#and it has occurred to no one that house's late father could possibly be at fault for his son not wanting to attend his funeral

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

i am begging one single person in this entire show to consider, for perhaps one single second, THE POSSIBILITY THAT THERE IS A REASON HOUSE HATES HIS DAD THIS MUCH

[pterodactyl-hater]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

・❥・ You had no clue he was alive, but he didn’t know that

・❥・word count: 2k

・❥・warnings: mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse, ANGST, LOOSELY based off one scene from tsitp, my own hc of pre-vamp Astarion

・❥・ Has anyone else seen that one tsitp edit to Sign of the Times? No? Also it occurred to me that now 2/3 fics I’ve posted on this platform are about vampires, lord I fear I have a type, also also, let’s just pretend Astarion can remember his life pre-vamp, just pretend for me thank yewwwww

You adored your best friend more than words could describe. Anyone could tell how you admired him, just from how you looked at him. Astarion had always been very handsome, you struggled to look away from his gorgeously tanned skin, and his platinum curls. Your eyes caught on the strong curve of his nose and the way the sun highlighted his brown eyes. But he was more than just his appearance. He was clever and too charming for his own good.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion would ask, his voice tinged with a teasing playfulness.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” ‘Like you’re in love with me’ is what he failed to say, but the message rang clear. The air thickened. You shrugged, eyes never breaking from his. He smiled and shook his head, the slightest bit of pink forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. For all that you adored him, Astarion would worship you.

Then one day, you stopped seeing Astarion. He didn’t show up to the cafe you two had planned on meeting at, perhaps he had fallen ill. He stopped showing up to work, a spontaneous vacation he had forgotten to tell you of in advance, possibly. He wasn’t home, everything had been just as it was left no longer than a week ago. A thin layer of dust covered the house, completely undisturbed. Another week had passed before you got closure.

“This is (y/n) (l/n)?” A large man asked. He had knocked at your door late at night, a heavy hood over his eyes. You hesitantly nodded in confirmation. “You were close with Astarion Ancunin correct?” He asked.

“Correct.” You replied slowly, your curiosity peaked, along with your worry, anything could have happened to your best friend, he could be anywhere.

“I’m here on behalf of Cazador Szarr, to inform you of Astarion’s passing.” He nodded coolly as if he hadn’t just delivered the worst news one could deliver.

“How?” Your voice was quieter than you wished it to be.

“He was murdered on Cazador’s estate. We’ve been unable to determine who killed him, but we are working diligently to bring him to justice.” The hooded man assured. Tears welled in your eyes, your throat closed in on itself. You nodded quickly and closed the door once the man had left.

You never saw Astarion’s body. It was a morbid thought, sure. To wish to see the mutilated corpse of your best friend was a sentiment not shared by many. You assumed his body had already been handed off, most likely to his parents. Oh Gods, you wonder if his mother has seen the cold mangled body of her young son. You’d have to check on her eventually. You wonder if he was handled with care. Did the hooded man carry Astarion in his arms to pass him onto his father? Or was he perhaps shipped in a cramped box, tossed on their doorstep with no regard to the remains of the young boy, who had so much life ahead of him?

You lost track of how long you mourned. You would never see him again. You’d never hear his voice, look into his beautiful brown eyes. You missed him so bad it would keep you up at night, your head hurt from staying awake so long, yet your chest hurt from the idea of falling asleep and having a singular moment of not thinking of him.

After a while, you finally started to allow yourself to rest. After that, you began letting yourself enjoy things. You started getting invited to large parties hosted by Cazador, as some effort to apologize for the tragedy that had befallen your closest friend on his property. A cold case as it had been declared after almost a month. You attended a few, you couldn’t help but be made uncomfortable by the atmosphere, the guests seemed off, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched every time you set foot near Cazador’s palace, for no particular reason. Perhaps it was Astarion’s ghost keeping watch over you.

It had been your first time leaving Baldur’s Gate in years. Except for a short trip to your and Astarion’s parents you had taken a few weeks after his death, you hadn’t left in the many years since his untimely demise. You still remember that trip vividly, the smell of the countryside, and how everyone seemed to walk on eggshells to avoid speaking of the no-longer-present boy.

You weren’t doing anything particularly important on this trip, simply looking around at whatever there was to find. You had found your way to a busy market, scents of fresh bread and lavender and bright silky fabrics overwhelmed your senses when one thing caught your attention. A head of platinum curls. The head turned towards you and you swear you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was him, Astarion, undoubtedly. He’s changed, barely recognizable if you hadn’t known him like the back of your hand. You felt like you would be sick, seeing the dead boy clearly not dead. His once sun-kissed skin was now a ghastly shade of white. Cinnamon brown eyes now ran a shade of red, dark as blood. It was jarring, seeing the boy you once loved so suddenly in such a vastly different state. Yet, his nose remained the same, as did his high cheekbones, his hair hadn’t changed one bit, except perhaps it was a bit messier now.

“Astarion!” You yelled before you could stop yourself. Your feet carried you to him as if it was second nature to be as close to him as possible. “Astarion!” His head turned towards you, his ruby red eyes giving you a once over before widening in surprise. You saw him take a step back, like a scared dog. You stopped running, only a few steps away from him. “How? How are you here right now?”

“I’m sorry who are you?” He asks. His eyes tell exactly what his mouth won’t, the same way they always have. He knows exactly who you are.

“Don’t play dumb.” You start, he flinches away. “You know who I am.” A few people look over at him, friends you presume. You inspect each of them, what a team he’s gathered. One of the few, a rather tall tiefling walks up to you with her fists clenched. As she approached it was like heat radiated off of her. She was about to open her mouth when a man who seemed rather keen on minding his own business stopped her. She continued glaring. “We need to talk.” You hissed to the man in front of you.

“Whatever it is that you want, I can’t provide.” His voice shook ever so slightly. Anger rose in you, he had left for 200 years and been presumed dead only to reappear and act as if he was scared of you.

“Astarion.” You said, warning in your tone. Silence hangs in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. “We need to talk.” You repeated. “Alone.” You could only imagine how you looked to his friends at the moment, a strange person running towards Astarion and insisting on privacy for a conversation. You hardly cared at the moment, too lost in inspecting every curve and line of your best friend’s face. After a second he looked towards the group and nodded them away wordlessly, he held the gaze of the tiefling a second longer.

“Well, guide the way.” He said in a faux confident manner. You huffed and turned on your heel. You lead him away from the bustle of the market, somewhere you two were ensured privacy. You found yourself near a murky pond, shaded by trees, and inhabited by large bullfrogs. Just as it became most important for you to speak, you felt your throat close up. Your mouth ran dry as you looked at him.

“I thought you were dead.” Your voice held a mixture of anger and hurt. You felt tears sting your eyes and you tried to blink them away.

“You’ve done quite enough, you don’t need to lie to me now.” He said. His eyes were wider now, his lips were pressed in a thin line. In stark contrast to the confident way he had held himself around his companions.

“I- what?” You asked breathlessly.

“I said you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You have some nerve.” Astarion started. He pointed an accusatory finger at you, his face now flushed red. “Coming after me after Gods know how long, only to pretend you didn’t see me at my worst? When I was nothing more than Cazador’s spawn. You disregarded me then, why do you think you have the right to crawl back to me now.”

You felt hot tears dare to fall out of your eyes at his seemingly unwarranted anger. He looked at you like you were nothing but a monster. “Cazador’s spawn?” You repeated quietly. “You mean you- you’re-” You sputtered. You felt like the air had been punched from your chest.

“A vampire?” He scoffed. “You really should stop acting clueless, it’s hard to watch.”

“I am clueless.” You shot back immediately. “I had no idea, I-I thought you were dead. I heard the news that you had been murdered.” Tears fell down your cheeks and dripped down your chin before you could stop them. You sucked in a harsh breath. “If I had known you were alive I would’ve fought for you.” Your hands reached out to his chest, you didn’t know if you were trying to push him away or bring him closer.

“What?”

“Fought for you! I would’ve fought for you, through everything. I would’ve been there for you!” You sobbed.

“I thought you knew!” His hands found yours on his chest. His skin was ice cold and you almost hissed from the temperature change. “Cazador had told me you knew."

"You think I would've just abandoned you?" You cried, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt.

"You were at the parties!"

"And I had no idea you were there!" You insisted. Your salty tears clung to your lashes, and your throat hurt from yelling. "You should've told me!"

"How? How would I have told you?" His crimson eyes bore into yours.

"I don't know! I just wish I could've been there for you! I would've helped you, no matter what." Your voice broke off as you cried. Astarion didn't cry, he barely made an expression as he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice quivering. “I’m so sorry.” He still didn’t make much of an expression.

“You should go.” He said after a beat of silence.

“W-what?”

“I said you should go, anywhere but here.”

“I’m not leaving you again, Astarion.”

“Well I don’t want you here.” He insisted.

“Why not?” Your voice raised.

“Because if you stay any longer I think I’ll fall back in love with you.” His voice was quiet and collected. Your voice died in your throat.

“Fall back in love?” You murmured, as if speaking it too loudly would make it untrue. “You were in love with me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and looked away from you. He took a step back. “Yes.” He hesitated. “I was. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Cazador,” he spit the name with enough venom to burn right through you. “told me that he had told you about my… transformation, offered me to you as a warm, or cold, body, and you declined. He said you simply didn’t wish to see me anymore, that you were glad to never speak to me again.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Which is a?”

“Lie.” You finished for him. “I was told that you had died. Cazador had one of his men tell me you had been murdered. I was too lost in grief to question any further. Clearly I should have.” You laughed humorlessly. “I mourned you. Everyday. For years.”

“You did?”

“I did.” You sighed. “And I did it because I loved you. With everything I had.” Awkward stillness came once again. “Can I kiss you-” You were cut off by feeling Astarion’s cold hands grab your cheeks softly and pull you into a short, tender kiss.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He laughed airily.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For not being there.” He took a deep breath.

“Well… you’re here now.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving.” You finished

[nico-esoterica]

Rachel Chinourir—I read her chart and started crying at midnight after listening to her music

Newly 25, this super star’s experiencing her 2nd house profection year. This means that the name of the game for her this year’s gonna be all about how she’s providing for herself and proving she can be self-reliant. She’s establishing herself as an adult during that stressful period in your mid 20s when you start finding that blurry distinction between yourself and what your environment demands you be. Add an exploding fanbase and platform into the mix and whiplash is the cherry on top.

Especially since the last eclipse cycle occurred on her 1/7 axis—this means that with her Scorpio stellium, she was going through it and underwent several personal transformations and ‘realizations’ is what I’m hearing in regards to how she sees herself versus what she’s been forced to be out of survival. It was a very emotionally messy period for her for a while. But what came out of the rubble of her previous emotional life was this unbreakable will to draw that boundary and keep it firm. “I’m not like the rest of you” is what I’m hearing intuitively. Feels related to mental health. Or “I will not be”—another possibility.

(rectified time - isn't exact but close) In my experience, people with strong Scorpio influence are sponges of generational trauma they’re viscerally made aware of from an early age. An artist who comes to mind is Willow Smith who has a Sun-Mercury in Scorpio with its ruler empowering it from her 4H of home and family lineage. In recent years, we’ve learned about her family and its issues.

She’s come out of a rough period of trying to do what all m/zillennials were told regardless of the Pluto in Cap global recession hitting in ‘08—”No matter what happens, you MUST get your degree. You NEED to get that super stable job because that’s the only way you’re going to have a future.” That’s very loud in her chart to me because that Pluto was moving through her 3H of early childhood education and experiences and was forming a gnarly square over the past couple years (beginning of pandemic) to her late Aries Saturn. Means there was pressured incentive for her to ‘get her life together,’ notably from a father or authority figures in her life.

She’s always been capable but even if she could ‘hold’ said stable job, her mind was always elsewhere. Daydreaming and scribbling lyrics and poetry is what I’m hearing/seeing by looking at her Pisces Moon and Jupiter co-present in her 5th. Creative classes and activities or even artistic programs she excelled in. But the latter planet being Retrograde makes me think that she doubted her talents despite an abundance of people reassuring her that she’s gifted. Beyond gifted and has always been. Her 9H ruler of higher education (and I can see this also meaning specialized programs) being well aspected in her 5H of creativity tells me as such.

With Pluto consistently hitting her water planets since roughly 2010, because this is a planet of crisis and rebirth, she’s most likely dealt with both internal and external pressures that, on one hand, were god damn awful (her natal Sun-Uranus square on her ¼ is LOUD) and supplied a mental health minefield, they also gave her a super power for expression. She learned she found a home for it in the arts. With such an overwhelming amount of Scorpio in her 1st, it puts a psychic target on your back. You constantly feel attacked and this will be doubly true if her MC’s at a later degree in her 10th because it’ll be squaring her Mercury (and Chiron, potentially), meaning that whenever she opened her mouth, she got lambasted for it.

It’s giving, "Fix your mouth—Who do you think you’re talking to??” Her having a 10H North Node with Uranus co-present in Aquarius in her 4H with her South Node illustrates that, and I can speak about this from experience, was simply ‘different.’ Usually, having a 10/4 North vs South node link means that you, quite literally, want to catapult yourself from where you came from. You find it limiting to the point of being suffocating. Especially w/ her 6H Saturn ruling her houses related to everything family and early experiences related—Means there was an expectation about how she was supposed to act and a ‘path’ she was meant to follow and she couldn’t fit her edges within the smooth yet predictable edges of that circle—Cycle. When you have Uranus in these houses, especially in Saturnian signs like Capricorn or Aquarius, this means that your environment will often flow one way and you will flow the opposite or in several directions at once. It means that you are potentially on different generational and socio-political axes and will contribute to feeling like Marvin The Martian in your own home. It often leads to finding refuge in creative outlets. And we find that next door with her IC, Jupiter, and Moon in her 5th.

With Saturn transiting here since last year, she’s been establishing herself independently as an artist and has been met with great upward momentum and success. The craft she’s been nurturing and building for years (Saturn) trining that Scorpio stellium is presenting rewards for that work and her willingness to be vulnerable in an oversaturated industry that relies on gimmick and polish. Her Mercury-Neptune sextile exact in a fame degree that’s also making a lovely aspect to her Moon—Her music is uncomfortably intimate and honest, especially to anyone that’s neurodivergent or on the margins (strictly going by her chart alone). These qualities in music’s current landscape are rare and they’ll be what distinguish her as an artist and keep her fed. 

But with her benefiting from the current eclipse cycle firing up her 6H of what many of us ‘do’ for a living w/ her Saturn here (in preparation for her Saturn Return), her biggest challenge is not letting her perfectionist anxiety over her work’s ‘worthiness’ to others with their eyes officially on her cause her to self-sabotage or become self-conscious. She’s got the audience and has built it up but with explosive momentum and ‘overnight’ success comes the potential for our boundaries to weaken because we’re suddenly hyper-aware of ourselves.

Due to her tendency to self-monitor (most likely as a learned response), her Scorpio Mercury ruled Virgo Mars can cause her to suffocate her own self expression because she’s so used to being fucked with. And with that Mars ruling her fame degree Retrograde Aries Saturn, she never knows when enough’s enough—Have I done enough? Is this even good? I know it’s good! But is it really? Maybe I should work harder. I’ll work harder—Cycle, Rinse and Repeat. This is giving child of immigrants energy. I know so many of you feel called out by this right now.

Her debut album’s release looks promising. The 2H for her ruler of the year (Jupiter) is in Capricorn and she started blowing up on socials during Saturn’s months (Jan-Feb). The activation points where we’re going to see the most activity will be during this release in Aries and Taurus season (April-May). What’s interesting is that since the upcoming eclipse in April is hitting the album chart’s Mercury (almost exactly) a whole month prior, I fully anticipate a notable person (esp w/ Aries placements) to pull another Adele and uplift her or vouch for her in some way.

When Adele did, Jupiter was exactly opposite her Sun and it occurred during those Saturnian months and their charts have a bundle of points suggesting very strong synastry. It also happening right before Rachel’s lunar return with Adele’s NN hitting said Moon natally honestly felt like fate if we’re going strictly by the stars alone. And I also predict she’ll go viral during Virgo season (her lord of the year ruler’s 10H) because in September, the Gemini Jupiter floating around will be applying an exact square to her natal Jupiter. I think it’ll be totally beneficial but it can represent her adjusting (or needing TO) that’s uncomfortable at first (related to her image, sound, etc) that’ll benefit her in the long run. Jupiter in Gemini in her ruler’s chart in its 7H is giving contracts or boundaries-type vibes. Or even social expectations.

After writing this I heard The Hills and Maybe I'm Lonely and felt my old self seen in a way I don't think I've ever related to an artist expressing. Is this what it felt like when young Gen Xs in the 90s heard Hole or Nirvana's soul-piercing vocals for the first time? Because I honestly have chills.

That Scorpio Stellium of hers in her first and her 29 degree Mercury are indicators of the potential for meteoric fame in the eyes of the collective, but it'll be close and intimate.

When she comes to LA, I'm buying a concert ticket.

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

culture shock

It had been decided that the Ilsabard Contingent would stay until next summer for the moment, with an early possible leave date of spring. While things had much improved in Garlemald, the winter promised to be even more unnaturally cold than the last. And heralded the arrival of even more powerful monsters. Jullus had remembered Lucia mulling over the scouts' reports, before sighing gustily and muttering something about 'culture shock'. Then she'd requested a meeting with the interim government at Senatus. The rumor had it that she'd requested permission for a representative of an expert group of monster-hunters to come to Garlemald to present themselves and offer their skills.

(Too late did it occur to anyone to ask Lucia just who the monster-hunters were exactly...)

------

Eorzeans were mad.

No, he needed to narrow that down.

Ishgardians were absolutely, positively, fucking insane.

"Jullus, hello!"

"Reinhardt?!" The younger man choked out. With a snick, Reinhardt's helm smoothly slid into the collar of his drachen mail, and he offered a wave. The large white dragon next to him laughed, the sound resembling falling rocks.

"Heard you wanted to speak to the professional monster-hunters."

"I-I thought Clan--Clan Centrio was..." Jullus stammered out. More huffing laughter from the dragon, who fixed Reinhardt with a gimlet eye.

~Did not anyone warn them of my coming?~

"Lucia might have decided to go 'better to ask forgiveness than permission.'" Reinhardt replied, shrugging. "But regardless. Jullus, may i introduce Vedrfolnir, direct son of Hraesveglr of the First Brood, and grandson to Midgardsormr, Father of Dragons. Vedrfolnir, this is Jullus pyr Norbanus." The formality snapped Jullus out of his shock, and he faced Vedrfolnir. Mind racing--how did one introduce themselves to a dragon?!--he opted for a salute. Hopefully it wouldn't take offense.

"Ser!" Vedrfolnir cackled again.

~I thank you for your courtesy, young warrior. There is no need for formalities around me.~ Only then did Jullus realize that he could hear the dragon's voice 'speaking' inside his head.

~I also ask you forgive my impertinent grandson. He has manners, but generally doesn't use them.~

"Please! There's no pro..." Jullus trailed off. "Wait. Grandson?"

"Remember how I told you once I have the curse because an ancestor of mine partook of dragon-blood?" Reinhardt began. "It turned out Vedrfolnir was the dragon."

~It was quite pleasing to find my human kin once again, or at least one of them.~ Vedrfolnir rumbled. ~Reinhardt has spoken at length of your situation here. We have young wanting to seek out hunting-grounds, and your lands promise much enrichment for them. I offered to be an ambassador to speak with your leaders.~

"I...see." Jullus got out. "You're more than welcome to stay, but I admit, I don't know where we can house you..." He trailed off as Vedrfolnir laughed again.

~You do not have to worry about housing and food for me. I spotted a cave nearby that will do me well, and some rather tasty-looking beastkin on the way down.~ The dragon swung his head towards Reinhardt. ~Call if you have need of me.~

"I will." Reinhardt promised. "Considering how late it is, Lucia may have the senators meet you tomorrow morning." Vedrfolnir nodded, turning on a wing and ascending back into the sky. Jullus exhaled, sagging.

"Holy shite." He breathed.

"Sorry I couldn't give warning. The aetherical currents weren't good for the linkpearls on the way in." Reinhardt offered, apologetic.

"The way--wait. Did you fly in?!"

"From Ishgard, aye. Actually came here faster than we thought, caught some good wind currents i--" Reinhardt frowned as Jullus boggled at him. "What?"

"You're mad." Jullus said weakly. "I've told you that, right?"

----- note: this takes place in riven's timeline, not Two Young Men's own.

[morganlefaye79]

1 for Valaire, 2 for Vicco, and 7 for Joris? :3

Thank you for the ask 💜. I already answered two of them, but I try to go more into detail here. 😊

You can ask me more questions here.

Demons of War: Is there a job that has left a permanent mark on your OC?

He killed as was his job as an assassin, many people. He regrets most of them, all of those left a mark on him. When he became a merc he always tried to get the best outcome without killing, if he could. But the one kill that left him with a deep scar was the hit on the parents of his future wife. This was also the hit that made him question his life for the first time, but more would follow. When he arrived at their house, they were already waiting for him, they knew what would happen, and they knew how this would end. They were holding hands the whole time. Valaire thought they would start begging for their lives at any moment, but they didn't. They only asked him to not go after their daughter because she had nothing to do with it. Valaire killed Faye's father first, he was the main target. After that he held the gun to Clarissa's head, Faye's mother. She should have been scared, but she looked him straight into his soul, asking again to not hurt her daughter. Valaire hesitated for a moment, he didn't want to kill her, but then the gun went off, to this day he can't say if he pulled the trigger, but he must have, didn't he? He didn't know who his victims were at this point and he only found out that this particular kill were Faye's parents when they were already married. So he kept his mouth shut and never told her. Until he thought he would die and had a goodbye email prepared that was sent to her while he has fallen into a coma.

They stayed friends after their divorce in 2078, when he married Kerry instead, since it was a convenience marriage from the start, but she never could forgive him that he killed her parents.

Oops, I made it more angsty! 😎 @wanderingaldecaldo

Lt. Mower: What is the worst betrayal your OC has faced?

For all bad things that happened to Vicco, betrayal was never part of it. They sometimes felt betrayed, but at closer look it never was. All his life Vicco thought his parents to have abandon him for whatever reason, so he felt betrayed, truth is, they died. I wouldn't call them good parents at all, but maybe they would have been able to raise him to a better person as he is. He knew many kids that were living with him on the streets, with some of those he was very close, all of them vanished at some point and he never saw them again. This also might feel like betrayal. But this happened on a daily basis in NC. People vanish, never to be seen or heard from again. When Valaire ended their relationship, Vicco also felt betrayed, but soon enough they came to the realisation that this was just the consequence of (on the bigger part) of their actions and inability to show Valaire what he meant to them.

Discount Doc: Is your OC good at improvising? Would they survive a mission under prepared?

Joris is normally well prepared before going on a mission. But there can always be occurances that no one could have thought of. Since he is first and foremost a netrunner he is rarely onsite during missions, but has already prepared escape routes and the likes if neccesary. If he is onsite, he always has his sandevistan as a backup but he uses it only when he has to, as mentioned it causes him pain on a daily basis, but after using it, it is far worse. He is also very often Vicco's backup, not because Vicco isn't capable enough to work on his own, but rather too daring sometimes, that he is spotted or something bugs Vicco that he goes in gun blazing without talking this through beforehand. Joris doesn't approves of this behavior, but what can he possibly do when it's already too late?

[jacqcrisis]

Wrote up a story concept for priest man and fucking Darren

Newly appointed priest man moves to a small town in bumfuck wherever to help out at the old ass church since the current father is starting to age out. It's a bit of an adjustment, and the locals aren't super friendly to the new city boy preacher at first, but they grow on each other and he starts to fit it.

Almost immediately though, the priest has to deal with the volunteers, most specifically the early 40s something dad Darren who owns his own local construction company, who has a shocking amount of time on his hands as his business is big enough now he doesn't have to work 80 hours a week, and who has a vested interest in fixing the historic church's crumbling architecture. Now, this wouldn't be too bad, and Darren is a wonderful, jovial man, but the problem is he's every ounce the image of masculine temptation our priest joined the church to get away from. And this motherfucker, having marital issues and who is clearly avoiding spending time with his family, is around all the time.

So he avoids Darren as much as he can, keeping their conversations to solely about the church and this works. Sure, his incubus has a habit of doing work shirtless and he has a horrible personal space issue and he keeps touching the priest in all sorts of small town friendly manners and there are a lot of moments where they are alone but the priest is handling it. He wasn't going to go through life without temptation and this is merely another test from the Lord.

And then two things happen back to back that make things infinitely harder: Darren confesses to the sin of engaging in 'homosexual thoughts about someone within the church' and his wife requests the priest counsel them in their failing marriage, both together and one on one. God help this poor man, he is not going to survive late night talks with Darren, talking about how he needs to be a better man for his wife and put out more for the sake of his marriage. Intimate, potentially sexual conversations, alone and in a position of power with a man he knows isn't doing what he's supposed to be doing because he's struggling with the same shit as the priest and who the priest wants to ride into the mattress.

He does his job, the marriage shockingly gets better for the wife, but Darren is still spending a lot of time at the church. He and the priest become friends, those initial feelings of lust becoming subsumed into a blossoming romantic love that they do nothing about for a while, quiet moments filled with the kind of tension of two people thinking the same thing they could do but can't do at the same time. It's actually kind of nice as that initial panicked attraction has waned and the priest is excusing it for friendship and leaving it at that even if he's still catching himself daydreaming of something more.

Comes to a head one evening after another fight with the wife and Darren is at the church. They're both drinking, not a lot, but enough to start openly flirting and the guards come down, and a big old mistake happens here in this house of God. The next morning, neither of them are mad about, or feeling much guilt, but they agree 'alright we got it out of our system, let's not talk or think about it again'.

Obviously, that doesn't happen. It's hard to be alone now despite not jumping each others bones because the meaning of what had occured was more than they'd like to admit and the possibility of it happening again is all too real when no one but the saints adorning the walls are around. On top of that, there's gossip going around town due to how much time they're spending together, spread mostly by Darren's jaded wife who found some interesting things on his computer, and the town is beginning to turn hostile.

Eventually, they accept things cant continue this way and admit to wanting more. The priest gets kicked out of the church and becomes an accountant for the construction company. Darren gets a divorce thank fucking God and they move to the small city where most of Darren's business is anyways, both happier and more fulfilled than they thought they could be.

[synchronousemma]

10th October: A pilfering occurs

Read the post and comment on WordPress

Read: Vol. 3, ch. 19; pp. 318–319 (“In this state of suspense” to “able to fix her wedding-day”).

Context

Someone robs Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house of all of her turkeys. Consequently, Emma and Mr. Knightley are able to set the date of their wedding.

We know that this occurs after Harriet and Robert Martin's wedding in September, and before the end of October.

Readings and Interpretations

How Much Poultry Would a Poultry Pilferer Pilfer?

We last left our couple in a state of suspense as to when Mr. Woodhouse’s sensibilities (and Emma’s concern for them) would allow them to marry. Then “Mrs. Weston’s turkey coop is robbed, and the problem is resolved” (Paris, p. 93).

Many critics point out the contrived nature of this resolution. Bernard Paris writes:

The manipulated ending is in complete accord with the laws and spirit of comedy. It saves Emma from having to make a painful choice, and it reconciles Mr. Woodhouse to the marriage. It serves Jane Austen’s thematic purposes by maintaining the illusion of Emma’s maturation. By arranging the world to fit Emma’s defensive needs, she obscures the psychological realities which she has portrayed so vividly. She does not want us to see, nor can she afford to see consciously herself, the severity of Emma’s father problem and the fact that it is unresolved. (ibid.)

Paris connects Emma’s late situation to that of Frank Churchill, in that both characters had been subject to “the damaging effects of manipulation by sick, life-denying parental figures”; on this topic “Austen has, understandably, no wisdom to offer. All that she can propose is to follow the self-effacing (or the perfectionistic) route of doing one’s duty” (p. 94). Thus the only solution is contrived incident which also serves to support the novel’s moral ethos:

[...] Emma is not forced by her situation to suspend the marriage. It would have been perfectly moral for her to proceed, expressing all the while her love and concern for her father. His unhappiness would have passed. Jane Austen’s amused tone suggests that she has some awareness of the irrationality of Emma’s decision, but she seems, nevertheless, to be basically sympathetic toward her heroine’s self-sacrificial behavior. She could not have had Emma behave differently, of course. Emma behaves as she must. But it was within the power of [Austen’s] rhetoric, if she had had a clear enough vision, to suggest the destructiveness of Emma’s solution and the preferability of the Knightleys’ alternative. As we have seen, Emma is in this instance saved from the consequences of her psychological problems by authorial manipulation of the plot. Form and theme work well together here. The comic action accords with the picture of the world which accompanies the self-effacing solution. Reality is antagonistic to Emma’s wishes as long as she is proud. When she becomes humble and unselfish, fortune turns in her favor. Virtue is rewarded. (ibid.)

Thus also Margaret Kirkham:

The final precipitation of the marriage, by Mr Woodhouse’s anxieties about a local poultry thief, is plainly intended to be taken lightly. While it fits perfectly with his character, the author expects us to enjoy the joke as she finds a piece of comic business with which to facilitate the wedding without which the book cannot be ended. I think that the reader is also supposed to see by this time what the schematic structure has been, and how an unlikely, even an absurd, plot has been worked upon so that it does not violate Nature or probability. At this point, if not before, we are to stand back from the fiction and its characters—to experience the mild alienation which results from being shown the constructional nuts and bolts—and, as we see that there was never any possibility of things working out in any other way, to ask what this particular handling of a stock situation shows us about it. (p. 125)

Michael Suk-Young Chwe also notes the manipulated nature of the robbery, but speculates that it may be attributable to Emma herself:

This “accidental” manipulation comes out of nowhere, like the gypsies who allow Frank Churchill to rescue Harriet, but it is not implausible. Austen shows us that seemingly impossible situations can be overcome with just the right change of circumstances, and what seems like a disadvantage, even the entire reason for the problem in the first place, can be used to one’s advantage. A successful manipulation is always possible if you are creative enough. Maybe the thievery was just a rumor created by Emma or her confederates, as one of the poultry houses reportedly robbed belonged to Mrs. Weston, Emma’s closest friend. Maybe Austen is showing off her own strategic thinking skills: the problem is posed at the very beginning of the novel, remains unchanged throughout, and the reader is given plenty of time to think of a solution. For Austen it is easy. (p. 185)

For Karen Newman, this prosaic incident is a telling example of how, in Austen, “our conventional expectations are often met but at the same time undermined by self-consciousness and parody” (p. 704); “Austen’s comic conclusions […] reveal the gap between sentimental ideals and novelistic conventions on the one hand, and the social realities of sexist prejudice, hypocrisy, and avarice on the other” (p. 705).

The Provisions of Poverty

It is also notable that this manipulated ending turns on poverty and food. Michael Lee writes that here “a food plot involving someone in or around the community who is impoverished enough to steal poultry becomes a stepping-stone for the marriage plot, disappearing along with the final obstacle of Mr. Woodhouse’s resistance to make way for ‘the perfect happiness of the union’” (p. 374). Though ultimately “disappear[ed]” by the plot, the hint at a starving populace remains unsettling. Sheryl Craig notes that “in Jane Austen’s lifetime, the economy had never been worse”; thus the poultry incident reminds the reader “of the hunger that must be allayed in order to maintain private property” (p. 140).

In the late 18th century, the enclosure of previously common land proved disastrous to the livelihoods of the rural poor: Janet Todd notes that

The loss of rights over ‘the commonable land which belongs to the parishioners in general’ deprived commoners of those small amounts of grazing and arable produce which enabled them to sustain economic independence, leaving them with what they could earn in wages from the large landowners. The price of a loaf of bread rose 600 per cent between the 1780s and 1801, and in the same period agricultural wages rose only about 20 per cent. Already on 17 January 1795 the Hampshire Chronicle recorded the acute distress of rural workers and commended the good people of the city for having raised £287 for relief of distress caused by the bad harvest. On 16 March 1795 the same paper carried a report on the continuing distress of the poor due to the high cost of meat and wheat, and on 27 April it reported that on 12 April 500 men of the Oxfordshire militia stationed near Seaford ‘notwithstanding the endeavours of the officers had taken arms and with bayonets fixed’ seized a vessel laded with flour at Newhaven. (p. 190)

During Austen’s time, the Poor Law placed a tax on landowners with which the country’s very poorest were to be fed: “no one could be allowed to starve to death” (Craig, p. 33), though provisions were scant (see Clark and Dutton, pp. 190–1). This law did not enjoy universal popularity. Margaret Doody places the pilfering of poultry within the context of political debate (spurred by the likes of Thomas Malthus and Herbert Spenser) about whether it were not more economically sound simply to allow the poor to starve and die. The former’s “most recent pamphlets (1814; 1815) defended the ‘Corn Laws’ banning importation of grain into England. Ostensibly Christian, Malthus advocated the sad necessity of denying food to the poor. Charity extended to keep people from dying constituted a danger to the economy” (p. 359).1 While Emma “engages in no overt philosophical commentary or argument as to whether it is right or inevitable to let the poor starve and die,” Doody argues that it is “a sustained riposte” to Malthus: “people are constantly engaged in feeding each other” in Highbury, frequently “feed[ing] those who are below them in status or income” (p. 359). Mr. Woodhouse’s reaction to the turkey theft is thus an “implicit critique” of Malthus and those who follow his principles:

“Pilfering was housebreaking to Mr. Woodhouse’s fears” (Emma, III, ch. 19). The narrative ridicules Mr. Woodhouse’s definition, even though the thieves indeed broke into an enclosure. Austen here indirectly casts ridicule on the “Alton Association,” wealthy landowners offering a reward of two guineas for information regarding stealing of poultry from enclosed ground […]. The Association zealously seeks to punish hungry persons who take turnips from the fields. (ibid.)

Particularities of the Picturesque

Does the poultry incident have anything to do with an earlier, similarly contrived, occurrence between Frank and Harriet? Willam Galperin describes how theories that govern “picturesque landscape” influence the rules of “realistic narrative” and domestic comedy (p. 21). In particular, Austen’s handling of Harriet’s encounter with the “gypsies” reflects how “the picturesque innoculates itself to […] irruptions of the other […] by admission of tempered variety and managed incident”; they are narratively “contain[ed]” and so “not a threat to the world of this novel” (ibid.). The “more ‘natural’” Frank/Harriet narrative that Emma had constructed out of that incident, however, “also projects the gypsies’ instrumentality in an order—specifically a social hegemony—that requires […] that the gypsies be taken seriously” (p. 21).2 For Galperin, the poultry theft is another moment that makes the “gypsies” instrumental in a “‘natural’” narrative (this time the Emma/Knightley match):

[...] [A]t the very end of the novel, by which point Emma is herself subject to the very [marriage] plot over which she had earlier contrived to exert control, the consummation of the story, and the strengthening of social hegemony through the consolidation of the Woodhouse and Knightley estates, is effectively motivated by the reappearance of the gypsies. Although initially resistant to his daughter’s marriage, as he is to almost any change in his everyday routine, Emma’s valetudinarian father cheerfully consents to her marriage, and to the addition of George Knightley to his household, but only in the wake of a rash of poultry pilferings in his neighborhood, which he is convinced are preliminary to housebreaking.

These pilferings—which are the work of gypsies (for there are no other suspects in the novel so far as I can tell)—are no more a threat to the social fabric of Highbury than they are likely to escalate to more invasive crimes that require, as the narrator puts it, a “son-in-law’s protection” [p. 318]. Rather the thefts, however unanticipated, are a device, a contrivance really, by which a social whole, no less than an aesthetic [picturesque] whole, perpetuates and legitimizes itself. And in this sense, they are, like the variety and activity that the picturesque composes into union, anticipated surprises: a feared and therefore palpable “roughness” to which the community, no less than the realistic domestic comedy that Austen is alleged to have written (and to some extent has written here), is continually on the alert. (ibid.)

Thus the picturesque and its derivative “theories, at once aesthetic and political,” demand a “containment of the other” that is “an opposition to substantive change and ultimately to any practice that might be deemed counterhegemonic” (ibid).

Galperin does not, however, read the novel as ultimately conservative: “despite all that Emma provides the readers by way of understanding the world it represents, it does not extend or govern that understanding sufficiently to contain the oppositional practices of characters who are plainly less reconciled to society than are other characters” (p. 22). These “oppositional practices” may be grasped by readers and especially by rereaders: “Numerous incidents and elements in the novel, including the famous Box Hill episodes—what another character, Mrs. Elton enthusiastically (and tellingly) imagines will be “a sort of gipsy party” [vol. 3, ch. 6 [42]; p. 232]—yield up possibilities to which readers […] are never directly guided by the narrator, yet to which, on subsequent readings, they are likely to be quite attentive” (ibid.). Thus Austen “make[s] the experience or consumption of the text” itself a “potentially oppositional” practice (ibid.).

Galperin’s solution to the identity of the poultry thieves is not accepted by all commenters. Jillian Heydt-Stevenson writes that “[t]he final enigma—who robbed Mrs Weston’s poultry-house ‘of all her turkies’?—remains unanswered, though, like the novel’s other riddles, it goes far to enable a wedding” (p. 164).

Footnotes

On Malthusian arguments (“[t]he opprobrium toward the hungry by the new political economy”) and food in Austen see also Lee, pp. 375–9.

See also “The Stuff of Romance.”

Discussion Questions

Does this ending seem contrived to you? How does its naturalness (or lack thereof) reflect on the construction of the novel as a whole?

What do you think Austen’s views on poverty were likely to be? Can we tell from her fiction?

Who do you think is likely to have committed the poultry thefts? Are we meant to be able to figure it out?

Bibliography

Austen, Jane. Emma (Norton Critical Edition). 3rd ed. Ed. Stephen M. Parrish. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, [1815] 2000.

Chwe, Michael Suk-Young. Jane Austen, Game Theorist. Princeton: Princeton University Press (2013).

Clark, Robert, and Gerry Dutton. “Agriculture.” In Jane Austen in Context, ed. Janet Todd. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press (2005), pp. 185–193.

Craig, Sheryl. Jane Austen and the State of the Nation. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan (2015).

Galperin, William. “The Picturesque, the Real, and the Consumption of Jane Austen.” The Wordsworth Circle 28.1 (Winter 1997), pp. 19–27.

Heydt-Stevenson, Jillian. “Games, Riddles and Charades.” In Sabor (2015), pp. 150–65. DOI: 10.1017/CBO9781316014226.013.

Kirkham, Margaret. Jane Austen, Feminism and Fiction. London: The Althone Press (1997).

Lee, Michael Parrish. “The Nothing in the Novel: Jane Austen and the Food Plot.” Novel 45.3 (Fall 2012), pp. 368–88. DOI: 10.1215/00295132-1722998.

Newman, Karen. “Can This Marriage Be Saved: Jane Austen Makes Sense of an Ending.” ELH 50.4 (Winter 1983), pp. 693–710. DOI:10.2307/2872923.

Paris, Bernard. “Emma.” In Character and Conflict in Jane Austen’s Novels: A Psychological Approach. Detroit: Wayne State University Press (1978), pp. 64–95.

[mercurygray]

What is the idea you can't wait to work on? Why haven't you started it yet? GET STARTED!!!

Okay, this isn't really a 'can't wait to work on it' idea, and more that there's a part of my brain going "But you already have 2 OCs for this fandom at home, and you can't have any more until you work on THEM."

But. You asked. So.

Usually my characters start with a canon character (in this case Aegon) and a desired ending, which is usually a romance of some sort, and usually I can sit down and put those two things together and something will happen, but this one is…elusive.

You and I were talking the other day about middle tier nobility and how we don't seem to see a lot of them in Westeros except as throw-away names in background scenes and as members of the Kingsguard. And it occurred to me it would be highly satisfying for Aegon (because he's…Aegon) to be chasing the Cargylls' sister. (The teasing possibilities are endless!) Crownlands families all do something in service to the king, and she's well placed to see her brothers often.

Aegon has lower-hanging fruit to pick where sex is concerned - she's not important enough to be totally absent from his attention, but noticeable enough to know that the tricks he plays with the chamber maids won't quite work on her. She has a position - mistress of the robes, responsible for all of the textiles in Helaena's part of the royal household (something something dirty jokes about needles and slits). And she has a family, obviously, but she still doesn't have a name, and perhaps more importantly, in my head she doesn't quite have a…a way of being, yet, unless it's this slightly…uncomfortable notion that she pities Helaena, and she allows Aegon in because she wants to …protect the princess? And she also pities Aegon, because she knows what a caring father looks like, and because she sees more than most do of a bored, poorly used man who uses alcohol and fast living to dull what could be a first-class mind.

But no name yet. I feel she needs a name.

Lately my groupchat, aka my chief co-conspirators, have been talking a lot about starting manageable projects, and right now, everything House of the Dragon just feels like it's got to be huge, and what I've written up there would take a LOT of time to develop in a way that makes sense. Right now I just want to get to the gooey center romance bit and that's no good.

And then even if I did work on it no one would read it, which is a different problem, but one I would need to work around. I'm not excited about this idea enough for it to be self-sustaining.

So right now I'm not working on that, because I just don't have time. It's just on idle in the back of my brain.

[theexodvs]

My father and my mother were high school sweethearts. Whether by coincidence or because she followed him there, they ended up at the same university. After babysitting homeschooled children while they were dating and growing wary of the culture’s lies, she refused to marry my father unless he fully supported her decision to homeschool her future children. And he agreed.

They did mission work in Central America for a time, before deciding to come back to the US to raise and educate their children. Not long after having my brother, and possibly in my lifetime, my father became the object of a female coworker’s attention. She wished to travel in the same vehicle with him and sleep in the same hotel rooms, with constant flirty behavior. There were (and still are) no state laws for workplace sexual harassment where he had placed his family. However, since the trips in question would have brought them across state lines, he might have been able to lawyer up and sue her for “harassment” in federal court. But he didn’t. Instead, he showed her grace while putting up boundaries, and maintained a completely professional relation with her until she was transferred to a different department and never spoke with him again. Throughout all this, my mother remained the sole object of his affection. He did not have to resort to the nuclear option in order to prove his loyalty to her. This remains my model of both loyalty to one’s spouse and how to deal with colleagues who wish to lure the faithful into sin.

I was late for several milestones due to poisoning in the well water at our house. We do not know what metals caused this; mercury would have manifested differently and lead would have a more permanent effect. Whatever the case, I was misdiagnosed with a developmental delay, and due to the happy accident of Andrew Wakefield’s fraudulent study, I was put on the expensive therapy that is chelation. This would have been around the time my sister was born, and my brother was not even four years old, all in one of the poorest areas of the US. Dad had to pick up two jobs just to keep us afloat. Because he agreed to marry Mom under the condition that she homeschooled, her picking up a full-time job was out of the question. I have seen many men in similar situations have affairs or develop addictions. Dad did neither. He was irritable, and took it out on us maybe a few too many times, as he was never taught how to properly handle his anger. I would not, however, describe his behavior as abusive, and he has never once hit Mom. All things considered, he was under pressures far more immense than I can even conceptualize. He modeled loyalty to my mother, respect for the particulars of his marriage covenant, kindness to his family, and devotion to his calling during a period of great sanctification.

Eventually he found a job that would keep all five of us fed and allow him to pay off his remaining debts. Mom developed various spending and saving habits to make sure that we could survive if anything ever occurred to bring them back to a previous state. Various other female colleagues would make advances on him, but he spoke in a manner bordering on obsession about “the Mrs.” and how wonderful of a woman she actually was. They had arguments, some quite heated, but he took the words of Paul the Apostle seriously, “Do not let the sun go down on your anger.” He never promised not to get angry, or even to avoid an explosive temper, but when he realized the damage he had done, he worked to make things right with those whom he had wronged. He modeled regret, remorse, and justice.

Eventually, after all of us were grown, my dad “quit.” That is legally what happened, anyway. In reality, two people my mom unabashedly describes as sociopaths came to view Dad as an enemy, and backstabbed him. He decided to quit and take the stipend before they had time to mar his resume. I was a semester and some change from graduating and my brother was already completely moved out, but my sister was a few years away from completing her degree and my mom had not worked in almost twenty years. He spent a good five months looking for work, which put him in a panic, wondering how to feed and house Mom and put my sister through the rest of her time at school. He did and said some crazy things. At the end of it, he was able to relax after finding a job that was suitable for his needs. Though he was not stable during that time, his foremost concern was my mom and sister. This was the most recent major test of his quality as a husband and father, and he definitely proved himself worthy. It was fortunately a remote job, as he got it about three weeks after news stories hit of a virus spreading from Wuhan, China. He has kept the same job since, being able to eventually move himself and my mom back to their hometown, living out their lives as empty-nest gulfrats (self-described), and they would not be happier any other way.

Through his thirty-two years as a husband and twenty-seven as a father, Dad had some vices, but he modeled far more virtues. If I get married one day, I will ask his advice often, and already have in order to be the best prospective husband I could be in previous relationships. If I have children of my own, I will ask his advice often, and though my parenting style will not be the exact same, I will take what worked and apply it.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

[mydarlinginej]

read my full review of juniper & thorn by ava reid here.

From highly acclaimed bestselling author Ava Reid comes a gothic horror retelling of The Juniper Tree, set in another time and place within the world of The Wolf and the Woodsman, where a young witch seeks to discover her identity and escape the domination of her wizard father, perfect for fans of Shirley Jackson and Catherynne M. Valente.

A gruesome curse. A city in upheaval. A monster with unquenchable appetites.

Marlinchen and her two sisters live with their wizard father in a city shifting from magic to industry. As Oblya’s last true witches, she and her sisters are little more than a tourist trap as they treat their clients with archaic remedies and beguile them with nostalgic charm. Marlinchen spends her days divining secrets in exchange for rubles and trying to placate her tyrannical, xenophobic father, who keeps his daughters sequestered from the outside world. But at night, Marlinchen and her sisters sneak out to enjoy the city’s amenities and revel in its thrills, particularly the recently established ballet theater, where Marlinchen meets a dancer who quickly captures her heart.

As Marlinchen’s late-night trysts grow more fervent and frequent, so does the threat of her father’s rage and magic. And while Oblya flourishes with culture and bustles with enterprise, a monster lurks in its midst, borne of intolerance and resentment and suffused with old-world power. Caught between history and progress and blood and desire, Marlinchen must draw upon her own magic to keep her city safe and find her place within it.

my review:

Last year, I checked out Ava Reid’s debut from the library and unexpectedly could not put it down. The same occurred for this book; I put off reading it just because I’m rarely in the mood for a fantasy now but finished it in a day. Utterly enchanting, Juniper & Thorn tells a haunting story of a witch attempting to make a place for herself outside of her abusive father’s home and discovering new magic and secrets along the way.

Marlinchen has lived a sheltered life with her two older sisters, Undine and Rose, under her xenophobic wizard father’s roof. When the three of them sneak out one night to see a ballet, Marlinchen immediately becomes enamored with one of the dancers, Sevas. This night out offsets a series of events as she begins to dream of a world outside her father’s house. However, as her father becomes more and more violent and a monster ravages the city, she must muster her courage and her magic to figure a way out.

Juniper & Thorn is a horror novel and is definitely not a book for the lighthearted. I say this not to dissuade genuinely interested readers but to make others aware of the heavy topics this book deals with, including but not limited to bulimia, parental emotional abuse, and child sexual abuse. While I enjoyed this book, I do not think it is necessarily one for everyone and encourage you to read the content warnings and possibly other reviews so that you understand the heavy nature of this book.

All this being said, I think it’s a bit difficult to review this book because talking about any of the plot is spoiler-y in a way. I will say the summary is a bit misleading; I thought Marlinchen would be sneaking out often, but that’s not the case. She sneaks out to meet Sevas once before other things occur in the plot that changes the course of the story. This book is a retelling of the fairytale The Juniper Tree, which I previously did not know anything about.

read my full review here.

[pessimisticsarc]

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSES

DARKNESS TOUCHES YOU BACK: main verse — Follows the storyline from True Detective Season 1, including the events before and after what is shown on screen.

THERE IS COMFORT THERE: fatherhood verse — Follows Rust’s life had his wife died instead of his daughter. Rust doesn’t go undercover because the events leading up to that point never happen: instead, he lives life as a single father and works in Texas as a detective in the Robbery division, then transfers to Louisiana to fill the position of Homicide detective. He doesn’t drink or smoke and goes home at the same time every day to be with his infant daughter. Divergence #1: After the Dora Lange case, Rust decides that the life of a detective is too dangerous for a man in his condition and becomes a professor in the Criminology department, often leading the Etiology of Crime & Criminality class.

THE WORLD NEEDS BAD MEN: berserk (assassin/mercenary) verse — Follow Rust’s life had he not been rescued after four years undercover. Rust wakes up handcuffed to a hospital bed after the shooting in Port Houston and is later convicted of voluntary manslaughter for the murder of the three gang members, sentenced to 11 years in prison but released on parole for good behavior in year 4. Disillusioned with the justice system that was supposed to protect him and with eight years of his life lost, he befriends the wrong people and, with his experience with weapons, he supports himself by filling multiple positions in illegal circumstances, most notably contract killing and bodyguarding for very powerful people.

THERE’S A MONSTER AT THE END: soulless verse — Based on the “came back wrong” trope. Follows the events of the series had Rust died after being mortally wounded by Errol Childress. Unfortunately, he was revived too late; his soul had already left his body, and all that was left behind was a corpse and a functioning brain. As a result, he has no feelings or empathy, only memories and an insatiable hunger for flesh and blood.

THE WESTERN BOOK OF THE UNDEAD: Supernatural related verse — Based on season 3 onwards. After a rush of demons escape from Devil’s Gate, one reaches Rust’s wife, possesses her, and kills their daughter before fleeing. Rust was there to witness it and decided to quit his job as a detective to go after them. He researched demons and supernatural creatures, meeting his fair share of them along the way. Once he finally caught up with his wife, the demon snapped her neck and fled before Rust could perform the exorcism he had been practicing for months. Without his family, Rust becomes a hunter, jumping from town to town to help with supernatural attacks and kill as many demons as possible.

TIME, DEATH AND FUTILITY: Lost Boys related verse — The Cohle’s are a long line of vampire hunters. Travis Cohle was taught by his father and his father by his grandfather, all at the age of 18. When he brought Rust back home, he hoped to one day impart the same wisdom, but he died before his son came of age. Unknowingly, Rust has encountered vampires everywhere he has lived (Alaska, Texas, and Louisiana), but it wasn’t until 2003, when he returned to Alaska, that he discovered the truth about these supernatural beings and his family’s place in the food chain.

THE TERRIBLE AND SECRET FATE OF ALL LIFE: The Walking Dead related verse — Follows the events of the series had they occurred in the 2010s. After the Dora Lange case, Louisiana is affected by the Wildfire virus. Its living population is decreasing by the day, and Rust has taken refuge in his house, surrounded by canned goods and weapons, waiting to be rescued or killed in combat.

[furrypets01]

Man hinders dog reception photoshoot yelling"Those are my dogs!"

There are a few minutes in our lives when the unforeseen occurs and it's like the universe has directed us to a specific spot which is as it should be. One Miami man encountered this firsthand when he turned out to be at the perfect locations brilliantly in the wake of losing his two dogs. Two missing huskies Sandy Hernandez lost his darling little guys over the course of the end of the week. Took off While in the lawn, the two of them bounced the wall and were off. On the off chance that you have a ton of familiarity with huskies, you know exactly the way in which far they can run. After they jumped the wall, they took off in investigation mode without the slightest hesitation. dogs can get lost pursuing fragrances and fail to remember how a long way from home they are. dogs can simply lose all sense of direction in thought! Pet Center point says: In any case, beginning gazing directly away is significant. Abandoning a concerned proprietor At the point when Sandy figured out they were gone, he looked all over. He was out presenting flyers trusting on track down his dearest companions. In the wake of getting a tip, he advanced toward the close by creature cover. At the point when he showed up, it was a game changing second that was caught on camera! A photoshoot Sea Drive Magazine was doing a photoshoot at a neighborhood cover a couple of days after Sandy lost his dogs. The occasion was held to assist with bringing issues to light for strays and protects in the city, ideally prodding individuals to take on. Photographic artists came in to take photographs of the dogs and give them a little lime-light, possibly assisting them with getting embraced! While the team was outside, they chose to take some photographs of a beautiful sets of huskies as of late found. Incredible timing The Huskies had radiant blue eyes and would look wonderful on a magazine or site first page! With a worker holding the dogs, the photographic artist began snapping photographs. The dogs appeared to be in their own reality, simply staying nearby and partaking in the occasion. With the camera rolling, we hear a vehicle pull up and an interjection! Rejoined Sandy had gotten a tip and had quite recently shown up at the safe house while they had his dogs on the front walkway! With a boisterous voice, we hear him shout, "Those are my dogs!" Sandy then runs maximum speed to see his lost puppies. At the point when he contacted them, he essentially maneuvered them into a tremendous embrace. Stunned and alleviated Sandy covered his head in the fleecy layers of his two dogs, totally defeat with feeling, while the cameras continued to roll. In something that could be out of a film scene, we see what a genuinely cheerful and eased man seems to be. After a profound and mournful hello, Sandy had the option to bring his closest companions back home. Ragnar and Cloud, the little guys, at last had their father back. With the camera actually rolling, he was shot getting into his vehicle with two cheerful and safe dogs. It appears to be that destiny and the universe required Sandy to rejoin with his two adored dogs. Watch the unfathomable gathering for yourself in the video underneath. Share this with your loved ones.   Read the full article

[mochikeiji]

Exact Replica

Request: "Hi! I really love you're writing and was wondering if you could do prompt 25+29 for Kuroo Tetsuro from Haikyuu? And could it be angst to fluff? (Maybe Kuroo was ignoring the reader due to lots of work/stress so reader feels neglected?) It's totally up to you tho! Ty so much!!"

25. "Would you notice if I was gone?"

29. "I didn't mean it."

↠ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and kuroo's sad childhood

↬ Word Count: 3.7k

↠ a/n: okay this is my longest one yet. I swear the prompt screams angst to fluff so much that I go into it.

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

Kuroo Tetsuro achieved many great things in life after graduating from his university, with multiple acknowledgements and honors. Landed a position as a young CEO from a sports association at the age of 24, he had enough money in his pocket and bank to stable both of you financially. Life was good to him after having to build from the roots  of his ruined childhood; the only years of defeat Kuroo doesn't ever want to repeat. His father and mother were in the same position as you both are; owning your own shared house, good working environment, investments and stability, married.

Up until this day Kuroo questions why his parents split. They were fortunate that they had every thing completed, sadly it was the family and love that wasn't taken care of. You could be the happiest person, yet the void inside would still be there, Kuroo thought. Foolish people were to neglect something more valuable than any object that is given. Whether it was his father or his mother that stopped nurturing what they both bonded for the longest time, they were both fools to let each other go over something simple. He vows to never let history repeat itself.

But now the tables seemed to have flipped for the both of you. Your lives not far from what he had ran away from. If Kuroo could eat his words back, he would've now that he was running late yet again to coming home, forgetting about the promise he swore to about joining you after a full month of being occupied in his office. Coming home to have you already tucked in bed, but suffering in silence.

Most days he didn't bother greeting you in the morning and night. As a good wife, you understand. He was a busy man with an important position to maintain.

There were times where you'd be tapping your foot down on the floor as the clock strikes at an ungodly hour with your messages still not bothered to be replied to or even read. But you understand. He's working! Always doing what he can for the both of you like the good husband he wanted to be.

Even if sometimes he'd come home without a kiss or a simple, "I missed you." you understand. He's drained. No time for silly, endearing affections. You've done them a lot before back when you were younger. You're adults! Married! A married partner shouldn't be feeling so needy when the other was only doing their part.

Even when sometimes your insecurities would kick in whenever you'd visit your husband to drop his forgotten lunch again, only to see him flocked by different women; probably secretaries, interns, and assistance.

You understand. You always did took such good care of what you two have.

Well had.

His home office door slams shut, awakening you from your nap on the couch. Didn't Kuroo notice you when he walked in? Looking at the clock you noticed it was near 11:30 PM since he's arrived. Late again, maybe he hasn't eaten anything? No worries, you thought sadly. Stretching your aching muscles, you made your way to the dining area. So far dinner was left untouched once more. Just how many times has it gone to waste because you continued on cooking for two?

Or rather, three.

You beam at the sudden reminder while preparing your husband's plate. You'd always miss him whenever he'd come home, never had the chance to surprise him at the right time of your little discovery about a week ago. Fear did struck you because of the possible reactions he'd give, but you were so excited in sharing the news that a couple would share the equal happiness from, you couldn't contain it any longer.

Maybe you should've chosen another time unbeknownst to you how your husband was hunched over his desk, clearly in displease of the previous events that had occurred during the meeting back in his office. Hence why his work stack added more piles of predicaments, only fueling his headaches more wishing he could just lay down peace and quiet without disturbance.

He grumbles at the knock on his door, only typing furiously with emphasized taps on the keyboard. You, not sensing the emitting aura from the room took it as a response for you to enter. It surprised you a bit on how disordered his home office had become. It was obvious his coat had been thrown carelessly as it lays on the floor, wrinkled. Carefully placing the plate full of food on the small coffee table at the side, you gingerly picked up the article of clothing. Lightly trying to smoothen out the lines before hanging it behind his door and turning back to your husband.

"Tetsu?" cautiously calling out his name, you were kind of wary at the fact he didn't turn to see you unlike he does before whenever you'd enter the room. "I brought you your dinner. You came home pretty late." you tried to maintain the light hearted tone of your voice to hide how nervous you were in telling him the big news.

The atmosphere was kind of eerie when all he did was hum meekly from your words. Feeling a bit disheartened from his lack of attentiveness, still forcing a smile, you padded a little closer behind him with your hands clasps together. "I also wanted— well needed to tell you something." averting your eyes away from him as you prepared in your head. With a small hope he'd turn around for once after a long time.

"Can it be another time? I'm in the middle of stuff here."

Another time.

Why is it always next time? It's frustrating enough to not see him or have him speak to you even for a moment, but this made your stomach churn in an unpleasant way. Frowning at his poor reply, you gulped a few of your sentence back. Not fully trusting your emotions getting in the way, "You never really talked to me before, Tetsu.. I get that you're busy, but it wouldn't hurt for you to give a little minute for me."

Even just a second as long as he'd finally notice you.

"(Y/n) if you understand then why bother? You can clearly see I'm busy." chest huffing out a harsh sigh, still not bothering to turn around. Gripping your hands tightly, your patience were starting to snap. "You're always busy, Tetsu! I never had a proper conversation with you again." raising the volume of your voice a little made his actions come to a halt. Chair revolving around to face you. His appearance made it obvious how exhausted he has been; tousled hair that he usually takes longer to style, the light forming bags underneath his eyes from the screen and lack of sleep. The visible annoyance marked in his expression. But couldn't he say the same for you?

"Fine. Here, you have my attention now. Are we talking properly now?" his way of provoking you wasn't in the right place. It only made you look at him in disbelief because you've grown to never meet such side of your husband before. The news you had originally planned to share vanished from your head, replaced with the restrained emotions that has been building up inside your heart, tipping over.

"Tetsu, what is wrong with you?" looking at him now seemed like you were talking to someone else. His words were curt and short with no intention of prolonging the conversation, itching to get back to work so he could be done with it. "I already you I'm just busy. I would be done by now if you didn't want to talk properly with me." he says as if he's the one in distraught. "Seriously, nothing's wrong but I think you aren't. You're never like this."

"That's because you never cared to noticed in the first place!" wailing out the collapsed emotions that has weighed you heavily. It was too late to stop yourself from voicing out the things your husband left aside. A full month of being a good, understanding image of a wife thrown away to the rubbles without even appreciating the the long nights of you waiting up for him, cooking meals even though the next day they'd end up being in the trash, tolerating the coldness of the used to be warm sheets, putting up with the insecurities you took upon yourself to hide to avoid troubling your husband further when all you wanted was for him to assure you that he still loves you and only you.

The fascade you put up just for him crumbles. And it infuriates you more of how he still doesn't notice.

"(Y/n), you know I've been working! There's so much stuff that needs to be attended for just so you and I could live normally!"

"Tetsuro, we are stabled, it's okay to slow down a bit. How is this any normal to you when you don't even realize how this affects me?!"

The chair slides back roughly against the floor with a loud creak as he towers over you. Glowering eyes with a dark expression looming over his face, clearly now enraged. "You're being selfish right now. I'm here doing what I can to support us and all you could think of was you, you, you. Can't you see I'm doing this for you as well? God what else do you want from me, the world?"

"I only wanted you to give me your time and attention even just for a second, Tetsuro! I've been doing my best for you all this month and I never said anything to trouble you!"

It hurts when he said how you were being the selfish one when it was the opposite. It dawned to you that all those days of giving your all for him wasn't once noticed. "Will you ever grow up already? Attention? Really? We're adults, (Y/n) not teenagers for fucks sake. My time is just wasted because of you!" he doesn't stop there even if you've had your mouth already shut from how he portrayed you as. His words were beginning to leave a deep scar in you as you quiet down to the next line.

"If you think that nothing is troubling me, there is! And you just happen to add in for crying out loud!"

There were no words exchanged after his meltdown. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks away from you— who's eyes were already watery. Unable to even tell your side anymore at the ache of your heart. "So..I'm just troubling you then?" quivering out your words, Kuroo clenches his jaw as the bubbling frustration was being held back with the last bit of restrain he had.

"Would you notice if I was gone, Tetsu?"

Instead of being alarmed by your chosen form of sentence, you watched with sad eyes as your husband pulled back his chair and faced his workload. He didn't even noticed you're already crying silently, "Not now, (Y/n). We'll talk later."

He doesn't even noticed how you walked out sobbing with a shattered heart nor the door in the living room closing. Leaving him alone for the next few hours in peace like he wanted.

Time went on quickly when one doesn't take their eyes off from their consecutive workaholic state. With a groan, he almost slams his laptop shut before stretching his bones, slowly relaxing the tense muscles. It's up to his co workers and assistance to deal with the load he's prepared to dump onto them after they threw all theirs to him. Hoping to freshen up his face, Kuroo tidies his desk up before making his way to the door. Stopping in realization of the now cold dinner that was left on the coffee table.

His stomach growled loudly at the lack of food it's digested in the longest run. It was still good if he heats it up, he does miss eating home made meals than his stale ones back in the cafeteria of his workplace. Grabbing the plate carefully he first made a short journey to the kitchen to heat up his food. Unusual it was to have all the lights out in the house. You'd always leave some opened when he was awake. Then again the guilt started to crawl up to his chest knowing he's the cause of why you'd forgotten.

Now entering the bathroom with water running down his face, he plans ahead the apology he owes you when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He could reschedule his own time since he is the boss. He closes the faucet right after he was done rinsing. Looking around for the towel his eyes caught something below the small organizer you put up next to the sink. Grabbing the towel above the first part of the organizer, bending down slowly to avoid getting cramps, his actions were quick to grab the object that caught his attention the moment it seemed so familiar and surprising.

Pregnancy test. Two lines for positive.

Having a child with you was the last thing he's yet to accomplish from his list, and here it was. As much as he wanted to be in denial, it all felt like surge of contentment drowns him in because he was going to be a dad. However his body began to tremble whilst still holding the test and staring intently at it. The previous guilt that was crawling beneath his bones became a dark, desolated hole of anxiety and fear that ate him whole. The things he's said and done will never be taken back no matter how he apologizes to the past events a few hours ago.

Hours ago. It was already 2:25 when the fight had ceased. Deep down he knows he couldn't wait until the next day to plead for forgiveness. After all, he did vow to never leave you both a day feeling heavy alone. Kuroo felt nauseous of how much of an asshole he had treated you. Like starting a game of volleyball once more, he was beyond nervous when he approached your shared bedroom. There was no excuse of his actions indeed as he solemnly enters the dimmed room. He sighs a little shaky when he closes in your bed, "Baby?" he starts, "Baby, are you awake?" it was one of the little things he's memorized that you'd do when you both aren't in good terms. You never really slept, just pretended because you always had the heart to wait up for him.

When he gets no response he reaches out to pat you, only coming to the sense that the sheets were left untouched; no warmth traced behind. You weren't there, any where. His blood runs cold and immediately fishes out for his phone in his pocket, speed dialing your number while he circles the entire area of the house in case you'd be there. Now he was more terrified when he hears the familiar voice mail from the living room couch where you had slept while waiting for him.

You left your phone. His wife wasn't home— his pregnant wife.

"Fuck." running a rough hand through his tangled hair. The lump on his throat grows but he refuses to let out a string of sobs. It was his fault you were gone at such an ungodly hour. Kuroo felt more than a bigger asshole than before he's made you come to the point of leaving home. Just as his mother did and never returned. The one thing he swore you two would never be the same came to life, only thought now is Kuroo doesn't know whether you've left him for good after being a neglectful husband and to have dishearten his own beloved wife like that.

"Would you notice if I was gone?"

Rang in his head as he stood outside the neighborhood, running. Chasing after a hallucinated image of you any place he tried to remember you'd be in. A fool he has been to have left you in a loveless marriage. He loves you, he really does. He can't imagine a life without you in it. Just as it was about to become the happiest he's wanted, he pushed it all too soon. A bad husband, he cries. "(Y/n), please come home." legs aching and panting from having to study all areas. It was pitch black; there were no opened spots for you to even go at an hour of slumber and chaos. The only convenient store did not even have you in it. You were no where to be seen and Kuroo breaks.

Of course he'd notice when it was all too late. The past he's ran away from was still the place he's returned now that the house was only occupied by nothing but rotten memories of the love he didn't took care of. The exact replica of a married life he desperately tried to dodge. "I'm so sorry." for the lonely nights he's left you to sleep, over thinking of what may have been your fault and always figuring him out tirelessly. For the small efforts of adoration he didn't took a glance at and gone to waste. For the words that were never even meant for you to ever feel. For being a neglectful husband. He was sorry he noticed too late how he ruined his precious wife.

Now he's left you on your own out in the dangers outside. If anything horrible happened to you he will forever be crushed. But the world thinks that second chances are given to those who truly deserve them after you came in quietly, slipping off your sandals and waving back to your friend who had dropped you off home. Your short break to the convenient store changed when you met up with her and drove back to her place to rant about what happened. Being the sluggish person you are whenever sadness hits, you never noticed how long you've over stayed. It wasn't like your husband was going to know if he still was working.

Much to your surprise that he wasn't, you stifled a gasp to find him with his hands holding his head that was leaned down on the table. His shoulders were lightly jolting with escapes of audible sniffles, indicating that he was in fact crying. If he looked exhausted before, it wasn't enough to describe his current state; as if he was a man who'd lost every thing as he sat there with all hope lost. Your foot padded on the creaky part of the floor in attempt to tiptoe over his hunched back to comfort him. Squeaking in the awkward situation you've put the room in when Kuroo turns his head behind to see you standing there a bit frightened, but concerned when you saw how disheveled his face looks.

"Tetsu—" his name got cut off short from when you almost tripped over your balance at the sudden impact of Kuroo throwing himself into your arms with his weight. You couldn't make out what he was mumbling on about, but you melt to his embrace even if he squeezes the living day lights from you, afraid that he was going crazy and you weren't real. "Thank God," litters of kisses were placed on your clavicle, "You're back."

He repeats, slowly convincing himself that you are indeed home in his arms, safe, no harm detected. Just home. "I'm so sorry.."

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I said, I-I'm so sorry." your bodies swayed gently to the sound of your hushes and his cries of apologies. "Please don't leave me like that again. I was so scared."

"Shhh, it's okay, Tetsu. I'm sorry. I'm okay— we're okay." leading him to sit down at the couch, you placed the bag of different brands of sweets and junk on the table before facing your husband. You had to stifle in a laugh watching him wipe his nose, you couldn't help but be reminded of a mini Tetsuro by looking at him. The argument that stung you faded when he took a hold of your hands and mumbled another apology.

"You shouldn't be sorry for anything. I should be.." flickering his eyes from your belly to your bloodshot eyes from your own fiasco back in your friend's place, he slides in closer next to you where your shoulders touched. "I haven't been a good husband lately, have I?" he looks at you expectantly. Frowning, you still nodded. Tired of hiding your own feelings from him.

"I know you're busy most of the time, Tetsu. But I just wanted you to recognize me as your wife." thumbs quick to swipe away the tear that had shed from your eye, "We're in this together, remember?" he pulls you right from the arm, shoving your face to his chest in need to hold you for all the times he should've. Ignoring the dampness of his white long-sleeved polo, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. You were still so forgiving and understanding despite on how equally tired as he was you are.

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as if I never cared anymore. You never deserved that." his lips found it's way to the crown of your head. "I don't deserve you, and I really don't want to lose you after me being stupid." giggling through tears, fist connecting a soft punch on his chest, bubbling a chuckle to the surface as he lightly pulls you away from hiding.

"I really didn't mean all of those things I've said, baby. I love you and only you." stroking ever so lovingly your cheek, you don't catch on to the fact that his other hand was placed over your stomach protectively. Making a silent promise to not only you, but the soon to be new addition to the family that he will never again neglect what he should've cherished more and looked after than the constant worries at the back of his head.

Because he will never again repeat the replica of a broken family he once was born in.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[callmertgamecrowd]

Some Dadworth headcanons

- Kay only calls Edgeworth “Dad” as a joke, although they do grow to start calling him “Edge” and “Edgey” as a nickname over time, any time they’re particulary worried, scared, sad or tired they fall back into calling him “Mr Edgeworth” like they did when they were younger

- Sebastian and Kay both ended up having a spare room in Edgeworth’s house, despite having their own apartments - Kay sort of stole their room by appearing and putting their stuff down and never leaving, Sebastian was offered a room after staying late to get help for school one too many times. The other people with spare rooms in Edgeworth’s ridiculously big house are Franziska (for when she’s in the country, so she doesn’t need a hotel room), Trucy and Ema (although she doesn’t use it as much any more, Edgeworth offered it to her when she first returned to the country)

- He’s called “office dad” by some of the more risk-taking employees, Edgeworth secretly likes it as he thinks it shows how much his effort to make the prosecutors' office less scary for victims is paying off, although there is still a long way to go.

- Edgeworth is known to be a good mentor and willing to help the other prosecutors who need a fresh set of eyes on a case, he is also a fair boss and makes sure too keep an eye on everyone's work load. He has often been caught sternly insists on various employees to take a break

- Kay insisted on doing a look of the more “childish” things that they missed doing with their father - such as movie nights, Halloween, Christmas etc

- It only got worse when Trucy appeared, as she was younger and Edgeworth could not say no to her. For Halloween, she made Kay, Edgeworth, Sebastian, Pearl, Maya and Phoenix do a group costume, and it was chaos but the picture of it is on Edgeworth’s desk.

- Edgeworth very nearly cried at Sebastian graduating and passing the prosecutor's exam for real, he swore both Kay and Sebastian to secrecy and for once they took it seriously,

- Edgeworth makes it to as many of Trucy’s shows as possible and no matter how much work he has, he never misses the weekly movie night Kay started, the office lost their mind when learning the reason every Thursday night was taken up on Edgeworth’s calender

- First time Trucy calls him Papa he melted completely, Phoenix got a picture of the hug that occurred afterward and it’s in his wallet now.

- The first picture Edgeworth put on his desk was the selfie Kay made him take that they gave him in a steel samurai frame

- Edgeworth taught Kay chess and they tease him for the chess set as soon as they figure it out

- He aslso taught Sebastian, but used it more to teach him hoe to think ahead in cases rather than just for fun, as well as teaching him investigation tactics

- Franziska teases Edgeworth for going soft but also known to give lots of gifts and attention to her “nieces, nephews and niblings” (aka, Pearl, Kay, Sebastian and Trucy, despite two of them being almost the same age)

[moeruhoshi]

I've been watching anime all day so here's a late nalu day gift

Lucy slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed with a weary sigh, weeping into her pillow as her day finally came to an end.

The open door of her patio allowed her to hear the neighing of carriage horses taking away her most recent suitor, a man who barely knew what the meaning of personal space was.

Just how many princes and dukes had to waltz through their gates before the princess’ father realized that they had no interest in adequately courting her? It was painfully obvious how the lot of them were only interested in her well-displayed décolletage over her personality and spent more time schmoozing up to the king instead of trying to win her favor.

What hurt, even more, was knowing that she could never be with the one who was truly meant for her.

She stared at the red string tied to her pinky, the fiber ending far off in the distance where it connected to her destined partner. It calmed her in some ways, allowed her to feel a sense of clarity, knowing there was at least one more person out there who could give her the true love she craved.

She hoped every day, when Spetto called her down to meet another suitor, that it would be him, the one on the other end of her string, waiting to hold her as she wanted to hold him.

They could instead be a peasant, she thought as her hopes for him to visit one day were beginning to fade. Not that she cared about that kind of thing, but it meant that they didn't have the means to enter the castle easily. Or maybe they were somewhere in a neighboring country, too far away to find her. Maybe he hadn't been gifted the power to see the string and didn't know she was waiting for him but felt just as empty without her by his side.

She was sure if she voiced her knowledge of the red string to anyone else, they would call doctors from all over Earthland to analyze her cognitive function. 

But she desperately wanted to tell everyone that she had no intention of selecting a suitor through their gaudy traditions. She would instead venture out into the world to find her soulmate, the person at the end of her red string of fate. But knowing her father, he would only let her marry with the promise of the expanded wealth she would gain him from a political marriage.

"Miss? Are you still awake?" Spetto knocked lightly, the princess holding in her sniffles to hear what the maid had to say. "I'm sure you are…but I won't bother you. Your father wants you to know that he'll be inviting the Duke Cream from Veronica for another visit tomorrow. He's eager to correct his…insolent behavior from the last time he saw you."

The princess didn't bother answering and instead let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of her maid's footsteps echoed down the hall. The setting sun illuminated the crimson strand and her fingers loosely wrapped around it, her weak pout quivering as she tugged on the phantom satin.

"I'd rather have you, whoever you are..."

~000~

"The princess!" Spetto screamed as she ran into the King's throne room. Jude was sat upon his seat with the Duke at his side, their conversation halting at her interruption. "She's gone!"

"What in the world do you mean, woman? I'm sure that no good daughter of mine has just buried her nose in one of those god awful fairy tales again. Have the guards search the library for her," He gruffed, rolling his eyes as her demeanor became more hysterical and shaken.

"I have, your highness! The princess has run away, she's truly nowhere to be found!"

"And just when I was about to be introduced to my bride," The Duke frowned and tossed his bleached hair aside. "Send hounds after her, why don't you? I will not let this girl make a fool of me on this glorious day."

"Go on, then," The King glared at his guards standing nearby who quickly rushed out the door. "I should have known that girl would be trouble. Her mother had always filled her head with nothing but pure nonsense."

Lucy lifted her billowy skirt as she ran through the woods, deep within its darkness, trying her best to ignore the now wailing trumpets of distress audible in the distance. She knew it wouldn't have been long until someone noticed her absence, especially after having heard the reality behind Duke Cream’s visit.

It was by chance, an incident that occurred while she was passing her father's office the night before. Lucy heard the plans he made to arrange her marriage to the Duke, ensuring that their kingdom would absorb the principality. This meant her father would have an entire stronghold on the country of Fiore.

A life with that obnoxious and narcissistic Duke was not one she wanted, nor could even stand the thought of.

So, in a panic, she made plans to run away, leaving when the guards wouldn’t be around, going as far as she could go without any clear signs of which direction she'd taken off in. She persevered through her tiredness with the lone thought of her meeting her soulmate who was sure to greet her with a wide smile and open arms.

"This way! C'mon now, you'll never make it running without anywhere in mind!" A voice tinkled through the line of trees, halting the princess in her place as she breathed harshly and darted around scared eyes.

"Who's there! I-I'm not going back to the castle!" Lucy shouted as she turned about in circles, shrieking as a short blonde girl suddenly appearing from thin air

"Did I say I was trying to take you home? No! Now hurry it up! You'll never make it there if you make stops like this, follow me!" She instructed, turning toward the trees and beginning to run.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked between pants as she followed the shorter blonde, mesmerized by the trail of sparkles she left behind her, and the cute wings peeking out from beside her ears.

"A friend," She smiled as she continued maneuvering them through the woods. "And a guide! You’ll never get where you need to go without my help,"

"So you know where I'm going? You can see my string too?"

"Well, sure! I let you see it after all. Boy, was he worried when I told him you were stuck out here without your magic. Idiot almost killed himself trying to find his way through, but it can't be done by anyone but a spirit." She sighed and shook her head, rambling as they avoided a patch of bramble bushes 

"My soulmate...? He was looking for me too? Really?" Lucy felt her heart swell, beating stronger even as she ran, a dazzling smile taking its claim of her lips.

"Yup! You have a very loyal man waiting for you," She giggled. "He can't wait to meet you, said he'd get his house ready and everything while I was out looking for you. I apologize for taking so long, moving around in this realm isn't easy, there’s barely any magic in this land!”

"Magic? Like in books? Isn't that practice all made up?" The princess quirked a brow as the strange girl only giggled again and slowed her movements as they found purchase under the wide berth of a willow tree.

"It's quite amazing someone like you was born here when your home is with us, in the right Fiore. Now, come on! Everyone's waiting!" She grinned, ignoring Lucy's confusion as she pulled them through the hanging branches, the two suddenly falling into the void of the trunk.

"E-Eh?! W-Wha…!" Lucy fell to her knees as she suddenly felt queasy, holding a hand to her head and waited for her headache to subside. She looked up to see where the other blonde had gone, not finding her anywhere and instead met a new and sunny skyline. "Wasn't it…night just a moment ago?"

She stood to her shaky feet, finding her body no longer weighed down by exhaustion, tears, or dirt on her dress. Whatever was in the air made her feel light as, well, air. She'd never felt so amazing before! Just where had she gone when they fell through that tree?

Taking some small steps through the field in front of her, she looked down to her finger, the red string extending into the distance behind her.

"Oh wow…" When Lucy turned around, she was met with the image of a town she had never seen before, curiosity pulling her towards the bustling streets.

It was as she always imagined the streets of the village she ruled above looked; stalls serving food and selling fresh produce, children running and laughing, patrons bartering and making light conversation, happiness in everyone's eyes. Their smiles created her own, and she followed the string eagerly, feeling just right in the Fiore she’d been led to.

She worried this would all turn into a dream soon enough, there couldn't possibly be another Fiore…or the existence of magic at that. Her steps quickened as she feared Spetto would be in at any moment to wake her, feet carrying her towards a patch of woods that broke off from the town.

It would’ve made nice for a peaceful walk if she didn’t think the calm scenery before her would disappear.

“Oi, Gray, watch it!” A sharp voice boomed from the nearby distance. 

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing, it ain’t hard to paint a wall, flame brain!” 

“Don’t start a fight! We had to rebuild that side of the house five times because you two keep knocking it down!”

Lucy slowed down her pace as the volume of their argument increased but kept her eyes on the string that told her he was just ahead. 

Her eyes landed on a red-haired girl pointing a large sword at two boys who kneeled respectively in front of her, bowing their heads as she scolded them. 

Breaking through the line of trees, Lucy smoothed down her stray hairs and dusted off her dress, holding herself nervously as she continued forward.

Each step closer made her legs feel like jelly, flushed her cheeks, and made her heart beat a million times faster, her fingers twitching as she held her hands together. 

“U-Um...excuse me…?” Lucy’s voice was shaky as she approached the three, her eyes watery as she stared at the pink-haired boy who raised his head at the sound of her voice. The string fell into his lap; he was her soulmate.

The red-haired girl turned to face her first, eyes concerned as they fell on her disheveled appearance. “My goodness, are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“N-No...I—“ 

"Oh, crap! It's you!" 

"Don't say that to a girl, idiot! You have no idea who that is!" The raven-haired boy threw a glare at the pink-haired one who quickly stood up.

“Mavis didn’t tell me when you’d get here, I would’ve come to pick you up if I knew you were...oh, hey, don’t cry, okay? Um, here,” He quickly took the end of his scarf to wipe her tears, feeling a knot in his throat as she gently fell against his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"I just...I just can't believe…" She shook her head, not minding the stain she created on his shirt. "That you're real...that you were waiting for me."

"'Course I was! Having a new family member is always exciting, and my hearts been leapin' like crazy waitin' for you! You were stuck out there all alone and I couldn't come find you. I'm sorry it took so long." 

Erza forced herself and Gray to look away as the blonde hastily kissed their wild companion, his shock present in the stiffness of his back.

He was startled by the sudden action but felt himself melting into the touch, desperate as well to be close to his soulmate.

"I'm home," Lucy laughed with a bit of surprise, Natsu's eyes widening along with his grin. 

"Yeah! Welcome back!"

[dropssofjupitter]

Of Pride and Promises

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You and Draco have been in a relationship for years, roaming the halls of Hogwarts as one of the best power couples since Lily and James Potter. But when Draco starts to shut you out and keep secrets from you, you wonder if all of the pain that you went through was really worth it. 

Word Count: 1.1 k 

Warnings: Angst no comfort, swearing (minor, like one word)

Masterlist         Part Two 

A/N: This is a little shorter than I would have liked, but please enjoy! This work has not been beta-read, any mistakes are mine and mine alone. 

Edit:  I would also like to announce that I am looking for one, possibly two, beta readers! If you are interested please let me know!

Songs: i was all over her by salvia plath ; I’ll Be The Rain by Lontalius

You were unable to pinpoint the exact moment that your relationship with Draco Malfoy changed. 

Maybe it had been when the occasional friendly glances became drawn out, challenging stares. Or maybe it had been when the odd conversation had turned into long talks in the back corners of the library, surrounded by nothing but books and each other’s company. 

Whenever it had occurred, the change had happened. The air between the two of you was charged, humming with electricity that promised both danger and excitement. And you had lived for it. 

You had lived for the adrenaline rush that came from sneaking around with him. You had lived for the talks in the astronomy tower, late at night with nothing but the stars to keep you company. You had embraced it all. All of the adventures, and all of him. 

You kept him company in the common room, listened to his rants about Harry, and had even comforted him when he eventually opened up about his father and the immense amount of pressure that had been placed upon him. 

You could remember your first kiss with him. Soft, sweet, and rushed. His hands pulling you in quickly before he ran onto the quidditch field for the start of the game. You remembered how happy it had made you feel to be loved. 

But now, as you sat in the cold and desolate common room in your 6th year, your arms hugging your knees to your chest, you found that it was hard to remember anything good about Draco. The switch had happened just as quickly as it had the first time, leaving your head spinning. Instead of Draco holding your hand between classes, he let it slip from his grasp. Instead of the two of you sitting together during Potions, he got there early and left you with a different table partner. He even went as far as sitting on the opposing side of the table during meals, most often ignoring you and striking up conversations with Theo and Blaise. 

It left you feeling abandoned and discarded, often wondering if he thought you were even worthy of his time to begin with. And unfortunately, you weren’t the only one who’d noticed the changes. You heard whispers come to an end whenever you entered the common room, and felt the eyes of many follow your back wherever you walked. Your entire house, and the entire school, wanted to know just what you had done to lose Draco’s favor. If the students were vultures, you were the long awaited prey. But you were done feeling like game. 

The entrance to the common room slammed shut, and you straightened, pulling up a face of cool indifference. You knew who it was. It was the very reason that you were waiting up in the dark. “Hello Draco,” you said, face turning towards his as the lights in the common room lit up upon your command. 

He visibly stiffened, his hands flexing as he stopped at the edge of the couch. He just barely inclined his head, the smallest greeting imaginable. “You should be asleep,” he stated, his voice hard. There was an edge to it, and there was an edge to him. Where you had once found slopes and hills and hidden kindnesses, you now found points and ridges. No matter how hard you had searched, you weren’t able to find your boyfriend. 

“And why aren’t you?” You countered his question, your eyes narrowing. You were tired of being meek and forgotten. If he couldn’t remember who you were, then maybe it was time to show him. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Went on a walk.” A weak excuse. One that you had known for a while was false. 

“It’s three am. You left at one. Try again.” Now your voice had an edge. It had seeped in without asking, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to remedy it now. 

His eyes narrowed in turn, and he shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt at a laid back stance. He forgot that you knew all his tips and tricks. “I don’t owe you an explanation.” 

You laughed. Well and truly laughed. Your head was thrown back over the couch and your shoulders shook. “No you’re right,” you replied as you calmed down, venom creeping into your words. “You don’t owe your girlfriend shit, right?” 

Your question was rhetorical, and he knew that. He opened his mouth to speak but you raised a hand, cutting him off. You were tired of hearing his half baked excuses, tired of hearing him try to cover for himself. “I’m only going to say this once, Draco. You either tell me what’s been going on with you, or we’re done.”

He clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair, contemplating his decision. But as you watched from the couch, you knew that his mind was already made up. The fact that he even had to question it at all was an answer enough for you. 

You shook your head, standing up and biting your cheek. You would not cry. You would not let him see your weakness. “Goodbye Draco.” 

He reached out and grabbed your arm, a desperate attempt to persuade you to stay. “I’ve just been trying to keep you safe,” he pleaded, his head hung low and anguish in his eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted, was for you to be safe.” 

“I don’t deserve to be treated like this,” you said, your voice wavering as your resolve crumpled. “To be loved one day and then discarded the next. I can’t keep watching from the sidelines as you ignore me and move on!” You gently tugged your arm away from his grasp, backing up a few steps as your arms wound tightly around your middle. “I can’t keep doing this.” Your body betrayed you. A tear slid down your cheek. 

He put his hands back in his pockets, his head still hung low and obscuring his eyes from your vision. “I understand,” he replied, his voice low. Though he tried to hide it, you could hear the hurt creeping its way into his words. 

You wanted to run to him, to hug him, to kiss his head and tell him that you were sorry and that this was for the best. But although everything in you screamed to do so, you denied it, knowing that if you broke and went to him now you would never leave. And you needed to leave. 

You turned around, tears silently making tracks down your face as you walked back to your room. Just as you were about to leave the common room, Draco spoke up, his voice soft and breaking. 

“I love you.” 

You hugged your chest tighter, squeezing your eyes shut and choking back a sob. “I know.” 

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