from the People and made to feel like an outcast. The kind of social isolation he suffered from clearly had an effect on him and is obvious in the way he has a complex about trying to impress, and not let anyone down, ever.

Your question asked about whether it's valid to say that Spider was neglected. In short, I think the answer is yes, but it's harder to pin point by exactly who and for how long. Individually, most of the adults in his life treated him with kindness and respect, and often fondness. I'm sure that Norm and loves Spider, too (and probably Max). But what makes him neglected is that by itself, that kind of treatment isn't enough for an extremely young child. What everyone seemed to miss while he was growing up is the lack of a parental figure. The McCoskers clearly weren't actually interested in raising Spider like their own, so that fell short; as a result, nobody else stepped up and Spider went without paternal or maternal love.

In my mind, the McCoskers are definitely guilty of neglect. The question of the other adults is murkier, because they are not directly at fault and Spider was really not their responsibility. However, in my opinion they did not do all they could to emotionally support Spider through his identity crisis and feelings of belonging. As such, I would say they emotionally neglected him.

That was a long and winding answer and I know that others have hashed this topic over at length before, but those are my two cents! 🥰

Would Norm and the other scientists have set rules and boundaries? Yes, I reckon so. When Spider was very young it would primarily be around safety and where abouts in the compound he should be, when. The McCoskers were probably responsible for bedtime routines and ensuring his basic needs were met, and I can see them being pretty harsh with that (for example shutting Spider in his room). As he got older and the McCoskers' attention turned to their own sons, they started to care less and less about Spider and creating firm boundaries. As a result he became a much wilder spirit and then the scientists would have had to put their own boundaries in place. By this point though, Spider was a young teen and probably all they could do was tell him off (which would work for a while). I can see the other scientists begging Norm to talk to Spider when he accidentally broke a piece of lab equipment.

If Lo’ak and Spider did something stupid together would Jake punish both of them? Jake would clearly be much harsher towards Lo'ak. I can see him just sending Spider back to the shacks, aware that Spider is not his son and nit his responsibility. In fairness to Jake, he personally struggles a lot with how to be a good father and isn't confident with the two sons he already has, so mentally I think he's distancing himself from Spider on purpose, because he's afraid and doesn't want to take on even more parental responsibility than he is already having to contend with. Lo'ak and Spider would meet up after and Spider would ask Lo'ak how bad it was. Lo'ak would probably moan that Spider is lucky he doesn't have to brunt Jake's anger, and Spider would outwardly agree.

Sorry it took me literal months to respond to this ask! I'm working my way through them 💞💙💞💙

[davonati]

I was thinking a lot about 1 Samuel 20:30 today (I was sort of already thinking about it, and then I listened to Shame from Beloved King and it got very in my head)

Saul flew into a rage against Jonathan. “You son of a perverse, rebellious woman!” he shouted. “I know that you side with the son of Jesse—to your shame, and to the shame of your mother’s nakedness!

I have believed for a long time that this verse indicates that Saul knows (or at least thinks) that Jonathan and David have a sexual relationship and is condemning Jonathan for it. (For the record, not because it’s a homosexual relationship, but because Jonathan is siding with the enemy. In fact nothing in the David-Jonathan narrative ever suggests that they would be condemned being two men in a romantic and/or sexual relationship.)

“But Vee, why do you think that? Saul doesn’t mention anything about sex here.”

Well, in the Hebrew Bible, nakedness basically means sex. Sometimes it can be taken more literally (as in Genesis 9:22-23, where it might mean rape or might mean simple embarrassment over being seen nakedness) but most of the time it means sex, especially illicit sex. This is most well-known from Leviticus 18, where one is commanded not to “uncover the nakedness” of one’s family members. This chapter also includes several examples of “[Person A]’s nakedness” being used as a stand-in for sex with a relative of Person A, rather than Person A themselves. For example: “Do not uncover the nakedness of your father’s wife; it is the nakedness of your father.” This indicates not that sex with your father’s wife is literally sex with your father, but that this is a sexual act that will bring shame upon your father, mainly because the wife’s sexuality is under the father’s protection.

I posit, then, that when Saul mentions “the shame of your mother’s nakedness” he is referring to a sexual act that Jonathan has done which will bring shame upon his mother, that somehow relates to his relationship with David. Why does having sex with David bring shame upon his mother? Well, honestly, I think Saul is kind of projecting and means it brings shame upon Saul himself (or both parents together).

I also think that Saul referring to David as the “son of Jesse” is interesting here — perhaps because David’s sexuality is still under his father’s protection? Well, admittedly David is already married here, but assuming that a man’s sexuality can’t be under his wife’s protection his father would still be his authority. And you know, it would also be Jonathan having sex with his sister’s husband — this isn’t explicitly mentioned in Leviticus, but “uncovering the nakedness” of your brother’s wife is prohibited, so I think you could extrapolate brother’s wife -> sister’s husband, it is the nakedness of your sister -> your sister’s nakedness is the nakedness of your mother. Or something like that!

Now, there is a much more common interpretation of this verse that I want to present. This says that “[Jonathan’s] mother’s nakedness” is a reference to Jonathan’s birth, or specifically Jonathan’s conception. Basically, Saul is cursing that Jonathan was ever born (or along those lines). Combined with the first half of the verse — “son of a perverse, rebellious woman” — you can see this as Saul basically calling Jonathan “son of a bitch”.

I think this interpretation holds a lot of water, though not necessarily more than my interpretation. However, when I was looking more into this interpretation I found a really interesting midrash in the Tz’enah Ur’enah (old Yiddish Bible+commentary, kind of, you should just look into it) that seeks to expand on why Saul is insulting Jonathan’s mother (his wife!!) and how he’s comparing the two of them. The gist of the midrash is more or less that Achinoam (Jonathan’s mother) asked Saul out, rather than waiting for Saul to approach her as was proper. The midrash therefore says that Jonathan is too much like his mother: “[Achinoam] was brazen at the dance and you [Jonathan] are also brazen to me [Saul]”. Ok… I can see what they were going for, but why compare Achinoam’s immodest sexuality to Jonathan’s supposed political opposition?

And here, I posit again: Achinoam’s wrongdoing in this midrash is not simply being “brazen”, but going against sexual norms. “Approaching” someone who she shouldn’t approach, or in a way she shouldn’t have approached him. And now Saul is comparing Achinoam’s actions there to his mother’s? His perverse, (sexually) rebellious mother?? In a roundabout way, we come back to Saul accusing Jonathan of illicit sexual acts, somehow involving David…

Ergo, either way you spin it, Saul accuses Jonathan of having sex with David. And Jonathan doesn’t refute it!

[bookshelfdreams]

Hiii I hope this isn't too forward, but your tags re: Ed's evolving reactions to abuse and Izzy as abuse-survivor-wish-fulfillment are incredible and it would lovely as its own post, if you felt comfortable doing so!

Aww thank you! The post in question

Also, tbf, I'm just obsessed with the rule of 3, whenever there's the slightest chance of seeing a pattern like this I'll pound on it with a sledgehammer until it fits.

Anyway. Ed has 3 abusive white men in his life; his father, Hornigold, and Izzy. And all 3 he deals with, to escalating effect.

His father is the one who exerts the most power over him. Ed clearly comes from a violent household, and as a child, he is obviously completely at his fathers non-existent mercy. He beats Ed's mother, throws dishware against the wall, and there was a deleted scene where he yelled at Ed's mother for "turning my son soft" (oh how I wish they'd kept that in. I can understand why they thought this was expendable, but it would have made the connection between Ed's father and Izzy so much more obvious).

Ed cannot protect himself, or his mother, against this violence - up until the moment that he can. The moment he realizes he is no longer weak and helpless, he retaliates in the only way that he has ever seen conflicts be resolved. He knows that he can't intimidate his father into better behaviour, if he wants to end the abuse it has to be permanent. So he just fucking kills the bastard.

This is, of course, Not Ideal. Even 30odd years later, he feels monstrous and unlovable because of this moment. The violence scars him. Not because he was wrong in killing his father, necessarily; the show doesn't judge him for it. But Ed destroyed the life he could have had when he did it, and he wounded himself.

Violent solution? Possible, but he deserved better.

Next up, Hornigold, who is also a mean, abusive bastard. He represents the avoidance solution: Leave and never look back. We do not know what became of Hornigold after Ed left his ship, but 02x03 implies that Ed expects him to still be alive somewhere. Ed clearly suffered horrific abuse at his hands, both physical and emotional, and even though that is years in the past, he clearly never dealt with any of it. Gravybasket!Hornigold tells him "Sorry doesn't rebuild an abdominal wall. You gotta move on.": Don't expect an apology, don't try to make amends, just ignore what happened. Apologies are pointless, you can never expect your abuser to change his behaviour. So just try to get away from him and ignore him.

This also doesn't really work. In the gravy basket, Ed is clearly still desperate for Hornigold's approval - and is refused, as he probably was often when he sailed with him. "You're never good enough" is one of the core mantras of abusers. Hornigold is still living in Ed's head, and heart, and soul; the poison he fed him is still alive and well within him. Ed even tries a violent solution this time, but obviously that can't work.

Still, avoidance is better than violence. Hornigold is left behind, standing on that cliff, while Ed goes back into the light. Ed doesn't have to take him with him. He cannot make Hornigold regret what he did, but he can remove himself from his clutches.

And then there's Izzy. With Izzy, Ed obviously has the most ambivalent relationship. He seems to truly like Izzy, to some extend (why is that would be another post, but as briefly as possible: I think Izzy provides an interpersonal dynamic that is familiar, and therefore, a twisted kind of safe for Ed. Chronic mistreatment will embed in you the idea that there's something wrong with you, and that's something Izzy is all too willing to point out to Ed. Crucially though, Izzy is someone who's approval is actually attainable. Ed keeps around someone who will tear him down, yes, but who it is also possible to impress, and over who he has authority. He's going back to the previous relationships, only now he is in a position of power, and that may feel like he can fix them. Obviously this isn't exactly a healthy dynamic. Izzy, for his part, clearly gets a kick out of the power and status being Blackbeard's first mate gives him, and manipulating Ed into doing what he wants. Just watch how pissed he gets when his control over Ed starts to slip.).

And there's another, crucial difference: Izzy wants to come around. Izzy is the fantasy of the toxic person who realizes how shitty his behaviour is, and who deep down, cares enough to want to fix it. Who recognizes the pain he caused, and who tells Ed the things he most needs to hear: I hurt you, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this. I was wrong; you're fine.

And then - and this is also an important part of the wish fullfilment fantasy! - he dies. Ed doesn't have to deal with him anymore. We remove the possibility that he goes back on his apology, or tries to use that as a wedge to carve out a space for himself in Ed's life, or goes back to manipulating Ed. No. The apology has to be the final note this relationship ends on.

And this fixes it. Ed can look back on Izzy fondly.

He was a fucking nightmare. What a guy.