#he's got that whole eldest daughter thing going. the whole mentally ill thing. that whole doesn't know how to ask for what he wants thing

[cowboyhorsegirl]

have a supernatural blorbo or kinny yet? any random characters you’ve been intrigued by that aren’t really explained or seen much in the yt destiel clips?

would LOVE to know more abt anna and charlie

#can't tell if it's a coincidence that they both compel me and they also both have the reddest hair imaginable #or if it's my monkey brain spotting a pattern and going 'Ding!' #spn #anon #signed sealed delivered #as far as blorbos i can imagine that if i was the sort of person to watch spn then i'd probably latch onto dean pretty hard #he's got that whole eldest daughter thing going. the whole mentally ill thing. that whole doesn't know how to ask for what he wants thing #we'd vibe #i'm not sure if cas' issues w/ loyalty and betrayal and desire and corruption from the faith would blorbify him to me or if would hit too #close to home for blorbification... #perhaps we shall have to see #should i watch spn fr? maybe we should hold a vote on it #is it still scary maybe it won't be as scary as it was when i was 15 #also the way both dean and cas seem to have issues breaking out of the lives that were predestined for them... oof

[mistys-blerbz]

Keep Your Eyes On Me • Chapter 23

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Mitchell!OC

Summary:

Elizabeth “Ghost” Mitchell is the daughter of what some would say is the most decorated Naval Captain. But when she is called back to North Island for a special mission she is forced to face her past loves, past hurts, and past losses.

Warnings:

violence, swearing, PTSD, war, mental illness & probably more

Word Count: 4,099

Status: 23/23

Cross Posted: A03 • Wattpad

Story Masterlist

May 25, 2022

I have been to many weddings. Never thought I would be at my own. But here I am. Being poked and prodded by my future mother-in-law and Penny. But I will say, I've never looked hotter. I wanted the wedding to be small. And it certainly is. Immediate family with a few exceptions. 45 people in all. Dad offered to use his landing strip and hanger for the wedding and reception. Honestly, I let Natia and Danielle plan it for me. They know me the best and they seemed very excited to oblige. 

I've never been happier. I love him so much. Jake just knows how to make a girl swoon. His vows were more beautiful than I could have dreamed of. I love him. And I never want him to leave. But I do have to let him go. Our honeymoon of stealing Penny's boat will have to be on hold. The Daggers got called to duty and neither of us are sure when he will come back. So we shall share this night before he leaves in the morning. All the daggers are going except me and Nat. Me for obvious reasons, and Nat since her and Bradley are pregnant. 

August 9, 2022

I was just notified that Pa passed away. I wish I was there with him. He was a rock in my life for so long. And I failed to be able to be his when Ma died. I just wish I could have done more. 

August 12, 2022 

The plastic stick on the counter has been staring back for the past hour. I should say sticks plural. I think I emptied everyone that I could find in Natasha’s bathroom. I'll have to buy her a new box. I should book an appointment to see how far along I am. I can't be a mom. I don't want to ruin them.

Turns out I'm four months along. I’m so unsure what to do. Jake is still deployed. We still have no clue when he's coming back. I'm too scared to tell him. We have only talked about kids once. And we said maybe in a year… not… now. 

November 4, 2022

Jake is coming home today. Me and Natasha are on our way to see our husbands. Husband. Still so weird to say. I still haven't told him about me being pregnant. We barely were able to talk. And I asked Natasha not to say anything to Bradley. I wanted Jake to find out from me. 

If I'm being honest, the whole thing was rather movie-like. Seeing him again was a relief. He shaved his mustache though. He will have to grow that back. Jake was happy to see me, he was shocked to see the bump. We go to the OBGYN in a few weeks. 

January 20, 2023

Hello diary, this is Jake speaking. I've been informed by my dear love that I have to write everything she says if I'm going to journal this day for her. She is busy breastfeeding our lovely baby boy. Henry Patrick Seresin, 8lb 9oz 20in long.  Gorgeous blue eyes like his mother. And my charming good looks. Born with a full head of curly brown hair, Liz says to put down how that's because of her “brown person genes”. 

I have taken my diary back from the hands of Bagman. The labor was hard. Quick. But hard. Not really because of the pain, but because Henry was facing the wrong way. Luckily he flipped and I didn't need to be cut out of me. Once he was flipped, I had him out fairly quickly. We didn't know Henry would be Henry until he came out and we saw he was a boy. Henry is named after Jake's eldest brother. I had told him how Henry was my medic when me and Dani were shot down. Our worlds have been intertwined for so long that we only saw it fitting. Patrick is his middle name because that was Pa’s name. I’m excited to see where this adventure takes us, but I’m just nervous. I hope I’m a good mom. 

January 23, 2023

Well don’t you know it. Natasha went into labor and now I’m an aunt to two beautiful little girls. Carol and Ashlynn Bradshaw. We were able to be hospital roommates. Bradley seems to be overjoyed to have more girls in his life. I always saw him as a girl dad. 

April 13, 2023

I recently decided I would like to start a focus group. Or at least a place where vets can come and speak about whatever is on their hearts. Sure, the VA offers these things but sometimes I think it feels impersonal. 

July 4, 2023

Jake and I decided to come to Hawaii to show off our little bundle to John and Natia, who is also conveniently pregnant with her third baby. Seeing John again after so long feels really great. He seems to be coping well with his prosthetic. Especially when his kids decide to steal it and he has to hop around and chase them. 

December 25, 2023

Christmas with Dad was amazing. I got to see Amelia again. She’s blossomed into a beautiful young woman. She has a new boyfriend which I find amazing. Though I will say, Dad seems a bit peeved to have to go through this again. But playing with Henry seemed to calm his “new boyfriend visiting for the holidays” jitters. Penny and Pete have been nothing but a help. I love them so much. 

February 4, 2024

Jake has been promoted to Captain. The ceremony was beautiful and I can't think of anybody more deserving. He is truly an inspiration. And I’m glad to call him the father of my child. He has many more responsibilities now.

August 19, 2024 

Twins. When the OBGYN told us we were pregnant with twins, I felt like I was gonna explode. I thought one more would be okay. But two more? Oh my… but Jake and I have gone through worse. And we can do this. 

February 7, 2025 

Me and Jake bought a ranch. My focus group has grown exponentially. We thought it would be a good idea to expand upon it further, and have a place where veterans and their families could retreat and recover from the horrors that is war. Now I get to remodel an entire new home instead of remodeling Danielle’s. I’m sure she will appreciate it. Besides, if we are going to have three children, that's a little harder to consolidate in her home. I’m excited to get back in the saddle and go back to something that was such a big part of both mine and Jake's childhood. I'm excited to give that experience to our kids. 

March 14, 2025

It’s your friendly neighborhood Jake here. I decided to write down a little something since Liz is busy resting after giving birth to two more beautiful boys. Peter Ray Seresin 11lb 2oz, 19 in long and Duke Weston Seresin 12lb 5oz, 20in long. Both are identical with their mom’s green eyes and another batch of curly black hair. She does produce some smokin kids. Henry doesn’t know how he feels but he’s only one so he has a while to make up his mind. Anyways, I figured she would want me to write a little something in here. She hates not having something written every day. Mark my words though, I will get a daughter. 

January 20, 2026

It’s Henry’s second birthday! And let me tell you, I’m so in love with this little bundle. He honestly is already a smooth talker. I think he’s been hanging out with Jake too much. Luckily, Carol and Ashlynn knock him down a few pegs. Though I think I see a budding romance between him and Ashlynn. Henry requested a fighter pilot wedding so he can be cool like his mom. Which Jake feels a bit dejected because he's not the cool parent apparently. Henry’s words not mine. But it does make me puff up my chest. 

July 29, 2026

Happy birthday to me. The big ol’ four oh. 40 40 40. Scary. I’m middle-aged now… Jake has decided that I’m not allowed to do anything. The kids are with Dad and Penny. Jake is taking me somewhere I’m not entirely sure. He’s flying us there in our Cessna I fixed up. Not as old as dad’s but it certainly was in bad shape. Basically, it’s a new plane. 

This man took me on a three-day retreat to Alaska. I’ve always wanted to come here and it’s a pilot's wet dream. I love it here. There are so many Native people here. Feels like home. We are doing a forested camping trip. Really survival based and it's just… perfect. 

December 27, 2026

Beating the odds of my age, I am pregnant again… but after this, I’m cutting it off. Jake didn’t have to convince me too much to have another. I have heard that after three, you might as well have four and while I don’t traditionally think you should have a baby just for the heck of it, Jake really wanted to try for a girl so here we are. I could use some more estrogen in the home anyways. And a girl we have. We decided to find out the gender beforehand. The look on Jake’s face when he saw we were having a girl was priceless. He already had a name picked out. Diana Sky Seresin. 

May 12, 2027

Danielle decided to come over. She’s been a busy woman. She and Bob ended up getting married. Now, she’s pregnant with her first baby. Honestly, Bob and Dani are adorable with one another. It’s amusing seeing a badass, tatted-up woman with little ol’ Bob. Though Bob isn’t very little… I hate that I know that. He’s also tall… but he’s always been good with our children so I know he will be good with his own. 

June 3, 2027

Welcome ladies and gentlemen. It’s your friendly neighborhood savior speaking. Me and my darling wife would like to introduce to the sacred diary, little miss Diana Sky Seresin. 12lb 2oz, with curly brown hair and get this, heterochromia - one green one blue. She is currently being fed by beautiful Lizzy. The boys seem to be excited to have a little sister of their own. Being around Bradshaw’s girls really helped with that I think.

September 22, 2039

Henry has started dating. I'm honestly surprised he hadn’t started sooner. He always talked about the girls who would annoy him. And honestly, seeing the young girls who would always seem smitten with him was amusing. I suppose he was more focused on school. But at the ripe age of 16 I’m guessing he was ready to focus on himself a little more. Her name is Violet, she’s a gorgeous girl. He’s taking her to North Island. Taking our plane. He truly knows how to woo. Probably learned it from his dad. I hope they have a nice time. 

December 9, 2040

Date night again!! Tonight it was my idea. Decided to take Jake to the Army v Navy game. To say he was psyched would be an understatement. Being able to go back to his alma mater was certainly a treat. Though I will say, I did cheer for Army. Unfortunately for me, Navy won, but alas he had a really good time and that's all I could ask for. 

August 27, 2041

We just finished moving Henry in to college. He’s going to the University of Texas. His father is very proud. Texas forever in his pretty brain. Henry is a bit upset that he and Violet will have to have a long-distance relationship but I told him that he has strong blood and it’s nothing a Seresin or a Mitchell hasn’t had to do before. 

April 1, 2042

Um… I’m sorry for the tear stains. It’s um… I’ve failed to write this so many times. It’s hard for me to even talk about it still. Um… dad is dead… He um… died in his sleep. Old age was what the doctor said. His funeral was yesterday. 80 years old. I miss him so much. I was hoping I would die before anybody else could die… it’s selfish I know but… I didn't want to lose him. I love you, dad. I miss you so much. Tell Uncle Ice hello, and say hi to Uncle Goose hello for me and Bradley. 

January 12, 2043

Jake decided to retire from the Navy. He’s an old coot so that seems to make sense. He wanted to be home more. And honestly, we make a good enough living here on the ranch. The kids are happy to see him more between school and whatnot. And honestly, things seem to be evening out. Things have still been hard emotionally. I miss my dad more and more as the days pass. And the kids aren't home as often. They're getting older, and more busy with their extracurriculars, and Henry is in college. Duke and Ashlynn started dating recently which I find rather adorable. Everything will be okay. We are all doing okay… I just have to remind myself of that. 

April 26, 2056 

60 years old and still having nightmares. This one was particularly cruel… I don’t even want to go into it. I just want this mental torture to end. I ended up waking up and checking the home. I needed to make sure that everyone was safe. I love them so much that I can’t let anything happen to them. 

Elizabeth sighed softly, standing up with a light groan, her bones sore. She made her way back outside and towards the stables. She needed to get away. After her horse was tacked, she climbed on and began her late night, or really early morning, ride. She passed by the cabins provided for their veteran guests and walked until they were on another overlook. She loved her overlooks. She climbed off her horse, smiling softly at the small memorial they had placed up there. For both of Jake's parents, both of hers. Ma and Pa, and a few others they had lost along the way. She sat down on a log before finally breaking down once again. 

She thought about her life and all the things she had been through, all the people she was able to meet and know and grow with. It was overwhelming. Her kids are married. Her friends, thankfully, still alive. And then, having it all ripped away in another dream. Another nightmare that kept clawing at the back of her head, images of her friends and family horribly ruined by her.

She didn't know how long she was there. The sun was now a foot over the horizon as she went through her panic attack. The world around her felt like it was shrinking in, making her feel trapped. So much open space only for it to be ripped away. Fresh air, gone. 

It wasn't until she felt the gentle hands of her lover. Her man, her soulmate. His kind, blue eyes wrinkled with age, as he held her face. His white hair peeked out from under the cowboy hat he wore. He leaned down, kissing her softly before pulling slightly away. 

“Just keep your eyes on me, sunshine, keep your eyes on me.”

Authors note: thank you so much for reading my fanfiction. this is a giant milestone for me as it is the first series ive fully completed. i have been writing for i want to say a little over 8 years now. so thank yo to all of my readers who have supported me through this. and thank you so much to my bestfriend for being my beta reader and editor. she is truly amazing and i implore you all to go check out her stuff her info is below :)

Editor(s): @delicatenightfury

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED...

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#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun 2 #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x oc #hangman #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #hangman fluff #hangman top gun #hangman x oc #hangman seresin #top gun hangman

[inkykeiji]

As someone who admires the Todoroki family from a writing perspective and just Horikoshi's ability with characterization as a whole, I'm very, very scared that the series as a whole is just going to end cleanly. I'm invested in the Aizawa/Present Mic/Shirakumo/Kurogiri arc the same way you feel about the Todorokis, but I feel Horikoshi is going to go for a happily ever after for everyone somehow. I'm very fine with the idea of major characters dying, but I don't think Horikoshi has the balls to do it. That's just my two cents though.

That image of the Todorokis made me so happily sad in a way though. He's so SMALL next to Endeavor and Natuso!

YES oh my god

yes that’s my fear exactly, too. because i know hori has the talent and the capability to end these stories in gut-wrenching but well executed ways, but does he have the balls to do it????? to potentially upset a huge portion of the fandom that would rather have the fan-service happy fluffy endings instead of something that’s written beautifully but hurts so much??? i don’t know. i’m worried he doesn’t, but i’m really hoping he does >.<

i gotta be honest, it bothers me so much when people say dabi deserves a happy ending or that dabi dying is a ‘bad ending’ for his story, as if dabi didn’t kill TONS of innocent people just because he felt like it, like dabi didn’t consciously make the decision to take away mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and sons and daughters from people, as if dabi doesn’t ENJOY killing, etc. it like genuinely makes me see red HAHAHA like alright, let’s say he lives. what happens? the only plausible answer is that he goes to fucking jail, because they got the man in 4k lucidly admitting to 30+ murders, among other crimes. what else could possibly happen??? the judge and the authorities and society as a whole just give him a slap on the wrist and ignore his laundry list of crimes because he’s ~got trauma~ and he’s ~the eldest son of the number one hero~??? dabi’s story as a whole is absolutely heart wrenching—and it deserves to stay that way!!!—but that doesn’t excuse any of his actions. like, at all. i’ve got loads of trauma too and yet i am not out there killing in the street lmfao.

or what? the whole todofam works out their YEARS long combined and convoluted family and personal trauma in one battle out on the battlefield and suddenly everything is resolved and happy and great again and they all love each other and everything’s been forgiven and dabi’s/touya’s severe mental illness just disappears??? just evaporates from the tissues of his brain like a fucking mist??? it’s borderline offensive LMFAO like i know this is a series about fucking superheroes but hori has done a pretty good job keeping several aspects of realism within it. my cousin and i have this talk often but it’s incredible and super interesting how hori has been able to take something so REAL (trauma as a whole, with all the league members) and portray it in a way that is relatable and realistic while still filtering it through this superhero lens and society. it’s brilliant. they all deserve well written endings, dabi and tomura especially.

anyway sorry i’m going on a serious rant here and i am going to stop HAHAHA but yeah, i totally feel you. and it’s like,, i get it, in a way; i understand the appeal of everything ending super happy and warm and feel good, but for me personally, i would rather things end in a way that hurts but is well executed, you know? i’ll take that over bad writing any day. the aizawa/mic/shirakumo | kurogiri storyline is SUPER interesting and they too deserve a properly written ending, even if it’s painful!!!!!

anyway moving on yeS HE’S SO TINYYYYY ugh i love how he’s like, taller than rei + fuyumi by a decent amount but so much shorter than enji and natsuo it just 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 it makes my heart !!!!! explode <3 he’s so cute <3 he really is his momma’s son like look at him!!!!!!!! he looks like her so much 🥺🥺🥺

#i’m so sad #also sorry for my rant here HAHAHA #i just have so many feelings n thoughts atm #just swirling around in my lil head #thank you for your input and opinion tho!!!! i totally agree with you 100% #it’s a big fear #i hope he has the guts to do it #i think it bothers me even more because it *seems* like these would be the natural endings #bnha has a lot of darker themes esp when compared to other popular shonen series #it deals with heavier subject matter and it does it WELL #so it feels like this should be the natural end for so many characters but idk! i guess we’ll have to wait and see!! #i want hori to do a horror manga next :) #i hope ur having an awesome wednesday my friend!!! #stay safe and stay hydrated! #clari gets mail

[foreveralonewithmystupidthoughts]

“I’ve got two sons, I don’t need another.”

The words I hear every time I mention anything to do with my gender.

The two sons that she’s referencing here, are the two sons that don’t want to know her. The ones who don’t contact her. Don’t tell her happy birthday, don’t tell her happy Mother’s Day.

The eldest of the two, hid upstairs when we went to see his newborn child…. That says a lot.

The second eldest, barely talks to her. Only when he wants something. The one who raped her “daughter” at 7 years old.

But she loves them more than me…. Probably because I’m not the daughter she wanted. Probably because I’m different. Who knows? I know she doesn’t love me. I know she never wanted me. I hear that loud and clear. I’m the kid with the mental problems, I’m the kid who has several chronic illnesses.

I’m fed up with living this life. I want to be me. I want to be the boy I’ve always been. I’m trapped in this life.

She will let me buy boys clothes, she will let me do boys things, she will let me have my hair short, she will let me use Dylan on all social medias, but the moment I want to change my whole gender that’s a no. Don’t she realise that I will be the same person, like the same things, do the same silly accents but I’ll just be in a different gender.

I just want to live my life. If absolute strangers can accept it why can’t she? My support worker calls me Dylan, my friends call me Dylan when we’re not around family.

I’ve disowned this family. I hate them. So much for loving me no matter what. Truth is they never wanted me. I know it’s true.

She’s getting a granddaughter and I bet that will be my replacement. Or I bet if she came out gay or trans she’d be accepted. No one would care. And if that happens I’m done. Why is it ok for everyone else to be who they want but I’m not allowed? I just want to be happy.

They’re stopping me from being happy, so why should I care about them being happy? I use to say I was going to wait until my family is happy for when I killed myself. But fuck that! Why should I?

My family is scum. And I hate them with every fibre of my being. I’m only still living here because I don’t have anywhere else to go. Also the fact that I’m disabled doesn’t help. But I’ll be dead soon enough.

I’m waiting to hear what the gynaecologist has to say tomorrow. The immunologist has to say on the 23rd and the eye clinic on June 6th. Once I know that things have got worse. I am out of here. I’m gone. I already know nothing is going to get better so it’s time to accept that and move on. I’m just going to get worse and worse. Until I can’t take no more. So why hold off? No one would miss me. No one would even notice. I’m easily forgotten about. I’m not something to be dwelled on.

#my thoughts #mental health #my vents #spotify #vent account #chronic illness #im a loser #my life is a disaster #this life fucking sucks #aesthetic #had enough of family #i hate my family #family sucks #transphobia #transphobic #transphobic family #homophobic family #racist family #family is scum

[phoenixblack89]

Rant incoming!!

I just need to get this off my chest cos it needs said really.

Not me saying karma is a bitch

But karma is a bitch

If I say this to anyone and my reasonings ill be called shameless and awful but ya know what. Some times people deserve shit they get

Dear sister has been informed by her fiance that he no longer wishes to be with her.

This dear sister has been a cunt, for the lack of a better word, towards me since they got together. Examples...

1. Told me to "get your child under control" after he had a sensory melt down at her daughters birthday party

2. When I joked that it was my turn next to have a baby, she was pregnant at the time, told me "don't bother. You can't control the one you have".

And the fiance told me "let *sisters name* enjoy having the new baby attention for once" sorry but I struggle to conceive and you got pregnant, twice, within months. Yes you miscarriaged the twins but you have a healthy baby now.

3. Congratulated me on the morning when I informed her I was pregnant then come 2.50pm started having a go at me cos I got pregnant mere months after my nephew was born. That was the start of her making me miserable the entire pregnancy. I did not enjoy a moment of being pregnant and felt guilty for it the whole length.

4. Started questioning every little thing about my baby the second he was born and why he was in the NICU

5. Has told me multiple times that my hubby is a control freak and I should leave him.

6. Rang me and began asking me probing questions regarding my mental health after she informed her friends that I was a "nutter and unstable"

7. Told my hubby that while he was at work when our eldest was born that she was round ours everyday helping out despite moving house and being pregnant herself. Hell she lived next door to me and was only in my house once the entire time!

8. She just a narcissist twit whose obsessed with everyone having shit wrong with them. She's attempting to claim benefits for herself, she's faking the symptoms of autism (she's got an autistic child so knows what to say).

My older sister and mother both agree that there is no sign of autism in her. However they believe I should of been tested given my childhood habits and how I am currently.

I know I'm gonna come across as majorly a twat woffle but it is how I feels.

#phoenix rambles #family issues

[jupiteriala]

Yoon Seungho and Yeonsangun

A hot scary tyrant with anger issues and rampages of violence, a sex addict, a traumatized boy tormented by the shadow of his father… Who am I referring to? King Yeonsangun or our Yoon Seungho? Because both stories match really well.

So on this post I’ll share why I believe Seungho is inspired in Yeonsangun, the 10th king of the Joseon dynasty and the cruelest ever known.

Here I will leave a link with a nice and underrated video I found that summarizes the info on Yeonsangun: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEUJPNfMMQo&t=295s and will leave some movie recommendations as well.

I will start by summing up the canon facts of Yeonsangun and Yoon Seungho that are very similar, then proceed to do assumptions and theories n.n

TW: This will contain mentions of death, sex, rape and psychological abuse so be careful 

>Yeonsangun felt like he lived under the shadow of his father the king Seongjong, he was often criticized by the ministers and compared to him and even aimed some hate towards him as he allowed the death of his mother lady Yoon, same happens with Seungho that says to “be living by the principles of his father” in a very sarcastic way and sends lusty paintings to bother him and having nightmares when father Yoon comes to his mind. Both being the eldest son to inherit all the responsibilities. 

>King Yeonsangun was a sex adict, he made a whole brigade of ministers to recruit 10.000 virgins for him who would live in the Sungkyunkwan (basically the Joseon Confucianism university of the capital Hanyang later known as Seul ofc) to serve him making this a brothel. Our dear Yoon Seungho attended and hosted orgies on a daily basis right? Pretty similar. Both known for their crazy libido and not caring about public spaces huh. 

>This king was known for his episodes of anger since he was a child and when he became the king (19) killed his tutor the Seungho version of this would be how cold blooded he killed a servant on chapter one. 

>Yeonsangun might have been a tyrant but he was also a hottie, described to be a bit feminine having a nice built and a color skin pale as pricey jade just like our protagonist. Here a ss of Yeonsangun being portrayed on the treacherous (2015) pretty hot right? 

>Sadly, before getting to know how his mother was killed Yeonsangun was known to be a nice man, a good king caring and organized, brilliant in poetry and smart but turned out the monster the history books describe know because of his traumatic past. This mirrors our potn quote “He was actually one of the brightest young men in this region…” oh my lord Yoon they did you so wrong 

>This king is known for the bloodiest purges on Korean history killing a lot of the Sarim faction (basically the scholar side of the politicians and nobility) and Seungho’s family is related to a purge… hmm… This was caused when he found out why and how his mother (Deposed queen Yoon, yeah the surnames are important to be told!) was cruelly killed with poison which ended up in the literati purges. 

Those are the canon facts so far! I’ll continue with assumptions now stay with me <3

+This has to be the most fun one and is heavily based on the annals of Joseon and a very well-known film “The king and the clown” (2005) So Yeonsangun had a royal consort that was Jang Nok-su who was his favorite and treated him as a baby 

and another known favorite one was his royal juggler whose real name I don’t known but is portrayed as Gong-gil in the movie so the consort was very jealous of the clown who was a lowborn ofc Nok-su is known for being poisonous and villain like while Gong-gil was allegedly a pure and cute soul very feminine like (Are we all getting the Jihwa and Nakyum vibes?) Lemme point out some scenes on the movie that are tremendously similar to our favorite manhwa: So the consort grew jealous of the clown as he got more and more favored by the king, he was the chosen to spend the nights playing puppets to the king and the first thing she noticed was how Yeonsangun looked at Gong-gil, there was even a scene where the consort gets in top on him trying to get him stripped

  bc he had received a gift from the king (to Royal robe was on his shoulders)

 And guess what the king made? Drag her outside (not by the topknot but extremely similar way) as she yells HOW DARE YOU!! While her little thingy from the hair falls. the level of parallelism, astronomical.

 He even has a very worried prime minister who plays his cards in secret to please the king, very Kim like. He even looks like this panel as he was killing someone.

 We also get a “Because the way you looked at him is not the way you look at me” shot as Gong gil looks at his partner tenderly 

Some extra ones: Yeonsangun had Gong-gil on the palace against his will and allegedly kept him as entertainment but ended up kissing him lol. And Gong-gil used to be a prostitute before (just like Nakyum thought of himslef:c)

+Basically in both of the films I’ve mentioned so far he is portrayed as mentally ill, insomnia, hallucinations, dissociation, etc. And as a child (being treated as one by his consort and having childish behavior, etc.). Which are things I assume SH has too (well he is canonically ill with insomnia though)

+In the treacherous (2015) Yeonsangun likes to paint erotic paintings (which idk if was real but he was smart and skilled in arts such as poetry as I've read so this a nice headcannon about Yeonsangun that could have inspired Byeonduck nim). Plus, the sex scenes are so vivid and explicit... Like Potn

Well thanks for bearing with me now here I go with the last info and some theories (?)

-So what caused this king to be so unstable and such a tyrant was when he found out about the cruel destiny of mother Yoon) Could Seungho’s past be related to something like this? His mother being mistreated and having an indecent death? Or his lover perhaps? Anyways a purge is also mentioned in the manhwa so if you connect some points please tell me!

-His father, Seogjong was praised sure but also banned a member of the Lee clan (The royal clan, yes Lee was their surname just like Jihwa’s also written as Yi) for living and having a daughter with his slave, this makes me remember Mummyeong and Jihwa’s relationship (The girl was Yi Guji) and strengthened the rules towards widoweds not remarrying. Might me just my extra Sagittarius imaginations loving taking everything to the extreme but this somehow resembles how father Yoon fucked up Seungho and Jihwa calling them “ill”

-Finally their names sound really similar, just me? Yeonsangun Yoon Seungho and I mean look at the pic on the video cover and this korean interview on Lezhin... They are twins!

The main reason I do this is to have open discussion, go ahead roast and debunk my theory or praise it!! Reactions, feedback and opinions are welcome. If you want the theory in Spanish text me or text me whenever you want let's discuss let's chat. I am mostly active on twitter @Seunghosgirl

#painter of the night #potn #seungho x nakyum #seungho #baek nakyum #nakyum #jihwa #mumyeong #nameless x jihwa #yeonsangun #the king and the clown #painter of the night nakyum #yoonseungho #yoon seungho

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 7X4 Defending Your Life

I'm making an exception today, because I've figured out QUITE a bit about my own stress response

oh right the monster Dean killed

also to recap: my period has every sign of starting(including cramps) but nothing, I've been horribly nauseous all day, I feel a hunger response when I'm DEFINITELY not hungry(stress eating and it's the only thing that makes the nausea subside) and headache(altho that could be the lack of sleep). Also emotions all over the place(Crying, happy, very on the hat etc)

and the WORST part is I can NEVER tell until I have physical reactions. I can NEVER TELL WHAT MY EMOTIONS ARE WHAT DOES THAT MEAN I THOUGHT I WAS PERFECTLY OK OR NOT FEELING ANYTHING

ooo chase scene

gHOST CAR

ooo good segway into intro

that cut coping mechanism does NOT seem like it's healthy

mONSTER OF THE WEEK

oh COME ON HERE's THE LYING

the visuals are cool

"license to kill"

no come on sam that was a good one.

"dead and sober, dead and crappy" no Dean, please, you need to figure that out

ah yes tortured soul

FL OW ER SH O P

that was suspicious

oh

it's just because she's dead and dead at 10

oh

the CAr

"makes you wonder if the guy who was drunk ran her over" *drinks beer*

O H H H H H HSIDOFAHPAS

GHOST RIDER

at least I know they're nerds, whoever wrote this

is it manifesting their guilty conscience

aw but the dog is so fluffy

*lies down, bounces back up again* lmaooo

Dean is Tired

didn't they DEAL With a ghost car?

it's people that kept going?

DEAN IS RUNNING ON SO MUCH EMPTY AHAHAHA

A H CUZ HE DIDN'T SLEEP BECAUSE THE GIRL HE KILLED

that took me as second

"If I ate apples" DEAN

also they're really doing license plate shots above how Cool the Impala is shots now, lil thing

"you won't even believe me" ahaha

...courtroom?

fUCKING NEAL'S TAVERNNNN

we kind of specialize in crazy ahaaha

"except that's complete crap"

"everyone judges all day long"

He just..takes punishment?

ahahah N O P E GREY AREA

no this is way more watchable

SA M SOUNDS SO TIRED AHAHA

*whispers* "stay put"

he DOES look good though

ok fine just gonna tune out the flirting

they ARE both pretty

is it that guy

the creepy guy in the shadows

how much is in scotch I have no idea

ah the red, what people were clawing

THAT'S NOT HOW OSIRIS WORKS but fine ok let's go

THAT'S NOT

ok fine

"it hones in on people who feel guilty, N OW WHO DOES THAT SOUND LIKE TO YOU" oh boy literally both of them got it that was hilarious

this does seem like he's talking himself into a role

the salt...might not work for osiris

shit she really is pretty

AH RED SAND ok ok yeah I see it ok

a h egyptian shit

ALL YOU NOTICED WERE THE SYMBOLS LMAOOO

THAT DOOR SLIDE WAS SO FUNNY

He's cool though, I like the pagan shit

"Sam, you're not a lawyer" "yes I was pre law" "pre"

"good one" "I saw that on the good wife"

THIS IS HILARIOUS

J O

oh no

the mining itself sucks but this concept is good

took his breathing away?

It reads a bit as excusing them for everything

She backs them up at least?

I miss her

see here's the thing, it kinda reads like they're out of ideas, but like...it's a good concept

ah so the stuff at the beginning was them showing their guilt

I like how he just says "them's the breaks"

yeah like Dean is ever gonna believe he's innocent

"dog food" oh they so desperately wanna say dog shit

"they want to be judged" echoes Dean

SAM IS TALKING COMPLETELY OUT OF HIS ASS

HE'S GETTING HIM OUT OF HIS GUILT COMPLEX OH THANK GOD FINALLY

"that it just...blows"

no one, including Dean, ever questions it, so the grief stews

oh

he does actually have some way with words

Dean please tell the truth

mate I get the impulse but still

dammit

ahaha Temporary but Long Temporary

"make sure it's a sharp piece" lmaoo

man I miss Jo

ah here we go

sam: u h

JOOOO

"you deserve better" on both ends

Dean Eldest Daughter Syndrome

"hunters are never kids, I never was"

he does Internalize things

that's why we kin

90% crap

"i get rid of that what then" "you really wanna die not knowing" HOLY SHIT

HOLYSHIT OH MY GOD OH MYGOD

ah the gas stove

"he's making me do this" oH NO

"just kind of faded...maybe a little bit happier"

hell was Sam's slate? huh

"I kind of feel good, Dean" I am glad he's happy, I don't know if I agree with the message

1. SAMMM. Dean was acting off the shits, so he had to step up and exasperatedly handle everything, and piece stuff together. Like mans is actually quite smart and quite resourceful when he has to be, and it's nice seeing that. It's also fun FINALLY seeing him lighthearted again, even if I don't like how.

2. Dean's guilt complex. Man internalizes a lot of things, and while they BARELY make sense(thin veneer, easily cracked) he hides it enough so that no one asks(and he represses so he certainly doesn't), and he can continue feeling guilty. Now here's the thing. He feels guilty, Sam doesn't, the middle ground is where they should be(taking responsibility) and they like...never do it.

3. monster of the week. No but having monsters switch to grey instead of black and white, and having Dean comment on it is SO good, because he's like...that Masculine Parody/Ideal depending on who's writing him, and like he was written to be the hero. any gray was always overridden by that. But with kripke gone, they start actually doing grey, and there's nothing simple anymore. Like I like with how off the shits it got, they still kept the theme of "it's more grey now" but like kinda for real(where Dean and Osiris said the same thing). ALSO, I think it would be useful as a scale back. I know they'll not do it because EVEN BIGGER DBZ LAZER is fun, but I think having more monsters of the week by choice and not "oh god we have runtime" would be really good, because that's where this storyline SHINES! it's got a lot of characters, a lot of lore, and a lot of issues to pick through, a monster of the week is WAY more effective than a longer story, and would help the scaling back issue.

4. pontificating about the season/why it's easier to watch. Like is this season as good/vibey? probably not really, but honestly I can actually stand watching it. Like it's very cringe in places but also, it doesn't hurt me or make me feel uncomfortable as kripke stuff does. It matches the vibe of "after work/school show" perfectly for what it is.

5. the vibes/Osiris. I like the idea of osiris and going to the bars, and the courtroom and the RED! SAND!! I got that one. But I'd also like to say that Dean saying the SAME thing that osiris said was like...he's not villainized, but I think they're trying to make him slowly grow as a character. It's like sympathy/he sucks kinda/we like him for him a sa character and I think that was really neat.

also barkeep lady pretty holy hell

6. it felt a little bit like excusing tho. Like if Sam is the good one, then it felt like excusing them of the harm they cause people. I want them to change their behavior! not beat themselves up over it or think it's fine cuz he went to hell because of it!

I'm so glad Sam is happy again but N O

7. J O. the "no autonomy, he's making me do this," the being able to see through things(and no longer hungering for something that she doesn't really know) (like...she wants SOMETHING, has it crawling under her skin but doesn't know what, and that's gone when she's dead) and that whole thing where she asked Dean if he wanted to die as a persona. Oh my god.

8. Dean persona. Yeah the whole thing where he had to convince himself to be a womanizer, the "I"m 90% crap line" OH MY GODD THAT HIT. That man is also a persona. maybe a commentary on american masculinity in general, maybe not. Also, eldest daughter syndrome, he internalizes everything and everything is his responsibility("I didn't get a childhood")

I feel like you can also make an argument how trauma makes you the extreme of something(uncaring for smol sam, internalizing for Eldest Dean), and it breaks your ability to do what you need to(empathetically do your fucking job and not be pieces of shit).

I see why this show was so popular amongst mentally ill people(myself included) holy christ

#pawswatchesspn #7X4 Defending Your Life #tbh once I realized that Dean was tired because he'd gone out and secretly killed someone #I knew that someone was actually paying attention behind the scenes #I can't wait to watch this one again holy FIUCK IT WAS GOOD #I feel much better #also I have found out that Adam Glass's later episodes were Not Great #but based on the Dean they're going for now #This makes sense in context and while I don't like the message there are parts of this episode I really like #some of those fucking lines GOT me

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Twenty 

Ron had side alonged tons of times with both his Dad, Mum, Bill, and Charlie. Sure the first time he got sick all over his fathers shoes, but by the second time he was just violently dizzy. Now it’s like nothing, uncomfortable in the moment, but not long lasting. So why did he feel so sick all of the sudden? 

A pit of dread was building in his stomach. He physically keeled over, clutching at his knees and heaving a little onto the grass, hoping to hack something up. 

A hand found his back and rubbed it for a moment, the touch startled him until he met Bill’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong Ronnie? You haven’t had that sort of reaction to apparition in years.” His oldest brother pointed out. 

Ron ignores his words, not able to find a viable excuse at the moment. Harry however, seems to catch on from his place on Bill’s left. 

“I don’t think it’s because of the apparition.” The chosen one frowned at his best friend's brother. 

Bill gulped, suddenly feeling a little guilty for not realizing sooner, but supplied a soft nod. 

“Ron if you don’t think you can do this I’d understand. No ones gonna hold it against you.” His brother whispered, bending down to meet his hunched over form. 

Soon, the ginger recovers as he shakes his head viciously and stands tall. “I have to do this. Not even just for myself but you know...” the words ‘for her’ are unspoken. 

“Okay, let’s all just take a minute.” Bill suggests noticing Harry’s pale face. 

They all stand for a little bit. Bill’s eyes seemingly searching for any threats, Harry toeing some leaves, and Ron closing his eyes to focus his breathing. 

“I’ve never been here before.” Harry comments quietly, causing Ron to open his blue eyes and meet his green ones. “I mean...” he starts. 

“Neither have I.” His friends soon clarifies, “it’s never been me who came out, always Dad, Bill, Lupin.” He lists, “feels wrong.” 

The dark haired boy nods slowly, “yeah it does.” He agrees, scratching his head awkwardly. 

Bill felt like an intruder on a private moment between the pair, but didn’t have anywhere else to go. Instead, he stood silently, not wanting to rush them. 

“I reckon we can’t stand out here forever.” Ron breaks tensely after another minute of staring at the brick house. 

“Come on.” Bill led them down the path first. 

When the trio reached the door, it was the oldest Weasley who had the courage to finally knock. 

After a small scuffle heard behind the door, Hugo Granger threw it open with. His face went from that of confusion to a beaming smile. 

It made Ron’s stomach clench. 

“Bill! What a pleasure! Oh Harry and Ron, nice to see you!” He says happily. 

Ron had met Mister Granger on a few occasions at Kings Cross and in Diagon Alley. He was always kind to Ron and his family, more than happy to entertain his father on all things Muggles.

“Is my little girl here? Jean and I told her to stay put.” He frowned a little. 

Ron really felt ill now. 

“We’re really sorry to disturb you,” Bill began cryptically, “may we come inside?” 

Hugo eyed him skeptically, it wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable with Bill in his home, but this visit was puzzling. 

“Of course.” He opened the door to them, “Jean!” He called out as they stepped in. 

“Who was it at the door?” The woman’s voice came as she walked into the foyer, smiling at the sight of the boys. “Oh! This is so unexpected. It’s lovely to see you all! Come in, come in.” Jean ushered them over to the sitting room. 

“Wait here while I get some tea, I have some made.” She tells, scurrying to the kitchen, causing Bill’s protest to die on his lips. 

Soon his older brother and Hermione’s father fell into small talk. Harry supplying a few nods here and there in acknowledgement. 

Ron however, was too busy surveying the house. 

Everything was clean and white. The dark wood floors seemed freshly polished and the pillows looked recently fluffed. On the mantle were photos of Hermione. Unmoving, but just as sentimental. 

Ones of her swaddled in a towel, her as a small baby, her in France with bushy brown hair, and many more. The one that caught his eye was her at King’s Cross from her first year, smiling widely as she sat on her new trunk. 

He had to look away. The memories of happier times becoming too painful as of late. The whole thought of her now miserable made it too much. 

Missus Granger soon returned with a tray of tea and biscuits, but no one made a move to grab anything. Not even Ron, which shocked Harry and Bill alike. 

He noticed now Hermione’s mother nervously wringing her hands together. “This is about Hermione isn’t it? I knew she’d take my mother’s death badly, but I didn’t think it would warrant a home visit. I’d assume she’d dive into her work. It’s not exactly a healthy alternative but she’s-“ the woman ranted. 

“She doesn’t know.” Ron interrupted huskily before he could help himself. 

“She doesn’t?” Hugo asked, shocked, “well we sent an owl. The white one, I think she’s yours Harry.” He pointed out. 

The chosen one nodded slowly, “we got the owl but Hermione she,” he cleared his throat, “she never saw your letter.” 

The couple eyed each other for a moment before Hugo spoke, “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” 

Bill glanced at his brother and his best friend, both were averting their eyes from the adults in front of them. 

“Hermione, she’s gone.” He says sadly, not even having a moment to elaborate before the Granger’s jumped in. 

“Oh Hugo! I knew this would happen! We told her not to come home.” She said painfully clutching her husband's hand. 

He grabbed it and gave it a squeeze before turning back to Bill, “do you know where she is? How long ago did she leave?” He asked quickly. 

Bill shook his head again, surprised to find tears stinging the backs of his eyes. Ron’s head soon found its place between his hands as Harry plucked his hoodie's zipper. 

“She didn’t leave,” he gulped, “she was taken.” The eldest Weasley said shakily. 

“Taken!” Jean exclaimed aghast. 

“I don’t understand.” Hugo said, voice quivering as silent tears began to stream his wife’s face. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have sent her off to that school. I knew it.” Her mother cried. 

This seemed to peeve Ron off, Harry too. 

“It’s not because of Hogwarts, it's because of me.” Harry informed quickly and sadly. 

“You?” Jean spat rather angrily. 

“Not Harry, me.” Ron corrected, sure of it. 

“You?” Her voice had leveled out to confusion rather than anger. 

As Ron nodded, Harry shook his head. 

“Well what is it? What’s happened?” Hugo asked anxiously, trying to keep his calm whilst his wife fell into his arms. 

Harry took a staggering breath, “my godfather, he,” he sighed sadly, “last year he was killed.” 

“Killed?” Jean squeaked nervously, worried for Hermione’s fate. 

“Yeah, you see-” The chosen one started. 

“Harry, third year, start there. Pettigrew.” Ron moaned the name painfully. He knew Hermione had stopped being honest with her parents around then. After being petrified. 

“Right...”

And so it began. The Granger’s barely had time to shed tears over Hermione, as they’d been too focused on the stories being told. Those of that night in the Shrieking Shack, of Barty Crouch Junior, Cedric Diggory, and Dolores Umbridge. Even the events of the Department of Mysteries (Missus Granger let out a terrible cry at learning Hermione had been cursed) and presently their Christmas holiday. 

“It was just over a week ago when it all happened.” Harry started nervously, palms running roughly over his denim clad legs. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” he began before Hugo interrupted. 

“The woman at the Ministry? The one who killed your godfather?” He asked voice so soft it made Harry’s heart break. Here these people were not knowing if their daughter was alright, yet felt for him after losing Sirius. 

Harry nodded, “yeah, her, well she arrived at the Burrow with Fenrir Greyback.” 

“The man who hurt you Bill.” Jean said to herself, mentally keeping tabs of all the players     

A little awkwardly, the oldest of the three nodded. 

“She came. Said some nasty things then went to leave. I-“ he began shamefully, “I followed her.”

“So did Hermione. So did I.” Ron was quick to defend. 

“You only followed because I ran in first. If I hadn’t-“ he began frustrated, hot angry tears forming in his eyes. 

“If there’s one thing I know about my daughter, it’s that she would do anything to protect you two boys. Please don’t blame yourself Harry.” Jean said with wet eyes, placing a soft hand on Harry’s clenched fist. 

“If I just-“ he started again. 

“If you had known this would happen to Hermione would you still have ran after her?” The woman asked, voice riddled with sadness. 

“No, of course not!” He cried out indignantly. 

“Exactly.” She soothed, retracting her hand to find her husband again, “continue.” Jean requested. 

Though painful, Ron knew this was his part to tell, “Bellatrix, she said she wanted to kill me.” He decided to leave out the part of Hermione in the witch's clutches, wanting to spare some pain. 

“Why?” Hugo gasped. 

Bill noticed Ron begin to tremble and he could at least fill this part in. “Us Weasley’s were dubbed as ‘blood-traitors’, purebloods who support Muggles and Muggle borns alike. We’re also not few and far between. To someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, if she kills one of us there’s still over half a dozen more.” 

Hesitantly, Hugo nodded in acknowledgment and understanding, but not agreement. 

“She didn’t want to kill Hermione.” Ron’s voice broke suddenly hoarse, “or Harry.” 

“But isn’t him, uh, You-Know-Who, isn’t he after you Harry?” Jean questioned. 

“Yeah, he is, it’s peculiar they didn’t try it with me.” 

“And Hermione? Why her?” 

Again, Ron and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, “your daughter is one of the brightest witches Hogwarts has ever seen. You-Know-Who, well, we reckon he needed her brilliant mind. That she may know something that could hurt him.” Bill advised regretfully. 

For now, questions from the Granger’s halted, it all was too much to take in. 

“So Hermione, she-she saved herself for me,” Ron choked, “she hid me to keep me safe and gave herself up so they wouldn’t kill me and they took her. And I couldn’t do anything. Not a thing.” Ron broke down becoming hysterical. 

Tears filled the room. Missus Granger’s sobs rivaled Ron’s as Mister Granger held her, silent tears of his own streaming his reddened cheeks. Harry had slumped over, breathing heavily, while Bill placed a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Ron stood suddenly, halting all the tears for a moment, “Loo. I need the loo.” He said, sounding almost panicked. 

“Ron, maybe you should just-“ Bill began to suggest. 

“Upstairs, second door on your right.” Hugo said with a groggy voice. 

The ginger nodded and took off, not noticing Jean throw her husband a funny look at the instructions. Instead, he just heard Bill’s soft voice floating through the room as he told the Granger’s of the measures the order had been taking. 

Ron climbed the steps two at time before being met by a long hallway with identical white doors. Spotting the second door to his right, he frantically pushed it open, ready to collapse atop the toilet lid. 

But instead he was met by a different sight. 

Blue walls. A large bookshelf tucked in the corner. Parchment stacked neatly atop a desk. Next to it was a Muggle chessboard. Pictures stuffed and tacked onto a board. And the smell. 

Roses. Lemon. Ink. 

The same thing he smelt in the Amortentia earlier in the year. 

It was all so Hermione. It was consuming his senses too much, too fast. And without even realizing what he was doing, he doubled onto her bed, silently crying. 

“I thought you might need this more than the loo.” A voice sounded from the door. 

Immediately Ron jumped to his feet, feeling like he'd done something wrong. 

“Relax Ron, I sent you here for a reason.” Mister Granger eased, moving to sit in the chair at Hermione’s desk, motioning for the boy to sit back down. 

“I’m so sorry Mister Granger, this is all my fault,” he started shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe that Ron.” He said strongly. 

The ginger shook his head fiercely, “you should. You don’t understand how much I’ve hurt her,” too many things come to mind. Lavender. The Yule Ball. Crookshanks. Scabbers. Trolls. “I could’ve done better.” He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his wrists. 

“You think I don’t blame myself for this too?” He asked a little harshly, “I get it,” he began softer, “you loved my daughter didn’t you?” He asks knowingly. 

“No.” Ron’s voice was so strong, it even startled him. “I love her.” He clarified, “Don’t talk about her like she’s gone. Like she’ll never know.” 

Hugo nodded slowly, but said nothing for a few minutes, letting Ron take in Hermione’s room with blurry eyes instead. 

“I want to understand Ron.” His voice broke the air, “I wish my daughter hadn’t lied to me. Jean and I suspected something but didn’t push it. But I need to know if there’s even something that can help. Please Ron.” He begged. 

Ron, Harry, and Bill had skimmed the surface of the chaos that has been their last six years at Hogwarts. And Ron knew more details on Hermione specifically then the other two, Mister Granger sensed as much. 

And Ron sensed the desperation in his eyes, the same look he’s been wearing for weeks. Even before Hermione was gone. When his biggest problem was chucking Lavender Brown cause he had missed her so much. 

Thoughtfully, his blue eyes found the untouched chess set. He pushed down the warmth in his chest at the thought of Hermione practicing just so she could match him. He didn’t have time to harp on it. 

“Mister Granger, have you ever played chess?” He asked, a brilliant idea forming in his head.

...

Hugo Granger pondered over the chess board carefully, studying the pieces as he placed them on the respective squares. 

“So my daughter is your queen?” He asked as Ron used tape to secure the parchment onto the white queen. 

Ron momentarily stopped what he was doing and opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air, “Er, what? I don’t know.” He fumbled. 

“The chess piece Ron, Hermione she’s the queen, is she not?” He asked, a little amused. 

“Oh,” he said, relieved , then suddenly realized he didn’t answer the question, “oh yeah, well I reckon it fits.” He says a little nervously. 

Ron was playing white and Mister Granger was black. 

You-Know-Who and Harry were the kings respectively. Hermione was the queen, while Bellatrix Lestrange was on her side. Ron made himself the knight, the protector, he felt a bit awkward about it, but he figured it would be worse if he had just written himself off. Then Hermione’s dad was sure to think he’s useless. In turn, Greyback was the knight, he debated over Malfoy, but settled on making him bishop. 

He also debated putting Draco’s name down as well, but settled for just the last name representing him and his father. Draco wasn’t guilty of anything but being a poncy pureblood prat. Well for now. 

Dumbledore was the other bishop, both ready to take over if their kings fell. The rook’s were just labeled ‘Death Eaters’ and ‘The Order’, being both were to represent the Kingdoms walls per say. 

As for the pawns it included those who either lost their lives or were simple puppets. Sirius, Cedric, Quirinius Quirrell, Peter Pettigrew, Mad Eye, even Ginny due to second year. 

Anyone else important would just have to be mentioned along the way. 

“And this woman,” Hugo began lifting up his black queen, “she’s the one who took Hermione?” 

Ron simply gulped and supplied a weak nod. Like the younger man, talks of Hermione’s captor seemed to evoke pure sadness from Hugo Granger. 

Suddenly, guilt bubbled within Ron yet again, “we don’t have to do this.” He vaguely gestured to the chess board. 

“I want to,” he insisted, “but if it’s too much for you...”

The ginger repressed the urge to groan. This man really should not be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Not after all he’s done to his daughter. Even before this. 

“Look there’s something you should know.” Ron’s eyes quickly averted her fathers. 

Hugo’s eyes pierced his, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Before Hermione,” he choked a little, “before she was taken, her and I, we weren’t speaking.” He admitted in a whisper, ashamed. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Well, I think,” he didn’t know how to phrase it, he didn’t want to, “I know I hurt her. My sister says I broke her heart.” He trailed quietly. 

And then for the first time since he arrived here, Mister Granger’s face was painted with red hot fury. Fists clenched so hard they turned white. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He told the man quickly. 

“Did my Hermione know that? That you’re sorry?” Hugo all but grunted. 

“No, I never got the chance to tell her.” It took almost everything out of Weasley not to cry. 

A few moments passed, but to Ron it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, Mister Granger seemed to lessen his rage and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t blame you Ron.” He began honestly, “I don’t blame you that those people took Hermione. I may not have known everything about my daughter, but I do know her and I know how much she cares about you.” Hermione’s father pauses, “and I know you know as much too, so I just want to ask you why?” 

And Ron knew what the ‘why?’ was for. Why would he hurt her knowing how much she cared. And for that, he doesn’t really have an answer, not a good one anyway. Nothing he can even justify to himself. 

The only thing that resonates is something he told Harry before all this, before Hermione was gone. 

“How can you love someone so much and hurt them so bad?” 

And he doesn’t know. Now more than ever. His mind is just constantly consumed with guilt, sadness, and anger. All directed at him or occasionally, Bellatrix and the rest of You-Know-Who’s followers. 

“I can’t answer that.” Ron tells him, “there’s no reason that could make it right. If I had known what would-“ a bile rose in his throat. 

“I know that Ron.” The man says softly, “I know that she knew too.” 

“Knows.” He blurted out before he could help it. 

Awkwardly, Hugo clears his throat, choosing not to acknowledge the outburst, “of course she knows.” He subtly corrects, “and I want to hear about what happened this year, but maybe we should start from the beginning?” He suggested pointing weakly to the board. 

Nodding slowly, Ron cleared his throat and thought for a moment before picking up the piece representing Harry. 

“I reckon a lot of this starts around Halloween first year. Do you know anything about Mountain Trolls...”

#ron x hermione #ron weasley #ron and hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #hermione granger #romione fanfic #romione #hp fanfic #hp #sixth year

[sage-nebula]

Do NOT reblog, or I will delete the post and block you.

There are so many posts on here about “eldest daughter this” and “oldest sibling that” but there are no posts that talk about what it’s like to be the middle sibling when your oldest sibling is a complete and utter fuckup in basically every way.

I’m technically the middle child. I have a sister who’s 8.5 years older than I am, and a (technically step-)brother who’s nine months younger than I am. My brother became my brother when I was six and he was five, so the “step-” determination is really meaningless, but I added it to explain how he could be my brother when he’s only nine months younger than I am. Anyway. I have two siblings, one older and one younger, and so that makes me the middle child, right?

Well, yes . . . but also no. 

As you could surmise by the opening paragraph, my older sister fucked up in basically every conceivable way. I won’t get into her whole life story here because that’s not my story to tell (though believe me, there are doozies in there), but suffice it to say that every single choice she made is one that most parents would disapprove of. All three of my parents certainly did. And so what do you think happened when it came to me? 

I’ll tell you what happened. 

Because my older sister fucked up in every way one could possibly fuck up, there was a fear, I suppose, or a concern that I would, for whatever godforsaken reason, follow in her footsteps even though the two of us could not be more different in terms of attitude, outlook, goals, et cetera. As a result, if I did even the slightest thing wrong, the punishment hammer came down on me with all the might of Thor celebrating a delicious beverage. I failed geometry in junior year of high school due to an undiagnosed learning disability (along with undiagnosed severe depression and an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, all following years of abuse at my biological mother’s hands), and I was put under lockdown for the entire summer. I was not allowed to leave the house except to go to summer school, I was not allowed to talk to or see any of my friends, or play video games, or watch television, or be on the internet, or read, or write fiction, or do basically anything besides the aforementioned summer school and listening to music. To this day, my parents think this was a good decision on their part even though they now know about the learning disability and myriad of mental illnesses. They think it was a good call for them to punish me like they did.

And so you would say, okay, but if they punished you that severely because they didn’t want you to end up a drug-addicted high school dropout like your sister, surely they would level the same punishments against your brother, especially since you two were so close in age! Well, you would think that, but nope!

Instead, when my brother was around seventeen, he got pulled over and arrested for marijuana possession. (I think he was pulled over in the first place for speeding, but I can’t remember.) His punishment was to have his car taken away for six months. That’s it. He still had all of his other privileges, was not punished in any other way, he just could not drive for six months. He got in actual legal trouble, but he was still allowed to have hobbies.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my brother should have been punished more harshly, per se. I’m only saying there was a stark difference in the way that we were treated that my family refuses to acknowledge or own up to even to this day, and it all comes down to the fact that I was never cut slack in either direction. If I was compared to my older sibling, then the fact that she had screwed up so royally in basically every single way meant that I would be made to stand at attention so I could be yelled at for an hour for failing a math class, and then continue to be berated and insulted for how I was clearly never going to college (I have a master’s now, by the by) because of it over the next few days, and yelled at further for having “nothing to say to myself” in the face of all the lecturing. But if I was compared to my younger sibling, why, then it should be expected that he always gets off easier, because he’s younger than I am and the baby of the extended family and, well, I’m older and more mature, so I can handle it better, anyway. And I mean, I guess, for the record, true; I took my punishment in silence because as a victim of child abuse for basically my entire life I never stood up for myself against my parents back then and always just stayed quiet to try to make punishments worse, whereas he threw fits about having his keys taken away every single day for those six months, but also we have to consider how “mature” one really is if that “maturity” stems from a decade and plus some of child abuse.

Because see, that’s the thing, and what has made me really start thinking about this the past few days. I mentioned it on twitter, but a week ago I got into a fight with my mom (stepmom, the better of the two) over politics that has effectively led to her disowning me, I think, which in turn means that my dad has disowned me as well, I think, because I’m pretty sure he’s going to take her side on this one. I won’t get into the actual subject matter here, but the long and short of it is that she accused me of “attacking” her when I wasn’t, and has since then refused to speak to me, even when I tried to offer an olive branch by texting her that fine, I wouldn’t talk to her about politics, but I still loved her. She left me on Read. So the way I see it, she’s not talking to me until I apologize, and I won’t apologize, so she’ll never talk to me and I’m just effectively disowned, I guess. It’s not exactly the first time I’ve lost a parent, and actually, it’s kind of in the same way as the last time.

Fifteen years ago, I left my abusive biological mother to live with my dad and stepmom. (I’m going to keep using stepmom to keep it clear from here on out, just as I use biological mother, even though I do call my stepmom “mom” and consider her as such.) At first my biological mother kept trying to reach out with her pity party guilt tripping about how lonely she was and how much she needed me and yadda yadda, but in the last phone conversation we had, she called me a traitor for leaving her. Keep in mind, I was 15, and she was abusive to the point where the neighbors could hear every profanity and threat she screamed at me from down the street. They told me this. They also told me they always thought about calling CPS, but they never did, but whatever. The point is, on that last phone conversation, she called me a traitor for leaving her. I told her that I wasn’t. She said that I was. I told her I didn’t have to listen to that. She said I did. I said I didn’t, and hung up the phone. I expected her to call right back to curse me out . . . but she never did.

That was fifteen years ago, and we’ve never spoken since.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to speak to her. Actually, the one time it looked like it might happen (at my sister’s wedding), my Fight or Flight response kicked in when I saw her walking toward me and I bolted. I had a panic attack so bad I felt like I was going to vomit. It’s really embarrassing to admit that, but it’s true. The only time I’ve seen her since was at my nephew’s high school graduation (which is the only graduation she got to attend for anyone directly related to her, since my sister dropped out and she didn’t attend mine), but although we made eye contact I looked away pretty quickly and, again, didn’t speak to her. Again, I don’t want to speak to her, this isn’t me complaining, I’ve not lost a single wink of sleep for the fact that she never reached out again despite how my dad likes to go on and on about how she should have “never stopped trying.” (But also, he never picks up the phone to call me for a chat either, despite always telling me how I should call him, so.)

But I just can’t help but notice the similarity. Once again, I have a mother who is refusing to speak to me because she feels I’ve wronged her in some way, and if I want a relationship, then I have to be the one to reach out (even though I already did, but was left on Read, so she wants me to reach out in a very specific way that she won’t even articulate). This isn’t the first time that she (and my dad) have done this, either. When I studied abroad in London, we got into a fight over something stupid over Skype, and I hung up the call. I was 19/20, so you know, not fully mature, but expected to be. Two weeks of silence passed before I had to call them to apologize, because even though their daughter was in a completely foreign country and, hell, could’ve been dead for all they knew, they wanted to Teach Me A Lesson, with that lesson being that unless I behaved the Right Way, they wouldn’t be there for me. And I guess here we are now, about eleven years later, having come full circle with that.

And you know what? I’m tired of it. 

Because here’s the thing about being the second child when the first child is a fuckup in every way: you are expected to not only not fall into those same pitfalls, but also to excel in every single possible way. Not only in terms of grades or whatever else, but also in terms of emotional maturity and support for the parents. This veers into the abuse I experienced, I know (at least some of it), but you know how I mentioned that my biological mother kept going on and on about how much she needed me and whatnot? This is because instead of treating me like her daughter, I was instead treated like her combo maid-servant-therapist. It was my job to wait on her hand and foot when she was home, whether that was through fetching her coffee or being in charge of the refrigerator remaining operational (this sounds specific because it is; when I was about 13 the refrigerator broke and she yelled at me for a.) not knowing it was going to break and b.) not doing anything to prevent it breaking), but also she laid out all of her problems to me day after day, month after month, year after year. Do you know how many times I had to sit and listen to the “your father ran out on me after 22 years of marriage” speech? And when I finally asked her if she could stop she yelled at me because I clearly let him badmouth her but I wouldn’t let her do the same. (He actually didn’t, and neither did my stepmom. She was the only one remaining bitter.) She “needed” me because I was the emotional pillar on top of which sat her own degrading stability. The second time I told her that I wanted to live with my dad (because I told her to her face that I wanted to switch the custody agreement twice, and got browbeaten down twice, before I finally left in secret and didn’t tell her until I was already at his place), she picked up smoking cigarettes again after having quit smoking while she was hospitalized for undiagnosed diabetes and told me that it was my fault that she was smoking again, because I had stressed her out so badly by telling her that I wanted to leave. And like, one, obviously I wanted to leave, is there any question of why I wanted to leave or why that wouldn’t make me just want to leave more? But also two, the point I’m getting at here is that it was always about her, always about her emotional needs, never about mine. My emotional wellbeing was never a priority in that house. I was always expected to be there for her, that was my entire purpose as her daughter. 

With my dad and stepmom it was obviously different, and in a lot of ways it was better because, god, I hated having to be the recipient of the constant stream of stress and misery from my biological mother. My dad and stepmom had each other, so I never had to hear about their woes for the most part. But at the same time, look at what happened when I failed geometry; instead of looking into seeing if they could get me diagnosed with a learning disability, or maybe actually listening to me when I said I felt “burnt out” and pushing a little harder for me to go to therapy, my dad instead yelled at me for an hour and several days after, insulted me, told me I was never going to succeed, and put me under lockdown for the entire summer, cutting me off from my support network of friends. I came from a background of 15 years of abuse, and one fuckup a year or so later lead not to a reexamination of how I was doing, but instead a severe punishment so that I “wouldn’t do it again.” I couldn’t pass a math class in university and in my final year I finally broke and went to my parents about how I really wasn’t going to graduate college because of it, and they agreed to pay to get me examined for a learning disability which, whoops, looks like I had! And my dad still blames me for waiting for so long to get diagnosed and not telling him sooner, when the last time he found I failed a math class that summer lockdown happened. He still hasn’t put the pieces together between that lockdown and why I didn’t tell him about the math classes I failed in university. Amazing.

My point is, with my dad and my stepmom, it wasn’t so much that they used me as an emotional sponge or pillar, but rather that they were pretty much uninvolved so long as I performed adequately, and was the model daughter they could be Oh So Proud Of, but the moment I slipped, bam! Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not contact your friends. My emotional needs were still not a priority because it wasn’t about whether or not I was okay, but whether or not it looked like I was doing okay in ways that were quantifiable, such as my grades. And I mean, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly keen on opening up about my feelings at that age and I was a pro at masking how I felt and acting like everything was fine because my biological mother would berate me on the car rides to school each morning to the point of tears, and then would yell at me more about how I better clean myself up because god help me if any teachers saw me crying, which would make them think she was a bad parent and that, too, would be my fault. (Protip: Washing your face with very cold water helps clear away the puffiness around the eyes that can be a tell you’ve been crying.) But even so, again, that puts the responsibility on me to do the Right Thing so that they could be there for me emotionally as my parents, and that is just—

I’m so tired of it, man!

I have had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of one. Never. My stepmom once tried telling me that she and my dad would love me unconditionally when I was a teen and she was trying to get me to admit I was a lesbian (funny thing is, even I didn’t know I was gay at the time), and my dad walked through the living room and, not even knowing what we were talking about, was like, “No we won’t.” So that was great. But the thing is this whole thing proves that she was full of it, too. Because they tolerate me being gay (while still trying to set me up with men), but because I won’t apologize to my mom when I haven’t done anything wrong but she feels like I have, she’s giving me the complete and total silent treatment until I do. Because I didn’t perform in the way I’m supposed to, because I wasn’t The Mature One, I’m being cut off. Because it’s my job to be The Mature One, because I was always The Mature One, because I never had any goddamn choice in the matter and the dysfunctional environment I was in when I lived with my biological mother (+ my sister, her baby daddy-now-husband, and their two very young children whom I was often put in charge of despite being in middle school at the time because their parents were often too busy doing drugs and/or sleeping to care for them) required it. Because I had to be Kept In Line so that I wouldn’t end up like my sister, but also it was just me that had to be kept in line despite how close in age my brother and I were. And again, I’m not saying that I wish my brother had also been punished harshly, but more that I wish that, you know, maybe some mercy could have been doled out to me, except it wasn’t, because I had two siblings on either side to be compared to and as a result one toe out of the line resulted in a smiting.

But in the end, it isn’t even really about that. This post isn’t really about how I’m simultaneously the eldest daughter but also the second child. It’s more about the fact that I’ve had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of even one, even from the one who said I had it. It’s about how my emotional needs were never a priority for any of the parents in my life. It’s about how I basically had to raise myself and it’s a real goddamn wonder I’m not even more screwed up than I actually am because of it. And it’s also about how I really miss therapy and haven’t been able to go for a long time, and I think this rambling stream of consciousness post proves that I really, really need to find a new therapist so I can go back again, because goddamn.

Anyway, once again, do NOT reblog this or I will delete it and block you, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I need it to stay here. Thank you.

#NO REBLOGS--//-- putting it there for good measure too #very personal ranting about past child abuse because it's 2am and I can't sleep & my life story is a Mess #and also I'm presently disowned from my parents etc etc that's what brought this on #''Gee Scrawlers why do you have such a preference for loving parent-child found family relationships in fiction?'' #well [gestures above] does that answer your question or #not all of a person's fictional preferences are derived from their trauma but boy #some of them sure ass can be #anyway #i need to find a new therapist probably sooner rather than later

[edmund-valks]

A Practical Examination

"Just… right here then?"  She waited for the elderly woman's nod before driving the thin metal spike in.  The body they were working with seized up for the smallest moment before relaxing again.  Its eyes remained open, occasionally twitching to focus on details no one else could see, but there were none of the normal signs of pain.

Aurelaine patted her arm.  "Very good, dear.  I prefer to work this way when possible.  They've volunteered themselves to become a part of the Great Work; that devotion is far more powerful than the suffering we could wring from them."  She pointed to the fresh wound, moved her finger in a slow arc to the opposite side of the prone elf's head.  "You can technically go through either side for the same effect, but I've found that establishing a specific pattern strengthens the rite.  Remember, we control nothing but the shape of the channel.  Build it properly and the flow of power will do what you've planned."

Ilandreline nodded, making several notes in her book.  "Right.  Failure to provide a sufficiently robust channel will result in something like trying to force an entire ocean through a coolant line -- the weakest parts will give, with predictably messy results."

Her grandmother chuckled, expressing agreement with another pat.  "I told you you're better suited to this than you'd thought.  You know how to build, how to establish equilibria.  The only real difference is we're not using machines here."  The praise was enough to make the engineer flush pink to the tips of her ears.  "Now!  Draw it out for me.  We've got our willing supplicant here beyond the ability to feel pain.  What's our next step?"

"Let's see…"  Ilandreline consulted her notes, chewing the end of her pencil.  "The circle is drawn, of course, we've already prepared the offering, which means now we have to… oh!  The calling and opening!"

A nod.  "Do it.  What are you looking at me for?  This one is yours, Lina.  Show me what you've learned."

The younger elf reviewed the setup so far, making sure she had the right details.  Willing offering was this set of rites, the protective circle they'd created would be effective against those emissaries, she had these materials on-hand… All that taken into account, there were still several possibilities even before she considered rebalancing the energies.  Worry about that later, she reminded herself.  Start simple, get practiced.  Build the foundation before the house.

She retrieved an obsidian blade from the nearby tool bench then positioned herself at the offering's right elbow.  Strange, thinking of him like that; she'd played games with him long ago, back before he'd found the rich vein of faithfulness within himself.  He'd simply quit other pursuits one day a few decades back, taking up a sort of hermit's lifestyle, spending most of his days mentally exploring the places you could get with the right kind of specially treated fruits and mushrooms.  She hadn't understood back then, wasn't honestly sure she did now, but that didn't matter.  The important thing was she was going to help him get where he wanted to be, and he was going to do the same for her.

She started etching the ritual on the wrist closest to her.  It was a point of vitality, she'd learned, like the heart but different.  A small complex of delicate runework, one that would provide fuel and focus.  That was why they used obsidian, despite it being relatively difficult to acquire; nothing else made such perfect, easy lines on flesh.  The work took minutes, eventually climbing half up the forearm.  Ilandreline double-checked her work before moving on.  A mistake could be salvaged if you knew about it.  Satisfied, she moved to the next limb.

By the time she'd finished, her eyes ached from focusing and she'd dulled a handful of blades.  It was done, though, and pretty decently if she was any judge.  Things had only gotten awkward when she'd been working the offering's face and he'd started talking to her.  Turns out he was more aware than she'd realized.  He also remembered her and wanted to discuss her faith.  Not the most comfortable conversation when one was carving sigils into a forehead, especially when she was still trying to understand what she believed these days.  Her answers had been enough, apparently, as he'd eventually subsided again with a sort of pleased sigh.

"I… think we're ready, Eldest."  Ila looked at the blood on her hands, frowning.  It had gotten under her nails and was starting to dry.  She'd have to trim them to get it all out.

"You think or we are?  Which is it, girl?"  Aurelaine's tone was harsh.  Of course it was; she despised the uncertain and those who lacked confidence.

"We are."  Her voice didn't waver this time.  She'd gone over all her work twice as she'd done it, a third time after finishing the whole.  Everything was in order.  "With your permission, Eldest, I will begin tonight's Calling."

"You have it."  Just enough of a pause for Ila to start moving before she added, "Remember, you will pay for your mistakes.  I'm here to watch over our family, not to save you."

Real confidence builder.  Then again, that was probably the point.  Granny Laine knew what she was doing.  "Thank you, Eldest."

Ilandreline took her place at the center of the small circle, careful to avoid disrupting any of the delicate symbols she'd laid in silver.  She lit the candles and waited.  Minutes later, as the moon slipped below the horizon, she began to extinguish the flames.  Four drops of blood per candle, as always, accompanied by the invocation.  "Four for four," she recited, "given by one.  Less than five, but greater by far.  After life, beyond death, the Long Night comes.  We kill to serve.  We bleed to live.  Through our sacrifice, the light shall die at last."

The darkness that settled over them was more than night.  Anyone else would have found it oppressive, smothering perhaps, but a Glimmerbow's eyes saw the truth.  This was the deep expanse of infinity, a churning space where Titanic order had been unable to find a foothold.  Here was the counterforce that allowed life to exist beyond programmed parameters, that which created consciousness and free will.  She shivered, not from fear but awe.

You call out.  We hear.  Speak.

The speech was in their minds, she knew.  You didn't hear it, couldn't hear it.  Instead it resonated through your being, rippling through muscle and bone, darkening your body with reflected splendour.  Ilandreline had to take several breaths before she could focus properly.  "Tonight we offer one of ours to the Great and Endless Dark.  A cousin in blood and service."  She crossed from the calling circle into the one for offering, drawing her knife.

This voice means nothing.  Is nothing.  Shall receive nothing.  Shall become nothing.

Four times they said the word, each time impacting her more viciously.  The last was meant to force her to her knees, but Ila refused.  Her grandmother was watching, after all, and her punishment would be worse than whatever cruelties the Dark could inflict at this distance.  "I am Ilandreline, daughter of Mellura'thel, daughter of Aurelaine.  I speak in the Eldest's stead this night.  We are bound to the Endless Night and so is it bound to us."

Prove.

She bent down, placed her lips against the offering's forehead, living breath freshening the bloody etchings thereon.  "Our gift to you, this living blood, and a reminder of our bonds," she continued, sliding the ancient blade into flesh at the little notch in the collarbone.  "Our sacrifice is your gain, your whispers our knowledge."

Put to its true purpose, the knife felt alive in her grip.  With steady hand, Ila drew down, away from the neck, expecting resistance.  Instead the bones parted smoothly, clavicle and sternum offering no more resistance than skin had to obsidian.  "All in service to the last fading of the light."  She withdrew the blade, placing it reverently aside.

The runes in her cousin's flesh began to glow.  First with the brilliance of blood, then darkening through the midnight violet of the family's eyes into a blackness that melded with what surrounded the rite.  He was still alive, of course; that was what it meant to be an offering.  Dead meat meant little.  She wondered what it felt like, to have your chest opened like that, to be offered to the Whispering Dark at your own insistence.  Judging by the rapturous expression on his face, it was significantly less painful than she'd expected.  He's getting what he's always wanted.  The thought made her smile.  It felt so good to bring someone that kind of happiness.

This voice is known.  We welcome it.  Give and become known.

The Whispers seemed in no hurry.  The offering was beginning to blur at his extremities, the writings she'd placed there in the Dark's own language flickering in and out of sight as they anchored the ritual transferrence.  She waited until most of him was no longer distinguishable from their surroundings before picking up her grandmother's old blade again.

Once more she positioned herself by the body's head, but this time the tip of the knife rested against the runic focal point.  "A single light," she intoned, "flickering weakly.  This life -- the last remnant of a dying sun.  This body -- full of terrible promise and beguiling lies.  A so-called gift, this tyranny of ill-advised order."

She inhaled deeply, exhaled.  "Never meant to withstand the endless dark, we give it freely."  The blade drove through skull, brain, skull again, until she could feel its point pressing into the altar's pitted stone.

We accept.  You are known.

Shuddering with exultation, Ilandreline withdrew the knife, resheathing it without wiping away any of the blood.  She would not deprive it of such precious seasoning.  As the comforting weight of the Endless Night began to lift, she turned to see her grandmother's proud smile.  That would have been enough all on its own.  Returning a grin of her own, she took two steps before falling into an entirely other darkness.

#wow rp #rp #warcraft rp #ilandreline #ilandreline glimmerbow #fence macabre

[maaaddiexo]

Chapter Five | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

[Chapter Six] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Mrs. Beaver was the first to walk back into the house and the first to spot a sleeping figure curled up in the chair. She padded over to her and pulled the blanket over Rosemary's shoulder, smoothing her blonde hair away from her eyes.

"Is that her? The other human?" Susan asked.

Mrs. Beaver nodded. "She got here a few hours ago. I see she's finally tuckered out."

Lucy walked closer to the girl and Mrs. Beaver to get a better look. She had light blonde hair and somewhat fair skin. Her nose was small and her eyebrows were darker than her hair. She looked tired but she was still pretty. "What's her name?"

"Rosemary. Oh, and she talks the same way you do! She's from...oh, why can't I remember it?" Mrs. Beaver tapped her bottom lip a few times, wracking her brain for the word. "Um, something like Een land."

"England?" Susan sputtered. Was it possible this girl was from their world as well? And the same country no less?

"That's it! England. Though, if you four are the ones from the prophecy, I'm not sure what she's doing here."

"Prophecy?" Peter questioned just as the kettle began to whistle.

"Oh, what a dear. Rosemary put the kettle on for us. Come on and have a seat. Let's warm you all up and give the girl a little bit of quiet time to sleep before we get to the questions."

•

An hour later, after the Pevensie children were much warmer and full of tea and cookies, Rosemary began to stir in her chair and all six occupants of the beaver dam turned to her.

"Did you have a nice nap, my dear?"

Rosemary brought the heel of her hand to her eyes, trying to rub the bleariness out of them. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. Guess the lack of sleep and the fact that I'm in a different world finally hit me." She looked around and made eye contact with the four children she'd heard Mrs. Beaver talking to earlier.

The smallest one had brown hair cut into a bob with thin eyebrows and dark blue eyes. She was being absolutely swallowed by a thick fur coat. The girl smiled timidly and waved at Rosemary, though her hand was covered by the sleeve. When she smiled, Rosemary got a peek at gapped front teeth.

The girl next to her was much older, but probably still younger than Rosemary. She had dark curling hair the same shade of brown as her younger sister and inquisitive bright blue eyes. She didn't wave like her younger sister.

The third human was a boy, aged somewhere between the two girls. Apprehension was clear in his guarded brown eyes as he analyzed Rosemary as she analyzed him. He seemed to fidget in his spot and couldn't maintain eye contact for long before breaking it. Eventually, his curiosity would force him to look at Rosemary again.

The last boy must've been the oldest - Rosemary could tell simply by the way he stood. If responsibility were physical, it'd be on his shoulders right now. He was the only one of the four siblings to have blonde hair, but like the two girls, his eyes were bright blue.

"Hello," the youngest girl stepped forward with her hand outstretched. "I'm Lucy Pevensie and these are my siblings." Rosemary shook Lucy's hand, trying to match the young girl's enthusiastic smile. When they pulled away, Lucy pointed to her siblings. "That's Susan, Edmund, and Peter."

So Peter was the blonde boy. With kind eyes and shaggy hair, Rosemary could see a little bit of resemblance to Peter Pan in fairytales.

"Hello. I'm Rosemary."

Lucy gasped. "That's such a beautiful name!"

Rosemary blushed. She always hated it because it was such an elegant name given to a girl who worked on a farm and always had dirt under her fingernails. "Thank you."

As Rosemary avoided any more eye contact with the Pevensie children and joined them around the table, conversation about a faun named Tumnus continued.

"Isn't there anything we can do to help Tumnus?" Peter asked. As much as he wanted to help, he also wanted to walk right back through that wardrobe where he knew his siblings were safe. Well, safer.

Beaver shook his head. "They'll have taken him to the Witch's house - though it's more of a castle. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is few that go through them gates that come back out."

Lucy's heart dropped for her new friend. All Mr. Tumnus had wanted was to make a new friend and he would die for that.

Mrs. Beaver placed her paw on the youngest Pevensie. "But there is hope, dear. Lots of hope. Especially now that you four are here."

Rosemary noticed how she wasn't part of the 'four' that Mrs. Beaver referred to but she didn't really care. She would do anything if it meant getting out of Narnia sooner rather than later.

"There's a right bit more than hope!" Beaver exclaimed before lowering his voice, "Aslan is on the move."

All four Pevensie children could hear the seriousness and respect in Beaver's voice and wondered who Aslan was. Only Edmund had the courage to ask.

"He's the rightful king of Narnia," Rosemary answered quietly. That was one of the things Mrs. Beaver had let her in on.

"How could you not know who Aslan is?" Beaver cried out.

"We haven't exactly been here long," Peter defended.

"He's been away for a long while - he only comes to Narnia when he has to - but he just got back and-"

Beaver cut his wife off, "-And he's waiting for you near the Stone Table!"

"He's waiting for us?" Lucy whispered. "Why us?"

Beaver froze in shock momentarily before shaking out of it. "You're bloomin' joking!" He turns to his wife, "They really don't know about the prophecy!"

"Then explain it to them," Mrs. Beaver kindly suggested.

Beaver sighed, "Okay, look. Aslan's return, Tumnus' arrest, the secret police - it's all happening because of you four!" He turned to Rosemary awkwardly. "Ehh, I'm not quite sure where you fit in, but if Narnia wanted you here, it's for a reason."

Rosemary just waved Beaver off. Not being part of a prophecy didn't bother her one bit. It was less pressure and responsibility, and she'd gotten used to being unwanted as of recent.

"You're blaming us?" said Susan.

"No, not blaming. Thanking you," Mrs. Beaver corrected.

"The prophecy says that 'when Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done'."

Ever the bookworm, Susan couldn't help but point out how the statement didn't rhyme like it probably should have. Rosemary smirked into her cup.

"I know it don't but you're missing the point!" Beaver was practically bursting at the seams with frustration and shock.

"It has long been foretold that two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve will defeat the White Witch and restore peace to Narnia." The excitement was evident in Mrs. Beaver's voice at the prospect of freedom and no more winter, but the Pevensies were quick to shoot her down.

"You think we're the ones?" Peter questioned. He was the eldest of the four and only fifteen. There was no way he could save an entire country!

"You better be because Aslan's already fitted out your army."

"Army?" This was getting worse. Peter and his siblings couldn't lead an army. They could barely find themselves around Professor Kirke's manor!

Susan turned to Peter. "Mum sent us away so we wouldn't get caught up in a war."

"I think you've made a mistake," Peter tried to tell the Beavers. "We're not heroes."

"We're from Finchley," Susan added. Finchley, which was part of a whole other world they desperately wanted to get back to. She stood up with Peter. "Thank you for your hospitality, but we really have to go."

"You can't just leave!"

"Beaver is right," Lucy said softly. "We have to help Mr. Tumnus."

Peter wished so much that his father was there with him. Lucy was stubborn and persistent and only the man she got those traits from could stop her. But now he had to fill his father's shoes as best as he could. "It's out of our hands. I'm sorry, but it's time the four of us were getting home. Ed?"

Only there was no response from Edmund. Peter surveyed the room but Edmund was nowhere to be seen.

"Edmund?"

[Chapter Six] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #william moseley #peter pevensie x oc #peter pevensie x fem!oc #peter pevensie fanfiction #peter pevensie imagine #love #romance #adventure #fantasy #chronicles of narnia

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 9- Royalty

This one kind of stumped me, so I tried to do something a little more out of the box. Obviously there’s already royalty in canon GG, so I tried to to with it as well as do some different worldbuilding.

First and foremost, this is for @samarline, since I know they like Leo/Izuna (dunno how that rarepair got any fans, but as long as someone is enjoying it)

Izuna was doomed. He was absolutely, positively doomed.

Durable as a yokai was, he wasn’t foolish enough to never consider the concept of his own death. Especially given his status. The head of the yokai prince would no doubt be a priceless treasure for the armies of humanity or Gearkind. If political strife truly was where he was to meet his end, then he would have fought tooth and claw to die with dignity, and to allow as many of his people to escape as possible.

There was no dignity in the death that he stared down now. A simple run around the woodlands in his full fox-skin had drawn the attention of a pair of equally-simple hunters. The head of the yokai prince was a grand treasure, but the pale, silken pelt of a fox was worth a pretty penny on its own. Shrapnel to the leg had crippled an otherwise-effortless escape attempt, and the blood he had lost trying to outrun them sapped away his ability to perform spells, or to shed his skin back into a humanoid form.

Izuna had skittered into some nearby underbrush, leaving flecks of his own blood on the leaves as he did his best to huddle under it. Dying as a fox meant his people would never know what became of him, and they would be left without their leader, or any sort of direction. He was going to be slaughtered like common game. He could only hope that his meat would drive his murderers ill as a final act of spite from beyond the grave.

The trees shook. Izuna cowered in fear.

But instead of the hunters, he was surprised by the sight of a large man in a fancy orange coat pushing aside the leaves.

“Is someone there?” He asked, voice low and booming, but undeniably kindly. “I heard shouting, is someone hurt?”

++++++

The book of history was deeply stained in blood. No living person, except perhaps the eldest and most ancient of the yokai, could remember the times when the three races were in conflict with each other. Nor was anyone truly sure of what the conflict was for anymore, but all they knew was that it needed to be done in order to protect their people. At least, that was what they said.

In the beginning, man, gear, and yokai lived in quiet harmony, building their kingdoms and sharing what they had that the others lacked. Each race only cared for their own kind now, and interspecies trade was banned even if it were possible in the first place.

That’s how the world seemed to be for eons, but time was never static, and things always shifted. The human nation’s First King, Ky, had accidentally but fortuitously created a peace between humanity and Gears after falling in love with and wedding the daughter of Queen Justice, Princess Dizzy. Their alliance was tenuous, but the constant back-and-forth attacks had begun to quell, and the people began to have hope. Hope for peace, for calm, for kinship to replace the violence that had been constantly shaping their lives.

Ky and Dizzy seemed happy enough together, at least. Leo hadn’t much entertained the thought of marriage. His work as the human nation’s Second King kept him busy enough. He hadn’t even thought to pick up a hobby until it had been more-or-less foisted on him.

He looked down from his paperwork to watch the creature snoozing away in his lap, motionless aside from the rise and fall of its chest and the occasional twitches of its tail.

He’d named the creature ‘Rubinrot,’ for its beautiful, piercing red eyes. Leo had never met such a peculiar animal in his life. He knew what a fox looked like, obviously, but he’d never seen one with a perfectly white coat. That strange color was paired with a bizarre brilliance that he swore was too advanced for an animal, but it was endearing. He’d only taken the creature in in the first place because of its crippled leg, but he found Rubinrot’s presence relaxing.

As soon as he tried to move the animal so he could stand up, he roused, and was clearly displeased with the concept of being abandoned. Leo stepped away from his desk, only to be interrupted by a displeased bark as Rubinrot limped after him.

“I’m only going to get food. I’ll bring some back for you, too.” He tried to assure him, but it didn’t work. When barking didn’t work, the fox began snapping at his trailing coat and tugging on it.

“Rubinrot! Nein!” Leo attempted to pull the material free without crippling him further. “I’ll only be gone for a minute! What do you want from me?”

His answer came in the form of him swatting at his legs until Leo reluctantly picked him up. “Really? I could have sworn you were a fox, not a cat.” Maybe he had been wrong. Rubinrot was remarkably tranquil and easygoing for a fox, anyway.

Still, he didn’t feel like arguing with an animal. Rubinrot seemed perfectly happy with his new position cradled in Leo’s arms, even if it left the man with only one arm as he dug through the kitchen for food. He could see the way the staff looked at him. It was odd enough that a king would be searching for his own food, but carrying a fox around like a pampered puppy was a whole new level of strange.

Though he didn’t admit it, Leo was a little relieved at the concept of Rubinrot being healed and released soon. He could only imagine the image he gave off, distracted from his important political duties by a single animal. He still deeply cared for his fox and his people, and wanted to do his best to serve both.

“What should we make today?” Leo asked aloud. “Leftover meat, fruit…” He pushed something aside. “I’m not sure how the fried tofu got in here-”

The fox immediately perked up, barking in what he could only assume was excitement. “Tofu? Really? Is that healthy for foxes?” Still, he obliged, pulling the container down, opening it, and letting his companion get to work demolishing it.

“I guess you have a craving for beans.” Leo stroked the animal’s back as he ate.

“Erm, Leo?”

He jerked to attention, mentally groaning as he recognized the voice of the only man that could always make him feel uneasy. “Hello, Ky.”

The First King wore his usual pleasant smile, just real enough to be convincing. But Leo could see the way his eyes darted towards the fox on the counter, messily eating their leftovers.

“It seems you’re...having a lunch break, yes?” Ky asked.

Leo skipped straight to the point. “I’ll only be a few more minutes, then I’ll get back to work. I just wanted to make sure he was fed.”

“Of course, Leo. Of course.” Ky’s smile was forced, almost uncomfortable. “I just can’t help but worry a little bit about your new...preoccupation? Nothing wrong with a hobby, of course-”

“I don’t know why you’re making this your business, Ky.” Leo grumbled. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about your wife instead of what I’m up to?”

Ky flinched. As much as Leo wanted to be proud of that, he also knew Ky didn’t like having his weak points hit. “Dizzy is not plotting anything behind my back.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“With all due respect, Leo,” He rubbed at his temples, still doing his best to be cordial. “I don’t want to be cross with you. I really don’t. But we are still in a tenuous political situation, and everyone needs to stay on top of their work. If you don’t start spending less time with that fox, I am going to have to ask you to release it. We can’t afford any distractions. I hope you understand.

Without another word, Ky turned and left.

++++++

With all the work he had during the day, lying in bed was one of the few times Leo was able to have a moment to sit and think. He would have rather spent it fantasizing about something nice, but his thoughts always came back to work, and to Ky.

Leo knew of the weight that rested on him. He wouldn’t have taken such a lofty position if he hadn’t understood how serious it was. But he didn’t understand why one simple distraction was causing so much fuss. His Rubinrot had only ruined a few documents, but wasn’t a problem when it came to anything else, not really. Actually, Leo liked to think he was working harder than ever when he had something less serious to help him relax.

Rubinrot was curled up beside him in bed. It seemed to be his favorite place to sleep, and Leo refused to shoo him away. He could only imagine how swiftly the fox would be torn apart as an easy meal by wild animals with his leg still injured. Would Ky push him into it anyway?

He knew there was a war going on. It was impossible to ignore it. The yokai forces in particular had grown restless recently, but the Gear Alliance was being redrafted, and prospects were high. There may have been peace between two nations for the first time in people’s lives. Yet Ky seemed more on edge than ever.

“Hmmph. Maybe that’s just what marriage does to people…” He mused, petting the fox’s back. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”

The animal huffed. Leo knew he couldn’t talk back, but he still did it.

“You respect me, don’t you?” The fox butted against his hand. “I know I’m not as brilliant as Ky, but I’m still good for something, aren’t I?” It was difficult being Second King and second banana to a tactical genius that everyone seemed to adore. His marriage had done well for his public image as well, despite fears of how the people would respond to their beloved king marrying a gear, especially the daughter of a rival kingdom.

“Pfft. Maybe I just need to get married, then?” He smirked at Rubinrot. “Yeah, right.”

Leo rolled over to switch off the bedside lamp and curl up in bed. “Gute nacht, Rubinrot.”

+++++++

Izuna’s tail frisked back and forth across the silky sheets. He would need to find some when he went back home.

Ah, yes, home. He could only imagine how his people were managing without him for the past few weeks. He had gotten some information from the humans, but yokai were always the most skilled at subterfuge and trickery, so whatever the humans knew, so much more was going on under their noses. That was how the war had been. Gears and humans could throw mortar at each other’s walls all day long, but neither of them even knew where the yokai kingdom was, and were left to chase after whatever forces they could find.

Of course, that was also the reason for the state they were in. Yokai could never ‘win’ a war. They could run armies to exhaustion and strike them as easy, weakened targets of smaller groups, but in the sorts of battles that humans and gears fought, their forces would have been mowed to nothing in weeks. The yokai had only survived by being secretive. They never lost any land, but never gained any, either.

But they scraped by through ingenuity, and right now, Izuna was being an ingenious little fox.

Well, maybe that was only half-true. For all his distrust towards humankind, he had somehow managed to spend the last few weeks utterly spoiled by one. He was pretty sure his rescuer didn’t know what he truly was, but either way, it hadn’t stopped him from showering Izuna in pats, food, and cuddles while his injuries healed. It was hard not to find merit in that. Though he wondered if those loving arms would turn hostile as soon as he changed forms.

But...that was where the ingenuity lay. He had known of the union between the human king and the gear princess, and how the political climate had slowly-but-surely begun to shift. Izuna knew that if humans and gears began working together and combined their powers, then it was far more likely they would be able to pull the yokai out of their well-hidden foxholes and gradually massacre them. Peace for them meant disaster for him and his people, but what were they fighting for in the first place? And what if there was another option available?

If the gear and human kingdoms merged into one, and they became at peace, what would happen if all three nations fused?

Some part of Izuna knew the concept was almost selfish. Because he wasn’t doing this just for the politics. He had spent so much time with this fascinating human, this ‘Leo,’ how could he not form some kind of bond with him? He had learned so much about the man through their one-sided conversations, he could hardly understand why the two of them were at war with each other. The human king was a lonely man, always pushed aside as the runner-up, feeling as though he could never measure up to his fellow royals and heads of state. But he had taken his time to meticulously care for an injured animal, that for all he knew, would simply run away and never feel an iota of thanks for his kindness. Yokai and humans may have been different, but they knew how to repay debts of kindness. And nursing the yokai prince back from the brink of death was a deep, deep debt.

Izuna wasn’t sure if he had enough stored magic to turn all the way back into a human form, but he prayed that it would be good enough.

++++++

Leo had been awoken by a peculiar noise in the middle of the night. He tiredly fumbled to attempt to find a way to lie back down and nod off again, but as he tried to roll over, he noticed an ominous glow.

“What the…?” He grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Had he left a lamp on? The color seemed too harsh to be a lamp, though...

“Leooooooooo… An unfamiliar voice whispered.

He snapped to attention. “H-hello?” He stammered. “Who said that!? Show yourself!”

“As you wish, your majesty…”

Izuna let a stream of fox-fire illuminate him in the darkness. He had only been able to manage a partial transformation, but it looked real enough for what he needed it for.

“What on earth?” The king’s eyes widened. “Those ears, you’re a- !”

Izuna fanned out a half dozen tails from his back, each tipped with a will-o-wisp. “I’m a man who’s come to offer you a deal, Leo Whitefang.”

“H-how do you know my name?!” He demanded, shuffling towards the side of the bed. “And why would I make a deal with a yokai!?”

“I hope I’ll be able to answer both of those to your liking.” The yokai slowly smiled. “Tell me, do you like my eyes? Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Eyes? What kind of trickery…” Leo trailed off, his own eyes slowly widening as he realized. He turned to his other side, and realized his bed was empty.

“This world is full of actions and consequences.” Izuna continued, internally wincing at how ridiculous he sounded. Jeez, maybe he should have prepared a script. “You took in a yokai in his hour of need. Now, our kind owes reparations to you.”

“Reparations…?” The man still seemed awestruck enough that what he’d thought was his pet was now standing over him and covered in arcane flames.

“Yes. You have shown your human kindness to our people. So we are willing to pay it back in turn."

“S-so what are these…” Leo took a nervous swallow, “Reparations?”

He placed a hand on his chest. “I am Izuna, reigning prince of the yokai kingdom. You have cared for me in my darkest days. You have saved my life. Your hands have tended to me with the care and compassion of a lover.”

Leo’s confused fright slowly gave way to a bright red blush. “Erm, lover?”

“So I wish to pay it back to you.” Izuna knelt down, taking the man’s hand. “If you would have me, may the gods smile down on our union, and bless our people with peace and harmony for a thousand years.”

“I...I’m afraid I don’t follow…”

The kitsune looked him right in the eyes. “I want you to marry me.”

++++++

To many, the concept of a ceasefire was wishful thinking, idealism that clashed heavily with how the world truly was. Nobody seemed to have ever expected it would actually happen.

Following the merging of the human and gear kingdoms, for the first time in recorded history, the location of the yokai kingdom was revealed to the world. Its sudden openness was not a coincidence or stroke of luck. Instead, it intended to follow the path its former enemies had taken, and merge together into one nation.

Tales were spun on how the human’s Second King had selflessly rescued the yokai prince, and how they had fallen in love during his recovery. Nobody was entirely sure what details were true and what weren’t, but the important thing was that the war had been called into a ceasefire, and that the two men were to be married under the elaborate roofs of the yokai palace.

It was a momentous occasion, of course, it only seemed natural. Humans and gears entered the kingdom for the first time to witness their union, to offer well-wishes or simply to just admire the sights. The more cynical would remark that the merge of kingdoms was most likely a mere tactical motion, but the expressions shared between the two monarchs held a genuine, sincere love.

“Ah, the people love us, don’t they?”

“It’s nice to see them so happy.” Leo reclined in their wedding carriage, watching the crowds vanish behind them. “I never thought I would live to see the yokai kingdom, let alone be wed in it.”

“It’s your kingdom now, too.” Izuna was sprawled across the other seat, shedding his sandals and rolling down the top of his wedding kimono. Leo found it unbelievably amusing. Underneath the stoic front he put on in public, Izuna was...well, remarkably easygoing, comedic, and cuddly. So very, very cuddly.

“So they’re taking us back to your place?” The kitsune wiggled across to lie in his lap, humming with glee as Leo began scratching him behind the ears.

“Sort of. There’s a hotel we’re going to stay in for a few days until the press dies down. I’d say we could both use a bit of rest after all this.”

“Of course, love, of course.” Izuna rolled over to wink at his new husband. “And hopefully we can consummate our new union a few times, in the process.”

"Izuna!!"

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #leo whitefang #Izuna #I really need to come up with a ship name for this...

[halfintheshadow]

Biography

Name: Mirabella Freya Elkins.

Nicknames: Ella.

Biological Age: 24.

Real Age: 24.

Birthday: 12/01/1996.

Star Sign: UTA.

Place of Birth: Freeport, Maine..

Current Town: Falls Church, Virginia.

Sexuality: Heterosexual.

Marital Status: Single.

Species: Necromancer.

Occupation: Medium.

Education: Incompletely High School.

Faceclaim: Victoria Pedretti.

Personality: Mirabella is definitely on the more soft side of personality types. She’s a rather bubbly and gentle soul, despite the past that tends to haunt her. Even with everything that has happened in her life, she’s maintained some forms of her innocence. Ella finds herself trying to enjoy things more fully and find joy in little things in life. She doesn’t like to take things for granted. After seeing all the spirits with last words unspoken and buried regrets she doesn’t wish to be like them, so she tries to live every moment to the fullest. Ella is compassionate and forgiving - almost too forgiving. She has a hard time standing up for herself with both the living and the dead. Most people tend to take advantage of this, including but not exclusive to the spirits she’s plagued by. She’s not the type to turn away someone in need, and can often be manipulated through her kind and open heart. Despite Ella’s softer and more naive nature, she has a hidden talent for deception. In her younger days, where she often abused drugs, she had learned how to manipulate and act a certain way to get what she wants. She still possesses these talents, and if she chooses to utilize them, she can often figure out what a person wants or needs to hear. The only time she uses this for personal gain is when it comes to her line of work, often telling people lies of what the dead have said when she deems the truth too painful. Ella suffers frequently from night terrors, often experiencing moments from the lives of ghosts that haunt her or rather harsh flashbacks from her own life. Sometimes she experiences intense flashbacks or hallucinations during her waking moments. She also is constantly weighed down by guilt and remorse, which often prevents her from making a lot of true friends or connections. Despite her job, Ella hates having to use her gifts and has spent most of her life running from them, both because of what happened to her mother and what people tend to say of what happens to necromancers. Since her mother’s gifts, she’s only actively sought out the use of her gifts as it pertains to her survival. Due to the darkness throughout her life and the darkness that is brought by her gifts, she often falls into states of intense depression. She tends to become dissociative and will lose track of days. In the worse of these states, she finds herself yearning for former bad habits: such as drug use. 

Biography: Mirabella was not the result of some happy, perfect marriage. No, she was the result of an affair. Mirabella’s mother, Daara, had been married when she got pregnant with Mirabella. Daara’s marriage hadn’t exactly been perfect. Sure, there was no active fighting, and she’d ended up getting three beautiful children out of her marriage, children who she loved dearly. But the marriage had fallen flat. There’d never been any true love or spark between Daara and her husband. So when she started work a year after her youngest, for the first time since she’d had her eldest child, she was quickly seduced by a moody and mysterious man who had brushed through her office. He kept to himself, and was rather quiet around the office. One evening she found him crying in his office and she comforted him. The affair started innocently, with a friendship. But it slowly grew into more as she became his one and only confidante about his life. He told her about his mother passing away, and then his sister ending her own life. They ended up sleeping with each other and while Daara felt a great deal of guilt about the whole thing, she couldn’t break it off. So she grew more distant from her husband and closer to this man. Then she found out she was pregnant. She knew the baby wasn’t her husband’s, and she finally realized the gravity of what she’d done. She confessed everything to her husband. He was furious. He didn’t hurt her, but he made it a personal goal to make sure she didn’t get to keep the children, after all she’d spent almost a year completely ignoring them to continue her affair. So, while Daara was pregnant, the custody battle raged on. Eventually the court ruled in favor of her husband and he gained full custody, denying Daara rights to her children. Mirabella was born only a month after the final hearing had wrapped up. By then, she’d broken things off with the man she’d been having an affair with, and he’d disappeared from her life. Despite the heartbreak of losing her children, it taught her a lesson of valuing things she had in the moment. So when Mirabella was born, she vowed she would never neglect her like she had her other children in the last few days. Mirabella and her mother were inseparable. Her early years were filled with love and even if they didn’t always have the most money, they were happy. Mirabella didn’t have everything she wanted but her needs were more than met. Though her mother’s loss of her elder children had resulted in her sheltering Mirabella a great deal. Sure, she got to go to school and see friends, but her mother could be slightly overprotective of her. When Mirabella was eight, she started seeing things. At first it was just bad nightmares. She was seeing things and feeling things she didn’t have a clue about. The first few were just about being sick, only she didn’t ever experience the kind of sickness she was feeling. And then after months of having these vivid dreams, she found herself seeing figures. Mostly when she first woke up, she’d see shadow figures, and sometimes it looked like someone was ducking behind furniture in her room. But she never saw anything when she checked or had her mother check. It grew more intense, and soon the shadows weren’t just shadows. She could see people. Some looked normal, some wore clothes she didn’t recognize, and others were bloodied and beaten up. Her mother didn’t know what to make of the horrific sights her daughter was seeing. At first she thought she was just attention seeking, but as the problems grew worse she thought perhaps her daughter might be showing an early onset mental illness. After some rather violent visions and episodes of extreme fear, Mirabella’s mom brought her to the doctor who had her start seeing a psychologist. It didn’t help. Instead it just made Mirabella withdraw more and think she was actually crazy as people continued to tell her she was ill. She often begged these ghostly images to go away and leave her alone. All she wanted was to be normal. When she was ten, she stopped seeing things. She was just normal again. Her mother wasn’t sure what it was, neither did Mirabella really. But things were calm and quiet finally. Mirabella went on with life as normal, as if nothing had ever been wrong. She put the past in the past and pretended she hadn’t been crippled with fear only a short while ago. The break did not last long. She was just about thirteen when the phantoms came back. One by one, they started pouring into her life again, starting similarly to how they did when she was younger. She hated it. Every moment of it made her feel like she was about to fall into the depths of insanity. At least until one of her little ‘phantoms’ as she called them explained everything. He was only a little older. Fifteen she would have guessed. He told her that he’d met her kind before, and that she was a necromancer. He said most often such gifts ran in families. Ella knew without a doubt her mother didn’t carry such gifts. But it started to make sense. The more research she did, the more it seemed to come together for her. The hallucinations, or what she thought were hallucinations were just ghosts and ghosts showing her their own memories. The nightmares were her consciousness melding with the spirits around her, adapting the moments of their lives into her awareness. She still needed proof though, so she decided to interact with some of these ghosts. The easy ones she got information out of, like names. She found them with some research. It was a huge relief, knowing that she wasn’t crazy. The ghost who had told her about her gifts, Adam stuck around too. He became a friend of sorts, someone to confide in. He told her that she was one of the more powerful ones that he’d met, and said she must have come from a long line of necromancers. Not only did things make sense, but she finally felt like she had a purpose in life. For a year, things went well. Adam kept her company, was always at her side when her mother or friends from school weren’t there. She didn’t even notice times when Adam would behave strangely. She just chalked it up to a ghost issue. He helped her practice her abilities, helped to make her stronger and hone the immense amount of power she had. Honestly, she started to develop feelings for him. It was miserable for her that she had fallen for someone who she could never have. After a year of interactions with Adam, he told her that there was a way they could be together. At first she thought he was simply being silly, but he told her that sometimes, really powerful necromancers could bring people back. She didn’t believe him at first. And even if there were people with those sorts of powers, she didn’t think she was one of them. He kept bringing up the idea though, taunting her with the idea of them being together if she just brought him back. One night she had a truly horrible dream. In the dream she had a brother. In the dream she snuck up on him while he was sleeping and murdered him, beating his head with a rock. When she woke up, she was disoriented, scared. But she knew without a doubt that she saw Adam standing by her door. She quickly closed her eyes and went back to sleep, knowing very well the correlation between ghosts nearby and her dreams. She started to doubt Adam’s intentions far more than before. He continued to push her for this ritual to bring him back and burning with curiosity she agreed, knowing he’d have to tell her who he was to find his grave. Upon searching his name, she found a few newspaper clippings from almost twenty years back. Adam had been one of three children, and after butchering his younger brother at thirteen, he’d been committed to an insane asylum. Two years after his admission he died during electroshock treatment. Instead of gathering the ingredients to revive a spirit, she looked for ones to banish a spirit. Adam caught on though. So he decided there was only one way he’d get what he wanted. So he possessed her. Ella was awake the whole time as he took her body from her house, onto a bus and two towns over to where he was from. He used her body to go to the cemetery and then used her powers for his own selfish desires. He found out she didn’t even need the ritual, she was that strong. In the process of trying to bring himself back - something grueling and exhausting - he was interrupted by Mirabella’s mother. To disarm her, he acted like Mirabella. When she came to hug him, he used his own abilities he’d developed as a malevolent spirit to stop her heart. Ella, still awake inside of her own body and trapped felt every moment of it. It was horrifying. And then he completed raising himself. Only not in the way he thought it would happen. Ella gained control of her body back and ran to her mother, hoping desperately she might be able to help her. She performed CPR, prayed to whatever god that would listen but nothing worked. And then he crawled up from the ground. The body was decayed, pretty much a skeleton for the most part. But she knew it was Adam. He was coming for her. She was terrified more than anything. She was certain her life was ending when she pleaded for him to stop. And to her shock he did. It was then that she realized he had to do what she said. So she told him to leave his body. And so he did. His spirit was detached from his form once more. By this time, Ella was exhausted. Her nose had started bleeding from so much brazen use of power. With her last few moments of awareness before all the power use caught up to her, she banished his spirit. When she woke up, it was two days later in the hospital. The police had a lot of questions about what had happened. She knew better than to tell the truth. So she lied through her teeth. She said she had gotten in a fight with her mother and ran away from home. She told them that she hadn’t been able to find a place to sleep and while wandering around the town she’d come into, she’d found some kids digging up a grave. After confronting them they’d turned on her. Somewhere along the way she said her mother had showed up and scared them off. She told them she passed out and didn’t know what happened to her mother. Eventually, a coroner's report claiming a heart attack came to light. Between that and her story, she managed to get out of trouble. Ella ended up going into the foster system after  that. At first, she tried to maintain her dreamer-esque attitude and childhood innocence. But it just wasn’t easy. She’d lost so much and seen so much. And the darkness growing from her gifts was harder to ignore. By the time she was fifteen, she had turned to the crowd of rough cases in her school. She picked up smoking, and then drinking, and eventually started using drugs when she learned she wasn’t plagued by spirits while she was using. For years, she barely made it by. She used any money she had for drugs. Sometimes she didn’t have anywhere to sleep at night, other nights she crashed on couches. It was rough going for a long time, she was often in and out of community rehab centers and group homes. Most foster homes stopped taking her after she turned sixteen, so her life was one without a proper home for a long time. She was nineteen before the drugs were no longer enough to ward away her gifts. It was what made her quit. Because as soon as it stopped working to stifle her gifts, it only made things far worse when she was out of control. So she checked herself into another community rehab and got clean. It took months of trying, but after a year of being there she finally got herself together and checked out. She was almost like her old self, who she’d been before everything. But she was faced with new challenges. Like difficulties with finding a job and affording life in general. Eventually, she was left with very little in the way of solutions. So she started using her gifts. She’d investigate hauntings or get called to talk to people’s dead relatives. She didn’t mention that most times ghosts don't often hang around unless they have some serious grievances. Most times, she’d tell families what they wanted to hear to bring them peace. Other times she actually helped spirits find peace. It was a toss up, but most of her work ended up being a sham, even if she meant most lies to help people. She became rather successful. She was even stable in terms of money. She swore as soon as she had enough to go back to school she would hang it all up and never deal with the dead again. Her work eventually led her to Falls Church, something that appeared to be a hotspot of sorts for paranormal activity. 

#biography

[overwhelmed-ravenclaw]

Admitting Having PTSD

Admitting something like this is extremely hard for someone. For me, it was especially hard because of the fact of how my family is. They have toxic tendencies and the other side is majority toxic in general. So I am not precisely safe from them playing blame game if they even admit it to themselves that I do have PTSD.  I hope this helps someone else who has to admit their family or to other people about PTSD. Also, I would like to point out that I didn’t tell my whole family (I won’t tell my whole family) and I will also like to say that others may have even more different reactions. It is something scary and no one knows what to precisely expect. I was trying to be trigger wary while writing this. TL;DR at the end I’ll have a line separating them. Everything I pre-typed for this is undercut.  @ptsdconfessions​

My family like most is complicated. It feels to me like mine is more so than a lot of others but I know that probably isn’t the truth. My mom left when I was young, which is important to this but not what this is about. I had accepted my mom left because she wasn’t happy in her marriage to my dad. She explained to me she didn’t know where she was going so she couldn’t take us with. She didn’t want to put us in any kind of danger by accident. For a 7-year-old, I understood she was trying to protect us and get out of a loveless relationship. 

I have 4 older sisters, but one doesn’t play a role in this till years later, so I am going to skip her for the time being. (She was adopted after my mom left and around the time the PTSD started to form)  My counselor and Therapist both had repeatedly suggested I explain more than “I have depression” to my family. They knew that I knew I had PTSD. The reason behind it varied to a bunch of things that most of which happened before I was 13 and there was nothing I could do about it. Some of the stuff that happened later in life adds onto that but I am going to stay vague to avoid triggers as much as I can. None of my PTSD had to do with my mother leaving, or at least very little did, because if she was there then a lot of it wouldn’t have happened.

So I first sat down with my sister and uncle who lived with me. I am going to call this uncle (huge family) U-D, the sister at hand is L. L’s reaction was “So you are mentally insane, that means you can get disability and quit your dream of whatever it is, I don’t know it doesn’t make sense.” My dream is to help children that dealt with same past like me and make sure they don’t end up as bad as I did, so I became a paraprofessional (Fancy word for special needs aide) The other part of my dream is to become a published author. Not through self-publishing but a big name company. I don’t care if my books don’t sell, I want to know that I have at least tried to be an author.

U-D stated that he doesn’t understand how I have PTSD because I was never in the army or warzone. Later on, he learned what happened to me when I was little, or at least small bits, from my sister B. Let just say after learning some information he had dropped that I couldn’t have PTSD and just went with it. L kept pushing me to do things that she knew would trigger me till finally not one but four councilors had all sat down and explained to her what she was doing, she kept it up. She saw that if she can keep triggering me then I will do what she wants to make her leave me alone. Then eventually I told my aunt AD and my Dad. Dad stated he could tell that I had PTSD because of the fact that he was a lousy dad. Which is partly true. If he would have done what should have when I was little then I wouldn’t have it this server. He isn’t fully at blame but he admitted he did things wrong and knows it. AD then learned a few of the things through dad and me. She was supportive and wanted me to seek deeper help. Which I did with her encouragement and her nudging me on the path of healing. Next person I told was my grandmother on my mother side. Up to this point, I have only talked to the family who is on my dad’s side and I can be face to face. My grandparents on my dad’s side passed away years ago and my grandfather on my mom’s side passed away while I was still a baby. So this grandmother was the only one I could talk to. Her reply to finding out made my stomach feel like I had eaten lava and nauseous. You know the feeling that you just did something bad and disgusting and you get after that? Well, that was my version of that feeling. I am getting it now, but I want to get this story out here.

My grandmother’s reaction which a lot of my PTSD does ties back to her in my childhood… was the simple saying “It is your mother’s fault. She left you at such an impressionable age. It caused you to have depression. If you would stop living in the past your doctor wouldn’t mistake it as PTSD. So start smiling more and live in the future!” Which I ended our conversation with a quick “My phone is dying, talk you later” then it took me 2 months to be able to call her again.

My Aunt who works at the hospital AB was next and AB snorted. “I have known that since you were twelve. You on medicine now for anxiety? What kind so I can check it against my copies of your old medical records.” Which was a huge Wait, what? So I told her my meds, she then told me to ask the doctor about lower doses because I don’t take medicine. I never liked to. Which the doctor agreed and gave me lower doses and the kind my aunt requested because, after a second look, the doctor stated that it would be better for me. I have nightmares that make me have insomnia. (Solution to that is lots of caffeine. Mainly coffee.)

My sisters B and M (adopted one I said I would skip for time being) both knew about me having PTSD but because my dad wouldn’t seek help for me when I was little there was nothing they could do until I was an adult. By then they thought I already sought help, but only did about 2 years ago. I haven’t told my eldest sister, because a huge chunk of it is because of her and her husband. I also haven’t explained properly to my mother because I don’t want to make her worry, she has PTSD too. I know I will have to eventually. That just left one uncle that I was extremely close to. AD’s husband. When I finally told him about it he dismissed it stating “Everyone has PTSD.” Which made me confused and I stated that. “Listen, you are perfectly normal. You are fine. Nothing is wrong with you. What they claim is PTSD is normal for everyone. Everyone has it. It is like breathing air, it comes naturally to us. You just have to ignore it and move on in life. Not take the medicine they give you and become a pill popper, man.” ((He’s an old school hippy)) He then started to use that tone that parents do when you have done something wrong when I tried to explain that it wasn’t sadness or depression that I have actual flashbacks and nightmares. That I have physical issues once triggered that too much happens at once to explain in dept. Which one he started to give me that look and down talking me saying basically what he said before. He stormed off and act liked I was an idiot. I was heartbroken because out of everyone, I figured he’d understand. He was drafted into a war when he was 17 so he should have understood, right? Talking to AD later, I explained what happened and I could see the emotions in her eyes seemed to scream in annoyance. Not at me, but at her husband. She then explained to me when she first met him in her teenage years, he was already married but they were filing for divorce, they became good friends since they worked together. She was a waitress, he was the cook. He then told her about how he has been forced to see a doctor who he thinks was coo-coo (her words) he had been diagnosed with PTSD from the war, though he was just a sailor who picked up injured soldiers and brought them home, and he was diagnosed Bipolar. He didn’t like how the medicine made him feel and react so he stopped taking them declaring that they were trying to make him into a pill popper, which she stated it took him months to stop having the withdrawals from the medicine. In the 80s before his daughter was born he tried again, and again he didn’t like how they made him feel and once stopped taking them the withdrawals were the worst thing he has ever encountered or at least that is what he told AD. So much like how older people in our small town area is still using racist words but not in a racist way, only because their mind is set to that programming that can’t be overridden, he is same way about medicine for “fake mental illnesses” and that was why he was so hard on me. He still is hard on me whenever someone brings up about when I need to take my medicine and he is around. It got to the point I have actually started to try to avoid him as much as I can. I hate that because I love spending time with him at his house, we do crafts together and bounce craft ideas off of each other. He used to come over to mow the lawn for me so I didn’t have to use the old push (not engine mower it is an actual push contraption with opened blades and you have to put your weight on it to make it cut the lawn) He does it with his actual mower that is run on gas. Now avoiding him, he started to avoid me too and I hate the feeling of loneliness I got. In my family, it is rare to hear someone to say sincerely “I love you” he did. No one else in my family besides, my mom, B, and M do that. Everyone else does it as if they rehearsed it and don’t mean it. Like it is something that they are supposed to say. Which when I hear it so sincerely from him or my mom or my two sisters that do that, it puts me in tears of happiness because my normally numbed emotionally body is filled with this comfortable warmth. Any bad thoughts or images that popped in my head or even the worst day imaginable, once I hear those words with someone being sincere, it is all out of my mind and I am too happy to care about anything else.

TL; DR // Summary

So each had a different type of reaction to me coming out.

L - Money, thinks she is going to get to control me because I can leave my job (I am not getting money because of PTSD) 

UD - At first not understanding then he is. He makes sure I eat and when triggered he normally gives me chocolates and make sure I take my meds.

AD - Love, lots and lots of love. She buys me random stuff (including lunch while I am working at the school) and my favorite yet is when she baked me a freaking cake because I was annoyed at my sister trying to trigger me before I got to school that day.

Dad - Guilt and understanding.

Grandmother - Blaming everything and everyone else not even caring what was the true cause, when that didn’t work then stated I don’t have it just living in the past.

AB, B & M - They knew already and thus why they were always loving and supportive of me (besides B always states “You are my baby girl, of course, I love you” Then I normally get roped into really tight hugs that make all my bones pop.)

Hippy - Denile. Claims that PTSD isn’t real. Set in old time ways of thinking when really damaging to me but he doesn’t mean to be. He is trying to be helpful.

I’m leaving my mom out, I rather her think for now until I have to tell her, that I just have depression. It is easier on her mental health and I don’t want her to stress and worry about me.

#PTSD #anxeity #Councilors #Therapist #Family Reactions #PTSDconfessions #I hope this helps someone else that needs it

[sebastianxnott]

Sebastian Valiente Nott + Questionnaire

trigger warning ; abuse, drugs & ptsd. 

ORIGINS & FAMILY

Name: Sebastian Valiente Nott

Nickname(s): Seb, Bash, Sebby, Basty, mi soldado (by his mother), hermanito (by his sister) &  ahijado (by his godmother)

Reason for name:

Sebastian is a name meaning ‘venerable’ which means ‘accorded a great deal of respect‘ which is one of the reasons his mother gave him that name. It was also his maternal great great grandfather’s name.

His mother gave him the middle name Valiente because he was very ill when he was born. She was told not to name him until he survived a week but she did anyway and that was the name she gave him because it was the Spanish word for brave.

Birthday: Nineteenth of January, 2004

Age: Nineteen

Gender: Male

Place of birth: St Mungo’s, London, England

Places lived since:

Nott Manor in Cheshire, England

Hogwarts for most of the year starting at age eleven

An apartment in London with his mother from age twelve when he wasn’t at school

In an apartment with Brett Holland and Archer Selwyn in Hogsmeade

Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations:

Edgar Nott - Father - He is the son and younger brother of known Death Eaters who fought in the Second Wizarding War. He is a pureblood wizard and Slytherin alumni. He took part in the Second Wizarding War but not in the Battle of Hogwarts itself. He has dabbled in other illegal activity and eventually set up Nott Industries as a cover for his drug ring. Up until recently, he was the biggest drug lord in Wizarding England. In 2022, he was arrested for his drug activity and links to the Death Eaters escape from Azkaban. He married his betrothed, Andrea Valazquez at age twenty two, who he has since separated from. They have two children together Verity and Sebastian. Following his trial and sentencing, Edgar received the Dementor’s Kiss.

Andrea Nott (nee Valazquez) - Mother - She is the eldest daughter of a well-known pureblood, Mexican family. She is a pureblood witch and a Castelobruxo alumni. She is a kind woman who has lived her whole life honestly. She never really believed in her family’s supremacist ways. When she married Edgar, she hoped to change his illegal ways and was unsuccessful. She worked as a waitress to provide for her son and continues to do so even though he is financially independent. She married her betrothed, Edgar Nott, when she was twenty one - who she separated from when she found out he was abusing Sebastian - and has one other child named Verity.

Number of siblings: One

Verity Nott (older sister)

Relationship with family (close? estranged?):

Sebastian does not get along with his father. He abused his son when he refused to join the family business. When Andrea left Edgar and took him with her, they both cut off all contact with him. Seb suffers from PTSD because of his relationship with his father. He testified at the Nott trial and was attacked by his father’s men as a result. He visited Edgar in prison before he received the Dementor’s Kiss, got closure and forgave him for all he’d done.

Seb is a mama’s boy. Not only is this because she is the only parent he still talks to but she always doted on and even babied him a little. Since she separated from his father, he feels the need to protect her from any kind of harm.

Verity and Seb haven’t always been close. When their parents separated, things became tense. He tried to get her to see the real Edgar with little success until he was arrested. He still would do anything to protect her though. Since the arrest though, they’ve gotten closer and Verity has seen the truth. Seb even reunited her with their mother.

Happiest memory: When Verity came to have dinner with him and his mother for the first time in five years.

Childhood trauma: The time when his father attacked him so bad that they had to say it was an animal attack when he went to St Mungo’s. 

Children of his/her own?: N/A

PHYSICAL

Height: 5″10 / 178 cm

Weight: 159 lbs / 72 kg

Build: Slim

Nationality: English & Mexican

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): PTSD

Complexion: He has a few freckles / moles on his chin and cheeks. He also has a scar along his left cheekbone from one of the times his father lashed out at him with a knife. He also has scars scattered along his arms, legs and torso as a result of the abuse in his childhood and also fresher ones from his attack in 2023.

Hair color: Black

Usual hair style: Kinda sticks up around his head even when he doesn’t gel it up.

Eye color: Dark Brown

Glasses? Contacts?: Contacts

Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Seb’s style is jeans and brightly colored t-shirts, occasionally comic themed. He also has a dark denim jacket that he wears almost all the time. He’s also prone to wearing high top Converse.

Health: Seb rarely gets colds or stomach bugs but he bruises like a peach and scars easily.

Grooming: Seb showers every evening. He doesn’t wear makeup or pluck his eyebrows but gels his hair frequently. He doesn’t wear dirty clothes, unless it’s by accident.

Tattoos? Piercings?:

‘Still I Rise’ on his outer right wrist with the ‘I’ designed to look like an arrow.

Compass / Arrow on his inner, upper arm. 

No Piercings

Accent?: British but the Mexican comes out when he gets angry and speaks Spanish.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits: He bites and picks at his nails frequently.

INTELLECT

Level of education (high school drop out, undergrad BA/BS, PhD, MD, etc.): Hogwarts graduate, currently carrying out the healer training programme at St Mungo’s.

Gifts/talents/skills:

Seb is very good at cooking because of his mother. She taught herself and all of his favorite meals are the ones she cooks, even when he lived in Nott Manor with a five star chef. So he asked her to teach him so he could cook when he was at Hogwarts and when he finished.

He is currently teaching himself how to play the guitar and has been for about a year now.

Sebastian speaks English, Spanish and French.

Seb was the Quidditch seeker for the Hufflepuff team and considered himself very good at it.

Shortcomings:

Sebastian is a little unstable do to his PTSD and tends to change his mood from day to day or even hour to hour. He has nightmares almost every night and his thoughts are frequently haunted by what his father did. Though he is improving, he is still very unstable.

Due to his history, Seb has a tendency to be paranoid and finds it difficult to trust people. 

Style of speech: He speaks with great articulation but his voice tends to get quieter and more shaky when he’s unhappy.

Religious stance: Wizarding Catholic

Cautious or daring?: Cautious but with infrequent daring streaks.

Most sensitive about/vulnerable to: Showing off his arms because of the scars

Optimist or pessimist?: Pessimist

Extrovert or introvert?: Introvert

RELATIONSHIPS

Current marital/relationship status: In a relationship with Ariadne McLaggen

Sexual orientation: Heterosexual

Past relationships:

TBD

Level of sexual experience: He has had sex with three people, including his current girlfriend.

Most comfortable around (person): Brett Holland & Archer Selwyn

Oldest friend: Wyatt Holland (deceased)

Pets?: He has a white cat named ‘Posa which is short for Mariposa.

VOCATION

Profession: Healer-in-Training

Past occupations: Student

Passions: Cooking, Guitar & Quidditch

Attitude towards current job: All Seb wants to do is bring good to the tainted Nott name. and the way to do that is by helping people instead of harming them. So he loves his job and looks forward to being fully qualified as a healer.

Attitude towards current coworkers, bosses, employees: He is impartial to most of his colleagues but attempts to get along with them the best he can.

SECRETS

Phobias:

Losing anyone else he cares about.

Life goals:

Sebastian would like to finish is healer training and become one of the best in whatever field he ends up choosing.

Greatest fears:

Seb is afraid of his father getting let off with no prison time and coming to get him. This is a result of his PTSD.

Most ashamed of:

Despite all the good it has done, Seb frequently feels ashamed about becoming an informant in his father’s case. This is more because he did not tell his sister about it than getting his father imprisoned.

Compulsions:

Whenever Seb is upset or angry or just wants to get away, he is automatically drawn to the roof. Not because he wants to jump off but rather just to escape. It was a tactic as a child and it was usually Ver who found him.

Crimes committed (and was he/she caught? charged?): N/A

What he/she most wants to change about his/her self/life?: He wants to change most things about himself.

DETAILS/QUIRKS

Daily routine:

Seb gets up about an hour before he has to go to St Mungo’s for training, eats a small breakfast and showers quickly. He apparates to work. He eats lunch, usually in the hospital cafeteria, at about 12 but that depends on what he has to do in the morning. He finishes at around 5 but again that depends on what he has to do. Seb does not leave until he’s finished with what he has to do. Depending on the day, he has dinner with his sister, his girlfriend or his housemates. He usually cooks. His evening plans and who he spends them with depend on the day as well. He usually goes to sleep just before midnight.

On the weekends, Seb sometimes goes to St Mungo’s depending on what training he has. If he does not do this, he frequently visits his mother on the weekends but also spends time with his girlfriend, his sister or his best friends.

Night owl or early bird?: Night Owl

Light or heavy sleeper?: Light Sleeper

Favorite food: Anything his mother cooks

Favorite book: Comic books mostly.

Favorite movie: Anything from Marvel or DC.

Favorite song: Anything by Panic! At the Disco.

Favorite color: Gold

Coffee or tea?: Coffee

Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?: Smooth Peanut Butter

Type of car he/she drives (or wishes he/she drove): Doesn’t drive.

Lefty or righty?: Lefty

Cusser?: Yes and usually in Spanish.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: No. Socially. Never.

#sdhqtask1 #tw: abuse #tw: drug mention #tw: ptsd #&& disappointment #tasks #i always have no queue what i'm doing

[novellaquill]

Starling Prologue: Lost and Longing

-

Drabble with OC!Batsis x Batfam

Summary: Lerina is depressed, she has been since her mother died. She has everything but she's unhappy and longing for something but doesn't know what.

Warning: This talks about depression, mental illness, and real-life problems. If you are uncomfortable with these topics don't read.

“The sea always filled her with longing, though for what she was never sure.”

― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

Lerina Edrei Oriel-Wayne had what every girl wanted money, status, looks, living with some of if not the most attractive people on the planet, a future. She had the opportunity to go to many extravagant parties and even host them. You want a fanbase to invade your personal space she's got 20 but who cares its no big deal. She's got everything so why does she feel hollow inside. Lerina is a very fortunate woman, because of her father's wealth, she has so many things however, every present comes with strings. Whether it's making sure her siblings don't get into trouble or going on a date with one of Wayne Enterprise's many partners’ sons, there is always a string attached. Maybe the source of her emptiness is due to reputation as the Golden Girl or the Golden Angel. She's the daughter that every parent wants beautiful, intelligent, poised, calm, and collective. Never disagrees with her parent is seen not heard unless called upon, fit the be the perfect trophy wife. She is Bruce Wayne's blood daughter the eldest child too beating Dick by a few weeks. Maybe it's because she's frequently alone not allowed to join the nightly activities but forced to cover for them. Or perhaps the life every girl dreams of is not her dream life. Either way, her life was dictated by others. She wanted-no longed for something anything that would fill the void but with 17 years of the same cycle with no appreciation whatsoever, there was little hope. Hell, she had no clue want she wanted, never had the chance to think about it. Lerina was at a loss, it was mornings like this when she wished she had something to distract her mind from her melancholy mood.

--

"¿Pájaro cantor, cómo es mi niña hermosa?" "Goodmorning Leilei," Lerina said as she gave the old woman's cheek a kiss. Leilei, Lerina's strongwilled afro latina grandmother is actually named Kamalei Oriel. Lerina used to call her abuela until she heard someone call her. She tried to mimic them but could only say Leilei and the nickname stuck.

Taking a deep breath of the calm familiar air, she let out a sigh, "You have no idea how much I missed this place." Kamalei owed a cozy little townhome in Gotham village that just so happened to be Lerina's childhood home. "Not that I don't love having you here pajarito but why are you here? What's wrong?" She frowned at her grandmother's questioning but sat down o the couch, "I'm tired Leilei," the couch dipped as her grandmother sat down next to her "Of course you're tired, you run around being the perfect role model, doing whatever your father asks and for what," she shook her head "tired would be an understatement." She wasn't wrong there were happier days seemed lost in the hustle of everyday life. "You're not happy and you need to do something about it before it consumes you." "What am I supposed to do Leilei, when I got home I have responsibilities and have no time for anything else. WWhen I do have time no one is home and no one except Alfred actually hangs out with me. If I do anything out of line I'm in trouble."She exclaims in frustration tugging on her hair a bad habit she picked up, "when I'm done with everything else I don't know what to do with myself." "So leave. "What?" "Leave, go somewhere, anywhere that's away from here. Take the time to find yourself again. Lerina you were a musical prodigy, you're intelligent, beautiful, creative, and strong but your loyalty and love for others even when it's hurting yourself will be your downfall. You have PhDs, trophies, medals, and degrees that they don't even know about. Use them to get out of here!" Lerina sits on her words, "Da-Fa-Bruce would never allow it." Kamalei face scrunches up in anger, "THAT MOTHERF-umm your father never paid attention unless he wanted something from you. The only one who would notice and care would be Jason, Timothy, and Alfred. Stop letting him dictate what happens in your life. You're his daughter not his clone and you're grown adult!" she said voice filled with rage and love. Kamalei never liked Bruce Wayne, not when her daughter was dating him and not now either. When Lerina's mom died she spent a whole year trying to keep her granddaughter with her and away from him and now keeping her seemed like the right choice. But one must not dwell on the past.

--

Her grandmother was right the woman who lived up to Wayne name was not the girl who she was or who she thought she was. put everything into her new family and life when her mom died that she had family and life when her mom died that she had nothing without it. She cried to herself at night and could barely breath when big meeting came around. She was nothing but a hollowing corpse with a pretty face. Majority of her family didn't notice or care about her nor what she sacrifices. They won't even let her help fight crime and she was the oldest! But could she do it? Could she really just leave? That wasn't question though, it was did she have the guts to?

"I put my heart and soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process."

―Vincent Van Gogh

~Novella Quill

Next Chapter: The Lonely

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