#tw; mixed-faith families

[terrence-silver]

I’m getting Christmas excited now! 😁 Could we please have some Christmas Terry x Beloved headcanons🎄🎄

Well, in Terry Silver's case, there's a doubt he celebrates Christmas at all just like there's a lingering feeling, that even if he did, there was only one parent who did, which I am guessing, is his mother, who I envision as an (Irish?) Catholic, while his father very well could've been Jewish? Or maybe they both were --- we’ll never know, but the question is open for debate in all it’s variety for people smarter and more in the know than me. If those religion-centric headcanons I wrote are anything to go by, Terry Silver has a very complicated history with any and all celebrations (and a complicated history with just about anything else too), especially Christmas, because in a mixed-demoninational household where one’s possibly neither here nor there, with unstable and generally strained, unusual and complicated relations, which I feel he was born into in spite of all the money and prestige, celebrating one event over the other felt like he was taking one family member's side versus the other side, and so Christmas wasn't celebrated in the Silver household as he was growing up. Not officially. Something that persisted all his life, the way I see it. Terry Silver, on his own merit, was never a Christmas tree, sweaters, hot chocolate and ornaments kind of guy --- too much of a workaholic typically 80′s yuppie for that at heart, even when the 80′s were long since over. The holidays usually passed in a flurry of his family's cocktail business events, merger fundraisers, over-glorified charities and black-tie home parties and no Christmas as we know it, and this is, again, something that continued well into adulthood, his mature and older years as well. Basically, he’s far more likely to have some coveted bejewelled silver Menorah out than a tree while he conducts business as usual, if ‘Shalom, Sensei’ is anything to go by as an indicator.

But, that’s to say, if a loved one celebrated something else?

He just gives it to them, independently of himself.

Why?

Because their life is his and that counts every part of them, including holidays they observe, even if he himself doesn’t and never has, and never intends to, having no connection to a thing other than through beloved. Possession? Yeah, loads of it. Think of a metaphorical precious heirloom snow-globe on a mantlepiece that Terry cherishes or has a particular fondness for. Well, beloved is a little like that. And sometimes, he gets to play with it and shake it to observe the snow dancing under the crystal dome all for him, controlled by the movements of his hand or how hard or gently he shakes in the particular moment. There’s an idyllic winter scene inside of it. Maybe, a tiny tree. Ornaments. Falling stars. A whole little world in the palm of his hand, that he controls and that belongs to him. He could break it, or he could safeguard it. He can do whatever he likes and that tickles him. But, it is love, so he will preserve it. Oh, will he ever. Fiercely. Territorially. Murderously. And then, when Christmas is over, he gets to put it away, because it is his and he gets to have the right, the way he sees it, to feel greedy and jealous of a thing that belongs to him. That’s how he feels about  the whole ordeal. About Christmas. Beloved gets all the markers of a holiday from him. The most expensive tree. Decor. Gifts. Do they want all of Santa’s fucking reindeers packed up in the backyard of the mansion? Any obtusely insane desire he can showcase his devotion with? Anything money can buy? Anything they please? They get it and he indulges them and he observes them enjoy it because this is a sensation he gave them, just like he himself would enjoy the world inside the snow-globe --- and then Christmas ends, and the same snow-globe world gets put away, until next year.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | series

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦."

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 1

masterlist of the series!

next | chapter 2

The Texas sun had a way of casting long, dramatic shadows across the sprawling landscape, painting the world in hues of gold and amber. In small town near Austin, the heat clung to everything, wrapping the town in a sweltering embrace that seemed to slow time itself. You, a preacher's daughter on the cusp of graduation, trapped in the rigid confines of a life dictated by faith and fear.

Your father, Reverend Gibson, was a towering figure in the community, his voice booming from the pulpit every Sunday, filling the church with sermons about sin and salvation. To the congregation, he was a man of God, a beacon of righteousness. But within the walls of your home, he was a tyrant. His heavy hand and harsh words left marks not just on your skin, but deep within your soul. Your mother, ever the obedient wife, offered what little comfort she could, but her love was a quiet, subdued thing, overshadowed by her fear of defying your father.

The Millers lived just a few houses down, their home a testament to both prosperity and tragedy. Joel Miller was your father’s best friend from high school, a bond forged in the fires of youth but strained by the paths they had chosen. While your father found his calling in the church, Joel built a successful construction business with his younger brother, Tommy.

Joel and Tommy not live far from each other, while your house is just one house away from Joel, Tommy is a few houses down from Joel's.

The Miller brothers were well-known and respected in the community, their work evident in the many buildings that dotted the town.

Joel’s life had been forever altered by a single, devastating moment. He had lost his wife and daughter in a car accident, an accident where he had been behind the wheel. The guilt of their deaths weighed heavily on him, a burden he carried in the lines of his face and the shadows in his eyes.

Since that tragic day, he had distanced himself from the church, finding solace instead in his work and in raising his adopted daughter, Ellie. Joel has adopted Ellie when she was only 10 years old with the help of Tommy.

At 16, Ellie was a spirited girl, one of your juniors at school. She attended church every Sunday with her uncle Tommy, her presence a reminder of the Millers’ lingering faith.

Tommy, married to Maria, had recently welcomed a baby boy into their family. The joy of new life was a stark contrast to the sorrow that had marked Joel’s existence. The Millers were a close-knit family, their bonds of loyalty and love a stark contrast to the fractured and tense environment of your own home.

You had known the Millers your entire life, their presence a constant thread in the fabric of your existence. Yet, as you stood on the brink of adulthood, your interactions with them took on a new significance. Your father’s sermons about the dangers of straying from the path of righteousness echoed in your mind, but so did your longing for something more, something real and tangible.

It was just another Sunday, and you were helping your dad with the after-service fellowship. The congregation mingled in the church hall, sharing coffee and pastries, their voices a low hum of conversation and laughter. You moved through the crowd with a tray of refreshments, offering smiles and polite nods, your mind elsewhere.

The Sunday service had been like any other, filled with hymns, prayers, and your father’s booming voice delivering his sermon. Today, he had spoken about temptation and the perils of straying from God’s path, his words heavy with the weight of his own fervent belief. As always, you felt the eyes of the congregation on you, the preacher’s daughter, the living example of his teachings.

You couldn’t help but glance towards the back of the room, where Tommy and Ellie stood, their presence a rare but welcome sight. Joel, as expected, was absent, his appearances in church growing increasingly sporadic since the accident.

Your thoughts kept drifting to Joel Miller. It had been years since the tragedy that had claimed his wife and daughter, leaving an indelible mark on him, transforming a once regular churchgoer into a haunted, reclusive figure.

You didn't really know or remember Joel's wife and daughter. Sarah Miller had been much older than you, and she passed away when you were only five. The memories you had of them were hazy at best, a blur of faces and voices that you couldn’t quite place.

Ellie caught your eye and waved, her smile bright and genuine. You waved back, feeling a pang of longing for the carefree spirit she embodied. She was one of the few people in your life who treated you like a normal person, not just the preacher’s daughter.

After the service, as the crowd began to thin, you found yourself gravitating towards Tommy and Ellie. Tommy, ever the warm and approachable figure, greeted you with a smile. “Hey, kiddo. How’ve you been?”

You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “I’m good, Tommy. How’s Maria and the baby?”

Tommy’s face lit up with pride. “They’re great. Little Luke’s growing like a weed. Maria’s over the moon, of course.”

Ellie nudged you playfully. “You should come over and meet him sometime. He’s the cutest.”

You laughed softly. “I’d love that.”

Tommy’s expression grew more serious as he glanced around the room. “How’s your dad doing with all the church activities? Keeping busy?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, he’s always got something going on. Keeps him out of trouble, I guess.”

Tommy chuckled. “Good to hear. Your family always looks so put together. It’s impressive, really.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the compliment. “We just try to do our best.”

As you continued chatting, the weight on your shoulders seemed to lighten, if only for a moment. Ellie shared stories about school, her infectious laughter bringing a smile to your face.

“So, any plans after graduation?” Ellie asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You hesitated, the uncertainty of your future looming large. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been thinking about college, but it’s complicated.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious again. “You should follow your dreams, kid. Don’t let anything hold you back.”

You nodded, grateful for their support. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Tommy.”

As you chatted with Tommy and Ellie, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing around, you caught your father’s stern gaze from across the room. His eyes were a silent warning, a reminder of your place and the expectations that came with it.

Excusing yourself, you slipped out of the church hall, needing a moment of solitude. Your dad won't notice you are gone a little, your job has been taken by your mom.

The Texas heat hit you as soon as you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the gravel parking lot. You decided to walk, the streets feeling empty because everyone was still in church. As you walked aimlessly, your mind whirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

You found yourself drawn towards the lake behind the church and the town, a place far enough to avoid everyone. The lake and the surrounding forest were comforting, a sanctuary from the oppressive atmosphere of your home.

Looking around to ensure you were alone, you carefully pulled out your cigarettes and lit one, taking a long drag. Your parents never knew you were quite a smoker, especially your father. If he ever found out, the repercussions would be severe, his wrath swift and unrelenting. The thought of his anger made you shudder.

You decided to sit by the old fallen tree near the lake. It was very quiet, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. You loved to come here every chance you got, a hidden escape from the prying eyes and harsh judgments of your daily life. As you exhaled a cloud of smoke, you heard a rustling sound in the underbrush.

Startled, you quickly put out your cigarette and looked up. Emerging from the trees was Joel, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. "Joel?" you stammered, hoping he hadn’t noticed the cigarette.

He looked at you, then at the still-smoking cigarette butt near your feet. His expression was unreadable, but you felt a wave of fear. What if he told your father?

Joel approached, his steps slow and deliberate. "Didn’t expect to see you out here," he said, his voice as gruff as ever.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "I… I just needed some air."

Joel’s eyes flicked to the cigarette again. "That why you’re hiding out here? To smoke?"

You bit your lip, the truth hanging heavily between you. "Please don’t tell my dad," you whispered, the desperation clear in your voice.

Joel sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Your secret’s safe with me," he said finally, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Relief flooded through you, and you nodded gratefully. "Thank you,"

As you stood up, brushing off the dirt and bits of wood that had stained your dress, you noticed Joel's gaze lingering on the rifle in his hand and the heavy boots caked with mud.

"You didn’t come to church today," you said, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. You had noticed his absence with the frequency that had become almost routine over the years.

He glanced at you, the stern lines of his face softening slightly. “Yeah, I’ve been... busy,” he replied, his tone clipped and noncommittal.

You took in the sight of him, his rugged appearance a stark contrast to the tidy, polished look of the other churchgoers. The rifle and the muddy boots seemed to tell a story of their own, a story that was far removed from the neat rows of pews and the polished wooden floors of the church.

“You know, Father always says that you used to come every Sunday,” you said, trying to sound casual. “He misses you at church. Everyone does.”

Joel’s expression hardened again, the hint of vulnerability disappearing behind his usual reserve. “Yeah, well, things change,” he said tersely, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “People change.”

You wanted to press further, to understand what had driven him away, but you knew better than to push too hard. Joel was a man of few words, his emotional landscape a guarded territory. You had seen it in the way he interacted with Ellie, the way he kept his distance, the way he seemed to be perpetually battling some invisible storm.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, your concern slipping through despite your efforts to remain detached.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and unspoken. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. "Just trying to get by, same as anyone," he said gruffly. “Out here, it’s a little easier to do that.”

You nodded, accepting his answer even if it left many questions unanswered. The silence between you stretched, filled only with the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves.

Joel shifted, breaking the silence. “What are you doing out here anyway? It’s quite a trek from town. This place isn’t exactly safe, you know.” His tone was a mixture of concern and curiosity, revealing a sliver of his protective nature.

You sighed, glancing around the lake and forest. “I needed a break. Just... needed to be away from everything for a bit. It’s peaceful here." You looked at Joel, your eyes subtly asking if it was okay to continue smoking.

Joel noticed your look but chose not to comment immediately. Instead, he took a few steps closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. You took that as an invitation and sat down under a large tree near the lake, patting the grass beside you.

“Feel free to join me if you want,” you offered, your voice light despite the heaviness of the situation.

Joel hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to you. His presence was a grounding force, even if he wasn’t the most expressive. He glanced at the cigarette pack you had placed on the grass between you.

“Want one?” you offered, extending the pack towards him.

Joel shook his head with a faint, rueful smile. “Nah, I’m good. I’m not sure it’s right to be smoking in front of you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t judge me for it.”

Joel chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to that. I’ve had my share of bad habits.”

You nodded, accepting his refusal. “How are you, Joel? I don’t see you much,” you said, your curiosity evident. It was true; Joel had been increasingly distant from the people in your town, retreating into a shell of his own making.

He met your gaze briefly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his features. “Just... getting by. Working hard, dealing with stuff. Not much else to it.”

There was a weariness in his voice that spoke of battles fought silently and wounds healed only with time. It was clear that the years had not been kind to Joel, even if he tried to mask it behind a facade of rugged determination.

You sensed that pushing further wouldn’t get you anywhere. Joel was not one to open up easily, and you could see that the topic of his feelings was closed off. You decided to shift the conversation, sensing that it was best to focus on something lighter.

"How’s school?” he asked, his tone shifting to something slightly more personal but still restrained. “Almost done, right?”

You nodded, a smile touching your lips despite the lingering tension. “Yeah, I’m just a few months away from graduating. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Joel replied, giving a slight nod. “High school’s a big deal. A lot changes after that.”

You shifted slightly, tucking your legs beneath you as you sat on the grass. “It is. It feels like the end of one chapter and the start of another.” You took a deep drag from your cigarette, the smoke curling around you in the still air. Exhaling slowly, you continued, “I just want to get out of here.”

Joel’s gaze, always direct, fixed on you. He didn’t speak immediately, allowing the weight of your words to settle between you. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly on the rifle, his hands still coated in the grime of the day’s work. “Yeah?” he finally said, his tone soft but edged with curiosity. “Where do you want to go?”

You looked out over the lake, its calm surface reflecting the last rays of the sun. “Anywhere but here,” you said with a sigh. “I want to leave this town, start fresh somewhere new. I’ve been dreaming about it for a long time.”

Joel watched you silently for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes getting out can seem like the only way to find something better,” he said slowly. “But it ain’t always as simple as it sounds.”

You took another drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing brightly as you exhaled. “I know it’s not that simple,” you said quietly. “But it feels like I’m suffocating here. I just need... something different. Something real.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze not unkind but keenly observant. There was a protective instinct in him that had always been there, even when you were much younger. He sensed there was more to your words than just a desire to leave town. The carefully constructed façade of normalcy that your family projected wasn’t lost on him, though he had never delved into the specifics of your home life.

“You know,” Joel began, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone, “sometimes people want to leave for reasons that go beyond what they’re willing to say. It’s one thing to want a new place, but it’s another to be running from something.”

You stiffened slightly, the cigarette now nothing more than a stub between your fingers. You were careful not to let your emotions betray you. “It’s not just about running away,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s about finding a place where I can breathe.”

Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “And you think you’ll find that out there?”

“I hope so,” you said. “I just need to get out and find out for myself. It’s been hard to see beyond this place.”

Joel shifted his weight, leaning on his rifle. His rugged face, often set in lines of stoicism, now bore a hint of concern. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of folks runnin’ away from what they don’t want to face. Sometimes they find what they’re lookin’ for, sometimes they don’t. But it’s dangerous out there for someone who’s not ready.”

You looked at him, sensing the genuine concern behind his words. “I’m ready,” you said softly. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Joel studied you for a moment longer, his fatherly instincts kicking in. He could see the innocence in your eyes, the quiet strength that belied your troubled soul. He had been a father before, and he knew what it was like to want to protect someone from the harsh realities of the world.

But then, with a shift in his demeanor, Joel decided it wasn’t his business to involve himself further. He cared for you, that much was clear, but he also knew his boundaries. His expression hardened slightly, a testament to his tendency to keep people at a distance. 

“Look,” he said gruffly, his Southern accent thickening his words, “it’s not my place to get too involved in this. You’re gonna have to handle things your way.” His tone was direct, carrying the weight of a man who had learned to let his actions speak louder than his words.

Despite the coldness in his voice, there was a flicker of tenderness in his eyes, a brief glimpse of the protective instincts that lingered beneath his guarded exterior. Joel operated in a morally gray area, making decisions that were often difficult and controversial, and he understood the complexities of navigating a world where right and wrong were not always clear.

He wanted to help, but his experience had taught him that sometimes the best way to show care was to step back and allow others to find their own way.

“You know,” Joel said, shifting the topic slightly, “Ellie talks about you sometimes. Says you’re smart, and she admires you for stickin’ it out. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, but she looks up to you. So, if there’s ever a time you need someone to talk to, or if you just need a friend, don’t hesitate to reach out. I may not be the best at this whole ‘talkin’’ thing, but I’m here if you need me.”

You appreciated his attempt to offer support, even if it came in a roundabout way. “Thanks, Joel. It’s nice to know that someone cares,” you said, smiling as you put out the cigarette.

Joel watched you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, as if weighing whether to press further. You could see that he was struggling with how much to say, his usual reserve at odds with the genuine warmth he was trying to convey.

“Well,” you said, glancing at the fading light, “I should head back to the church before Dad notices I’m gone.”

Joel shifted his stance, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want a ride back? It’s a long walk, and it’s gettin’ dark.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt for declining his offer. “I appreciate it, Joel, but I don’t want to trouble you. I can manage the walk.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he gave a firm nod. “It ain’t no trouble. It’s just a ride. Besides, I’d rather make sure you get back safely.”

His insistence made you feel slightly uncomfortable, but you also recognized his sincerity. Raised to be polite and considerate, you found it difficult to refuse when someone was being genuinely helpful.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, “if you insist. Thank you.”

Joel nodded, his face softening a bit as he walked over to his truck. The vehicle was old but reliable, with a rugged appearance that matched Joel’s own. He opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

As you climbed into the truck, Joel got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The interior was a mix of practical and worn, with a faint smell of leather and earth. Joel drove with a steady, practiced hand, the truck rumbling over the uneven terrain as he navigated the path back to town.

The silence in the truck was comfortable, with only the sound of the engine and the occasional rustle of the trees breaking it. You stared out the window, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow over the landscape. You could feel the weight of the day’s conversations settling in, and the quiet offered a moment of reflection.

After a few minutes, the truck rolled into town, the familiar sights coming into view. Joel slowed as he approached the church, where you could see the remaining congregants beginning to disperse.

Joel pulled up to the curb and stopped the truck. "We're here."

"Thank you once again, Joel. It’s good catching up with you," you said, giving him a grateful smile. Just as you were about to step out of the truck, you spotted your father from a distance. A sinking feeling washed over you as you realized he had seen you.

“Oh no,” you muttered, catching Joel’s eye. He turned to see your father walking towards the truck, a determined look on his face.

Joel, ever the gentleman, exited the truck as well. You followed suit, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your father, who had been conversing with some church members, excused himself and made his way towards you and Joel.

“Evening, Reverend,” Joel greeted, extending a hand.

“Evening, Joel,” your father said with his usual charming demeanor, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. “It’s been a while. I hope you’ve been well.”

Joel’s expression was polite but reserved. “Can’t complain. Been keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” your father replied smoothly. “You know, we’ve missed you at church. It would be good to see you back.”

Joel gave a noncommittal nod, his discomfort barely masked. “Maybe sometime.”

As your father turned his attention to you, his smile faltered slightly. “And where have you been, young lady? You were supposed to help with the service.”

You flinched at the stern tone, feeling his grip tighten around your arm as he spoke. “I was just taking a walk, Dad. Joel gave me a ride back.”

Your father’s grip was rough and unyielding, his fingers digging into your arm with a strength that was both painful and controlling. Joel noticed, his gaze briefly flicking to your father’s hand before returning to his face.

“Is that right?” your father said, his voice carrying a hint of disapproval. “Well, I hope you weren’t gone too long. We have responsibilities.”

"Yes, I'm sorry, father." You said smile a little to hide the pain he's causing you.

Joel cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation away from the tension. “I’m just making sure she gets back safe."

“Of course,” your father said, releasing your arm but maintaining a veneer of politeness. “We have a dinner invitation from Tommy and Maria next Saturday. I trust you’ll be joining us?”

Joel looked momentarily surprised. “Well, I'm supposed I am,"

Your father’s smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Yes, they extended the invitation to our family. It will be good to catch up.”

Joel nodded, his expression neutral. “I’ll have to check with Ellie, but I’m sure we’ll make it.”

“Excellent,” your father said, still maintaining his charming facade. “It’ll be good for everyone to reconnect.”

As the conversation continued, Joel’s discomfort grew. He noticed the strain in your father’s demeanor and the way he seemed to be masking a more sinister undertone behind his polite words. Joel had been out of the social loop for a while, but he was perceptive enough to sense when something was off, even if he chose not to probe further.

“Well,” Joel said, his tone shifting to one of finality, “I better be on my way. Got some things to take care of. It was good seeing you again, Reverend. And you too,” he added, offering you a brief, reassuring smile.

You gave him a grateful nod, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you, Joel."

Joel, giving one last nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, you could feel the weight of the evening’s encounters settling heavily on your shoulders. The brief respite you’d found in Joel’s company had been overshadowed by the return of your father’s control and the unsettling realization that your escape from this small town and its complexities might be more challenging than you had hoped.

After the Sunday service, you returned home with a heavy heart. The warmth of the day had turned cold, and the familiar feeling of dread settled over you as you approached the house. Inside, the tension was palpable, and the moment you walked through the door, you knew there would be consequences for your absence during the service.

Your father’s voice was stern and unforgiving as he called you into the living room. “You’ve abandoned your duties. Do you have any idea what that means?”

You tried to explain, but his anger cut you off. “I was just trying to get some fresh air, Dad. I didn’t mean—”

Before you could finish, he was on you, grabbing your arm with a grip that left no room for argument. He dragged you to the center of the room, his face a mask of fury. “You’ve abandoned your duty. It’s about respect and responsibility. You know how important this is.”

“No, please, Dad, don’t. I’m so sorry. I will not do it again,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

The fear in your voice only seemed to fuel his anger. He disappeared into the hallway, returning with his belt in hand. The leather looked menacing, and your heart raced as you saw it.

“Please, Dad, I’m sorry,” you continued to beg. “I didn’t mean to disobey. I’ll make it right. Just please—”

Your father’s face was a mask of cold determination. “Take off your dress and face the wall,” he ordered, his voice steely. “You needs to be taught a lesson.”

You could barely keep your composure as you undressed, your body shaking with fear and dread. The scars on your back from a previous punishment throbbed with anticipation. When you were finally positioned with your back to him, every nerve in your body was on edge.

The first crack of the belt was sharp and painfully immediate. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a searing pain that made you flinch. You cried out, tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you sobbed, your voice breaking with each cry of pain.

You could feel the belt cutting into your already tender skin, the sensation of bleeding mixing with the agony of the blows. Each strike felt like a betrayal of your trust, a reminder of the harsh world you were trapped in.

Your mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her face pale and tear-streaked. She wanted to intervene, but fear held her back. She could only watch helplessly as you were punished, her own sobs mingling with your cries of pain.

In a desperate attempt to mask the sounds of the abuse from the neighbors, she turned the gospel music up loud, hoping the noise would cover your screams and your father’s harsh words.

The music blared in the background, a twisted contrast to the suffering in the room. It felt like a cruel mockery, the joyous hymns clashing with the reality of your punishment. Your mother’s tears fell silently as she stood by, unable to offer more than the muted comfort of her presence.

As the beating continued, your strength waned. The pain was overwhelming, a relentless reminder of the control your father exerted over every aspect of your life. You could only endure, hoping for it to end soon, each moment stretching out painfully as you clung to the hope that this would be the last of such torment.

When he finally stopped, you were left huddled on the floor, your body aching and your spirit broken. Your father’s anger subsided, leaving him with a cold, resolute expression. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said gruffly, his voice devoid of empathy. “Disobedience won’t be tolerated.”

Your mother rushed to your side as soon as your father left the room, her hands trembling, “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears, her voice filled with sorrow and helplessness.

You looked at her through blurred vision, your own tears mingling with hers. “I—It's okay, mama." you said weakly, your voice strained and shaky. “It’s my fault."

She helped you put your dress back on, her fingers brushing gently over the raw marks on your skin, causing you to wince. Each movement was a reminder of the pain you were enduring.

As you slowly gathered your strength, your mother helped you to a nearby chair, her hands still shaking. She sat beside you, her presence a small but comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. The music from the kitchen blared on, a cruel backdrop to the quiet moments of shared sorrow between mother and daughter.

In the midst of the pain and turmoil, there was a flicker of hope that someday, somehow, you might find a way out of the darkness. For now, though, you could only cling to the small comforts and the hope that things might one day be different.

[3d-wifey]

I've read that Johnny NSFW alphabet like 30 times, it was so gooddddd, there's been no good Johnny Cage smut or writing in general honestly. Your Johnny just feels so in character and you're feeding me crumbs, I need moreeee 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (that sneak peek made me levitate)

Show 'em Who I Belong To

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader Synopsis: Johnny has seriously pissed you off this time, like, royally. The "begging on his knees" kind of pissed off. But luckily, he knows just the thing to do to prove he’s sorry. Word Count: 2.58k Playlist: Here's a Johnny Cage playlist to read his smut or just get inspo from, I made it myself TW: Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, switch!Reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!Reader, Forgiveness, Making Up, Apology Sex, Vaginal Penetration, Recording, Sex Tapes, Exhibitionism, Begging, Hand Jobs, Grinding, Crying During Sex, johnny cage loves you, johnny cage is just really really dumb, celebrity!reader, No Spoilers, Making Out, "straight" couple, johnny's slutty little slacks, Johnny cage is a little shit, Pussy drunk, cock drunk, Praise Kink, simp johnny cage, no other canon characters show up in this, Smut, Shameless Smut, Gratuitous Smut A/N: Since the poll I put on Tumblr voted for switch!Johnny, that's what I'm doing! This chapter will mostly be sub!johnny and dom!reader with a switch at the end. It's a bit of a mixed pov, but it's mainly from the reader's pov. Nothing but Dom!Johnny in the next chapter and sorry if the quality was lacking, I've slept a total of 10 hours in a span of 72 hours. CHECK OUT THAT JOHNNY NSFW ALPHABET I WROTE, IT'S CONSIDERED CANON TO THIS! Part 2 (tbm) Ao3

Your acrylics tap a beat onto the arm of the plush white couch as you read the tweet on your phone.

" Johnny Cage spotted cozying up on set with Co-Star. Has the star finally met his match? " Your nails stop and you glance at where Johnny kneels fidgeting on the floor in front of you before looking back to the screen.

He spreads his hands. "Okay, I know this looks bad." His voice floats in the otherwise quiet mansion. "But will you please stop ignoring me?"

You look down your nose at him. "Is this enough attention for you?" You sneer and he grimaces.

"My PR team cooked this up a while ago and they've been hounding me about it for ages. It was so unimportant to me that it sorta...slipped my mind." He shrugs and your glare hardens him. " C'mon , babe, it's just a little publicity stunt our agents had us do for the movie. It doesn't mean anything." He laughs and his nonchalance about the situation is pissing you off more than you already are.

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" You fume and his brows furrow. "This isn't funny, Jonathan."

" Oof, " he winces, "government name."

You're both celebrities, you know what you signed up for when you agreed to date him after years and years of his begging and truly horrible pickup lines.

You're not mad about the situation itself, not really. You've gotten into drama before loads of times to drum up hype around a new project, but nothing like this. At least, not while you were dating Johnny. 

You're mad that you had to find out about it from the trending page on Twitter along with a slew of concerned messages from your friends, family, and manager.

You scroll down and read messages concerned fans have posted, worried that you and Johnny have broken up or, worse, that he cheated on you. But you know that he knows that you know he wouldn’t dare.

"Look at this shit." You shove your phone in his face. The screen reflects off the sunglasses that sit low on the bridge of his nose and he squints as the brightness nearly blinds him. "'I hope this isn't how she finds out.' 'I'd be so embarrassed if I was her.' 'I knew Johnny wouldn't stay faithful for long.'"

He looks from you to the screen and then back to you. "...You're mad."

You stare down at him.

"You are un- fucking -believable.” You move to stand up, but he grabs ahold of your hips.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'm sorry ! I didn't mean to upset you. Next time, I'll give you a heads up— I mean I'll run it by you.” Johnny corrects, pulling you closer when you try to pull away again. "What can I do to make it up to you, huh?" The muscles in his biceps flex against you as he wraps his arms around your waist. You try to stay firm, but it's pretty hard when he's pressing reverent kisses to your stomach.

You shiver from the coldness of his rings as he runs a big hand up your calf, traveling up your outer thigh to hook the hem of your dress at your hip before repeating the process up your other leg.

You want to stay mad—you are mad. This is incredibly careless and he didn't consider your feelings at all and...and you don't want him to think he can get out of trouble by kissing up to you. But, begrudgingly, you card your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"I'm still really upset about this, Johnny." You frown.

"I know, sweetheart. And I really am sorry. But, hey! I know something that'll make us both feel better." He grins up at you and you let him lead you back to the couch with a huff, dropping down once the back of your calves brush the white upholstery. 

“I’m sure you do.” You roll your eyes, spreading your legs to make room for him without thinking. “How would you —ahh !” You yelp at the sudden pinprick of pain on the skin of your inner thigh and it morphs into a moan when the pinch is quickly followed by a warm heat. You look down in time to see the pink of Johnny’s tongue as he licks over the tender spot—tender because he bit you like a damn dog!

“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I couldn’t really hear you over all those cute little noises.” You can feel the shit-eating grin against your skin as he talks. “You’re so sensitive. Definitely not a complaint—it does amazing things to my ego.” He laughs, hooking his hands under the back of your knees and pushing your legs up until the heels of your feet are balancing precariously on the edge of the seat.

He grips your hips, pulling you further down the couch and closer to his face. He moves your legs so your feet rest on his shoulders, the white polish of your toenails reflecting the light.

He leans in and you hold your breath in anticipation. You don’t want him to think he can just distract you and you’ll forget about being mad at him but—he leans in close to where the skirt of your sundress rucks up around your stomach, warm breath making you clench around nothing with each pant—but you like getting ate out almost as much as Johnny likes to do it.

You sigh as the warm, wet heat of his tongue drags across the damp seat of your panties. 

" Johnny. " You whine in frustration, fingers tightening in his sandy hair, as he pulls away as quickly as he came.

"Hold on, sweetheart. I think you're gonna like this." He grins, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. You pause as he unlocks it and presents it to you, camera on and recording you.

"What the hell are you doing?" You try to push as much disapproval into your voice as you can as you flip it from the front-facing camera to the rear one, but that’s an almost impossible task since he’s rubbing his nose up and down the crease of where your thigh meets your pussy. You end up sounding far more breathy than intended.

"What?” He grins into the camera. “You can watch this whenever you need a reminder of who I belong to." He says and if you weren't wet before, you definitely are now.

For as long as you’ve known him, Johnny has never been one to half-ass anything . It’s whole ass or nothing with him putting 110% into everything he’s faced with. However, when you first started dating, you hadn’t thought that would hold up when he had his head between your legs—yet another thing Johnny went out of his way to prove you wrong about.

The camera captures it the moment he pushes your panties to the side; he’s in his element.

There’s no preamble, no warning. Johnny dives in giving you no time to prepare for the shock of pleasure. You jerk away, but he holds onto your hips, hands becoming heavy weights you can’t lift. 

“You always taste so good for me, it’s insane.” He groans as your thighs try to squeeze his head, but he keeps them open easily. You sigh shakily at the casual show of strength. “I’d stay down here forever if you’d let me.” You bite your lip to muffle your soft moans, reminding yourself to steady the phone every few seconds, but forgetting to do so almost as soon as you do. But you can’t be blamed when Johnny gives head like he’s training for the Olympics; trying to break his previous record each attempt. You’ve been eaten out by people other than Johnny—of course, you have. It’s a requirement—but none of your past lovers come anywhere close to this. Johnny blows them out of the water every time.

That would be fine if you didn’t factor in his ego. Which would also be fine…any other day. But today, after the shit he pulled, you aren’t in the mood. This is supposed to be his way of apologizing, after all. So before he can get any ideas, you blink past the haze he’s put you in and grab the back of his neck. His back stiffens. He glances up at you and the shift is so swift that you doubt the camera even picked it up. His shoulders relax, almost limp against you, wide eyes going lidded as his grip on you softens.

“I know you can be louder than that, Johnny. I, hah , wanna hear how sorry you are. You are sorry, right?” You narrow your eyes.

His words are muffled since he refuses to take his mouth off of you, but you’re able to make out ‘yes’ and ‘princess’ which is good enough for you. Through the camera, you manage to get his pleading eyes and his hand unabashedly palming his bulge in the same frame and you smile around a moan.

"Are you hard, Johnny?" He doesn't hesitate to nod enthusiastically, and you feel yourself throb in his mouth. You're sure if your feet were on the ground he'd be grinding against your leg shamelessly. His body knows this too since his hips keep making aborted little thrusts, itching for relief from his tight gray slacks. "Heh, of course, you are. You can't help yourself, c–can you? Go on, then.”

He pauses, assessing you for a second to see if you’ll follow it up with anything else. You’re being surprisingly benevolent. He always has to work to earn your approval when you get like this, any pleasure he gets is dictated by you—not that he’s complaining—and that’s on the days when he hasn’t pissed you off. He honestly didn’t think he’d be cumming tonight, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He buries his tongue in you, licking from your pulsing hole to your throbbing clit as his hands work to unbuckle his belt and pull his dick out. He groans in relief once he’s free, squeezing the base of his dick so he doesn’t cum too quickly. You’re certainly not helping, shivering against him like a house in a storm and he moans in synch with you when you yank on his hair.

He freezes at the press of sharp nails at the nape of his neck. He shivers at the slight pinch of pain before leaning into it and you reward him with smoothing down the hair there. He stops the movement of his hands, but not his mouth.

“If you’re touching yourself, you’ll do it slowly or not at all. You wanna make it up to me, don’t you? Yeah ?” You hiss as he nods against you, mouth a tight suction on your clit. “Then you don’t cum until I do.” Normally he’s more bratty than this, making you fuck the submission out of him, but he must really be sorry because he does just as you say. He slows down as you instruct, his sharp brows furrowing as one of his hands grip the fat of your thigh. His other hand jerks him off haltingly like he actively has to remind himself to obey you. 

“You’re being so good for me, baby.” You gush, squirming in his hold. “ Mmh, s’fucking good.” You have to adjust your grip on his phone when he grunts at your praise, uncertain if you should jerk away or towards the vibrations. You run your nails over his scalp before yanking on his blond hair and he moans like a pornstar, hips thrusting into his hand. To the untrained eye—or ear—it seems like he’s playing it up for the camera, performing, but he’s always this loud. Especially when he’s got your pussy in his mouth.

It's almost embarrassing, the wet sounds of Johnny sloppily eating you out. Your moans mix with his and bounce around the mansion's walls with a filthy echo the longer this goes on. 

He stiffens his tongue and you know what he wants. You move your hand to the back of his head, gripping the soft strands to pull him forward. You thrust your hips with helpless, heady moans as you fuck his face. His heavy gaze burns through the camera to stare up at you with his tongue out. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk and he winks. You throw your head back, eyes closed with an obscene moan and he moves forward to press his nose against your clit, tongue flat as you move his head side to side.

“Johnny , mmh, ‘m gonna, f– fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” You cry and he moans into you in response. You glance down to see his foggy glasses riding low on his nose and he stares right back, brown eyes half open but full of lust. The apples of his flushed cheeks become accentuated, sharpening with his grin. The barest hint of teeth brush your clit before pressing against it and you jerk back with the strength of your orgasm. Your mouth falls open with a repeated whine of his name, legs shaking as you hold his head still.

“Damn.” He curses, pulling away when your muscles untense. He doesn't bother wiping his mouth, wearing your slick like a trophy as he smiles into the camera. “Should’ve got that on camera. It was a money shot.” You scoff, smiling despite yourself. You pull his glasses off and sit them on your head before you press stop on the camera and toss the phone on the couch beside you, pulling him to you by the open collar of his button-up. You kiss him deep, tasting yourself on his tongue with a groan. His hands go to your hips and you wrap your legs around his waist, licking into his mouth. 

“You played dirty.” You slide your hand down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as you go. You grab his dick, still hard and leaking against his stomach. He laughs before whimpering into your mouth at your touch, rutting up into it. You swipe a thumb across his tip where precum drips down the underside of the head. "You're so wet, baby. This all for me?" You pull away to lick yourself off him, tongue dragging across the skin of his chin as you twist your wrist with every upward stroke. 

"Are you joking? O–of course. Can, shit , can you blame me?” He puffs into your neck, hot air warming your neck as you alternate between licking and kissing his jaw. His fingers spasm around your hips, and your hands fly to his shoulders when he pulls you forward until your ass is barely on the edge of the couch. Now he’s in the perfect position to—

You gasp as he ruts against you, still sensitive as his dick slides between your pussy lips. There’s no friction with how wet you both are and with every upwards thrust he bumps your twitching clit. 

“Wait, I’m— mmnh —Johnny, I’m sensitive.” 

“Ah, ah, sweetheart. You said I can cum when you do,” you jump when he nips at your neck, strong arms wrapping around your back holding you tight to him. “Besides, I’m not done apologizing.” You rock against him despite your complaining. The overwhelming feeling only increases when he bends over you to reach something, and it’s enough to distract you from the sound a phone makes when you press record.

[wordsbymae]

Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

@phoebepheebsphibs SURPRISE ATTACK!!

You know I had to do it when I read the prompt.

@tmnt-write-fight

Fandom: ROTTMNT (Until I Found You AU and No Fun in Fungus AU crossover)

Prompt: “Okay, look-I’ll give you whatever you want, just d-don’t hurt him!”

Word Count: 764

TW: In the tags

“Okay, look-I’ll give you whatever you want, just d-don’t hurt him!” Leon begs, pleads.

He can’t believe this happened again. For the second time, these spores have taken over and threatened his brother.

Audreytello peers down at him with a wide smile, eyes glowing maliciously.

“What could you give me that I would want?”

“You can feed off me! I-I’m the one with the fears, I’m the one who thinks I’m not good enough! I’m the one who knows I don’t deserve my family!”

Mikey whimpers and whines against the vine wrapped around his mouth, moving his arms and legs too in an act of defiance.

Leon knows he’s desperately trying to tell him it’s not true, he does deserve his family, and probably a lot more just in those little sounds.

That he should have more faith in himself, that it doesn’t matter what he’s been told, what he believes so wholeheartedly, that he is a good brother.

How good can he be after everything he’s done to him?

Everything he hasn’t protected him from?

Everything he’s robbed him of just by existing?

“Why would I want to feed from you instead of him? You’re too pathetic for me to even do that.”

Leon tenses, gripping his arm.

All he has is what he can offer people, how useful he can be, and it’s never been a lot. Whatever he can do is used up and then he’s tossed off to the side.

Forgotten.

By everyone but Mikey.

That’s why he has to do this.

He has to save him.

“Well…..I suppose there is one thing I might need you for.” Audreytello muses.

Leon perks up.

He hates that it gives him even a slim glimmer of hope.

“A-Anything. Please.”

Audreytello’s eyes flash something dangerous.

“I need you in order for him to break.”

“What-!?” Leon gets cut off as he’s picked up and slammed into the ground.

Mikey’s muffled screams are as loud as they can be.

“You’ve always been his weakness. You hate yourself so much you can never see how much he loves you. The depths he would go, and has gone for you. You get scared and you run, you leave him behind because you think that’s the only way he’ll be happy. Instead, you hurt one of the only people who cares about someone so truly insignificant. You hurt him in the biggest way possible. You left him alone, Leon. You always leave him alone. That’s when I come in.” Audreytello smirks.

Leon’s tears drip onto the floor, quickly creating a puddle.

“Mikey! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I-I love you! You’re the best little brother anyone could ask for! I shouldn’t have left you! I shouldn’t have run! I was just scared! I’m always scared! I’m not brave like you! Y-You’re so so brave! Don’t let him use me against you!”

Mikey’s tears are falling too, pouring.

Audreytello lifts Leon up again before repeating the process. With every hit, Mikey becomes more violent in trying to get free. As blood mixes with the tears on the floor, he loses it.

A bright glow explodes around him. The vines are incinerated by mystic fire and chains shoot out to grab Leon.

Audreytello moves the already injured boy around roughly as he also tries to dodge Mikey’s hits as long as he can.

Leon can only watch in horror as Mikey uses more and more of his power to try to save him. The cracks appearing on his hands feel like they’re on Leon’s heart too.

He’s only finally freed when Mikey’s power finally overwhelms Audreytello and makes him too weak to continue.

The power overwhelms Mikey’s body too.

Leon screams as he reaches out to his brother, barely able to do so from his injuries.

Mikey smiles softly at him before he cracks apart, gold overtaking Leon’s vision.

He wakes up with a start, breathing heavily, tears already on his face.

Mikey rubs his eyes, sitting up next to him.

“Leon….? Did you have a nightmare?”

Leon sniffles, checking his brother for the cracks he saw in his dream. He only calms down once he sees they’re not there.

Then, the memory disappears.

“Y-Yeah….”

“Another dream you can’t remember….?”

He tearfully nods.

Mikey hugs him close, smiling up at him softly. He knows seeing him happy always cheers him up at least a little.

“It’s okay. Whatever happened, everything will be okay! I’m here. We have each other.”

Leon gladly hugs him back.

“I won’t go anywhere ever again….no matter what.”

Well….let’s put that to the test, shall we?

[byunpum]

Will there be a sequel for experiment 56?

I REALLY want to see his reaction when he meets Y/N's and Neteyam's child for the first time.

Neteyam being a baby daddy ft. Sully family, and Quaritch.

Neteyam x Human reader ( like a mix of human-navi) This is the continuation of the parental life of neteyam and Y/N from the mini-series "experiment 56". tw: All character are age up 20's, cute and fluff.

Here is the full masterlist of experiment 56. "CLICK HERE"

Note: I hope this is what you asked for. Enjoy!!! <3

Song recommended: Beautiful boy (darling boy) by john lennon

Y/N's pregnancy was a bit complicated, and it wasn't because you couldn't handle it, but having the small body of a human and creating a baby navi was difficult. Although noah't was born a small baby compared to a baby navi.

Neteyam was your most faithful servant during your entire pregnancy, you wanted water? He was there. Were you hungry? Tell me what you want and you shall have it. He didn't mind going hunting in the middle of the night, hunting the beast, and cooking it. The important thing was that you and the baby were happy and pleased.

If Jake was overprotective of you, imagine what he would be like as a grandfather. You couldn't even be alone. Neytiri would prepare special meals for you, give you massages to ease the discomfort and show neteyam how to do it, so he could help you.

You liked being with loak and spider, because they were the only ones in the family who treated you normally. Although you could see out of the corner of your eye, spider removing objects before you passed so you wouldn't fall over.

Kiri and tuk spent all the rest of the months preparing different clothes for the baby, it didn't matter if it was going to be a boy or a girl. They were going to be ready.

Norm made you take several tests, just to make sure everything was going naturally. Jake was the one who came up with the idea and neteyam supported him.

When Noah't was born, Neteyam became more protective of the two of you, and even more protective of you.

He sits behind you, while you are in between his legs, while breastfeeding his son. He is creating a kind of guardian, to protect you.

Kiri had created a type of baby carrier. He was all proud daddy, while taking the baby for a walk.

He likes to take care of noah't while you can do things with the girls. I mean with kiri and tuk.

You two are still very young. So the stares from neteyam to you would never stop. And now they are more intense.

He loves how you look carrying his son, while you are preparing something. Or when you are hunting, and you have noah't hanging on your chest. Gurlll, it drives him crazy.

Neteyam would give you kisses on your neck, or take your hands and kiss them. He'd come up to your neck so he could smell your scent. You knew you had to be careful, because if it were up to him, you'd have another baby on the way.

He would trust spider more than loak, but to his bad luck noah't loves his uncle loak. He literally jumps out of your arms to run with loak.

Noah't was smaller than an average baby navi, but he was still bigger than an average human baby. this also affected his learning, he was growing and developing like a human. According to the research Norm did, by the age of 10, Noah't would grow like a normal navi.

You two didn't mind this, since noah't was a bright baby. But he couldn't do most of the things a normal navi baby would do at his age. But that didn't stop you and neteyam from taking him to the different activities.

Noah't was the trendy baby of the clan. He was completely navi, but had very noticeable human features. His ears were smaller and his eyes were similar to neteyam's, but they were light brown, and even his skin was a lighter blue. Not as much as those of the aquatic clan, but a little lighter than the omaticaya.

Loak would take the baby for a walk, hidden from neteyam, of course. He would sneak into the hut you shared with neteyam and ask you if he could take Noah't to play. You had no problem with this and handed him the baby.

Realizing this, you try to dialogue with neteyam saying that he is a dramatist and that loak is his uncle. Neteyam doesn't care and goes out to find loak and his son. His biggest nightmare comes true when he sees his son in the air, riding on an ikran and uncle loak holding him by the sides, Superman style.

neteyam almost has a heart attack, while grandpa jake is arguing with loak. While noah't is hugging his uncle loak's neck.

Kiri would take noah't for walks in the forest, tuk would accompany them, but would soon get bored. Spider would catch up with them, to play a little with the baby. Kiri would take him to the family hut and change his outfit. Put new clothes and new beads in his hair.

When she hands you the baby, it's a whole new baby.

Although spider and neteyam had their differences, neteyam trusts the boy. So he lets spider take care of him when he is with loak. Neteyam loves his brother, but he doesn't quite trust him.

Neytiri is a loving and overprotective grandmother to her grandson, preparing his favorite foods and giving him his first bow. You would say something like "mom, he is only 10 months old", this would not bother Neytiri, she would even teach him how to use it.

Grandpa Jake would be something else, this is his baby. And if anyone says otherwise, he's ready to fight. Loak and neteyam would complain, because he never treated them like that.

Neteyam would put beads on the baby just like him. And when noah't had enough hair, he would wear almost the same hairstyle.

Neteyam loved to lie on the floor, while his son plays on top of him. He likes it when noah't takes his braids and pulls them and tries to bring them to his mouth. He likes to hear his little laugh, when he picks him up off the ground and makes him fly on the floor.

When noah't turns one year old, neteyam will give him his old toys, he wants his son to have memories with him.

He is a very loving, understanding father. He likes it when noah't calls him "baba" it melts his heart completely.

Noah't was going to meet Quaritch, Y/n had brought him close to the base, and Quaritch would come out from around the base so he could see the baby. He had communicated with you through a communicator. After all, if it weren't for him Noah't would never have been born.

You would let him hold him in his arms, and play with him. He even took pictures with noah't. Neteyam would be watching from afar, ready for any inappropriate moves.

You could see tears welling up in Quaritch's eyes. He was congratulating you and praising how beautiful the baby was. When you told him the baby's name. He looked into your eyes, and you knew this was very important to him. "You are perfect… noah't" Quaritch says as he continues to swing noah't in his arms. He even gives you a bag of cinnamon candy that lyle had sent you.

You were even able to get spider and quaritch to meet, it was strange, but you know they will work out.

Every night, neteyam would lay down and seettle you next to him while you cuddled noah't. Neteyam liked to stretch his arm out so he could hug the two of you next to him. He wanted to know that you are safe by his side, and that he would always protect you.

p.s: I really enjoyed writing this, if you have other ideas. Go ahead… requests are open.

[latenitewaffles]

Meet Cernunnos, The son of Saint Macuil, as well as Mortala and Begalta! Or as he goes by around humans, Fionn. He's a combat instructor at the Officer's Academy and a Knight of Seiros who typically acts as Rhea's bodyguard. An extroverted and sweet man, Fionn's known for giving people pep talks after being reprimanded by Catherine and taking on more squires than anyone else ever has. He's got the Crest of Cernunnos, and is the only person to have ever had it; in fact, it's barely recorded in history.

Age: ~1700 (Academy/War); Is constantly mistaken as being 18-20 and doesn't correct anyone. Born on the 16th of the Verdant Rain Moon.

Height: 6'3" - 190cm

War Monk

Crest of Cernunnos

Strengths: Faith, Brawling, Axe

Weaknesses: Riding

Close Allies: Seteth, Flayn, Alois

Likes: The Four Saints, helping people, storms

Dislikes: Horses, people sacrificing themselves for him, screaming

More Info Below and Design Notes below! (TW; Mentions of parent death)

Like most Nabateans, Cernunnos lived in Zanado with his parents; Macuil and Begalta, his fathers, and Mortala, his mother. One day, the village was raided by those who would soon be known as the Ten Elites, and many Nabateans were slaughtered. Begalta and Mortala were no exception, killed by Riegan and Fraldarius respectively. Cernunnos was chased down by some bandits and almost killed as well, until he was rescued by Cichol. He was roughly 500 at the time, the Nabatean equivalent of 8 for a human.

Though Seiros had intended on making him a Saint, Macuil loudly objected. After all, the man had just lost his husband and wife; making his son a Saint would just put a larger target on his head, and Macuil didn't want to lose him too. Regardless, Cernunnos still fought in the War of Heroes and quickly became known as a force of nature on the battlefield despite his small stature and (relatively) young age. Humans for the most part had a hard time dealing with the fact that they were being shown up by a child; Macuil took mild pride in it whenever he wasn't worried sick.

Then, after a battle, Cernunnos was getting healed by Cethleann after receiving a particularly nasty injury, they were ambused by the Elite Riegan; Cethleann jumped in front of her younger cousin, taking the hit from Riegan's arrow. Cernunnos went into a rage, transforming into The Stormbringer (his dragon form), and proceeding to rip Riegan to shreds. Despite managing to stabilize Cethleann and constantly being told by his other family that it wasn't his fault, Cernunnos constantly blames himself for what happened and took on a healer role to "make it up to Cethleann".

After the War of Heroes, Cernunnos followed his father to Sreng and stayed there for the coming centuries, developing an incredibly jovial mask to hide the pain he still felt from the War and Zanado. This clashed heavily with Macuil becoming more and more bitter, until it eventually resulted in a falling out where Cernunnos ran away to live at the Monastery in Imperial Year 937, taking on the name Fionn and joining the Knights of Seiros.

Fun Facts and Design Notes!

His Sacred Weapon is called the Fists of Nemea. They have a built-in 3 pointed twisting blade.

He's met many nobles across the 3 countries and has dirt on several people's ancestors

One of the houses he doesn't have dirt on is House Bergliez; One of Caspar's ancestors, Emmeline von Bergliez, was a squire of his.

Avid reader of legends and a big fan of a particular story called "The Shadows of Valentia".

Balthus and Rodrigue both recognize him from their Academy days and are both floored that he looks nearly identical. Catherine does too, but knows his secret.

He considered Sitri his cousin. When she died, he took a long break from the Knights of Seiros.

While both depicted designs are based on the War Monk, the Academy/War design mixes it with Seteth's outfit and the War of Heroes design mixes it with the Sothis Regalia.

His hair is meant to resemble a mix of Chrom and Cloud Strife's hairstyles.

His War of Heroes design puts him at around 600, roughly the equivalent of a human 13 year old. Why did I choose to make Nabatean aging weird? Idk.

The Stormbringer is meant to simultaneously look Wolfish, Birdlike, and Draconic.

The Crest of Cernunnos is associated with the Adjustment Arcana (Alternative Justice Arcana. If you know me you know why) and is known as the "Cloud Dragon Sign".

The Crest of Cernunnos has a slight chance of healing adjacent units the same amount as the target unit.

[hexpea]

Prologue - Gladioli Gladioli represent strength of character, faithfulness, moral integrity, and remembrance. AN: For best experience, please at least read Ch. 1-9 first. In chapter 9, Y/N talks about her wedding to Naohiro with Naoya at the mitamaya. This is that wedding. c: AN: TW: Emetophobia 

The Kamo estate buzzed with the quiet, disciplined activity of attendants preparing for your wedding. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers that came in through the open fusuma doors of the estate. You stood at the center of your nearly empty room, attendants fussing over the finishing touches on your shiromuku. You were to marry Zenin Naohiro, the eldest of four sons of the Zenin clan head Naobito. 

Like Naoya and his other brothers, Naohiro always exuded confidence, his presence commanding and assertive. He wasn't one to randomly second-guess himself, such confidence often coming off as arrogance. As a Zenin, Naohiro had also always been deeply committed to his family, hence his 'gentleness' toward you so far through your engagement. You were set to become part of that family per his duty to the clan, so you weren't restricted from his overly protective nature. At first, the two of you hadn't seen eye to eye but as the weeks passed in preparation for your wedding you found yourself warming up to the charismatic Zenin with a knack for humor and playfulness. Naohiro's initial interactions with you were marked with formality and curiosity. He respected the arranged nature of your marriage but he was also genuinely interested in getting to know you as a person, especially after his education on your clan that he so diligently learned once he heard of the arrangement. 

As you looked at your reflection in the mirror that leaned against the wall, your mind swirled with a mix of nerves and uncertainty. You had to remind yourself why you were doing this, for the sake of your clan, for your father's love and approval. This marriage was one for a mission, a union steeped in duty and family expectations. There was no love between you, at least not yet.

A loud rapping on the shoji door broke your inner monologue. Your brow furrowed slightly at the irritating noise. "Who is it?" You called out in your steady voice. 

"It's Naoya," came the familiar, gruff voice from the other side, your future brother-in-law. His tone carried its usual blend of irritation and impatience. 

You glanced at the attendant nearest to the door and nodded, giving them permission to open it. The shoji door opened to reveal Naoya standing there, a small, white box with a blue ribbon clutched in his hand. He was dressed in a sharp, black kimono, the formal attire only emphasizing his striking presence. His piercing amber eyes raked over you from head to toe, a smirk playing on his lips. 

"Well, don't you look fucking ravishing," he drawled, a hint of something almost hungry in his voice. "I always knew you could clean up nice considering your snobby-ass clan, but this...this is something else." 

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his crude remark, but you chose to ignore it. Naoya was known for his sharp tongue and provocative comments. You had learned to brush them off, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you focused on the small box in his hand. "What do you have there, Zenin?"

He held the box up, shaking it slightly. "It's a wedding present. From Naohiro." 

You blinked in surprise, genuinely taken aback. Your relationship with Naohiro wasn't necessarily an affectionate one. You were polite to each other, but the distance between you was still palpable. The idea of him sending a wedding gift seemed out of character, almost suspicious. "Naohiro?" You repeated, skepticism lacing your voice. "What is it?"

Naoya rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by your hesitation. "How the hell should I know? He just told me to give it to you. Said it was important." 

He stepped further into the room, the attendants bowing slightly and stepping away from you to give you space. Naoya's presence seemed to fill the space, his confident stride and commanding aura impossible to ignore. He handed you the box, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. 

You took the box, curiosity piqued. You carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of silk, was an exquisite hairpin. It was a delicate piece, adorned with tiny pearls and intricate blue designs, clearly a family heirloom. 

"Wow," you murmured, genuinely touched by the gesture. Despite the arrangement, the gift felt significant, a small olive branch extended in the form of a beautiful accessory that was clearly both the something borrowed and something blue. 

Naoya watched your reaction closely, his smirk fading into a more serious expression as he recognized the piece as his grandmother's. "I'm sure he wanted you to wear it today," he said, his voice unusually soft. 

You looked up at him, meeting his intense gaze. For a moment, the usual sarcasm and arrogance in his eyes was replaced with something deeper, almost vulnerable. It was a side of Naoya you had never seen before, one you didn't think he was capable of, and it caught you off guard. 

"Thank you, Zenin," you said sincerely. "I appreciate you bringing this to me. Send my gratitude to your brother."

He shrugged, the familiar mask of indifference and irritation slipping back into place almost instantly. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm not my brother's goddamned errand boy and I certainly won't be yours." 

You couldn't help but smile at his gruffness. "Of course not." 

As you turned to show the attendants the hairpin so they could put it in your hair, you caught a glimpse of Naoya's reflection in the mirror. He was still watching you, his eyes lingering on your face with a strange intensity.

"Good luck today," he suddenly scoffed, though a hint of genuineness snuck through. 

You met his gaze in the mirror as one of the attendants tiptoed to get the pin in your hair, a smirk adorning your face. "Thanks again, Zenin." 

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your fingers drifting to the back of your head where the pin was to touch it. You felt a strange sense of connection to Naohiro at that point. Today was the beginning of your 'new life' with Naohiro, but something told you that Naoya would continue to be an unexpected presence in that 'new life.'

As the time for the ceremony drew near, you found yourself standing at the entrance to a shrine, your heart pounding with anticipation, the moment of truth when your mission would begin -- to weaken the Zenin clan by taking out its heirs. Your gaze drifted to the pathway as you got closer and closer. Just ahead, standing tall and resplendent in his montsuki, was Naohiro. His black hair was neatly tied back, a stark contrast to his pale complexion and his piercing amber eyes. The formal attire emphasized his strong, commanding presence, and for a moment, you found yourself breathless at the sight of him. 

He exuded confidence and authority, his every movement deliberate and assured as he turned to face you completely. When he caught sight of you, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening the stern lines of his face. Despite the arranged nature of your marriage, there was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew you to him despite your reservations. Beside him stood Naoya, similar in appearance with his black hair and amber eyes but a stark contrast personality-wise compared to his brother. While Naohiro was composed and stoic, Naoya was brash and unpredictable, his eyes flickering with mischief and defiance. He wore a similar montsuki, though his was adorned with subtle embroidery that spoke of his status as the fourth son, the youngest, of the Zenin clan head. 

As you approached, Naoya's gaze met yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. You couldn't help but feel a surge of heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze, the coldness sending a shiver down your spine. 

Naohiro stepped forward to greet you, his voice steady and reassuring. "Y/N," he said, his tone warm yet formal. "You look beautiful."

You dipped into a respectful bow, returning the formal greeting. "Thank you, Zenin-sama."

His smile widened slightly at the honorific. "Shall we proceed?"

You nodded, falling into step beside him as then procession began to move forward. Naoya followed close behind with his other brothers and his father, Naobito. You could almost feel his presence burning into your back. 

The reception hall was a grand spectacle of elegance and opulence, adorned with intricate tapestries and ornate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the festivities. As you entered the hall on Naohiro's arm, now changed into a better fitting reception dress, you couldn't help but be awestruck by the grandeur of it all. The air was filled with the lively chatter of happily intoxicated guests and the melodious strains of traditional music. 

Naoya, freshly twenty just like you, stumbled around the hall with a drunken grin plastered on his face. He bumped into tables and tripped over his own feet as he mingled with other guests in a similar state. His laughter was loud and boisterous as he made a spectacle of himself. 

"Oi, watch where you're fucking going!" A guest exclaimed as Naoya careened into their table, sending a few champagne flutes crashing to the floor. 

Naoya paid no mind to the chaos he left in his wake, his attention fixed on grabbing another glass from a waiter as he stumbled towards them with a drunken determination. Meanwhile, Naohiro, though also clearly under the influence of alcohol, carried himself with a suave charm as he led you to your designated table after a dance. His touch on the small of your back was possessive yet playful as he pulled out your chair, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of mischief. 

"You look breathtaking in that dress, Y/N," he slurred slightly, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "I must admit, I'm feeling like one lucky bastard to have you as my bride."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his drunken flirtation, a flush rising to your cheeks despite yourself. "Thank you, Zenin-sama. You're quite the smooth talker, even with that much alcohol in your system."

His laughter was warm and infectious as he settled into his own seat beside you, his hand inching dangerously close to your thigh. "Please, just call me by my given name, no honorifics. We're married," he chuckled huskily. "And you know I can't help myself, darling," he murmured, "you're just too damn irresistible."

As the evening wore on, Naoya's drunken antics only seemed to escalate, much to the amusement of his brothers and the exasperation of the other guests. He stumbled onto the dance floor, his movements wild and uncoordinated as he attempted to join in the festivities, happily twirling one of your older sisters who was blushing and grinning from ear to ear. 

"Naoya, for fuck's sake, sit your ass down before you break something!" One of his brothers called out with a big grin, hand around the waist of his own wife as he tried in vein to rein him in. 

Naoya paid no heed, his laughter ringing out through the hall as he dipped your blushing sister in a comical display of drunken abandon. His gaze was lazy, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Your sister was in no better a state as they conquered the dance floor together while Naohiro laughed and cheered them on from his seat beside you, one of his hands gently placed on your knee. The warm sensation somehow gave you butterflies, your body and mind quickly warming up to your new husband, the man you were supposed to be killing for the sake of your father's 'grand master plan.' 

The alcohol continued to flow, Naoya's antics became even more outrageous as the more formal guests left, leaving the party for the revelers. That meant that the karaoke machine came out and Naoya's drunk-self wasted no time in taking up the microphone. The reception hall echoed with his off-key rendition of 'Ballad', his slurred words and drunken swagger eliciting both laughter and cringes from the remaining guests. 

With each line of the song, his voice wavered dangerously off pitch, his drunken enthusiasm making a mockery of the heartfelt lyrics. "部屋に残る 君の香りが 寂しさを増す 君去った後には!" He belted out, his words slurring together in a chaotic mess. 

You couldn't help but stifle a laugh as you watched Naoya stumble around the dance floor with a microphone in one hand and bottle of champagne in the other, his singing a cacophony of discordant notes. Despite the sheer absurdity of the situation, there was a strange charm to his uninhibited enthusiasm. 

Beside you, Naohiro leaned in close, his breath heavy with alcohol as he whispered in your ear. "Looks like my little brother's having a blast up there," he chuckled, his words slurred but filled with affection. His thumb was rubbing eager circles on your knee and you could tell that he was getting antsy to join in on the fun.

You couldn't help but grin at his drunken demeanor, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of the usually arrogant and cruel Naoya who was presently enjoying himself. "He's certainly entertaining, I'll give him that," you replied, your voice tinged with amusement. 

Suddenly, to your surprise, Naohiro rose from his seat, swaying slightly as he made his way toward his brother. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he threw an arm around Naoya's shoulder, joining him in his drunken serenade. As Naohiro and Naoya stumbled through the final chorus of the song, their voices a chaotic blend of off-key notes, Naohiro's gaze flickered toward you, a drunken grin spreading across his face which caused you to blush. With a clumsy sway, he reached toward you, his hand hovering in the air as if to pull you into the chaotic duet.

"Join us, my love!" He slurred, his words muddled but filled with drunken enthusiasm. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, shaking your head in disbelief. "I think I'll pass, Hiro!" You replied, amusement coloring your tone. 

Naohiro winked at you, his charm undiminished by the alcohol. "Your loss, beautiful!" He called back, his grin widening before he dove back into singing. 

As the song reached its crescendo, Naoya's antics reached new heights of absurdity. With a triumphal flourish, he brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, pressing a drunken kiss to the glass as if it were his one true love. The guests erupted into laughter and applause. Naohiro watched his brother's antics with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, shaking his head in mock disapproval. 

Deciding to join in on the fun, Naohiro slipped off his wedding ring and tapped Naoya on the shoulder, offering it to him with a sloppy grin. "Brother, I present to you this ring as a token of your eternal love with that bottle of champagne," he declared, his words slurred but filled with affection.

Naoya's eyes lit up with drunken delight as he accepted the ring and sank to one knee, holding the bottle of champagne aloft in a comical parody of a proposal. "Oh, Clos D'Ambonnay, my love, will you marry me?" He slurred to the bottle, his words barely intelligible through his drunken haze. 

The guests continued their laughter as Naoya continued to make out with the bottle, his dramatics providing endless entertainment. Naohiro, equally tipsy, stumbled back to your side and pulled you to your feet. He wrapped an arm around your waist with a possessive yet playful grip. "You see that?" He murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "My brother might be a drunken fool, but he knows how to put on a show."

You chuckled, allowing yourself the pleasure of leaning into him. "He certainly does. And you, Zenin Naohiro, are no less entertaining," you replied, your tone teasing. 

Naohiro's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, causing your heart to rapidly race. "But I'm much more charming, aren't I?" He whispered, his lips brushing your skin ever-so lightly.

A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, your heart still thumping away against your ribcage. "Perhaps," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Naohiro's grin widened, his hands slipping down your arms to intertwine with yours. "I'll take that as a yes," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. 

When the night drew to a close, the last of the guests stumbled out of the reception hall, their laughter and chatter fading into the cool night air as they went their separate ways. The staff moved swiftly, beginning to clean up the remnants of the evening's festivities. You stood near the entrance, watching as the workers efficiently cleared away the tables and decorations. Naohiro had left already with his father to handle some business, even in his drunken state. You were left to deal with Naoya, who was fast asleep under a table, clutching his now empty bottle of champagne like a lifeline, still wearing Naohiro's wedding ring from earlier. With a sigh, you approached him. You carefully crouched down in your dress beside him, taking sight of him curled into a ball and snoring softly. His usually sharp features were softened in sleep, making him look almost boyish.

"Zenin," you called softly, reaching out to nudge his leg. He didn't stir. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and kicked his leg a bit harder. "Wake up, you drunken idiot."

Naoya groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked up at you, his gaze unfocused. "What the fuck...?" He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol. "Y/N? What the hell do you want? Where am I?"

"You need to get up," you said firmly, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him into a sitting position. "The party's over and we need to get back to the estate."

Naoya grumbled, resisting your efforts to move him. "Leave me alone," he slurred, clutching the champagne bottle tighter. "I'm comfortable right here."

You sighed, frustration bubbling up inside you. "Zenin, get your ass up," you snapped. "I can't carry you and I'm not leaving you here."

With a monumental effort, Naoya managed to sit up, leaning heavily against the leg of the table. He looked up at you with bleary eyes, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by vulnerability. "Why do you even care?" He muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You married my brother. Go be the perfect wife or whatever."

You felt a pang of something -- sympathy, perhaps -- at his words. Despite his bravado, Naoya was clearly hurting for some reason and the alcohol had stripped away his usual defenses. "Because," you said softly, "like it or not, we're family now. And family looks out for each other."

Naoya stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "Family, huh? That's rich coming from you, Kamo." You frowned at him as he got to his feet, struggling and swaying unsteadily. "Fine, I'll go," he grumbled. "But I don't need your damn help."

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to support him anyway. "Whatever, Zenin."

The journey back to the Kamo estate was an arduous one, filled with Naoya's drunken mutterings and your constant attempts to keep him upright in the back of the black sedan that had escorted you there in the first place. As you got out of the car upon arrival, his arm slung back over your shoulder, his weight heavy as you practically dragged him along the pathway. You stumbled a few times, your dress catching on the uneven gravel, but you were determined to get him back to his room without further incident.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" You muttered as Naoya leaned heavily against you, his breath warm and smelling of alcohol. He mumbled something incoherent in response, his head lolling to the side.

When you finally reached the front porch of the estate, you paused to catch your breath, glancing at the entrance. The attendants that opened the fusuma doors gave you curious looks but quickly averted their eyes, trained to remain discreet in all matters seeing as you were with your husband's brother and not your husband. They knew better than to ask questions. With a sigh, you pushed forward, guiding Naoya down the outer walkway and toward the guest room he had been staying in.

"Almost there," you grumbled, more to yourself than to Naoya, who was now mumbling a tuneless song to under his breath as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

As you turned a corner and entered the guest room, Naoya's messy futon discombobulated on the floor from that morning, he suddenly stopped, swaying unsteadily. "I think...I'm gonna' be sick," he slurred, clutching his stomach and his face turning slightly green.

"Oh, great," you muttered, trying to find something suitable for him puke into that wouldn't be a complete disaster. 

Before you could direct him toward the small trash can at one of the corners of the room, Naoya doubled over and vomited right into an expensive porcelain vase that sat on one of the built-in shelves in the room. 

"For fuck's sake, Zenin!" You exclaimed, holding him steady as he retched into the ornate pottery. "Could you aim somewhere less valuable?!"

Naoya groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That...that vase deserved it," he mumbled, swaying slightly as you pulled him away from the mess, a weak finger pointing at the scene of the crime. 

"You're a real piece of work," you said, shaking your head. "Come on, let's get you to bed." 

You attempted to ease him down onto the futon. He sprawled out, looking up at you and slowly blinking. "Why are you being so nice to me?" He asked, his voice tinged with drunkenly innocent confusion.

"Because, believe it or not, I don't want you choking on your own vomit," you replied dryly. "Stay here. I'm going to go get you some water and crackers. And if you have to puke, please don't use the vase again..."

Naoya grumbled something unintelligible as you left the room, making your way to the kitchen. You quickly found a glass of water and a pack of crackers, returning to the guest room to find Naoya had managed to sprawl himself onto the tatami mat, halfway on the futon, his legs tangled in the sheets. 

"Oh my god..." you muttered, setting the water and crackers down on the floor beside him before dragging his legs back onto the futon. "Here, eat these," you said, handing him a cracker from the plastic wrapping. "It'll help settle your stomach." 

Naoya took the cracker with a scowl, munching on it reluctantly. His black hair was an absolute mess, darting in all directions. "You're really bossy, you know that?" He grumbled.

"And you're a drunk idiot," you retorted, handing him the glass of water. You were at least appreciative that he was harmless in his drunken state. You wouldn't dare attempt any of this with a sober Naoya. "Drink."

He took a sip, glaring at you over the rim of the glass. "You're not as nice as you look," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. 

"And you're not as tough as you act," you shot back, watching as he finished the water. "Now, lie down and try to sleep it off."

Naoya flopped back onto the pillows, closing his eyes with a sigh. "You know," he mumbled, his voice slurred with exhaustion. "You're kinda' pretty when you're not being a pain in my ass."

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Go to sleep, Zenin."

As you turned to leave the room, you noticed a glint of metal on Naoya's hand. Your eyes widened in realization -- he was still wearing Naohiro's wedding band from the ridiculous proposal at the reception.

"Zenin," you called out, turning back toward the bed. "You're still wearing Naohiro's ring."

Naoya, sprawled out on the bed with a smug grin, looked at his hand with exaggerated confusion. "Oh, would you look at that?" He slurred, holding his hand up and admiring the ring. "Guess I'm married to that champagne bottle now. We have to go back, we left my wife at the party place."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Give me the ring, Zenin." 

He shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Nope. Finders keepers."

"Zenin, it's your brother's ring. I'm not in the mood for your games," you said, your patience wearing thin. "Just give me the damn ring."

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your frustration. "Come and get it, princess."

With a  groan of exasperation, you marched over to the futon and grabbed his wrist, trying to slide the ring off his finger. He pulled his hand back, holding it out of reach with a smug grin. "Gonna have to try harder than that," he taunted.

"Fuck you," you muttered, climbing onto the futon on your knees, straddling his legs to get better leverage. You grabbed his hand again, this time with both of yours and tried to wrestle the ring off his finger.

Naoya laughed, twisting and turning his hand to make it difficult for you. "You're really determined, aren't you?" He said, his voice laced with amusement. 

"Yes, and you're being a brat on purpose," you shot back, using your weight to pin his arm down. "Hold still, damn it!"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the struggle. "What if I don't want to?" 

"Then I'll make you," you retorted, gripping his hand tightly and yanking at the ring. It budged slightly, but Naoya twisted his hand again, making you lose your grip. 

"You're gonna' have to do better than that," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You narrowed your eyes, determination burning within you. "Fine, you asked for it."

With a surge of energy, you shifted your position, inadvertently pressing your chest against his as you pinned his arm out to the side. You laced your fingers against his in an attempt to cheekily slide the ring from his finger. He tried to twist his hand again, but you held firm, using all your strength to keep him still.

"Stop being such a stubborn asshole!" You grunted, your faces inches apart, your breath mingling as you finally managed to slide the ring pass his knuckle. 

Naoya winced slightly but continued to smirk, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "You're feisty when you're mad," he remarked. 

"Shut up," you snapped, your voice softer as you triumphantly held up the ring, panting slightly from the effort. "Got it."

Naoya chuckled, his eyes flickering with a strange mixture of admiration and something else you couldn't quite place. "Well done, princess," he said, his tone almost appreciative. "Didn't think you had it in you."

You rolled your eyes, standing up again and holding the ring tightly in your hand. "You're impossible," you muttered to your brother-in-law before turning to leave the room. 

As you finally stepped out of the guest room, you let out a long sigh of relief. The ordeal with the drunken Zenin had left you both physically and emotionally drained, but at least you had managed to retrieve the wedding band. With the ring clutched tightly in your hand, you made your way to your room.

When you reached the doorway, you paused, seeing Naohiro already there through the crack in the fusuma door. He was in the process of undressing, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely on his broad shoulders, his slacks discarded on the floor. The sight of his chiseled body made your heart skip a beat. 

You greeted him softly, a bit formally, unsure of what state he was in after his meeting with his father. "Naohiro," you called out gently, stepping inside. "Did everything go okay with your father?"

Naohiro looked up from unbuttoning his shirt, his expression softening as he saw you. "Yes, everything went smoothly," he replied, giving you a warm smile. He approached you, now clad in just his boxer-briefs, his shirt falling away to fully reveal that toned torso. The sight made you blush, your eyes involuntarily tracing the contours of his muscles. He reached out gently to slide the straps of your reception dress from your shoulders, his gentle touch sending shivers down your spine. "You've had a long night," he murmured, his voice low and intimate as he looked into your eyes. 

You nodded, swallowing hard as you held up the wedding ring. "Naoya...you gave this to him earlier," you explained softly, your voice trembling slightly. "I had to wrestle it back from him."

Naohiro's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he took the ring from your hand. "My baby brother always did have a penchant for causing trouble," he said, his tone light. He slipped the ring back onto his finger, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you for dealing with him. I'm sorry I had to leave you with his mess." You smiled, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest at the tender moment. Naohiro's fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "You've been incredible tonight," he whispered, his lips curving into a soft smile. 

Naohiro's hands gently reached around your back, his eyes still locked onto yours with heavy intensity. In a slow, deliberate motion, he began to unzip your dress, letting the fabric cascade to the floor in a soft pool around your feet. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin as if memorizing every curve and contour. 

"Do you want this, Y/N?" He asked, his voice low and husky, filled with a mix of desire and respect. 

You met his gaze with equal intensity, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded in affirmation. "Yes, Hiro," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "I want this."

With a soft smile, he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as his hands roamed over your soft skin, igniting every nerve with a gentle touch. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping onto him for support as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating sensation of his touch. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

He lifted you effortlessly around his waist and laid you down on the futons with a feather-light touch, his lips brushed against your cheek, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever known," he whispered softly. 

You melted into each other's embrace, the world outside fading away, leaving just the two of you to explore one another without restraint. You could already feel it, the beginning of something beautiful. 

Dates: June 25, 2011 - Y/N marries Naohiro and has to deal with a drunken, 20-year-old Naoya.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

“I thought we were fine?” Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : general angst ; hinting at cheating ; Word Count : 3.8k

“You’re so naive…” “You shouldn’t be so careless.” “You’ll just fall for anything, won’t you?”... 

It was something that people always said to you, from the moment you could understand simple words, you could hear family members, friends, teachers, saying some form of those same things over and over again. You didn’t understand what it meant, and you still questioned whether you fully understood the meaning of the word. 

“Maybe it’s just who you are…” “It must run in your family or something.” “You should be old enough to understand by now.” 

Words like that made it harder to understand, harder to figure out what you were doing wrong. They’d look at you like you were stupid, other times they’d roll their eyes at you as if they were annoyed, but more times than others they’d just look at you with pity, as if they felt bad for you for some reason. You wish that you understood, you wish that maybe someone would give you a hint instead of just looking at you like something was wrong. Maybe then you’d be able to fix whatever the problem was. 

The older you got, it seemed those words came more frequently, mixed with insults and accusations. “You must be doing it on purpose, no one is this idiotic.” “She’s just fishing for attention.” “I think she just wants people to feel sorry for her, poor Y/N and her hopeless, innocent mind.” You still didn’t understand though, but maybe… maybe your lack of understanding was a blessing in disguise… That’s the way it looked at least. 

You were out at the bar, it wasn’t too late, and work had just gotten done for you. It was the start of the weekend, and while you didn’t drink often, you didn’t drink much at all really, you liked to reward yourself occasionally with one cocktail after a particularly stressful work week. It was your way of unwinding, finding some sort of peace before going home and crashing. 

Maybe you were too trusting, you just had too much faith in the people that inhabited the world alongside you. You didn’t want to think that anyone could be bad, or at least that no one would ever be bad towards you… You tried to be nice to everyone, and you thought that maybe that would save you from the darkness that sometimes dwelled within people. 

“Hey, I got you a drink. Looks like you needed one, yours is almost gone.” Never accept things from strangers, it was a rule that most, if not all children had been taught, and you weren’t an exception. But you had seen a lot of your friends accept drinks from strangers at bars, and nothing bad had ever happened to them. While you didn’t usually get a second drink, it would have felt wrong to deny it, especially when the man had probably already paid for it, so you took the drink with a smile, thanking him quietly as he took a seat beside you. 

What you hadn’t noticed was the man on the other side of you, a man that had apparently been watching what happened, and he quickly pulled the drink away from you, shaking his head. “Sorry, she’s with me, and she doesn’t accept drinks from people she doesn’t know. Thank you again though, you can have it.” He said with a smile, watching as the man reluctantly took the drink, wandering around the bar to, what you could only assume, find someone else to give the drink to. “You’ve got to be careful… That drink was laced with something, you know that, right?” Your eyes widened when he said it, shaking your head quickly. “Oh my… Just be careful, okay? Actually…” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening his contacts and starting up a new one, sliding it across the counter towards you. “Give me your number, and then just text me if you want to go out to have a drink. Alright? We can meet up, and then just go back home. I’ll be your bar buddy.” 

It seemed like a strange arrangement, but there was no hesitation in your movements as you entered your name and your number into his phone before sliding it back to him, giving him a soft smile before getting up from the barstool and grabbing your bag, thanking him for looking out for you and then saying goodnight. 

You didn’t think he’d follow behind you, or lead you to your car, vowing that he was only doing it to make sure no one else followed you, and you trusted him. You trusted his eyes, and his smile, and the gentle demeanor that he upheld. You trusted him because of the way that he held your door open for you, and the way his eyes seemed to wander shyly when he chuckled and told you to wear your seatbelt and to drive safely. You trusted him because he promised that he would text you that night after telling you his name, and he did, he texted you to ask if you got home safe, and he kept you up with text after text afterwards. You trusted him, Hwang Hyunjin, and maybe the real reason you did was because everyone in your life had been right about you. 

Being your bar buddy slowly turned into bar dates, and those dates turned into regular dates at places other than the bar where you had met him. Dates turned into dating and you couldn’t have been happier with life, and with him. Being so naive as everyone else had said, had somehow landed you with the most perfect person you could have ever imagined being with.

He was a busy person, and his job wasn’t what you had expected it to be, although it wasn’t entirely far-fetched to believe considering how perfect he was. Being an idol meant that he had to keep things between the two of you a secret, and you couldn’t just go around telling everyone that you were with him, not that you wanted to tell anyone that you knew anyway. You understood keeping things a secret as well, and in the early stages of your relationship, you didn’t really have a problem with it. You didn’t want the world to know or find out about things only for them to end shortly after, it would only create more problems and more tabloid stories for him, and you’d be under constant attack from reporters and journalists alike asking you what it was like to be with him. It was amazing… But they didn’t need to know that. 

Never once did you doubt him, he never gave you a reason to think that you should. You believed everything that he said, you trusted him wholeheartedly because there was never a reason not to. He always came over to your apartment at night when he could, and even though sometimes he’d come in late, he’d always apologize sweetly and tell you that he just had to work a little later on something. He’d even invite you to his own apartment, and you can still remember the first time that you had been there, he had introduced you to all the guys. That was the real proving point to you, the fact that you had met all the other members, they were like family to him, and meeting them was, in your mind, the factor that solidified your relationship. 

Everything seemed perfect, maybe a little too perfect… But even if there had been any red flags, you were too blinded by love to see them. It felt like you were living in a fairytale, and you were the princess and he was your knight. You had gotten attached to him, so used to him being in your life that even if you were to, by chance, see any of the flags coming up, you’d purposely ignore them, not wanting to shatter the glass box that housed what you thought was your picture perfect reality. 

But some of those red flags couldn’t be avoided, they couldn’t be ignored. You couldn’t just turn away from it and pretend that you hadn’t seen it, you couldn’t just write off an excuse for it to try to put your own mind at ease, to try to preserve what you wanted so badly. Some of those red flags were waved right in front of your face, or in this case, found hanging over the edge of the bedpost. 

It was his birthday, you wanted to do something nice for him. He always showered you with gifts, and while you couldn’t return the favor year round, you wanted to at least get him something special for his birthday. He was out with the guys, and he had promised that all day the next day would be for you and himself. You completely understood, and while you could have waited until the next day to give him his gift, you wanted him to have it on his actual birthday, you wanted to surprise him with it. 

You had been given the key to his apartment, something that made this task a whole lot easier, and you quickly let yourself in. You had been planning on simply leaving the wrapped present on the coffee table and letting yourself back out, but there was something… off… about the apartment. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, and you knew that you shouldn’t have been nosy, you should have just done what you came to do and left, but your curious mind had you walking further in, stopping at the kitchen and finding two wine glasses sitting on the counter. You wouldn’t have questioned it, you knew that the last time you had been over that the two of you shared a drink together in the exact same cups. You wouldn’t have questioned it at all, if it hadn’t been for the lipstick stain that tainted the rim of the glass, a color that you had never worn and didn’t even own. 

You tried to write it off, maybe he just had someone from the company over, and maybe the rest of the guys were there too and they just didn’t have wine or they at least didn’t drink it out of a glass. You tried to make excuses, but your feet carried you to the bedroom where, in your heart, you had the burning, aching feeling that you’d find something that would prove you wrong. 

The comforter was pushed all the way to the end of the bed, the sheets were disheveled, pulling up from the edges, but your eyes only scanned over it for a quick second before landing on the lace bra that hung by one strap over the bedpost, a bra that you didn’t own, and one that wasn’t your size, not even close. On the floor was a pair of matching panties that looked to have been discarded in a hurry. 

In your ears was the sound of your perfect glass box slowly cracking, that jagged line that ripped right through the center of the glass would soon hit a weak point that would have it shattering to bits. You slowly backed out of the room as you tried to steady your breathing, it was like you had accidentally walked in on the scene of a crime and you didn’t know what to do with the image that was now ingrained in your mind. 

“Oh… Y/N, baby… What are you doing here?” Hyunjins voice from behind you had you quickly spinning around, wiping the tears from your eyes as you looked at him. He wasn’t the same Hyunjin that you had fallen in love with, even though he looked the same on the outside, he sounded the same… What you had stumbled upon had changed your view of him. 

His eyes darted between you and the bedroom that you had just backed out of, but the calm tone of his voice never changed. “I… What…? There was… In the… Why…? What is that?” You could barely voice a whole sentence, it was like every word that you tried to say was cut off just as quickly as it had left your lips, but his head only shook as he walked towards you, engulfing you in a hug as his hand gently rubbed along your back, shushing you quietly. 

“I was gonna surprise you… It was supposed to be a gift. I didn��t think you’d come over and see it.” He explained, his hand moving up to brush his fingers through your hair. “It was kind of a gift for me too. I wanted you to wear it for me tomorrow evening.” You whispered out a soft oh in response, sniffling lightly, and that’s when he pulled back, lowering himself just enough to look into your eyes. “You didn’t think…? Oh, baby… I would never. You know I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that, don’t you?” 

And you nodded, letting him pull you in for another hug, letting yourself feel safe and secure in his arms as you tried to forget about what you had seen, tried to believe what he had said. You loved him, and you wanted to believe that he loved you too, that he really would never hurt you like this… But it was harder to believe that when you had been faced with the evidence first hand. 

“I think I’m just gonna go home now… We can spend tomorrow together. I love you.” You whispered, pulling away from him and hurriedly running to the door, closing it behind you and letting the tears begin to fall again once you were out in the hallway. 

It had been two weeks, and you had done everything you could to try to forget what you saw, to try to move on with the relationship with Hyunjin and pretend that nothing ever happened, but the first red flag that had waved now gave way to you seeing many more. It was like your eyes had been opened now, cleared of the fog that kept you from seeing anything other than him and how perfect he was. You needed to go out, you needed to talk to someone, you needed to get another person's thoughts on what to do, because if it were entirely up to you, you would just stay with him no matter what. 

“So… let’s say that… Hypothetically, the person you’re with… They’re perfect and you love them…” You tried to explain to a group of your friends over an afternoon lunch, your hand shakily swirling around the red wine in the cup. It was hard, it was extremely hard to talk to them about it, mainly because you couldn’t tell them who he was, you could only speak hypothetically, and even still, it felt wrong to talk about him behind his back like this. You needed another opinion though, you needed to know what they thought, because you knew that they would be honest with you, even if their honesty was harsh, you needed it. “But… You go over to their house to surprise them… And you find a bra and a pair of panties… that aren’t your size… on the floor and hanging on the bed.” 

Then came the questions from them, how long you had been together, how many times the two of you had been together. How well he knew you, what kind of person he was, how often you came over, what his personality was like. It almost felt like they were trying to build an entire background on him, but for every question you answered, it looked as if they were getting more and more disappointed, and then that pitiful look they used to give you was back on their faces as they shook their heads. “Did you go back to him? When did this happen?” 

You took a swig of your wine, swallowing thickly before dropping your gaze to the table. “It uh… Two weeks… Two weeks ago I found it. I just… I wanted to believe him… that things were actually okay… That he would actually cheat on me. I’ve been trying to get over it… I really have. I don’t know what to do.” You whispered, not wanting to break down into tears in the middle of the restaurant that you were in, knowing that it would only draw more attention to yourself, and you didn’t really want everyone to stare at you while you were such a mess. 

“Oh… honey, you’re so naive…” There was that word again, and now, with everything that was going on, you finally understood. You grasped onto what it truly meant, and now your heart was sinking as you realized just what that meant for you. “I know you love him, I’m sure you love him a whole bunch, but he can probably see how trusting you are, how easily swayed you are… And that makes it easy for him. He’s always got someone to fall back on, and he still gets to have his fun. You need to stop that… You need to let him go, because it’s not going to stop. He’ll just sweet talk his way out of the next bra and panties you find, and you’ll be stuck in a one sided relationship for however long he plans on stringing you along. You need to love yourself enough to stop that, end it, right now.” 

It had all been laid out on the table for you, and now you couldn’t stop looking at it, seeing the way everything added up once it was put so bluntly. You hated hearing it, but you also knew that if you refused to listen, you’d be stuck in a revolving door of distrust, heartbreak, and then being overly doted upon to make up for what he did. You didn’t want that for yourself, and you didn’t want that for the rest of your life either. You had been happy when you were blind, but now that you could actually see everything for what it really was, you were miserable and you were constantly scared of what you might find next. It wasn’t the kind of relationship you wanted, nobody wanted that, and your friends were right, you needed to end it, right now. 

You sat in your living room, packing up boxes full of his clothes that you’d have to send back to him, pulling out pictures from the frames that had covered practically every flat surface in your home and tossing them into a little trash bag. Your phone had been going off nonstop the whole time you had been doing it, but you ignored it, turning your notifications off completely so you could focus on what truly needed to be done. 

You knew that it was him, he always got this way when you didn’t respond. He would get antsy when you didn’t give him attention, and he would get even more nervous when you didn’t respond for long periods of time. You were sure that once you turned your notifications back on, you’d have to rid your voicemail box of a multitude of messages that he left you from calling way too many times. It was worth it though, it would be easier to get rid of the voicemails and the multitudes of texts once your entire apartment was ridded of any sign of him. 

And then your door was unlocked, and when it swung open, he was standing there, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the boxes and the trash bags that surrounded you. “What are you doing? You haven’t responded to any of my texts or my calls… Are you moving or something? You know I could have helped you with that. I don’t want my baby doing all the work by herself, you know that.” He cooed, kicking off his shoes and walking further into your apartment, his own assumption having him calming down for a moment as he moved to sit next to you on the couch. 

“I need my key back.” You said flatly, holding out your hand in his direction. He didn’t seem phased by your tone though, still assuming that you were just moving out of this apartment, and that’s why you needed the key back so you could turn it in. “And here’s your key. All the boxes are yours, I was gonna ship them to you, but you came over so you can take them back with you instead.” 

It was strange, you had never spoken to him like this, you had never spoken to anyone like this. For almost your entire life you had been allowing people to walk all over you, to take advantage of how sweet you were, and now you were finally standing up for yourself, tired of being the doormat for everyone else. “W-What? I don’t know… What are you talking about? I thought we were fine? I told you what that was… I don’t know why you’re doing this.” 

You slipped the key that he had handed to you into your pocket before grabbing his hand and placing his own apartment key into his palm, finally turning to look at him. It was easier now, it was easy to tell him everything when the man that sat in front of you looked nothing like the man that you had come to love. “You lied to me about what that was. We’ve been together long enough, you’d at least have been able to get a size that was close enough to my own… But you lied, and that wasn’t a gift. You cheated on me, and I’m not going to let you continue to think that you can, because I’m done. So, you can take all your stuff, or you can leave it and I’ll donate it… But I don’t want you or your things here anymore. Goodbye, Hyunjin.” 

He was dumbfounded, stunned into silence as he got up off the couch, his movements robotic as he grabbed his boxes and made his way to the door. It was easy, it was easy to watch him leave, it was easy to watch him walk out of your life because he was nothing more than a stranger to you now, and like the stranger that had come up to you at the bar when he and you had first met, he was sent away, except this time you didn’t need someone else to do it for you. You weren’t going to be the naive, innocent girl that everyone thought they could take advantage of, not anymore. You knew better now, and you knew you deserved better as well.

[sponeszine]

🌠 ZINE Q & A 🌠

We have received lots of great feedback so far from our Interest Check. Our team is putting together answers and will periodically update with answers from the submitted questions. Our FAQ page on our carrd will also be updated to reflect the answers we share. (UPDATE: Our FAQ is now offered on a public Google Doc for easier accessibility and readability.)

Q: How are you going to treat art submissions that have Spock with green skin? I've noticed your Tumblr reblogged a fanart that goes above a simple tint or a blush.

A: Short answer - Our committee is aware of the antisemitic stereotypes related to Spock art with green skin and will not be permitting it in the zine. Additional: see our FAQ document or the longer answer the cut.

As this topic will relate to antisemitism, our team is putting a CW/TW for the below discussions of antisemitism, and regarding stereotypes/harmful depictions in media.

For some background, there is a pervasive and harmful issue of artists portraying Spock, played by Leonard Nimoy who is well-known to be a Jewish actor, with bright green skin. The green skin is an antisemitic caricature utilized to target Jewish people and plays into a whole host of other problematic portrayals of Jewish individuals. While Spock is a Human-Vulcan hybrid he is regularly presented in canon as having green blood and there are often remarks as such by other characters. There were also several episodes in The Original Series where the makeup Nimoy was wearing gave him a more "sallow" appearance and yellowish/green undertones in his skin (link to article about the process put into Spock's makeup with a CW for sinophobia regarding the name of the makeup color), which some artists today still attempt to carry over when trying to make Spock look more "alien."

Unfortunately, a lot of those depictions are leaning into antisemitic territory. That being said, it is generally regarded that Vulcans generally do not appear with deep yellow/green skin or visibly green undertones in canon; other Vulcan characters in later series have more natural makeup and in the TOS movies, Nimoy's makeup was remarkably minimal. The same is seen in regards to the Reboot movie series, as Quinto's skin tones don't feature any dramatic differences between him and the "Human cast."

Our committee has already discussed and decided as follows in regards to common antisemitic tropes:

Bright green, yellow and/or "neon green" skin colors portrayed for Spock's skin tones will be rejected wholesale by the zine committee. We will consider green blushes or light tints as permissible unless there is an issue raised by the committee. There is also always the option to use a more bronze-tinted blush, which some fans have indicated is likely more realistic for an actual "Vulcan blush."

Written content that contains characters using "goblin" or "hobgoblin" to refer to Spock, unless quoting directly from the TOS episode 'Bread & Circuses' or the 2009 Star Trek movie, will be politely requested to be removed or changed out for a different term, given its derogatory history and connection to antisemitism, and for the comfort of our committee members.

Our zine committee also holds the right to evaluate content that contains other harmful stereotypes and request edits to the submitted material, or reject the submission if that becomes necessary. We would rather promote this as a learning opportunity in each and every case. Nobody is perfect and nobody grows up in a perfectly sealed vacuum of ideas; we are all always learning and unlearning behaviors as we develop throughout our lives.

Other examples of content to be conscientious of would include Christmas celebrations. Yes, we are aware that Star Trek is generally regarded as an anti-theist futuristic portrayal, but somehow that doesn't carry over in regards to fandom, and especially fandom content that centers around Christmas. Mixed faith families is submission content, found or otherwise, are more than accepted to our zine. But we would ask that Spock's (and relatedly, Nimoy's) connection to Jewishness not be replaced with assumed Christian-normativity.

For resources on Jewishness, how it relates to Star Trek, and how to avoid antisemitic tropes our team also offers the following:

@trillgendermetaphor's resources and essays on Tumblr https://trillgendermetaphor.tumblr.com/green-spock

A longer essay about the portrayal of Kirk, and commentary on Jewish characters (and how collective memory has treated Spock and Kirk's relative Jewishness differently) in Star Trek: http://strangehorizons.com/non-fiction/columns/freshly-rememberd-kirk-drift/

If anyone has other recommendations or other reading materials, please send them our way. We are happy to include them in our resources as well.

The We Go Together Zine committee is made of a diverse group of people, including several Jewish members. As the saying goes, "ask two Jews, get three opinions" so there will likely never be a wholly unanimous agreement as to what "crosses the line" from portraying Spock as, he is in canon, a half-Vulcan, and at what point those portrayals dive into antisemitic tropes.

There is also a longer discussion or critique to be had about the Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry and his relationship to Jews and, in part, his antisemitism, but we will keep our focus to fandom presentation. As to your statement about our Tumblr reblogging fanart that "goes above a simple tint or blush" our team was unable to determine what post(s) you were referring to. It may be due to the color mixing on your monitor or screen (or it could be our own monitors), but when reviewing our reblogged content, we were unable to definitively conclude which fanart you were referring to.

If you have any other questions or concerns regarding our response, please reach out to us directly at sponeszine@gmail.com. We thank you for sharing your concern as it is something we understand is important and necessary regarding the comfort and safety of Jewish people and Jewish Star Trek fans. Warmly, We Go Together Zine Committee

[bombasticprimekitty]

Side Story: Blessing of The Almighty And What Comes After

TW/// Blood and Graphic Description of Violence.

Alma couldn’t believe what had happen...

Her husband, her precious Pedro, the love of her life. Gone... Just like that. She helplessly watches as he is struck down by the damnable machete. The world seemingly moved at a snail's pace as she watched his body falling into the river. His blood runs and mixes through the water current. Turning the transparent water crimson red.

And then his beloved partner, Butterfree. Against her and his wishes. Fly and try in vain to save him. Only to be struck down as well. As she wasn’t a battle trained Pokémon. She can only watch as she was burnt to a crisp and ripped apart by the Houndoom’s the despicable men brought with them. Tearing into her like a lamb to a slaughter.

Raw crack screams tore through the night. Until she realizes that it was her own as her throat burns. Anguish and despair fuel her scream filled sorrow. Hand reaching out as if she can save him. The hopes and dreams of the future she envisioned with him flashes before her eyes, slipping away and cruelly taken before her very eyes.

And when all hope felt lost, a miracle happened.

Through the blurry vision from her tear filled eyes, her and Pedro’s wedding candle began to shine. Golden light shines bright from within the candle before bursting out. A sense of warmth and calm washed over her. Taking away her pain and sorrow. And through the numbness and ease, a voice speaks to her.

“Be not afraid Alma Madrigal, spouse of Pedro Madrigal, for I come to save thee and thy children.” A voice below, tone commanding and imposing, and yet there was gentleness and fondness in it as well.

She looks up and her eyes widen. As the visage of God, Arceus stands before her. Bath in a golden halo of light. Standing tall and dwarfing her. The world seemed to pause for his magnificence. The millions of Unown circling above them, circling around them in a ring formation. Spinning in a circle with a different variety of speeds.

She was never once a believer. She had all but given up on believing in his name. For the suffering she and her family had gone through for years, their prayers unheeded and unanswered, even when they begged and pleaded on their knees. Never to be answered. Leaving her bitter and angry. And hurt.

So she asked. Voice small and cracked. Tears trailed down her cheek. “Why... Why now?” Why help now when my Pedro is gone?

And the God, Arceus. Answered. “Thou had suffered through many trials and turbulence, one’s that not many are able to handle. While thou has lost faith in my name. I have not abandoned thee. Thou and thy family will bring change to this region. And in time, the world as whole. Thus, I granted thou and thy family fragments of my power. My gifts.”

She was rendered speechless by his declaration. Her family… Important?

“Live on Alma Madrigal. Raise thy family full of joy and kindness. Thou and them are important, to him and the world.”

And with those parting words. The world began to shift and rumbled. As if it was molded and reshaped like clay in the hand of a sculptor. The light in the candle intensifies before bursting out and pushes back the vile men away. Sending them flying off to who knows where. And as he worked, the world seemed to sing to him, a symphony of creation and destruction in harmony. Bending and weaving to his will. 

And then the candle light - that shines brightly as a million fireflies - converges into one spot and seemingly seeps into the ground, illuminating it. And as quickly as it enters, the light roses, taking shape into a large house. It then disperse, and all that remains is the house.

And just as suddenly as he appears he disappears. Leaving her a house and candle blessed by his power.

But that’s not what she focuses on. Meeting the God of the world was the last thing on her mind. Even after people that were with her give her their gratitude - their relief - to her.

It wouldn’t bring back her husband.

So here she was... In an empty house too big for a single mother, her three infant children, and a single Pokémon. Entering a golden door that has her face carved on it. Letting her children rest in her bed as she sits by the open window.

Alma can only stare out in shock as her world falls apart. The cold and haunting feeling of despair grips onto her, clinging onto her like a parasite. Eating her on the inside. Not even Lampent warmth, her glassed cased pressing into her as she tries to comfort her. The soft jingle of her voice going from one ear and out the other. Her worry was unheeded. Ignored.

And just as she felt like she would plunge deeper into despair. A cry startled her out of the downward spiral.

Her children... Julieta, Pepa, Bruno. All three of them are crying.

She looks back and watches as her children cry loudly, wanting her attention. All three wiggled in their respective blankets. She numbly began to move back to her bed and cradle them all close to her chest. Trying to calm them down despite her heartbreak. Trying to shush them gently but all that came out of her mouth was a sob. Tears began to leak and slide down her cheek. But this time for a different reason.

It wasn’t fair... Her precious children… They were going to grow up without their father, not knowing just how much he loves them. How much he was looking forward to raising them with her. Watching them grow up together with her. To be the happy family they always dreamed of becoming.

It wasn’t fair… He said that her family is important then why didn’t he save her Pedro? Then why didn’t Arceus save him too? He was family too.

It wasn’t fair… She wants her husband back, she wants Pedro back.

She’s scared.

[wizardysseus]

lent 2023: what i read, watched, and listened to

i gave up reading fiction for lent, which freed up... um... a lot of time.

read:

Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation by Kristin Kobes DuMez [audiobook]

The Evangelicals: The Struggle to Shape America by Frances Fitzgerald [audiobook]

Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again by Rachel Held Evans

The Making of Biblical Womanhood: How the Subjugation of Women Became Gospel Truth by Beth Allison Barr [audiobook]

The Bible With and Without Jesus: How Jews and Christians Read the Same Stories Differently by Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler*

Wholehearted Faith by Rachel Held Evans with John Chu [audiobook; this was posthumously finished and narrated by her friends, so it can be a lot.]

Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church by Rachel Held Evans [audiobook; this is almost the only book on the list that i rated under 4 stars, only because i found it less cohesive and compelling than the previous two books of hers i had just read. my extremely general opinion on rhe is that i dislike her writing voice in a lot of inconsequential ways, but appreciate her thoughts on a much deeper and more important level.]

watched:

Same God (2018, documentary) [i was a student at wheaton college when this happened. watching it happen again felt about 10 years long.]

The Eyes of Tammy Faye (2021)

I Survived I Kissed Dating Goodbye (2018) [this film is in no way a wholesale rejection of purity culture, but it was interesting to me, especially followed by the podcast episodes I Kissed Christianity Goodbye and Reflections on Christian Celebrity. if you're interested in what happened in josh harris' church before all of this, this is a great article. tw for sexual and spiritual abuse, including but not limited to csa.]

other nonfiction read, though not for my lenten study:

The Library Book by Susan Orlean

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel

The Fire Never Goes Out: A Memoir in Pictures by ND Stevenson

Overdue: Reckoning with the Public Library by Amanda Oliver [this is the other book that i rated under 4 stars; it resulted in such mixed feelings that i wrote a goodreads review, which i hate doing.]

Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott

An Odyssey: A Father, a Son, and an Epic by Daniel Mendelsohn*

*still reading

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #95 Moving On

“Becca-Dawn,” drawled Vangie one morning over breakfast “I was thinking. Why don’t we go shopping today? And maybe a haircut?” Taken aback Becca stammered out a response. This was a big step for Evangeline. The two headed into town, jogging along the path. Becca-Dawn didn’t own a car and, as a trainer, never missed an opportunity to exercise. 

In the store Vangie struggled to put together outfits. It seemed like all the shirts were croptops, why don’t townies want to cover their stomachs? She decided that she wanted to keep pretty modest, but she was excited to try pants! Becca tried to help but a lot of her choices were too masculine for Evangeline’s tastes. In the end they had to call Penny and have her give advice over facetime.  Penny was dead on with her outfit choices. 

The next stop was the hair stylist. Vangie had cut bangs into her hair once as a child after teasing from Nina and Dina, but she’d never had a proper haircut. Her thick, dark brown hair hung far down her back when it wasn’t piled on her head and smothered in hairspray. Either way, it felt heavy on her neck and skull, causing headaches. The stylist was kind, going slow and checking with her client as he trimmed the length. Finally Vangie ended up with a cute style that ended just below her shoulders. She starting experimenting with different braids and learned to craft voluminous ponytails. 

Vangie loved all the outfits she bought! She modeled all her different looks for Becca-Dawn later that day. Each ensemble made Vangie feel beautiful and confident, and they were a mix of her favourite colours! It had been so long since there was some colour in her life.

Across town Farrah was grappling with similar thoughts. She had accepted she’d have to integrate with townie life but wanted to maintain the modesty of her faith, both old and new. She’d read all the books Jonah had given her and was now trying to make her way through the King James version of the Bible. She’d also been talking to Jonah almost every night. It sounded like he missed her. They decided to enter a long-distance courtship arrangement. This was good for Farrah, who still had to wrap her head around the concept of choosing a partner for herself.

They’d agreed that Farrah would stay with her sister until her kids were safely in her custody and emotionally stable. Then they would all move to Henford and hopefully the courtship would continue in person. AJ was surprised her sister was moving on so fast but offered support. Farrah was an adult after all, and AJ’s job was to love her family even if didn’t understand some of her sister’s choices-in love or fashion.

Likewise, Farrah didn’t understand the fashion in AJ’s family. Anna had finally aged up and was very much a teenager. She wore short, tight skirts, makeup and shirts that were down-right sluttish! She couldn’t understand why her mother would let her out of the house like that. That being said, sometimes the outfits worn by AJ raised her eyebrows too. AJ, for her part, didn’t much care what her children wore as long as they were doing well in school and kind to each other. She was grateful Farrah hadn’t been staying with them when Autumn lived there, she would have scheduled an exorcism.

Farrah was reading at the apartment when she got a phone call from a police officer, a sickly, malnourished and filthy girl had been left at a hospital in Windenburg who matched the description of one of her daughters. AJ offered to go with, but Farrah wanted to go alone to see her. She thought it'd be easier that way. She borrowed AJ's car to make the journey to Windenburg.

She was led to a small room in the hospital basement where Faith was lying on a bed. Tears welled in Farrah's eyes to see her daughter hooked up to a monitor and an iv. She looked so fragile. "Is she going to be okay?" She asked the nurse. "She's going to be fine. She's just getting some antibiotics for her infection and fluids because she's dehydrated. I'll leave you two alone for a while. Ring the buzzer if you need me." Answered the nurse before bustling down the hall.

Faith awoke about half an hour later. "Mama," She asked, rubbing her eyes, "Is it really you?" "Yes!" Wept Farrah, hugging her daughter. "You're safe now." As she regained her strength, she updated her mother and the detective on the others. "LeRoyce has been driving us all around in a filthy truck for months now. No one will agree to marry him, so he's trying to starve us into submission. I got a cut on my leg, and it got infected from all the filth. He thought I was going to die, so he dumped me here." She told them. Once her statement was taken and she recovered enough to travel, Farrah drove Faith back to Brindleton Bay.

Thankfully Alex had graduated and moved out meaning there was enough room for Faith to stay in the house as well. She set herself up in his old room while Alex pursued his biology degree from Foxbury Institute along with his cousins Ryder and Thomas. The three were planning to live in the dorms together but ended up rushing a rather loud and obnoxious fraternity and moving into the house, much to Teresa and AJ’s chagrin. 

[nubivgant]

                           𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐘

welcome  𝑪𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑨 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶𝑵 ,  the lady of storm's end + the mistress of whispers  ,  to  king's  landing  !  when  you  think  of  them  ,  ideas  of  lavender tinted sighs  ,  setting yourself on fire to keep others warm  ,  secrets held close to your heart  +  a soft yet commanding voice  come  to  mind  .   they  are  arriving  to  the  red  keep  ,  supporting  house  velaryon  .  we  do  hope  that  whatever  happens  ,  they  play  the  game  wisely  .

tw. death

００１ : 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

name : ceria baratheon

title ( s ) : lady of storm's end , mistress of whispers

age : twenty nine

gender : cis female

pronouns : she & her

orientation : pansexual / panromantic

religion : faith of the seven

loyalty : house baratheon , house velaryon

height : 5'0

hair color : black

eye color : blue

faceclaim : olivia cooke

００２ : 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 .

+ positive traits : meticulous , benevolent , incisive , amiable , virtuous

- negative traits : imprudent , enigmatic , phlegmatic , reticent , taciturn

mbti : isfj -- introverted , observant , feeling , and judgment .

enneagram : type 6 , wing 5

moral alignment : lawful neutral

００３ : 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 .

martial status : unwed . unbetrothed .

father : ruling lord ormund baratheon †

mother : ruling lady cassandra baratheon née caron †

siblings : king consort joss baratheon † , ruling lord william baratheon , lord theon stark née baratheon , ser utp baratheon , lady silvana baratheon

extended family : house caron ( cousins ) , house velaryon ( in - laws ) , house stark ( in - laws )

pet : sapphire --- a white kitten named for the blues of her eyes.

００４ : 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 .

ceria was the long standing youngest child of house baratheon , a role she leaned into . a mischievous , spoiled girl who could do no wrong in her eldest brother's eyes . she had a tendency to stare through the windows , watching her brothers battle with sparring swords in the yards while with her septa --- daring to frolic in the mud and ruin her pretty dresses the moment she could free herself from her lessons . it was in the yards where their father announced the birth of the true youngest child of house baratheon --- ceria's sister . doe - eyed and excited , she bounded into the chambers of the ruling lord and lady , willing to throw her role to the wind to fawn over another sibling .

ceria was fifteen when joss became king consort . a rainy , sorrow - filled day as she joined her family on the king's road back to storm's end . she longed to stay with her brother and newest sister , but she had her own duties to fulfill in storm's end . four years passed before queen vaella sent word to the ruling lord of storm's end , requesting the presence of her good sister in the crownlands . ceria gladly took her role as a lady - in - waiting to the beloved queen , even more so excited to remain in the presence of her favorite brother .

her time in the crownlands was an even mix between heart break , misery , and excitement . though surely the greyjoy mistress of whispers could be trusted , ceria oft had the queen's ear , informing her of the songs her own little birds would sing . but the songs of her birds were not enough to save her own brother's life . heartbreak had fallen upon the lady baratheon when her parents died within mere months of each other , but it was nothing like the twisting of the knife as queen vaella sentenced her dear brother to death . ceria protested , with tears in her eyes , begging her closest friend to think about her decision . gods save the queen for the fury of the young doe . but retribution never dare pass her mind . she could hold no ill will towards the velaryons . she wept for the loss of her brother and for the sheer stupidity of the queen to listen to the snakes in her council . she was amongst those who demanded the treacherous members of the small council have their heads placed on pikes .

ceria briefly returned to storm's end following the death of joss , taking a few months with her remaining family to grieve . but , a letter sealed with the sigil of the hand of the queen arrived by raven . for her established connections , sweet disposition , and perhaps an attempt to heal the bond between houses baratheon and velaryon , the hand had advised vaella to name her good sister to the small council as mistress of whispers . with some encouragement , she accepted , hoping that she and vaella could return to the relationship they once shared .

reparations were made . the queen lavished ceria in all the things she loved , planting herself within the lady's favor . ceria remains faithful to the queen and house velaryon . despite the loss suffered , she still views them as family .

but the lady still holds the fury of her house behind her eyes .

００５ : 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 .

( somewhat informal )

❛ . . . it's what they whisper . ❜

( 0 / ? ) ceria has made valiant attempts to have at least one informant in each region of westeros . after all , she is striving to remain in the trust of the queen . most of these relationships can be plotted !

❛ . . . and suddenly , the monster in him falls silent as he rests his head on her lap . ❜

despite being rather mischievous a majority of the time , ceria is more often a soft - spoken , kind , gentle person . i want her to get all mixed up with someone who is the polar opposite . i have lots of thoughts about this , hmu if you're interested .

❛ . . . who makes you feel whole . ❜

most of the time , ceria is running around , stressed . this person is her best friend , her confidant , her breath of fresh air .

anything + everything !

believe me when i say , i probably will have a hundred more wcs or just general connections thought up at any given time . i'm down to just plot lots of things !

[its-blakecarter]

The Basics

name: Blake Noelle Carter nickname: n/a birthday: October 13th, 1990 age: 32 years old hometown: Fairford, WA current residence: suburbs occupation: manager at mountainside inn gender: cis-female pronouns: she/her orientation: Biromantic Bisexual

Deeper Dive

alignment: lawful neutral mbti:  zodiac: librapositive traits: dutiful, liberal, faithful negative traits: jealous, insecure, hesitant neutral traits: dreamy, nonconfrontational, idealistic likes:   dislikes: 

Appearance

faceclaim: Zazie Beetz haircolor: Black eyecolor: Brown height: 5'6" weight: 140 lbs identifying marks: much to the chagrin of her parents, a thigh tattoo, and she also has a small scar on the right side of her bottom lip from an old lip ring he had while in college. clothing style: she is a mix between business-casual and street style. Either way, she sticks to more solid colors with less patterns, and she's never been a fan of heels. This doesn't mean she doesn't wear them if an occasion calls for it, but flat tennis shoes are prefer. Light button downs, skinny-jeans (millenials, amirite?), and tanks or tees. She does have a few graphic tees she will wear under an oversized denim jacket in the cooler months.

Backstory

tw: infertility mention, PCOS, break-up/broken engagement

Blake's conception had been a surprise following her older brother's birth. Maybe not so much as the twins following. With enough of a gap between them it's not shock, but rather that they had been a more startling discovery in the form of the biggest bluest plus sign, but Blake wasn't expected all the same.

Most of the Carter parents' energy had already gone into the eldest son, but that didn't mean Blake got overlooked. Similar expectations fell on her tiny shoulders, and they had been there for as long as she could remember. Longer than she thinks she's come to learn the love for her youngest siblings. Work hard, strive for greatness, and settle for nothing less.

Early on Blake recognized that doing as she pleased for her own wants did nothing to earn the attention and praise of her parents. She was never a kid to enjoy the spotlight, but when her brother's academic achievements overshadowed her own, she oftentimes found herself wishing that sometimes it was her that her parents were showing off during family holiday get togethers.

So, Blake tried harder.

Honor roll was an easy achievement, and so was earning a captain position on the girl's lacrosse them with an MVP trophy handed over at end of season. She made scholarships with her academics and athletic achievements combined, but in all that time she felt her teen years slipping away.

You see, all her time had been spent trying to earn the same approval her brother got (and by God, she did), but somewhere along the way she realized almost too late the cost to it. A childhood lost to books, an adolescence that raced by with few friends and fewer experiences beyond her accomplishments. Blake wasn't unhappy, per se, but she did feel lost.

Lost on which path she wanted to take, and figuring out who she truly was. Her pursuit of a B.A. was another thing that wasn't for her. She did complete school with a degree in tourism and hospitality management without a goal in mind.

Post graduation, Blake left for Seattle in search of a job. There she'd met a man, and in the worst cliche sort of way, she fell for him. They were happy together, engaged even, until news came out that she had PCOS. This also affected her fertility, and the chance of not being able to build a family was a deal breaker in the end.

The fertility issue was not something her ex-fiancé decided was a reason to end things, it was Blake’s decision. It took enough time of mulling it over to decide that what was best was to end things so that he could find someone to fulfill that dream with. For him, a family with kids was everything, and for her? She hadn’t really thought about it, but the chance of it being impossible beyond adoption wasn’t all that heartbreaking. To her it was an easy decision to call things off for his sake more than her own.

Post-break up, Blake returned to Fairford, head held high, the reason for the broken engagement a secret she holds close to her chest to his day. Not for any shame or regrets, but because it is a sensitive subject still. She doesn’t want sympathy for something she could not predict that is beyond her control. She used the money she saved up to purchase a two-bedroom ranch in the suburbs.

She took up a job in hotel management at the Mountainside Inn, settling into something that pays the bills for the time being. She doesn’t dislike her job. If anything, Blake feels freer than ever having made this decision on her own, and she’s taking time learning how to pursue what she enjoys without the overbearing eyes of her parents over her shoulder.

With her return, she feels renewed in a sense. This is a chance for her to pave her own way. Though she is terrified of taking the first step down that path, the idea is there. For the time being, she manages the hotel and comes home to her Aussie pup, Koda.

Headcanons

1. Her Australian Shepherd Koda is her best friend. She brought him home shortly after moving to the suburbs, and now they're inseparable.

2. Recently, Blake has started dabbling in watercolor painting. A pastime of hers, she never got to train or put time into it as her academics took precedence. Watercolor paintings don't bring home the paychecks, after all.

3. The topic of kids isn’t a difficult one, but Blake is on the fence about what she wants in that category. Sometimes she finds she enjoys her life now as she is relearning how to make it her own, and other times she wishes she could raise a tiny human. One day it might be in the cards, but despite her uncertainty she does know that this moment is not the time for it.

4. Her job in Seattle was that of a Travel Consultant. It was a high stress, fast-paced job, and though it brought in decent money she ultimately decided that her happiness was more important. Hotel management gives her more room to breathe and focus on her hobbies.

5. Blake enjoys running themed 5ks - bubble runs, color runs, mud runs, etc. Nothing more than that, though. She isn’t competitive by any means. If you so much as breathe the words 'half marathon' around her, she might just keel over.

TBA

Pinterest: [ here ] Playlist: [ here ] Connections page: [ here ]

[boogiewuu]

Fortune's drop

This is a part of the backstory of one of my obey me oc, Desdemona, an angel with cursed eyes who soon will completely change her life.

Tw: mentioning of blood, gore, dead people

Please, remember that this is an Original Character's backstory, nothing here is canon.

I'm sorry for the grammar errors you might find but English isn't my first language.

You can find the complete cover post drawing here if you want to check out some drawings about it

«remember this...»

Why there are so many voices? What's happening out there?... I can feel the floor trembling under my feet... the cold wind crashing on me behind my back like an upcoming storm, this the first time I could feel this here in the Celestial Realms.

«...for any reason...»

My lungs are taking less oxygen by the time... Why my hands are shaking so much? The pressure on my body is pushing me down.

«...you must tell...»

Am I sick? Am I about to die? Is this the moment when your life is taken away from your own body?

«...that you're blind.»

.

.

.

For all my life, I was forced to wear a mask, or a "crown of vision" like my father said to me the first time I had to put it on. No light could go through the thin and metallic layer of that angelic artefact. Why do I wear this? Father said so... And he explicitly said I can't take it off, under any circumstances, my eyes must be hidden from the world. I don't know why... Back then, I was too little to understand the horrible faith my life was twisted on. I don't even know how I look, or how my family look because for it. I just know I have a very long hair because Mother loves to comb them for me, probably she even made me some strange yet angelic hairstyle multiple times without even got the chance to see that.

I hate this.

I hate all of this.

For all this lie, I can't have many friends. I met some angels who were kind to me and tried to make me more comfortable with my condition... but I always felt horrible, useless... I wasn't complete. How can I have friends if I can't even know how they look like? I can't see, so I can't fly like all the angels do or swim... How frustrating is it. I could hear their wings flapping in the sky while playing... And I was there on the ground, in silence. I was living a loop... From the minute I was awake to the moment I was asleep, because all the angels had one particular job... But what job could have a blind angel of fortune when there is another one who was actually able to see? When I tried to talk about it to Mother and Father, they said I shouldn't care about it... They could be my friends... I had already my twin who I can play with.

I'm feeling like another bird on a cage.

One day, something different happened, a break in the loop. There was too many strange sounds in the distance, so I tried to reach the source of it but, out of nowhere, an hand grab mine firmly and pull me on the opposite of my direction. «Follow me!! I got you!! Don't take off your mask!!» the person kept yelling... It was my brother's voice. I couldn't stand behind his steps... We both started to running but he should be my eyes for see the safer path, but he was just... Scared... So his priority was survive, running as fast as possible...but I kept falling on the ground. I could sense the angelic aura of my brother growing... He's been trying to use the magic to protect us but seems like both my fortune and his aren't helping like it should be...

Interesting.

I didn't knew emotions like this could ever exist... The nerves running down your spine... The drops of sweat mixing with the dust painting your hot face... And the new sounds were something else too. I kept heard many times breaking sounds of all the type you could even imagine... I believe there were even the cuts of visceral material too. I could smell something burning like meat and wood. I could heard screams but they weren't joyful and the heavy breathing of many people... The splitting sound of some liquid crashing on some surfaces and the finals drops. Something surely was happening. All of this was new to me...

And my curiosity kept me hunger for new sensations.

But my brother doesn't want me to go where the sounds come from... I wonder why?

Aren't these sounds amazing? Why my brother wanted me to cover my ears and pretend I didn't heard a thing? They are so different from the usual stuff...

...why my brother was acting like Father? Why I can't see? And why I'm the only one who has the eyes covered? That's not fair at all!!

My head was spinning... I think I was still running, but all these questions about the forbidden stuff was taking control over my thoughts...my lungs were killing me and I could hear my heartbeat speeding up, I could feel it in my chest. I hit something with my feet and I felt faceplate on the ground... I searched the warm hand of Madoc, calling him back... But there was no response. I didn't have enough strength for get myself up, so I stand there like I was sleeping. My skin could feel the soft leaves landing on the floor and the wind come back running through my hair.

I was outside? I could hear them, the angels screaming and the clicking of the metallic weapons... And I was there, landing on the grass, with a weak body, vulnerable.

After some time, I took back my stamina and managed to stand up on my bare feet, waving my arms around to feel the nearest obstacles but I was in an empty zone... But where? I felt a warm liquid falling on my face, wetting my skin. What is it? I touched the tear with the index and put it under the nose... It doesn't have a smell. I tried to put it on the top of the tongue... It tasted sweet yet nothing came up to my knowledge. I tried to follow the trace with the fingers and there it is. A burning pain on the skin on my forehead but my fingers where full of that sweet liquid. My finger was barely touching a cut who seems incredibly huge... My face was half covered with it...

Blood.

Oh dear Lord... My tongue tasted my own blood? Angels shouldn't even touch or see the blood, and look at what I did!! Oh, if Father would've see me, I was easily grounded for the rest of my immortal life!!

Wait... My Father isn't here, no one is here except me. I was lost and alone, if everyone was running then there's must be a danger near us... I need to run...

I need to see.

My hands shakily took the corner of the metallic mask... My heart pounding on and on. My first time see the world where I lived until now...

I have to... Or I won't be able to survive

The mask went slowly separated from the bandages over my eyes and drop it on the ground making a little jingle with the pebbles behind the leaves. I'll finally be able to see everybody...

I started to unwrapped the many layers of the dirty bandages, full of dust, blood and sweat.

That's it. Now, the only thing between the world and my eyes were the eyelids. Nothing more, nothing less.

.

.

.

The bright light of the sun blinded me for a second. My eyes were never need exposed my the light like this... I had a hard time to make them get used to, but was worth it. The world was beautiful... All the colours I only could learn weren't just words!! Ohhh I'm dreaming!! The sky was full of dark clouds, making less light going through, white feathers were falling like snow and cover all the ground around me. I looked at my hands with my own blood stained on, painting my caramel skin with a dark red.

So this is the world I've been living on for thousands of years!! Why everybody tried to hide this from me??

I heard again that melodic screams on the distance... I ended up searching with my eyes. Look up. In that gray sky there were other angels with their golden bright armor and their weapon on their hands.

They were covered with red, their armor, their weapon, their skins... Even those beautiful white feathers on the wings had blood stinks.

Angels don't attack or hurt other creatures... But that blood surely wasn't their.

I was petrified... The world was always like this? That would explain why Father and my brother tried to keep me away though.

The Angels were up to me, they took a big opening of the wings and then down, targeting me with a surreal velocity, I couldn't move... My eyes were locked on them.

They seems so determined...

I'm about to die, aren't I?

The world become soundless. The spears of the two angels were one feet close to me, yet the world seems so slow... I wonder why.

The Angels were looking at me, directly in my eyes... They had an peculiar expression, a mix of surprise and pain, yet they were looking be enchanted by the meeting of our eyes.

My lungs were running off oxygen, it was hard to breathe, blood were running down their nose, then their mouth... but that gaze weren't going away. I could feel a shock down my spine, my hands shaking again and my facial muscles reacts, I couldn't help but softly smiles and that view. They were petrified like statues, their pupils disappeared, trembling under the layer of tears. I could heard the crackling sound of their jaws opened willing to screaming until their vocal cords would be tore apart.

That twisted expression... I never knew a creature could have such an expressive face. The time looked frozen but I knew this was just my perspective... Their body hardly avoided me, crashing on the floor with enough force to destroy the splendid grass near us. They painted the ground with a scarlet red and that wet breaking sounds again... But in a combo. They turned red and purple... But I couldn't help but notice the broken bones coming out the skin like spines...weird. They looked in pain... But right now, their body was twisted like an origami.

They're no longer alive, that's for sure.

The noises, the screams... That chaos never stopped in the distance. They were full of rage and fear, I could feel the fear in those... But they were full of life and colours too,and that was new.

A twisted way to show everybody that they were alive, and God only knows they will fight for that life with teeth and claws.

Those voices, oh I recognize those voices... My friends were living this moment against everybody else. They were fighting not only to survive... But to live too. To be free. Free like me.

I wasn't alone to feel this way, huh?i my gray sky... I couldn't fly so I had to help on the other half... but the curiosity and the fun was taking me over. Those angels understand my will... They'll having so much fun

I must join... I will join.

.

.

.

I kept repeating me those words... I was covered in all the shades or red the blood could take, I wasn't trained for battle so of course I couldn't survive without having several cuts. My spear was severely damaged by all the angels' bones I destroyed, my clothes were all ruined too, if I knew angelic clothes were this uncomfortable for fighting, I would change it many years ago. Angels couldn't recognize me, but one look and I'll found them dead on the ground like they've been in overdose.

So, the curse on my eyes was really this bad? A common folk you would stare at them for too long, they died in a pot of blood?

I was taking deep breaths, while my hand was covering a bloody cut on my shoulder, I was controlling around me and then I saw that scene...

Two angels, flying towards themselves... The bigger angel had ginger and short hair while the smallest had blue hair with some white hair on the bottom of them. The ginger one was flying holding the blue one, but the other angels was standing an hand on the back of the big one. When I looked on the same direction on the angel's hand, I noticed something else. It was a girl, flying near them... But the second I was watching, that same girl was hitting in the back, falling on the void like a dead bird.

And I was there... Watching in silence that scene.

She wasn't even fighting... And yet, she was hit by this war, and that same girl was falling into the void like she deserves it. How many angels had the same faith of that girl?

I couldn't move a single muscle... What a bad timing to stay there and think.

An enemy took me from behind, I woke up form the shocked and we ended up fighting. He had a Dagger and I had my cursed eyes. I got stabbed many times, but I managed to block his head with my hands and forced it to watch my eyes. Soon enough, he was screaming and vomit blood, but loosing the balance was a fatal act.

His body pressed me down, until we both fall from the edge of the clouds. My face turned pale as we were falling... I took off of me that body and tried to use my wings to reach the surface, but nothing was worth it. More we were going down, more speed we acquired... It was an endless fall, the air was burning my lungs. I couldn't breathe, the pressure was crashing me... My wings couldn't take this. An excruciating pain was hitting my back!! My wings!! I could feel them unravelling my skin... I couldn't hear anything, not even my screams and my cries. I could feel my skin burning, my halo were melting on my face.

All of this couldn't happen If I didn't took off my mask... I shouldn't been fight with those angels, it wasn't non of my business. My friends... Are they dead? I didn't hear them anymore... And I'm going to do the same.

Did I deserve it?

.

.

.

I lost consciousness for who knows how much days or years, I was rotting in the deepest seabed. I didn't know how I was alive or where am I... But something was telling me "someone had other plans for me." Something grabbed my arm and pulled me up, reaching the surface. When I was feeling the ground again, I put my face on the ground, starting to coughing, let the water free my lungs. «where am I?» the only thing I could say. An unfamiliar voices started to talk to me «you're in the Devildom, the reign of demons. You're lucky to be alive.» says the voice. It was a deep male voice, one of that voices you can hear trembling inside you, and I doubt it was an angel...

«Are you... going to kill me?» I asked, trembling, making the demon laughed «I can... but why should I do that?» he asked, but I couldn't reply «what's your name, fallen angel» «...I have no longer a name...» I reply, I know my name... But why should I keep using that name? «...then, how the others angel used to call you?» «The Fortune's pearl... I used to bring good luck» I whispered with a low profile «looks like your luck didn't make it... you looks more of a misfortune demon» commented the demon, I felt a touch on the back «what happened to your wings and your eyes?» asked in a low voice, I let out a single gasp «I... lost my wings during the fall. And for your safety, I need to cover my eyes.» the demon didn't reply, but I felt a strip of cloth on my face, that startle me for a moment, but as soon as I felt my eyes been covered, I slowly high my head towards the demon and thank him «...You're a demon now, you're under my responsibility. Come with me so we can heal you from your wounds» says the demon «for now on, you'll be Desdemona... the misfortune's pearl.» a little giggle escaped from my mouth, a little tear goes on my cheeks, I'm finally worth it for a job

«seems like you really have plans for me...»