#as those who perpetuated lies and rumours

[flowerwrites06]

plucked blossom — myg

PLUCKED BLOSSOM | Yoongi | Oneshot | Request or Original 

Original Request: Arranged marriage au?? E2L?? They were enemies but yoongi finding out she was just a hurt precious soul. Ending up with Yoongi being protective of oc Plot: Two nobles are rushed into marriage and struggle to navigate the pressures of the court. Pairing: Noble!Yoongi x Noble!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Historical AU Rating: R18+ Word Count: 4k+ Warnings: coarse language, angst, marriage troubles, explicit sexual content (unprotected) Author’s Note: I wanted to experiment with this sort of period historical style for a story. Hope you enjoy!

“This is the third ball you’ve refused to attend,” Yoongi said as two servants placed a white box onto the bed.

Kiku only glanced at the object before going back to her embroidery, still working on the same daffodil which was already fraying from her lack of focus. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood.”

Yoongi lets out another frustrated sigh, his white sleeves rolled up by the afternoon and his patience thinned as he placed his hands on his hips. “Eventually we need to become public.”

“We have become public, we had a wedding so big, the money could’ve fed the entire country.” The two servants quickly walked out of the room, wanting to avoid what was the fifth argument they’ve had.

“Oh you’re a pure, giving soul now?”

Kiku rolled her eyes, stabbing the fabric again for the next stitch. “If you want to go to the ball so bad, why don’t you just go by yourself?”

Yoongi shook her head. “That’s not a good look.”

“Why not? So many men there attend a ball only to fuck some other noblewoman in the garden.” She raised her eyes to glare at him directly. “At least you’ll be honest with yourself.”

Frustration laced his gaze. “I don’t go there to fuck some random person, it’s just tradition.”

“Well, I’m not going.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, clearly to gather whatever saintly patience that was hanging by a threat. With another deep breath, he walked to the box and opened it to reveal a beautiful pale blue dress, transparent outer kaftan with a silk white inner dress. “I brought you a new dress. It’s your favourite colour.”

Kiku looked at the dazzling delicate silver embroidery at the edges, just the way she preferred it. “Did you go to consult my brother to find out?”

“No, your brother thought it was yellow.”

Kiku’s brows furrowed. “Of course he did.”

The tension between them slowly cooled as it always did. Something about Yoongi’s seemingly endless way of handling her quips and her own demeanour becoming gentle caused their arguments to end swiftly. Granted, they were still frequent but it was shorter everytime.

In a softer voice, Yoongi spoke. “Just one night a month, I’d like you to come public with me.”

“I don’t have good relationships with the court members,” Kiku said empathetically.

“Then ignore them, just come.”

“Why’re you being so insistent? You were never like this before.” Kiku crossed her arms over her chest. “You have been talking to my brother, haven’t you?”

“He…we think that the people might be whispering certain things.” Yoongi waved his hand.

Anger flared in her chest. Of course the court started muttering poisonous rumours. Everytime someone wanted some alone time to actually think about their life for once, they wanted to punish those people. Because it meant too much honesty in a world so used to pretty lies. “They whisper a lot of things, what is it this time?”

“They think you might’ve gone mad.” Yoongi didn’t waste breath saying this, as if he had already convinced himself of it.

Kiku chuckled, putting her embroidery away and walking to look at the window. “What delightful conversations you and my brother have about me.”

“We didn’t come up with it.”

“But you’re perpetuating it, aren’t you? Trying to drag me out of my comforts to prove something to people who don’t even clean their own shit.” Kiku moved to closer to Yoongi. “And don’t you think you both have devised enough plans to control my life? Is secretly discussing for my hand not enough?”

“We were not secretly devising, you had an illicit affair, we were protecting you.” Yoongi grew frustrated in his tone.

“Then protect me from the rumours, go to the ball and leave me be.” Kiku nodded to the door.

“Kiku, you’re coming to the ball tonight.” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, are you going to make me, beloved husband?” Kiku smirked bitterly. “Or you can go complain your good friend about her mad sister. I’m not going.” She turned away to her vanity, sitting and taking off the pins in her hair since it was giving her headache.

Silence plagued the room as Yoongi pushed the box away and sat on the bed. A thoughtful sigh passed through him.

“I know it’s hard when rumours spread, Kiku. I’ve had it done to my mother before and she became a recluse, unable to speak to anyone.” Yoongi said, softening again. “I don’t want that for you. There’s a certain strength to showing your face too.”

Kiku sighed, remembering the way people made the most heinous rumours about Yoongi’s mother when she was a lovely woman, simply broken by the pressures of perfection. “Don’t use your mother against me,” she said, looking at him through the mirror. “One hour. That’s all.”

Yoongi’s expression softened as he returned her gaze through the reflection and nodded. “One hour, I promise.”

-

The one hour seemed like forever once she entered the ballroom at young nightfall. Kiku adored her new dress as she matched it with soft pearls and a loose hairstyle. Yoongi wore a dark blue velvet suit to match her, linking his arm with hers.

Everything was beautiful with delicious smelling food, delicate wines and comfortable seats to lounge around.

“All your favourite food here too,” Yoongi muttered in her ear.

“I’m here now, you don’t need to convince me.” Kiku said with a smile which Yoongi returned.

A noblewoman rustled towards them wearing an elaborate yellow gown. “Kiku, you’re here!” She smiled far too wide for it to be genuine. “It’s so nice to see you bravely walking.”

Kiku hummed in agreement, pushing down the frustration in her belly.

Kiku’s brother, Daiki sauntered over to them after leaving his wife at the corner of the hall. He smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You got her out of hiding, good.”

“I wasn’t hiding, I simply enjoy my private company.” Kiku didn’t bother smiling back at him since he perfectly knew how she felt about him.

Daiki scoffed. “Just enjoy yourself.” He patted her shoulder before walking away from his wife who tried to ignore wherever her husband was going off to. “Yoongi, come to drink.”

Yoongi stammered, looking between Daiki and Kiku.

“Just go, he’ll need more supervision anyway.”

Yoongi nodded before walking over to Daiki.

Kiku took a drink and took a comfortable seat away from as many people as possible. She took a book that was haphazardly thrown on an end table, beginning to read.

Unfortunately, nobles were more like vultures than humans. The moment noblewomen noticed that it was mad Kiku sitting at the lounge chair, the more they flocked for the picking.

“How’ve you been, Kiku?” One noble lady asked with her cheeks rouged until it looked blood.

“Are you feeling well?” The other asked.

“I’m alright, thank you. Just needed to be alone.” Still want to be alone, Kiku thought.

“It’s a shame with all that’s happened,” the first lady said. “With that boy.”

Kiku cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on the book. “It’s in the past now.”

“It looked very serious at the moment. You were so ready to give up your riches, I was concerned.” The second lady said. “I knew you were getting far too swept away with him. I told them that I could recommend a physician.”

“Now, now, I’m sure she has her own physicians to tend to her.” The first lady patted her shoulder.

Kiku narrowed her gaze then. “I’m sorry, a physician?”

“Well…you know, people have been talking and your brother is so private about you. We thought you were…destabilizing. I mean you were going to leave your home for that boy.” The second noble lady, Charlotte her name was, laughed. “It was so obvious he wanted the fortune, why else would they bother to break such rules?”

Kiku felt her body burn but she kept a neutral face. “It may be a struggle to understand but I was in love, not insane.”

“Clearly, it wasn’t requited, darling.” Charlotte snickered. “Your poor brother had to fix the mess in such record time, I admire him.”

“Sounds rather similar to a mess you got yourself in recently, Charlotte,” Yoongi’s voice cut into the tension.

Charlotte chuckled bitterly as her eyes flickered back. “Excuse me?”

“How your baby was born in record time of six months. Your husband managed to be stupid enough to believe that his strong seed shortened the pregnancy,” Yoongi said.

Charlotte blushed, stammering.

Yoongi held out his hand. “Come, we should get some clean air.”

Kiku tried not to smile too much at Charlotte’s dumbfounded face as she held onto Yoongi’s hand and followed him out into the gardens.

The air was so cool and sweet out here that she could’ve cried. She had clearly forgotten how stifling ballrooms were despite looking like opulence sent from heaven. Kiku let out a deep breath of relief.

Then they looked at each other before Kiku let out a laugh. “Charlotte’s baby?”

“It’s Matteson’s.”

“Wow. I didn’t even know they liked each other.”

“They probably don’t.” Yoongi chuckled.

Kiku stayed silent for a while as they settled themselves near a patch of flowers. They sat like this for a while as if Yoongi knew she was getting adjusted the welcomed calm of it all. “Thank you for taking me out of there.”

“I made you come here. It’s the least I can do,” Yoongi said. “I’m sorry I forced you.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t know it was gonna be that brutal.” Kiku rested back against the plum tree, still slowly picking up blossoms. “But it always is.”

He hummed. “So…this boy…”

Kiku looked at him curious. “He never told you?”

“I mean, it was vague, I didn’t really know what happened.” Yoongi raised his shoulders.

Kiku pursed her lips together.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

“If they knew, you may as well.” Kiku chuckled sadly. “I fell in love with a commoner boy, he was one of the cooks. I grew lonely in the palace and I thought…maybe if I ran away with him, I’d be happy. But he wanted the entire garden, not just the single blossom.” She had never been able to voice it out ever since it happened.

Daiki spent most of his days trying to pretend it never happened and in some way, Kiku wanted the same too. Even the wedding was meant to be a haphazard way to pretending nothing was wrong. It was only now she truly expressed it to someone. And her heart clenched, finally understanding that it has been broken and bruised. She didn’t cry but it was a quiet realization of her pain. One she could now share for a moment.

Yoongi’s heart dropped as he looked out to the garden. “I don’t like too many flowers choking my sights anyway.” It wasn’t the most clever of comforts but it was the most he could gather as every statement or insult thrown at her played in his head. He liked Daiki but he had very much adopted the dismissive nature of his parents when it came to uncomfortable topics. Yoongi’s mother taught him different.

Kiku chuckled. “Good to know.”

-

The days had become far more pleasant ever since that night in the garden. Kiku and Yoongi managed to compromise on going to balls twice a month instead of every week while also keeping a time limit on how long they could withstand the nobles. Although, other rumours became far more interesting as Kiku was established as a recurring face. Even Charlotte and Matteson’s affair turned stale on everyone’s tongues.

Kiku spent her mornings strolling around her gardens as a way to heal her mind. Yoongi usually read during this time and Daiki hadn’t quite visited to make his presence known, so it was a delicate calm over the estate.

She thought it would be another gentle day. Another day to appreciate the new feelings of joy thrumming through her. And yet here he was.

The face she was so excited to see after a frustrating conversation with Daiki. The face that had given her so much comfort and then so much unimaginable heartbreak.

“Hanzo,” Kiku said.

Hanzo smiled sweetly. “My lady.”

“Why’re you here?” She asked.

He stammered, smile disappearing, clearly expecting Kiku to be elated in some way. “I wanted to see you.”

Kiku scoffed. “You’ve seen me now.” She tried to turn away back into the house to see Yoongi. Anyone else to make this go away.

But Hanzo walked past her, stopping her in her tracks. “Please, I just wanted to explain myself.”

“No need.” Kiku tried to push past him but he was persistent.

“I was foolish, okay?” His voice turned desperate. “You were asking me to run away with you, I needed the money.”

“Do you want money right now?” Kiku glared at him.

“No, I—I didn’t mean to leave you. I was going to lose my job if you eloped with me.” Hanzo gestured. “We would’ve been destitute, you need to understand.”

“It’s in the past now, why’re you coming back here?” Kiku pursed her lips together.

Hanzo paused for a moment, using up her time as much as he could apparently. Just like before. All that time and love used, drained from Kiku until there was barely anything left. “I have another job now. It’s better pay, I have a house and it’s in the forest, like you wanted.”

Kiku shook her head. “You left me without saying anything.”

“But you have to understand.”

“I would’ve understood if you told me,” Kiku spoke through gritted teeth. “What the hell did you take me for?”

“Well, you can come back to me.”

Kiku chuckled bitterly. “The court deemed me insane for trying to be with you.”

“You’ve never listened to them before.”

“Yes, well, my brother does and he tried to counteract it.”

He was confused only for a moment before realization captured his face. “Who is it?”

“Yoongi.”

“That’s not fair.” Hanzo tried to reach out to hold her.

A weak part of her wanted to let him but her feet stepped back out of instinct. “You should know a lot about that.”

“Just come with me then,” he muttered like sweetness.

“I’m not coming with you.”

Hanzo’s expression turned sour. “You were willing to when I was some helpless cook.”

Kiku’s heart squeezed. “Is that what you’ll keep telling me when we live in your house in the forest? Everytime you hurt me, you’ll excuse it by saying you were some helpless cook that I preyed on.”

Hanzo shook his head, stammering. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“We’re going to conveniently forget that you found me crying and thought it was a wonderful time to gain some money. And when you realised you couldn’t get it, that you’d just get a pathetic, sad lady, you ran away.” Tears burned in her eyes. It wasn’t the quiet realization she had in a calm mind with Yoongi but this was messy, uncomfortable and unsafe. She was falling into vulnerability to a man who would let her descend to her death if there was gold on another path. There was no comfort in these tears, just hurt.

He shook his head. “That’s not—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Kiku said, eyes glossing. “I gave you my heart, soul and body and you discarded it because it wasn’t enough of a promotion.”

Hanzo raised his hand in defense, reaching again for her arm. “I spoke out of turn.”

Kiku pushed his hand away roughly. “No, you expressed exactly who you are. If I ever for a moment miss you again, I’ll remember this so thank you.” She pursed her lips together. “Now get the fuck off my estate.” She turned and walked back into the house.

-

Kiku entered the lounge room in a thrumming of heat, taking off her hat and tossing it on the nearest chair. Yoongi was reading a book on the main couch which was cushioned with a gorgeous pale blue velvet. He had it made a few weeks ago just so Kiku would feel more comfortable in the estate. Remembering this gesture seemed to have reminded her to breathe.

Yoongi peered over his glasses to see Kiku’s cheeks and eyes flushed red. His expression softened as he lowered the book. “Are you alright?”

Kiku closed the door behind her for privacy and walked towards him, pacing around. “I just…I just need…” Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it in her ears, unable to think or feel anything from the numbness of her fingers.

Yoongi placed the book to his side, placing all his attention on her now. The sunlight softly kissing his flesh, showing the fuzz on his hair like gold wisps. “Okay.” It wasn’t accusatory or questioning. Just an acknowledgement that he was there.

This made Kiku breathe a bit calmer although her hands were still shaking. She had desperately wanted to see Hanzo’s face for so long. Why was it that the moment she was finally content with her life he had to come back again? Rip out all those mended patches and make her bleed in front of him. “He came back.”

“Oh.” His dark brows quirked behind his gold rimmed glasses.

“He just came back as if I was waiting patiently for him.” Tears blurred her vision but as she blinked, it began to dry from a rise in anger. “Like some puppy left for a few hours.”

“Is he still here?” Yoongi nodded to the door.

Kiku shook her head, chest heaving up and down. “I sent him away.”

“You sent him away?” Surprise laced his tone.

“He wanted me to be his housewife in a forest cottage,” Kiku said before scoffing. “I’m such a fool. I thought he was a good man.”

“Perhaps in his way, he might be.” Yoongi shrugged, tapping his fingers on the top of his book.

Kiku glared at him in her rush of fury, although it was not directed at him completely. “Are you defending him?”

“I’m defending a past version of yourself that trusted him,” Yoongi spoke calmly. “You said yourself that you needed company and he was there. Thus he was a good man in his own way.”

Kiku took a breath to say something but couldn’t. She looked away to the mirror before staring at him again. “When did you get so intelligent?”

Yoongi had a gentle shocked face. “I’ve always been intelligent.”

“Not with my brother.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You really need better friends to bring more of that out.”

“I have you, it seems to be helping.” Yoongi gestured to her.

A small smile creeped on her face, the tremors of her fingers now soothed and her body gently still in the comforts of the home she began to adore. “Good. I like it.”

“Did you tell him you married me?” He asked.

“I did.”

“What was the look on his face?” It wasn’t hard to notice the small quirk on the corner of his lips.

Kiku couldn’t help but smile. “Why’re you so interested?”

“Merely curious.”

She hummed in interest. “He was quite upset.”

“He looked pathetic, didn’t he?” Yoongi didn’t hide his smirk now.

“He did a little.” Kiku’s smile widened.

“Good,” Yoongi said. “You deserve better.”

Kiku scoffed. “Says my husband.”

“Am I not better?” He gestured to himself.

“I don’t have enough materials to be the perfect judge for that.” She tilted her head.

“Well, you’re free to gather them whenever you like.”

Kiku smiled, feeling a burn on her cheeks but not from anger. She took a deep breath. “I’ll go take a bath.” She turned on her heel.

Yoongi hummed, picking up his book. “Let me know if you need help.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled over her shoulder.

As she walked out of the room, Kiku rested her back on the door to calm her breathing for entirely different reasons. Her cheeks burning and her heart delightfully beating against her chest. She quickly tried to clear her throat and straighten up when a few maids walked down the hallway to clean the house.

Hanzo had no impact on her life anymore. All thought or memory faded so quickly just by the smallest conversation with Yoongi. So why waste the whole day caring about him? Or reflecting on him? She had taken enough time.

Opening the door again, Kiku closed it back again and rushed over to Yoongi. He was only just putting his book away again before she pounced on his lap and pulled him into a kiss. The book now pushed away and forgotten, Yoongi encased his arms around her, cupping her cheek and deepening the desperate kiss.

Kiku gently untied his shirt, sneaking her fingers and brushing them against his warm skin. Thumb caressed the bump of his neck as she ground against his hips, feeling him harden against her movements.

Yoongi unbuttoned her dress, letting her shrug off his outer layer before placing feverish kisses on her chest. He placed her on the couch, kissing the valley of her breasts sweetly.

The door opened behind them. “Sir?”

“Not now,” Yoongi groaned and the door promptly closed.

Kiku laughed as she undid his pants. “It could’ve been important,” she said.

Yoongi hovered over her. “Not important enough.” He kissed her neck, biting down the skin until it bloomed like a rose.

Kiku pushed him to lay him back, pulling out his cock, blushed at the tip before taking him into her mouth.

Yoongi intertwined his fingers into her hair, latching off the pins to let it flow prettily against his hand. He guided her mouth up and down his length. The warmth of her tongue sending waves of pleasure to his head, sending him to the edge quicker than he could control himself.

He pulled her up swiftly and kissed her.

Kiku straddled him with a sly smile as Yoongi untied her inner dress, pushing it down to expose her breasts. He suckled on one of her nipples, caressing the other. Kiku kissed the top of his head. She lifted herself up, positioning to the tip of his hardened cock and sliding down. They both moaned in tandem as her warm, sodden walls engulfed him completely.

As the slight ache passed, Kiku swayed her hips, feeling the tip of him touching deep inside her that pleasure bloomed like a tulip in morning light. She threw her head back, giving Yoongi the chance to kiss trails down her neck and chest.

Yoongi pushed her dress up, digging his nails in the skin of her back, encouraging her to move faster and she did.

With a fervour, she bounced on top of him, pushing them both to the height of pleasure as their skin began to sheen and heat with passion. Kiku let out a shaky moan before Yoongi pulled her for another kiss, catching whatever breath she let out so it belonged to him in this moment. And Kiku gave it to him happily.

She gripped the couch for balance as she targeted her own sweet spot, throwing her head back in ecstasy. A long needed pleasure that she had been deprived of for over two years.

At the sheer rush of speed and pleasure, Yoongi reached his climax. A flurry of bliss fluttered through him.

Gorgeous heat filled Kiku, making her fall forward, grasping him for dear life as she felt every drop of his release inside her. Hot breath heaved against his cheek.

Yoongi snuck his hand between her legs, rubbing at her clit until she peaked to her own orgasm, pulsing against his cock until the mess was slick on both their clothed thighs. Kiku let out a shaky whimper, pressing her forehead against his.

Yoongi kept rubbing until she jerked against his hand.

She pushed him away gently as the sensitivity began to twinge. “Stop, stop,” she whispered with a light chuckle.

Yoongi laughed breathlessly, kissing her jawline.

They stayed this way, calming their breath and stilling their trembles. Kiku hugging him closer, nose nudging against his.

Yoongi traced the edges of her hairline. “Do you have enough materials now?”

Kiku chuckled through her nose, kissing him. “Alright, you’re better.” 

masterlist

#yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi imagines #bts historical au #bts au #bts x oc #yoongi x oc

[kanmom51]

JK Radio Stationhead 1 October 2023

And a little more as well...

cr./and huge thanks to the translation accounts I used in this post.

I think this was the most interesting Stationhead we've had so far with JK. JK was chatty, informative (well, to an extent), I would maybe even say combative? Maybe that's a little too strong a term to use, but I do think he came to show that he is unbothered by the shitstorm going on and clap back just a little bit. And he knows about that shitstorm, make no mistake.

I see Jikookers falling for this hateful campaign against JK. Not only are they perpetuating it, but they are also adding to it, embellishing it, and spreading it.

By now JK has had several girlfriends named, he's a baby daddy (she was pregnant in Feb, so...), he's going on double dates with his mate Tae, trucking (censorship issues had me change that - you know exactly what it's meant to be) her with the windows and curtains open for all to see (after telling us he's aware he's being followed around including home). All this he managed to get done before he sat down and did hours on end of JM dedicated lives, calling him his fan, flirting with him online while in bed for all of us to see, and going on a 4 day private trip with him.

A very wise blogger once said: (@ourwinterspring, hope you don't mind me quoting your wise words):

Rumors are created by haters accepted by fools and spread by idiots

That. Just that!!!

People that called themselves Jikook supporters (I'm not talking about shippers, they are in this for their own self gratification, while supporters are supposed to be looking out for JM and JK and supporting them both individually and their relationship, which btw is still considered tabooed in their own country), they are rushing to conclusions, and aiding in the spread of these lies.

K-army laughed them off.

Chinese army are fighting them off.

And I army are just spreading them like wildfire.

Why this long winded introduction?

Because Jikook are in an impossible position really. They are a closeted queer couple in a country and industry that would not accept their relationship if it would become publicly known. As long as the door is open for deniability they are ok. Taking that step through that door and out of the closet, that is one hell of a step with many consequences, to them and to those who surround them.

JK is about to release his 1st solo album, and he's in the midst of trying to infiltrate the American and Western music market. To do so they are selling a very certain image, and being queer is not part of it.

They are also both before enlistment to the military.

Them going: "hey bitches, the stories are untrue, we're in a long term loving relationship", is not a realistic expectation. And no matter what JK would say otherwise, the rumours they are just gonna keep coming, cause this train, this coordinated smear attack, it's not finished. And if and when that would be done, we'd be back to Yubi and Rose and Lisa (oh, oops, she's with Freddie), and Miju. Ehm, she's married. But wait, since when has that stopped anyone, eh? It didn't stop the Nicole stories, which, btw, are still rampant, including among some Jikookers (?) - what the actual truck is wrong with people???

So, no Jikook announcement.

A company one? Kind of feel that one won't come either. Again, JK 3D promotions and upcoming album in mind. Not to mention, and this my friends is me being super cynical right now, other than the harassment claims, the company doesn't have a problem with these rumours, given it solidifies his bad boy, truckboy, heterosexual image they are selling right now. There, I said it.

But Jikook, JM and JK, they aren't happy with this. They can't be happy with this. As much as this image is a price to pay, on the way JK is sending us constant hints that it ain't all that you see. That he's a complex being. That he might appear one way in 3D, but another in Seven and another in his CK and Vogue photoshoots (the latter with him being the artistic designer and bringing along some outfits and/or accessories that he wanted himself), not to mention someone else all together in his long lives with us. He tells us this is him. Who we see. But those that only see that image in 3D are just not looking at the full picture he's painting.

This is him:

But also this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

They are all pieces of the puzzle that is one Mr. Jeon Jungkook. And I'm sure there are pieces we have yet to see.

It's funny that JK is singing 3D (basically having phone sex and wishing for more) but at the same time he's telling us "this is me in 3D". Not one dimensional. A complex grown up human being.

Btw, I kind of feel like I need to link this post again, seeing that so many are still thinking that having muscles, tattoos and piercings makes you heterosexual or at least bi. Cause, I mean, you must be sexually attracted to women if you are super masculine, and get tattoos or pierce your body, right?

Oh boy, this is a long one. I haven't even started with Stationhead, lol.

So, JK is trying to show us he's a complex human being. This is him. Not one MV or song he chose to sing. The full picture. The shoots he chooses, the concepts for his songs (do I have to remind of his Seven concept shoot?), his lives, what he shared with us (as in past tense cause Idk how much more he will with everything that's going on).

And in the midst of this, knowing you are in a committed relationship, having your integrity, your good name smeared, being with the person you love and knowing that the world not only doesn't see how dear you are to each other but also thinks you're being sexually intimate with multiple others. Not to mention, having to deal at this young age with the knowledge that there are people out there that hate you enough to want to hurt you on such a level, to ruin your good name, your career. It can be paralyzing. And they put on a brave face. JK says he knows people hate him and good for them, he'll continue to live his life. But it's hard, it's hurtful, and these two, they are the kindest sweetest people out there, they don't deserve this.

OMG, when will I finally get to the point?

I think about now would be a good time.

So, no speaking up. No announcement. But at the same time they don't want to just sit there and take it.

Phew, here we go?

JK came today, 1st October (or more so 1st Jimtober) to Stationhead after his 3D dance practice video landed (same day).

And by some strange coincidence (no coincidence at all), JM released his second #ThisisJimin dance clip to Dominic Fike's Phone Numbers with these lyrics, coincidentally:

Woah, Kenny! Why you not here with me? Can you break bread with me? Why you switch phone numbers like clothes? Why you can't answer me? (Yeah) 'Cause I got more coming

(Not a love song)

Using a prop. Wait for it...

Oh, and the outfits that happen to be kind of similar and sticking to the black and white.

I feel like I'm repeating myself here, but you know, sometimes you need to in order to hammer the message in.

And JK, well he also posted a selfie on Weverse (while on Stationhead).

1st Jimtober with his fave Jack Skellington.

So yeah. The little things. Those little codes that say "we are here, we are ok, all is well, this will definitely not break us."

Yes. I get all of that from those little things, lol.

But, it didn't end with that.

And here we are.

Finally at the precipice.

Well, not precipice per say. That's being a little dramatic. But I am finally going to get to JK on Stationhead, as in what we got from him during the show.

I guess with this long introduction I should start with the Jikook related, right?

Let's start with JK repeating the endearment JM used in his IG post for 3D.

And then JK basically confirmed that he and JM were together when drawing the cloud whale drawing JM shared with us on IG telling us JK drew it.

Making sure we know that they drew the whale together.

You don't have to understand Korean to hear the amusement in his voice. We don't know when this was taken (CT or perhaps more recently... although my initial thought was CT I'm kind of leaning to it being more recent, like very recent), but we know they were together. We thought so and now JK confirmed it.

Enjoyed confirming it.

He also brought up JM's birthday being this month. Yes, he could be reacting to comments, but we've discussed this multiple times in the past. You know. Choices. And in this case, his choice which ones to answer, right?

Once again, it's all in the way it's all being said. The "I know something you don't" tone of voice. The "a-ha, yeah, Uhah" while supposedly looking up if he's doing something on the day. The "I'm going to be busy...I see I have a schedule..?" ending with a question mark? As in "do I really?" Lol.

The way he was talking, the man has something planned. I really don't want to have any expectations here. But man, he's making it hard for me not to have them. Lmao.

And another JM related comment he chooses to answer:

This time you don't get the sassiness or teasing in his voice like we did with the JM birthday answer. Idk why they aren't doing each other's challenges. It's for them to know. We know JK was showing/teaching JM Seven moves. We know that JK knew SMF pt. 2 moves. I guess it's something they just decided between them. Or perhaps schedules didn't and aren't aligning. Who knows. And who knows, we might just get a surprise. Next phone song JM does could be 3D, lol.

Ok, so he saw his parents. He goes on to also talk about his mother's cooking (oh, that man is so in trouble with his mom calling her cooking bland, lmao). Kind of gathering from it all that JK was in Busan for the holiday. Could that photo JM shared, you know, the one JK made sure we know they both drew the whale on, have been taken when they were both down in Busan for the holiday? I wonder...

This here is, I feel, JK clapping back a little at the haters. But also telling us, once again, that he's an adult and does adult things. Knows how to work hard when needed, and when to "play hard", as in relax and have a good time, when allowed.

This one isn't about Jikook (well in a sense maybe it is, as it's about shooting down TKKs hopes and prayers, lol). JK clarifying Tae's story about him recording a song at JK's place and JK directing him.

So, no pre-planning, JK's reply "and I was like "suddenly"? And also letting us know Tae didn't record the final at his place. Burn, lol. Also answers (again - like in the Inkigayo live) a question about karaoke with Tae. More or less same answer. More or less "that's a no"?

And this I already shared with you guys:

This is basically JK. Again, when he says I'm showing you my true self. It's not the image of the hunky guy with the sexy expressions doing that sexy choreography with the female dancers hands on him. Well not only. It's the shy introvert that feels awkward when these women are touching him. And just to be clear here. This isn't me saying anything about his sexuality. But it's definitley me saying he is not this careless truckboy people are so badly wanting him to be. Being an adult and having sex (let's call it rex from now on), a lot of it, enjoying it, doesn't make it the core of who you are as a person, doesn't mean you are having rex with multiple people for the only pursual of physical gratification nor does it mean that the rex you are having is necessarily with a female even if you are singing a song saying girl in it, to which the lyrics were not written by yourself. JK also sang a song about having rex 7 days a week, but with that one person, in his words, wanting to be all the time with "the love of my life". See, that was a little slip of the tongue by him, lol. But very revealing. Thank you ever so much for that one JK.

Do you understand the difference here?

One being lyrics to a song he's performing, him being a singer. Lyrics he didn't write himself.

The other is his explanation, his take on the meaning of the song he is singing (also not written by him). Inserting that little very personal touch.

Do we get it? JK isn't the lyrics, the lyrics aren't JK.

Oh, and by the by, JK's lyrics aren't referencing multiple partners. If we are being all about "but he's singing it, so it must be who he is". The multiple partners, the truckboy image, that's Jack Harlow's bit. JK is still talking to one person.

But again, I stress, the song doesn't represent JK as a person or his character. And those that are making that leap are simply...

Moving on.

JK's asked which he prefers more? 7 or 3D. Very diplomatically makes sure we know that at the time he liked Seven and now it's leaning more towards 3D. Well duh, this is him promoting it. Then he combines the two to 7D.

"What's your favourite part of 3D?" Him asking the listeners.

JK talked about eating chicken, being busy practicing all the time (I am curious to know what for), finishing up and going home to workout, shower and sleep.

He also talked about GCF and his appreciation for Army.

Asked about music or variety show, and the answer is probably not, it's hard for him (this is where the shy introvert part of him wins, I guess). It's easier to be alone on a stage in front of thousands performing than have to interact one on one with people that you aren't as familiar or comfortable with. On stage you go after much practice. Small talk and interviews and socializing means having to be focused (neuro divergent prince here) and it's so so hard for a shy introvert to deal with. Key word ALONE.

Although he's asked about further plans he's adamant not to give spoilers (well, more so afraid he'll be told off by the company, lol).

He misses the old days I guess. Of Kakao Fancafe. The intimacy of it. The safety of it perhaps.

He also wants to cook for army.

I feel like him telling us he is pulling back on the lives, allowing for the mystery, well he's also missing those lives. He needs that connection with his fans. Maybe even more so with this path he's going down, disconnecting from the idol and becoming the mega star. He needs that emotional connection with his fans. But at the same time, a more intimate setting, where he can really connect with them, is something he prefers.

And again, the connection with Army.

About the members:

F u c k , this is getting way too long. I can't talk about it all. I will add a couple more things and leave it at that. My apologies.

So, this is another clap back from JK:

Oh, and this was curious.

Ooh, one last thing.

He finally tells us where he got the scar on his shoulder from. Well, not too glamorous, lol. He slipped and fell while running in the car park shooting the CK ad. Hurt his finger as well, but that has healed already by now.

JK ending with:

Funny how the little things just added up. All very little perhaps inconsequential actions as of themselves, but add them together and you get a message.

One you will see if only you wish to.

Oh, and end comment. This is utterly disgusting and childish and I'm at a total loss for words here.

We have 2 more of these coming, if I'm not mistaken. Will be interesting to see what we get next.

#Jungkook #JK #JK 3D #JK stationhead #Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jimin #JM

[rainbowsky]

Hi Rainbowsky, hope you are well. ☺️✨

In the last few weeks there has been a lot of hate, lawsuits, hot trends etc like the usual so/o stuff…nothing new surprise surprise. 🙄 I was thinking maybe if xz or yb made a statement that there is no bad blood between them, (they don't have to come out or make it clear that they are friends privately) but more like "yeah we worked together and are still on good terms" and "please don't attack or make false rumours about the other person" would the hate die down a bit or do you think it will get worse? I know it's not their job to give brain cells to mindless so/os, but maybe it could help newer fans who joined the fandom just so they wouldn't jump on the hate bandwagon because of so/os. It must be exhausting for xz and yb with all the hate, suing accounts, planning how to avoid the other person at award show because of stupid “fans” etc.

These are just some of the thoughts I've been having over the last few days. Are my thoughts too simple? I don't know if xz or yb made a statement already or if you've talked about this before, if so I'm sorry for filling your question box unnecessarily.

thank you for reading my question 🥰 I wish u a beautiful day and enjoy your weekend ✌🏽☺️

Hi Jinniecooky! Thanks, I hope you're well too! ☺️

Unfortunately I really don't see a statement improving things. It would be too risky on various fronts and would likely only make matters worse.

These fan groups are organized, well-oiled machines - especially GG's. The leadership of these groups tells the fans what to do and how to act, they give strict guidelines on what is expected of the fans, and any fan who wants to be included has to stay in line and do, say, believe as they're told.

Part of that involves selling narratives created and perpetuated by these fandom leaders and their corporate black pr embeds. They come up with elaborate stories that cast the star as a selfless, brilliant hero who is in a grand cosmic battle against 'those who want to destroy them', often with detailed claims and photoshopped or misleadingly edited/framed 'evidence' to support those claims.

Fans get sucked into these narratives and believe with all their hearts that the stories are true. They spend countless hours online spreading these lies and battling these imagined foes. They spend all their money on endorsements - whether they can afford it or not - and all their spare time on boosting the star's numbers on every platform and in every way they can.

As a result they have a deeply rooted conceit that they know what's best for the star, that the star owes their fame and success to fans, and that their activities - as hateful as they often are - are nothing less than the devoted, dedicated, selfless, heroic hard work on behalf of the star.

A statement like this would be treated as ingratitude, and would cause a lot of uproar and anger. These toxic fans would lose a lot of face if such a statement was issued, because it would run against everything they've been and stood for up until this point. The fan groups would likely try to recover by turning against the star and their management - making an even bigger mess for the star to clean up.

As I've said many times - toxic fan culture is about power and status. It's about these fans and fan groups wanking over their star being the biggest, best, etc. The bigger and more successful the star, the more of an ego boost these fans get out of it.

Speaking against anything these fans say or do cuts into that power and status in a way that can be very dangerous. We've all seen how people who speak up against them are treated. Trust me - the star and his team would fare no better if they spoke up.

The serious, long-standing fans who are deeply embedded in fan culture - especially the leadership figures in these fandoms - often know 'where the bodies are buried', too. They've made it their business to know all the dirt on their star, all the better to keep his image clean and bury the story. These are not the kind of people a star will want on their bad side.

In many ways, stars are hostages to their fan groups. These are the people pushing to build their numbers and success, and they can be very fickle, demanding and nasty.

Not only that, a statement would only draw more attention to these battles and bring them into the mainstream where passersby would see all the dirty laundry that's currently confined mostly to fandom spaces. It could escalate everything into an even bigger scandal that could burn out of control and possibly permanently damage or destroy the star.

There's also the fact that GG and DD will not want to risk the nature of their relationship becoming a bigger public story.

And that's before we even get into the fact that they've released dozens of statements over the years - especially GG - trying to get fans into line, giving guidelines on fan behavior, etc. and these toxics have ignored every word of it.

Overall, I just don't see a statement helping at all, and would likely only make matters worse.

I've often felt their best bet would be to come out as friends in a setting where fans dare not fuck with things. For example, appearing onstage together at a nationalistic event or in a nationalistic program.

But that's unlikely to ever happen for various reasons. Appearing together would put both of them at huge risk. Such an appearance would inevitably draw a lot of attention and gossip. Even if it was mostly positive due to fans trying not to cause any trouble, GG and DD would overshadow the message and gravity of the occasion. It would make them look bad - at best, traffic stars (images they're trying to shed), at worst, disrespectful or irreverent to the government or serious occasion.

And one would have to accept the possibility that even such a serious occasion under the eye of the government wouldn't be enough to stop fan wars from happening.

At the end of the day, it's just safer for GG and DD to let things run their course and hope that these assholes eventually lose interest and move on. To accept fan wars and haters as just part of the cost of doing business.

Similarly, I think we need to just accept that haters gonna hate, and stop focusing on haters and antis. We're not here for other fans, we're here for GG and DD. If we put our focus there and block and ignore all the toxics, we can enjoy fandom - which is the entire point.

Recent post related to this topic:

GG and DD supposedly collaborating on a new movie

#bjyx #yizhan #solos belong to moling su sect #antis go home #ask

[sneezemonster15]

look at this 💀 what do u think about it? this person genuinely said the reason why sasuke's straight is bc of fake rumours made by little girls that happen with every popular kid at school 😭 she took it fr lmaooo

https://www.tumblr.com/kirinkarin/715752831201771520/dushman-e-jaan-yaoi-shippers-really-are-so?source=share

Lol, I have addressed her theories before. Read it here. It was a response to her response to my post.

She is just a nasty little homophobe, ignorant and real delusional to boot. Don't mind her too much, it would only give her more leverage. Just ignore her. She lies. A lot. To herself as well. And lies that can be caught so easily, a child can do it. Which is funny because, like the manga is right there for everyone to read. I can read it, she can too, so can everyone. We know what's been said and shown and how it's been said and shown, we know how to read. It's all there. And yet, she does selective reading and can't for the life of her, understand nuances that prove Sasuke and Naruto as gay lovers. She simply bypasses those because they don't serve her heteronormative purposes.

Basically like any other anti SNS female Sasuke stan who basically lusts after Sasuke, and conveniently ignores everything that indicates at Naruto and Sasuke's romantic relationship. She also has no idea about Japanese media, history, literature, sexual culture in Japan, or the process of writing a story. Everything that influences Kishi's storytelling. Facts are facts. One can't just unsee them, and if one is doing it anyway, well how can I take them seriously? Just an embarrassing, silly fangirl who cannot take constructive criticism, who can't be objective no matter what information she is given, and knowingly perpetuates dogma, bigotry and misinformation about sexuality and its portrayal in media, who also blocked me (as did all her cohorts) after I published my post about her. Even though I have never interacted with her blog. Or any other Sasuke stan for that matter. Lol. Maybe they just don't want me to see their content.

Just understand this, anyone who vehemently denies Sasuke and Naruto's romantic relationship or who makes it their life mission to prove Sasuke and Naruto as straight, is simply a homophobe. Bigots of the first order. They know it's romantic but their conditioning and prejudice stops them from being reflexive. Which they haven't been able to break, evidently. You can try to be reasonable but at the end of the day, they aren't here for logic or reason or the art of storytelling. They are here to write Sasuke het smut and self insert into any girl so they could have Sasuke fuck them in their imagination. The understanding that Sasuke is gay would not be conducive to their fapping. So they just bypass that altogether and spread misinformation and bigotry like they have done here.

#ask #anon #sasuke #honestly i consider anti sns sasuke stans who hate Sakura and Hinata in the same category as SS and NH stans #and sakura and hinata stans #they are all the same in the most important ways #homophobes

[2bu]

least favorite things about roleplaying communities, in your opinion?

Throwing under the cut because oops I began to rant

I'm sure I've answered this before, but I really do loathe snobs and bullies, especially when they've formed a clique.

This has always been a thing since roleplaying was invented, I'm sure, but it doesn't change how I feel about those kinds of pretentious writers who form a circle around themselves and parade around as self-important, spread malicious gossip or rumours/lies, judge others and either perpetuate drama or get looped into it over petty, trivial reasons. Or, like, it's their only hobby that they take way too seriously and make it miserable for everyone else. I get having boundaries, opinions, and even rules for interactions, of course, sure.

That's fine. I just don't like putting down others and I'm ashamed that sometimes, in order to try and fit in, I'd participate in such behaviour over the course of my years online in roleplaying communities (which literally, as previously mentioned, spans well over a decade). Like, I truly hate what those spaces have done to me and normalized for me! Looking back on it now, I'm genuinely upset that I, a victim of bullying, would have participated in smack talk or gossip about someone I don't even know over really, really REALLY dumb/petty stuff! This was more so back when I was a teenager, but even still, as an adult, I know I'm guilty of having done that and I'm just... not proud of that. No one should be, and I'm definitely working to not only change that but to stop participating in toxic environments that allow these things to take place be it publicly or behind the scenes.

I suppose, of course, it goes without saying that this isn't the biggest issue, no - racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia and transphobia and a lot of real-world stuff is still an issue, and I especially avoid roleplaying communities entirely because of biases writers still very much have against writers of colour such as myself, who refuses to bend and appease anyone else but myself.

I also don't fuck with like, communities that are lead by people who clearly are not handling like, mod positions well or are just not experienced with balancing moderator responsibilities, a story/plot, worlds, assests, guides, etc. I'm not going to join your RP if there's absolutely nothing to show for it, and you're just waiting for people to join. I get that sometimes, these things won't be prepped until people join, but IDK, I'd rather not hold out for something that may never come to fruition, if that makes sense! Even for sandbox RPs and whatnot, I prefer there just be some level of... polish there, if that makes sense? That's just a personal preference, and has saved me tons of heartbreak and frustration in the past.

I think lastly, I'm also not a fan of incompetent mods. Some people are not meant to be moderators, and work best as like, DMs, or vice versa! Being both is great, and kudos to whoever can handle that, but it's rare I've personally found any people who can achieve both. Some mods are too lax on the rules for the sake of personal interests or just don't give a fuck about making the experiences fun and safe for others regardless of age, others are WAY too strict and sometimes cruel towards their members over trivial reasons and rules a reasonable person can't REALLY follow because it makes no sense, is hypocritical, or contradictory, or worse, unclear to begin with. There's no point in joining a community where I don't feel safe or feel like the rules harm me or others more than protect us. Rules vary of course, from community to community, yes - especially once you determine the target age groups you're trying to rope in, but even still, some rules just... aren't it for some of these places, and it bothers me even a whole decade later how some shit flies in certain places, and who gets away with shit.

I lied, this last bit also plays into what I've overall said and definitely said at the beginning, but favoritism. Loathe that shit, especially when it comes to mods allowing just any fucking bitchass nigga get away with breaking rules constantly, fucking around with members, their characters and plots, etc. I have no respect for bitchass mods who are more interested in upkeeping their high school bully cliques than fostering the welcoming environments for everyone involved, even people who they may not like/who plays characters they may not like/whose artists/writers they may not like/prefer. And honestly, maybe close off applications/interactions to people you aren't mutuals, friends with, or people you don't like to avoid taking responsibility like that? This was a big problem in the Mystery Skulls Animated fanbase and by fucking God, was I not there for it nearly a decade ago and I'm certainly not for it now.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my ted talk LOL

#ducky answers #anonymous

[persephoneflouwers]

Thanks Angie for your reply, I appreciate it! I’m the pill anon (lol). To your questions what I would say is: yes, you have to be very stupid to have unprotected sex with a random American girlie. Or very intoxicated, or very troubled. Which he might have been all of those things, and that’s fine, he was entitled to make mistakes and be stupid even if he was in the biggest boyband in the world, that doesn’t make him immune to mistakes. If I remember those times in 2015, it’s not that farfetched to assume he might have been in a state of mind to do a stupid thing like this. Or maybe the condom broke and she lied about taking the day-after pill? Who knows, but we know now she’s a trump supporter hungry for fame, so…

When I said he might be trying to make the best out of the situation without us knowing, I meant in reference to all the bullshit we had to endure 2016/2017 like the pap walks or all the bs from Brianna and family (the staged picnic still haunts me). For what we know of Louis, we could assume he might have tried to stop it, create boundaries etc, but we don’t know the context in which those conversations where had and how much he had on his plate. The first years might have been VERY tough on him because 1) Brianna’s family is a mess and has very different beliefs from his, which must have not created the best environment and 2) what was going on with Jay (and then Fizzy) forced him to be in the UK most of his time, and coparenting with a person you dont like who lives across the world must not have been easy. In this specific context, I do think he must have tried to make the best of it, because for what we know of him I still believe this is more likely than for him to be faking it.

I would also argue that being a dad publicly did nothing to his career if not damage. I did understand the potential need (and commercial value) for a stunt like this closet-wise in 2015, but only if it would have stopped at rumours or if a denial of paternity came right after the birth. At this point, more than 7 years in, there’s clearly no commercial value to perpetuate it if it was a farce. It’d be actually a considerable cost for anyone who’s “sponsoring” this. Who’s paying the ‘actors’ involved? Louis? Why, to keep his closet safe? He has beards for that. Sony? Why would they still pay for this, to damage Louis? There are infinite ways they had to do so much more cost-effective (see: radio ban). Like, who would pay for something like this? I just can’t imagine anyone being willing to fake something like this. If you want to share your thoughts on this I am more than open to know what you think might be the dynamic.

And yes, I strongly agree with your last comment. I just believe he’s a good person, you know? It’s painful to see such a huge portion of his fanbase being so categorically “either it’s a stunt and he’s an asshole for dragging it for so long, or he is a dad and he’s asshole because he’s been a shit dad” which I mean, how do people even feel entitled to make assumptions on what kind of dad he might be? On how is life was these past years? Yes everyone can have opinions on what we are presented but maybe it’s not all black and white? Maybe we don’t *know* everything like we think we do? I just wish there was more chill and compassion in assessing the situation.

Anyways, thank you for the civil conversation, I know it’s a shitty controversial topic and my thoughts are definitely the minority around here, so thanks for listening and replying to me ✨

So many questions there… I kept answering in my head with the same answer and nobody would like it. I think the troubled guy character could have been possible if it wasn’t fake and manufactured. The party boy, like they call him, was purposely built out of nowhere and I know this because all the boys were manufactured and they’re entire images were painted on them with very talented brushes. They were (and are today) the products of a detailed marketing project imo. That’s why I can’t believe in “mistakes”. If it was a mistake, the so called oopsie baby, why haven’t they ever tried to put the rumours at rest? Usually a mistake is something you don’t want people to find out? A mistake is by definition something that went wrong and you are supposed to fix it. At worst, you pretend it has never happened lol but they pushed it and pushed it and pushed it. This baby was H I S baby even before he was ever conceived lol

I wont comment on the neglected child. I’m definitely not a supporter of that narrative fans tell themselves like it’s either fake or he’s a shitty father because it’s silly and makes really no sense for me. At the end of the day, we won’t ever know the truth so I don’t see what’s the point in fighting against each other. We should collectively agree this is SNAFU and call it a day hahah

#casella di posta numero 32

[librarianandguardian]

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

#fate the winx saga #saul silva #saul silva x reader #sky of eraklyon #fate riven #farah dowling #ben harvey #saul silva imagine

[celticcrossanon]

What is curious to me about the secrecy and mystery surrounding Archie is Harry and his role in all this. Harry himself has been plagued by paternity rumors and illegitimacy his whole life. There are people who believe he’s James Hewitt’s son, despite that Diana didn’t start her affairs until after Harry was already born and the Windsor genes are *very* strong in Harry’s face. Supposedly Harry was very upset about those rumors when he was growing up, some time or another.

So if Harry really was upset by the Hewitt rumors when he was growing up as reported, then wouldn’t he do absolutely everything to ensure his paternity of his son is doubtless and foolproof? All he’s done is perpetuate those paternity rumors for another generation in Archie by hiding him and refusing to answer basic questions.

(And frankly Harry’s involvement in all this makes me wonder if Archie has deficiencies or disabilities that they’re embarrassed about, and that’s why they don’t show him, have gone to great lengths to hide him, and keep putting out PR about all these specialists and experts that Archie sees. He seems to have inherited Meghan’s cross-eyedness so maybe they’re trying to correct that first. But that is another tangent for another day.)

I agree with you. Harry’s role in all this is just not consistent with his past of being upset about rumours about his paternity. As for Archie having deficiencies or disabilities, anything is possible with those two. I have no idea how they would react in that situation.

All I can say with any certainty at this point is that there was, at the very least, something very dodgy/shady/wrong around Archie’s pregnancy and birth, and that something was covered up to a greater or lesser extent, and the behaviour of his supposed parents since his supposed birth has done nothing to clear up the secrecy/rumours/lies about his birth, in fact said behaviour has only added to the secrecy/lies/deceit. Like you, I do not understand why any parent would do this to their child.

[ds-sparrow-manufacturing-co]

A Rebuttal

Ok so I really did not want to make this post. I would’ve loved to have left this whole thing behind because I’m aware I made some mistakes and would like to atone for them, but it seems I’m going to have to go over this one more time. For anyone seeing this post who somehow doesn’t know, I said some regrettable things about Aidan Gallagher here. I later made another post here summarising the entire situation that resulted, so I would suggest you read that first. 

I’m still getting people telling me what I said was fucked up, which is entirely justified. However, I have just now realised that the person who took it upon themselves to ‘correct’ me about my opinions of Aidan Gallagher (something that has not changed, I still strongly dislike him) later made several derogatory posts about me. I was not aware of this because after the first rude post they made about me, I blocked them to save myself the additional stress. 

I have done my best to deal with this whole thing as calmly and politely as possible. When this person was downright evil towards me, I didn’t bother to argue with them, I just made an admittedly-snarky post with a screenshot of what they said, and then blocked them because I had no desire to begin an argument. When I realised that what I had said about Aidan Gallagher had been fucked up, I apologised, accepted my mistake and did what I could to fix it. But I am out of patience. I don’t take kindly to being treated the way this person has treated me, I don’t think anyone does. So here I am, about to break down everything they said about me bit by bit to show you how much of a lying scumbag they have been towards me (as well as possibly others).

warning: this post is incredibly long

tw: su*c*de mentions

My first interaction with this person was when i got an anon ask who wanted to know what Aidan Gallagher had done to make me dislike him. I responded with a brief list, excluding most of my evidence because it was late at night and I didn’t have the energy to go down the rabbit hole of all this. The following day, the blog this post is about reblogged my post, attempting to disprove everything I said. I will not include screenshots here, because it was a long post, you can find it in my archive if you so wish. I read what they said, took everything into account, and responded with my proof for things I hadn’t previously included the proof for, as well as explanations for why certain things he’s said annoyed/upset me. I expected a polite response, as we had both been courteous so far. 

Instead,  I received the following:

Now, lets break down some of what they said.

‘stop saying things you can’t prove, because it’s fake’ - I provided my proof. I am not trying to lie to anyone, or perpetuate rumours. All I aimed to do was explain my point of view and why I personally dislike him.

‘some of your screenshots are fake’ - That’s just blatantly untrue, especially as they have at other points said things along the lines of ‘well yes but he apologised/he didn’t mean it like that’ for everything I have provided screenshots for. Make up your mind.

‘you’re so gullible’ - For... having an opinion? That I researched before forming? And which is based on something other than my blind faith in a 17 year old? Right.

This was when I blocked them.

I thought that was going to be the end of the situation. Then, I got some asks.

I saw this and, being a minor, was a little creeped out. I had assumed this person was a teenage fangirl because that’s who the majority of Aidan Gallgher’s fans are so this information was surprising.

This one scared me. I did what the anon suggested, created a backup (i won’t tag it here because I get the feeling some of the aforementioned ‘army’ are going to see this) and reported the other blog. Once again, I thought it was over.

It was at this point that people started telling me how fucked up what I said in my original post was, and I realised they were right. As mentioned at the start of this post, I apologised, and did everything I could to fix it. End of, right?

Until today, where I started thinking about what the above anons had said and decided to fact check, mainly out of curiosity. I unblocked the blog, only to discover they had made 3 posts about me that I hadn’t seen.

This was the first one, as you can see they began it with a screenshot of my original post. Let’s talk about this.

“but you wishing him dead is ok?” - I never wished him dead, to start with. Stabbing does not automatically equal death, but I know that’s nitpicky of me. I also did not wish he was stabbed. I said in that exact tag that I didn’t, because of TUA. However, I know that this ‘joke’ was really shitty of me, and I have already apologised multiple times.

“what kind of a low life do you have to be to have nothing better to do, but talk shit about a kid?” - Why don’t you tell me? As I’ve said multiple times, I am a minor. That doesn’t excuse what I said, but that does make it incredibly hypocritical of them to say that given everything.

This was the second post they made about me, beginning with the same screenshot as in the first post.

“they’re spreading false rumors” - I’ve already covered this one.

“they want a reason to be mean, even if it isn’t true” - I would never be mean to someone if they hadn’t done anything to deserve it. I’m a strong believer in the moral philosophy of respecting everyone until they give you a reason not to. Aidan Gallagher has given me more than enough reasons to lose respect for him. And, honestly? I still respect him as an actor, even if only that.

“you can’t say you’re a decent human being and wish someone dead. you can’t say you’re anti-bullying and want to prevent suicide and then bully someone” - That is some big talk from someone who claimed they were ok with what Aidan Gallagher said about mental health because they’ve had their own experiences with suicide, before immediately telling me to rot and burn in hell for disagreeing with them. And, wait a second, wasn’t Aidan Gallagher the one supporting women’s rights and feminism who then turned around and made gross comments towards a bunch of girls? Hmm. Also, wishing someone dead is too wide of a blanket statement to actually measure whether someone is a decent human being with. 

“i tried to be nice” - I didn’t know telling someone to rot in hell, calling them a stupid hoe, was being nice. I didn’t know lying, and telling people to report someone because they disagreed with you was being nice (notice how they never said anything about my stabbing comment until I disagreed with them.) I guess we have very different definitions of nice.

“if they really cared, they would kindly ask a fan if the rumors were true” - And that, ladies gentleman and variations thereupon, is a brilliant example of how not to perform unbiased research! I based my opinion on actual evidence, and neutral articles as well as arguments from both sides. Not on one fan who’s likely to deny everything.

“they said it themselves, they have no proof” - That is so incredibly cherrypicked. What I actually said was “supposedly used the f-slur although i can’t find proof“, one of the many points on my list of reasons I dislike Aidan Gallagher. You know why I said that? Because I found a screenshot of him supposedly having called someone that slur via Instagram but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided it was probably edited. I included the point on my list in the hopes of people doing their own research. And I certainly did not say I had no proof for anything, as you would know if you saw my original response to this blog, where I provided proof.

“threatening him and bullying him is wrong” - I am fully admitting of the fact my stabbing comment was in poor taste but it was very clearly not a threat and not even close to being bullying. Furthermore, I would say making four posts harassing and telling others to harass someone because they disagree with you is a lot closer to being bullying than anything I did was.

“defamation is a crime” - I live in the UK, so let’s use those defamation laws. A statement is not defamation unless it ‘ has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the reputation of the claimant.’ Less than a hundred people are even aware my blog exists. Nowhere near enough people have seen anything I’ve said to count as defamatory. Not to mention that a statement is not defamatory if it is a statement of opinion.

“you’ll get karma for lying and playing the victim” -  Ohhh the irony. I have not lied once. I have provided all the necessary proof for everything and I have owned up to my mistakes. And yet, they, who have repeatedly lied about me, twisted my words and oddly enough, avoided including proof outside that one screenshot of my original post, are the one accusing me of playing the victim. Classy.

“hi to your little follower that you cry to” - This one’s just hilarious to me. I’m happy to have people on here who will let me know when people are, you know, harassing and bullying me. And, what the hell do they mean by ‘cry to’? Do they mean ‘mentioned that this situation was stressful once’? Wow.

“I promise you misery for the rest of your sad little life” - Honestly just re-read the other screenshots after seeing they said this. Jesus Christ. And, as someone who already struggles with depression and other mental health issues I’m interested to know what they’re intending to do that’s gonna be any worse.

“you’ll pay! that’s not a threat it’s a promise” - Are they planning on tracking me down? Or are they just going to keep sitting on their throne of yes men and echo chambers acting as if they’re actually affecting me? 

I would say this is the last post I plan to make about this situation but I’ve said that over and over again throughout the last 12 days and it’s never the last post. This whole situation has honestly been very emotionally taxing, and combined with some real life things, it’s been a bad week or so. Hopefully this post is enough to end this whole thing. 

#WOW this post got long #the aidan gallagher debacle #long post

[need-a-new-hobby]

Minimal Loss

note: i felt really bad switching out prentiss with bishop, but the angst possibilities were too tempting and a lot of these stories revolve around bishop \\ so sorry to prentiss stans. i’ll make it up to you with a story soon. 

Spencer was worried about Piper. Just the other day, he’d caught her having a panic attack. He knew she wasn’t getting enough sleep. He also knew if he told anyone, she’d hit him with whatever book she could find and you could guarantee it would be thick. Derek had joked she bought hardcovers just so she could hit them. He received a bruise from Ray Bradbury. Despite that, she’d been the one to give him ointment. “I refuse to play nurse to your degenerate charms. You can rub ointment on your own bruise.” So it didn’t surprise him that she volunteered for the undercover assignment. It still worried him. 

In the SUV headed to La Plata County in Colorado, they listened to the recording.

He comes into my bedroom and lays with me. He says it's god's will. I'm only 15. And I'm not the only one. Please help me!

“So it’s someone using God to sexually assault these girls,” Piper noted.

“Tell us about the 9-1-1 call,” Spencer asked Nancy, the Social Services agent. 

“I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church's leader, Benjamin Cyrus.” 

“What else do you know about him?” 

“It's rumoured that he's practicing polygamy and forced marriages.” 

“Any idea who the caller is?” 

“Uh, Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits,” the agent from Social Security spoke, “but... we can't be sure. So I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn't easy.” 

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn't identify us as FBI.” Piper remarked. “Just use our real names, and introduce us as child victim interview experts. Easiest way to avoid slip-ups,” she said as she passed Spencer her gun and badge to stow away.

Despite his worry, it was obvious why the two of them had been picked for the case. Piper had the most experience with kids out of the entire team. Spencer looked the most like a child interview expert. He just hated putting her in danger. “Y’know, Derek was whining ‘cause he wanted to go,” Piper chuckled.

“What did you tell him?”

“That no-one would believe it. Hell, I met him at a school and I still thought he made a living kicking down doors.”

“It’s his vibe,” Spencer nodded, leaning back in the car. He liked these moments. When he could pretend they weren’t part of the FBI, that they were together on a road-trip to Colorado. “What would you do if you were here on holiday?”

“In Colorado? Isn’t it mostly just national parks here?”

“Mhmm,” Nancy said. “Most popular here is Rocky Mountains.”

“What about that one with the cave dwellings in Montezuma County?”

“Mesa Verde National Park.”

“They have some of the best-preserved Ancestral Puebloan archaeological sites in the United States. What about you?” Spencer leaned forward, mock-whispering.

“There’s a haunted house in Denver called the Frightmare Compound.” Piper laughed at his excitement. “That’s not even the best part, they have three different houses.”

“Did you look this up on the way here?”

“Would it surprise you if I said no?”

“No.” 

“It was founded in 1983 by Brad Holder. There’s a rumour that his final resting place lies somewhere on the property and that his spirit haunts the halls.”

“Of course it does. Maybe we should go, ask Hotch for a little day off before we go back.” Before he could assent, the car pulled to a halt outside a somewhat large white complex fronted with a large flagpole. Piper unbuckled her seat, breathing evenly. Nancy introduced the doctors to Benjamin Cyrus. Benjamin was handsome, Piper noted, if not a little old. He had a patchy goatee and wore a plaid shirt and jeans. He doesn’t look like a cult leader but then again, neither did Stalin. 

“Savages, they call us,” He recited. “'Cause our manners differ from theirs.” 

“We didn't come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus,” Nancy retorted. 

“Actually, it's Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer corrected instinctively. 

“And that speech was about the treatment of Native Americans,” Piper pointed out. “Good one too.” The man in front of them nodded.

“How far must we have strayed from God’s word for there to be a need to invent a job called child interview experts?”

“I’m sure if everyone followed the Bible as you do, there’d be no crime left,” Piper said, smiling at the potential sex offender.

“Well, you are welcome nonetheless. The children are in the school as I indicated,” he gestured and they walked up the steps. 

“You're using solar power?” Spencer asked as he gestured to the row of solar panels on the side of the building.

“Yeah. We're completely self-sufficient-- electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said, God helps those that helps themselves. You look surprised,” Cyrus questioned.

“No... Impressed, actually,” Spencer admitted. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For admitting that.”

Piper and Spencer made their way up to the classrooms, out of earshot as they spoke. “He’s intelligent, then again most cult leaders are. If he is doing this,” she pulled him aside, glancing around. “The people here probably worship him. You know how Hitler and Stalin were put on pedestals.”

“It’s likely what we saw out there was an act,” Spencer theorised. “Notice how he only ever quoted Benjamin Franklin.”

“Must have read his works though. Or he’s trying to prove that he isn’t perpetuating a religious cult by quoting Franklin instead of God. These girls could be hard to get through to.”

“You think they’ll tell us the truth?”

“If they believe what Cyrus is doing to be appropriate conduct around a teenager, yeah.” They walked into the classroom they’d been allocated. Jessie, their first interview, sat with her mother. Piper sat down in front of the child while Spencer stood next to her mother.

“We go to school,” the young girl spoke. “We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect God demands.”

“But you've never been off of the ranch?” Piper asked.

“I brought Jessie here when she was 2,” her mother said. 

“You've talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me their lives are somehow better than ours?” Jessie demanded.

“We devote ourselves to God. That doesn't mean we're not devoted to our children,” the mother said vehemently.

“We are not here because of your religious beliefs.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“We received a phone call claiming that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You're talking about Cyrus,” the young girl grew agitated. “Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?” 

“You’re married to Cyrus?” 

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It's an honour to bear his children.”

“Jessica, you're 15 years old,” Spencer spoke, clearing his throat. “The state of Colorado requires parental consent.” Piper looked up at the mother and it dawned on her. 

“She gave consent.” Piper sighed. She looked at Spencer but was distracted by Cyrus and other male members storming inside the classroom with AKMSUs. “What are you doing?” Piper got up, automatically backing up to a wall. 

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me about a raid maybe?” Piper blinked and her eyebrows furrowed. They hadn’t alerted their team and she looked to Spencer who was just as confused as her. “They don't know,” Cyrus sighed. He shoved them all into a hatch leading to a tunnel. Silently, Piper sneaked through the tunnel, trying to breathe.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she barked at him. “Keep moving.” She closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing even, In...out...in...out, but the rapid gunfire echoing outside didn’t help. They walked through into a large space as Cyrus calmly instructed the group of women and children. 

“All right, move quietly. Quickly go to the left. Everybody stay together. Children listen to your parents. Down to this end. Have faith.” Piper’s eyes flitted to the piles of guns pushed into a corner.

“Where'd all these guns come from?” Piper whispered. 

“I don't know. Garcia checked with the state police.” They turned around. “Hotch knows we’re here, he’d never authorise this.”

“Unless someone went over his head,” she muttered. Her breaths were becoming shallower. As the room filled with children, Piper suffocated in a sea of helplessness, overwhelmed by the need to protect these kids. She felt a warm hand interlock with hers and felt herself calming down. “Thanks,” she murmured. Nancy pushed over to them and the two quickly let go. 

“This is ridiculous.”

“I know, relax. You need to calm down.” The bitter irony of her words tasted rancid on her tongue. 

“Screw calm,” she spat and pushed over to Cyrus.

“Nancy,” Piper hissed through the crowd and the agent whipped her head around.

“They’re state police. I’m an officer of the state. They’ll listen to me.” Piper saw the determination in her eyes and her own swept across the sea of kids. 

“Be safe,” she yelled out, knowing two things. Nothing she could say would stop her and if she was honest with herself, she would have done the exact same thing. But knowing these things didn’t make it any easier when a bullet pierced her chest. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and her eyes kept darting around the room, her knees about to buckle when the firing stopped. “What is happening?” she whispered. Spencer didn’t answer as yells starting bubbling down from above. 

“They're pulling out!”

“Not for long,” he murmured and Piper looked back up at him. 

While the two of them sat down, silently observing the fallout, JJ marched through to the BAU bullpen, a remote for the large TV screen in her hand. She called Prentiss and Morgan’s attention before switching on the TV. As the news reporter droned about the shootout between state police and the Separatarian Sect, Morgan recognised the ranch. Turning around to face Hotch’s cabin window, he yelled as loud as possible. In a matter of hours, the team reached the hostage negotiation tent set up on the outskirts of the ranch. Going in, they knew nothing about Benjamin Cyrus but the founder, Leo Kane was currently serving a collective 17 year sentence for tax evasion and, as Garcia so eloquently put it, ‘going after 4 IRS agents with a Louisville slugger.’ Aaron Hotchner stepped out of the now very dusty SUV, turning around to address Rossi. “Dave, they've left the choice of negotiators up to me.” 

“I taught most of the hostage negotiation unit. You want a recommendation?” 

“I'm making you the lead negotiator,” Aaron told him and Rossi’s face was surprised. “Why go to the students when I have the teacher?” 

“Because the teacher is emotionally involved. So is the agent in command.” 

“I know I am. This is a unique situation. We have 2 agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.” 

“True. But I can't be objective! I know them too well.” 

“This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Bishop and Reid as Cyrus. That's why you're the best man for the job.” 

“Assuming that Reid and Bishop are still in a condition to make moves.” 

“I know how bad this is. That's why I want you doing the talking.” Rossi saw the plead in Aaron’s eyes and relented but just as they came to an agreement, another dispute erupted. They turned to see the State Attorney-General, Jim Wells, arguing with another agent. 

“I demand to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Separatarian Ranch.” Rossi saw Aaron sigh and walk over. 

“The only thing that you're in the position to demand is a lawyer.” 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“I'm Aaron Hotchner, unit chief. I'm the guy who's gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” 

“You can't talk to me like that.” Aaron stepped closer, staring hard at the man who endangered his best agents.

“Get off my crime scene.”

Piper leaned her head against the tunnel wall as women and children filed out to the temple. “What’s the procedure now?” She murmured to Spencer as he paced in front of her.

“They’ll establish a mobile hostage negotiation centre. Get someone to make contact with Cyrus.”

“I really hope Hotch is out there.” She got up, pulling off her blazer. 

“How does this keep happening to us?” 

“The universe clearly hates us,” Piper scoffed, pulling up the sleeves of her cream button up. “So what would you do if you were out there, not in here?” Spencer stopped pacing, a look of fear stretched across his pale face.

“I’d establish a minimal loss scenario. They have to be prepared to accept that they won't save us all.” Piper’s face fell as she understood the weight of those words.

“So they try to get the women and children out. It’d be impossible to get the die-hard believers, which’ll be most of the males,” she hissed to him, acutely aware of the guards at the door.

“They’ll have parabolic arc mics fixed on every window, won’t get much with the blinds all down, in which case they’ll do anything to get some kind of package inside with mics attached.”

“Like medical supplies?”

“Exactly. We need to get people talking.”

“The men won’t talk. They’re all believers. You’re the best shot at appealing to Cyrus.” Spencer nodded darkly.

“You can talk to the women and children?” Piper agreed and as the last of the women and children filed out, they followed to the chapel. They stayed there the whole night and when it was light again, Spencer jolted awake at a knock on the chapel doors. He nudged Piper who had been snoring softly on his shoulder. They tried to keep their faces curious but scared as they saw Rossi enter the chapel with a box of medical supplies. Piper couldn’t help but feel alone as Rossi surveyed the room and left with a handshake. “At least they’re here,” she murmured, masking the noise as she got up to stretch. She moved to the back of the chapel, Spencer following, and they observed Cyrus pour wine into everyone’s cups. “Look at Jessica,” she prompted Reid as they watched her gaze at Cyrus as though he was her world, her god, her everything. 

“She really does love him,” Spencer remarked.

“That’s not love,” she sighed, moving to tie up her hair. “That’s adulation.”

“She literally worships him. There's no way she made that 9-1-1 call.”

“So who did?” Piper looked at Spencer, mentally trying to walk through the different possibilities. Spencer focused on the scene playing out in front of them. Cyrus lecturing them on God and trust. Jessica hanging on to every word. Her mother walking over, holding her own cup and leaning down in front of her to have a conversation.

“Watch the mother. Look how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter. She's inserted herself between them.”

“It’s possible she pretended to be her daughter.” They watched as the sect members drank the wine but Spencer felt his heart rate rise.

“We have drunk the poison together.” Spencer looked down at Piper. 

“They’re committing mass suicide,” he whispered. 

“No, something’s off,” Piper murmured as she turned her head while scratching her ear. “He’s too calm, he took a pause after he told them and look at the guy behind him.” 

“The notepad. He’s bluffing.” Piper nodded.

“They're scanning the audience looking for reactions. They're writing down the names of the people who are crying. It's a loyalty list. So he knows who will follow him to the end.”

“Jim Jones pulled the same stunt. They did a test run just like this years before they did the real thing,” Spencer added. 

When the sermon was over, the agents were ushered into the tunnel and Piper kept pacing. “So we know the medical supplies are bugged, that Cyrus is a manipulator and that Mrs Evanse--” Piper trailed off as Cyrus slammed the door open and walked into the room with his guns and henchmen, which was the only word appropriate for them. 

“So which one of you is it?” Cyrus tilted his head to look at the two of them.

“I’m sorry?” Piper asked, confused.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” Piper and Spencer stared at each other. She instantly ran through the possibilities. She didn’t know how or how much Cyrus knew but before she knew it, Spencer interrupted.

“What makes you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Her heart pounded rapidly as Cyrus lifted his gun to Spencer’s head. 

“God will forgive me for what I must do.” Cyrus looked him in the eye calmly and cocked his gun as Spencer sputtered.

“It’s me.” Spencer stared at Piper who had stood up, as calm as though she was going through paper work. She smoothed down her shirt and stared at him. “I’m the agent.” He lowered his gun from Spencer’s forehead. Relief coursed through her veins and she wished he didn’t have to see Cyrus dragging her away by her small ponytail. She held in her wail and mouthed an apology to Spencer. 

He dragged her to the storeroom where he then started hitting her. “I... can... explain...” she moaned through gritted teeth between each kick. 

“Get up!” he barked at her, pushing Piper into a mirror. 

“Gah! Let me explain!” she yelled, hopefully loud enough for the mics to hear within the medical supply boxes. “I’m not an agent anymore.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” she swiped at her bloody lip. “I was discharged from the FBI a month ago. I have the wound to prove it.” She pulled at the shirt she was wearing enough to show him the wound. “Trust me. I hate the FBI just as much as you do,” she said as she spat out the blood from her mouth.

“How do I know that’s the truth?” 

“Ask them. Ask the negotiator.” Shit. She wasn’t supposed to know that. He grabbed her shoulder, throwing her into a cabinet. “I’m not an idiot. I saw the man coming in with the medical supplies.” He pulled her up by the collar of her shirt, her shoulder still stinging. 

“He wasn’t wearing ID. Lying is evil. Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.” Piper spat at him. 

“He’s the one I took the bullet for. He’s the reason I’m not an agent. So if you think...I would protect him,” she seethed as she stepped to his face, “you’re as dumb as you are religious.” He gripped her head in his hands before slamming her into the ground. She groaned. The lies weren’t working. Fuck. She glanced at the medical supplies in front of her and whispered. “I can take it.” She winced as he kicked the air out of her lungs and keeled over. “I can take it.” He pulled her up by the hair, launching his right fist into her face. She went limp and he dropped her, surveying the bruising on her before calling a guard to tie her up and take her upstairs.

Spencer was still in the tunnel. He couldn’t hear anything and he’d paced the tunnel 5 627 times. Another guard came down to take him to Cyrus’s office. It took everything in him not to yell at the cult leader, even more so when he saw the man blowing softly on his knuckles, trying not to imagine that state she’d be in now. Instead he stood there quietly, going through every moment they’d had together. He almost chuckled at the idea of going to a haunted house after this waking nightmare. “You know she was FBI?”

“Nancy told me the woman was a child abuse interview expert from Denver. In 4 years I worked with her, Nancy never lied to me before.” 

“As far as you know.” Cyrus stood up. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child. 50 years ago that same law said a 14 year old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years? 

“I can't tell you the number of times I've investigated abuse charges against small religious groups. Almost all of them turn out to be false.” 

“What do you think of that?” 

“Doesn't really matter what I think.” 

“It does to me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because God wants to save you. I mean, that's why he sent you here. That's the reason.” 

Spencer licked his lips before starting. “On the next call, you should test them. Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn't a liar.” 

“How would you suggest I do that?” 

“Ask for the F.B.I. agent.” 

“No. We already know her story.” 

“They don't know that.” 

“Yeah. But the F.B.I. would never tell us.” 

“They keep on asking you to release people. Tell him you'll release a kid, and you won't harm the agent. And if they really care about the children, they'll have to tell you.” 

“You're trying to get us to release a child.” 

“It's one kid. If they don't hold up on their end of the deal, you know they can't be trusted.” Cyrus stared at him, weighing his words for truth. Eventually, he nodded.

Piper tried to memorise Spencer’s features. His hair was slicked back since they got back from New York. She winced smiling trying to remember Emily’s laugh as she flicked his hair forwards and when she touched his cheek, insinuating he was a robot. She groaned getting up as she tried to remember Spencer spooking Derek on Halloween or when she’d catch him staring sometimes as she did her paperwork. She grabbed a towel and the bowl of lukewarm water Mrs Evansen had left, dabbing at her bloody nose and glanced out the window. Still dark. That’s when noticed the med bag in the corner of the room. Figuring out her location in the dark, she muttered the room she was put in. Finally, she slowly lowered herself back onto the bed and exhausted, her eyes fluttered shut.

The next morning, Spencer followed Cyrus into the room with the landline and watched intently as the latter called Rossi. “I will release a child if you tell me the identity of the F.B.I. agent. I promise no harm will come to them from this point forward.” 

“I can't give you that information.” 

“I will send the child now.”

“We're taking a big risk here, Ben.” 

“Trust is earned.” 

“Her name is Dr Piper Bishop. I...I had her fired after she took a bullet to the shoulder for me. I’m here to atone for my sins.” Rossi followed along with the story Piper had fed him.

“There's a good chance we can work this out, Dave. I'm gonna provide another sign of good faith.” 

“You're doing a good thing here.” Cyrus cut the line and told his henchman, Christopher, to assemble everyone in the chapel, including the injured doctor upstairs. 

Spencer stood at the back of the chapel as the men, women and children took their seats, glancing as he saw Piper hobble in leaning on the wall. He moved over to her, surveying her injuries. “You look terrible,” she joked. “And he looks pissed.”

“Don--Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Joke. Not after what...” He trailed off, clearing his throat.

“Ahh, it isn’t that bad. Nothing a hot shower won’t fix.” She said, barely paying attention to the names Cyrus was calling out. “Did Rossi get the message?”

“Yeah. He did. I think Cyrus trusts me.” She just nodded, then winced. “We'll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come,” he directed hastily before he walked away.

Outside, in the tent, the rest of the team were slightly panicking. Emily, Hotch and Rossi were listening to the mics as Derek paced behind them, going through everything he knew. Rossi had figured out their plan the moment Piper claimed to hate the FBI and said ‘trust me’. Now they had one released hostage and no idea what to do next until JJ pointed outside to the multitude of men, women and children leaving the chapel doors. As they left the tent to retrieve them, Emily heard Spencer’s voice over her mic. “Guys, listen.”

“They failed the test. They--they had a chance to prove their faith when Cyrus told them that they'd sacrifice themselves for God. But instead they showed they weren't worthy. That's why he wants the media to bear witness to your true final act of sacrifice.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I'm always looking for signs of things to come.” 

“Reid's talking to us. He wants a sign when we're coming in. He's telling us this is it,” Emily explained. 

“Time’s run out. We have to go in,” Hotch said, gazing at the ranch outside.

“Best time to hit 'em is when they're least mentally prepared,” Rossi noted. 

“3:00 am. Biorhythms are at their low point then,” Emily pointed out. 

“We need a diversion. Something that plays into his expectations,” Hotch prompted. 

“Cyrus brought up Waco.” 

“Right. I know exactly how to use that. We need some Humvees,” Rossi got up to the phone lines as Hotch continued to sketch out their plan. 

“The plan depends on Reid and Bishop separating the diehards from the followers.”

“And delaying Cyrus's diehards from reacting to our assault,” Emily added. 

“That's not my main concern. Reid and Bishop know what they need to do.” 

“So what is your concern?” 

“Letting them know when we're coming. The whole things hinges on them being ready for us at 3:00 am...” He trailed off, staring at the food containers they were preparing. “Perfect.” He instructed the officers preparing the food plates to write a single message on every plate. Prentiss whirled at a soft, familiar voice coming through the mics.

“If you can hear me, I know you're coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel, But I need to know when you're coming.” 

“What is it, Prentiss?” 

“She's talking to us.” 

“If you can hear me I know you're coming. I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel, but I need to know when you're coming.” 

“Let's go.” Prentiss grabbed the nearest sniper rifle and creeped over till she could see the window of the third floor. Angling the rifle, she turned on the laser beam.

“I can try to get the women and children down to the tunnel, but I need to know when you're coming. If you can hear me, I know you're coming. I can-- Okay. I got you.What time? What time?” Emily turned the beam on, then off three times.

“3:00 am? Got it. Reid’s on the first floor somewhere with Cyrus. There are still children here. Someone's coming.” The mic went silent.

^-^

Mrs Evansen walked in with a glass of water. “Thank you.” Piper gulped down the water as best she could with her hands tied. “Cyrus is planning a mass suicide. You know this.” The mother moved to leave. “Wait. I want to protect your daughter just like you do. Would you do me a favour?” The woman turned around. “I heard he’s planning to blow everything up at 3 am.”

“But he said--”

“He’s a liar and a manipulator. If you really believed in him like your daughter does, you wouldn’t have called us. Now he may not, but if you want to save your daughter, take her to the basement just before 3 am. 2 30 even.” The woman just nodded hastily and left, nearly bumping into the doorframe. Now to get out of these ropes. They’d left nothing sharp except-- Piper’s eyes fell on the mirror. She limped over to the mirror and carefully propping it between her knee and her chin, she plopped it onto the ground, mirror side up. Her reflection shattered into pieces as she slammed her heel into it, then quickly kicked it all under the bed. Checking that everything was silent, she used her teeth to gently pull a big shard out and dropped it onto the bed. She clutched it gently between her fingers and began sawing at the ropes. She rubbed her wrists gently before treating the blisters on her skin with whatever cool cream she could find and wrapping it in gauze. She wrapped her hair up in a tiny ponytail and used the remaining gauze and gauze-like material around her entire hand. Delicately she rolled a pair of rubber gloves and held the large mirror shard, gripping it tightly to see if it cut through to the skin. She lay on the bed, hands as though they were still tied behind her back. She’d never been more thankful to not be able to sleep.

Hourse later, Mrs Evansen returned, letting her know it was 2 45 am, that her daughter had gathered the women and children in the basement and that Reid was in the chapel with Cyrus and that the door was left unlocked ‘accidentally.’ Piper edged out the door, keeping to the shadows, hoping she’d never have use the shard. Reaching the stairs down into the chapel, she heard footsteps and stabbed the lightbulb as she tucked herself into a corner. She held her breath in the darkness as a man, Christopher she thought, moved past her. In the middle of the staircase, he stopped and looked at the shattered lightbulb. Before he could yell anything, Piper leapt forward to grab the rifle in his hand before smashing the butt of the rifle into the back of his head. She dragged his body and propped it up in the corner. She sneaked the door of the chapel open just a smidge and saw Spencer and Cyrus in there alone, surrounded by explosives.

“Jeremiah 29:11-- "I have for you, " declares the lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to bring you hope and a future," he quoted. “Is blowing yourself up part of the prosperous future that God wants?” Spencer asked him.

“You think you know the word better than I?” 

“No. I'm just demonstrating that you can use the Bible to manipulate anything.” 

“Matthew 10:24-- "do not suppose that I've come to the earth to bring peace. I did not come to bring peace but a sword." You cannot convert my brothers. No one had to follow. God could have stopped me.” Spencer just stared and moved slightly an inch over to his left. “What are you doing, boy?” Cyrus felt a sharp metal poking into his back.

“She just did.” A gunshot fired and Piper dropped the rifle she was holding. “That’s for punching me, you dick.” She exhaled. “Can we go now?” It was almost 3. They locked all the doors to the chapel and bolted the main door from the outside. Piper leaned on Spencer as they hobbled to the car.

“You have the--” Spencer trailed off as Piper grabbed her shoe and smashed the heel into the shot gun side window, unlocking the side door. “--key?” he finished. Hastily she leaned over to the driver’s seat unlocking it. Pulling the mirror shard from her pocket, she cut two wires and jumpstarted it. She shoved herself into the back the same way before yelling at the dumbstruck doctor to drive. Exhausted, she leaned into the leather seats. “How’d you--”

“I’ve been friends with Morgan now for 3 years, Spence. I picked it up. Emily taught me how to pick a lock too. Haven’t quite got it yet.” They drove away from the burning chapel behind them. 

Once in the tent, Piper grabbed the most extensive med-kit she could find and pulled off the gloves and gauze, wincing. She pulled off the tape from her wrists, rummaging for cleaning fluid. She finally pulled out a napkin and, dousing it, started to clean the wounds. Spencer gently took the napkin and her wrist, despite her protests. “Just shut up and let me do this.” So she did. “That was stupid.” She opened her mouth to protest but he just put up a finger. So she shushed. “I could’ve taken it. I’m as much the agent as you are.”

“Spence, there are two very important reasons why I confessed and neither of them have anything to do with bravery or strength. The first is that we’d already establish that you were the only one who could get close enough to Cyrus. The second was...” She hesitated. Clearing her throat, she continued. “I’ve already watched someone torture you before. I wasn’t strong enough to see that again, or know that...that I could have prevented it this time.” Spencer let go of her wrists and stared at her, dumbstruck for the second time that day, while she dabbed soothing cream around her wrists and wrapped it tightly with gauze.

“I don’t know how JJ’s meant to tell Lucy and Daniel,” Morgan spoke as the walked into the tent. “Or Reid’s mom for that matter.”

“I just wish-- Oh my God!” Emily screamed and she tackled Bishop. Morgan mirrored her, in tackling Reid, not screaming. “We didn’t know what to think. Rossi had to pull us back from the chapel and--”

“My ribs, Em. I know, I love you too.” Emily released her. 

“Well, excuse me for freaking out! We thought you two were freaking dead! What were you thinking, locking the chapel?”

“That maybe we could contain the blast bet--” Emily looked murderous. “I am injured. You can murder me next week.” Rossi stumbled in.

“You’re alive,” he stated. “You’re actually alive.”

“You could sound a bit happier about it, Rossi,” Spencer chuckled.

“I need a drink, anyone in?” Piper announced, getting up carefully. 

“As long as Rossi’s paying.” Emily chuckled as Piper leaned on her and limped into the SUV, asleep in minutes on Spencer’s shoulder.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #bau #bau x oc #dr reid #dr spencer reid #dr piper bishop #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst

[wolfpawn]

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 47

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary -Ella is asked for her input into the situation before the whole House of Laufey is informed of the matter.  

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Ella paced as she thought over everything. Laufey began to get tired even looking at her. “If I may?” she began. 

“I fear you forget you were told all this specifically for your input,” Loki chuckled. 

“We need to make it that none question the situation. That as far as the house of Laufey is concerned, there is this and only this and all stand behind it.” She inhaled deeply. “All within it.” “My brothers…”

“No, Loki, not just them.” She gave him an awkward look. 

“No.” He realised what she was referencing. “She’d never…” “So long as there is even a single scent of an alternative or uncertainty, some will argue, some will argue regardless but if there is even one possible chance of causing unrest, then there are some that will exploit such. We stand united, then none can try and do so. We get her in line, we rally together and we remain a strong single unit. No in-fighting, no weaknesses.” “How will that help?” Laufey asked, not out of dismissiveness but interest. “You see my father’s house, is there any weakness in it?” “None.” “No, because he never permitted it. Thor’s rages, my father’s Odinsleeps, they were not allowed be perceived as weaknesses, we stood as one. Behind closed doors, matters could be different, my father incandescent with rage at my brother’s stupidity and actions, my mother’s terrible fretting for my father’s health, but none outside can know those times, not in court and especially in the realms of our enemies, for they will be like carrion to a dying animal, circling, ready to feast on you as soon as you are too weak to fight back. We always stood as one in it.” Arden, Loki and Laufey looked at her with uncertainty. “I will not take offence if you think this too much. I merely wish to answer your question as best I can.”

“It is something we must consider,” Laufey stated. “If for nothing more than to deal with this situation. With two mates carrying and possibly a third, the house must ensure to be as safe as possible at this time.” 

Loki nodded slightly. He was unsure of what to think. There was a considerable chance that Angrboða would be unhappy that of the mates, she could potentially be the only one not carrying a child, he knew that had a risk of her being even more sour, when she and his brothers and their other mates would learn of Ella’s condition and how soon their child would arrive, there could be animosity, there may be no issue, he simply could not tell and that was concerning. It was usually seen as nothing to be upset by, being a non-carrying mate, so often they were the one to assist and were integral to the raising of the offspring, but it was not in keeping with the coldness she had shown of late, Loki was unsure if she would be in any manner of use to Alma, much less Ella, who he knew she would rather walk over hot coals than assist, and with the manner that Ella was speaking, it was clear that Greta and she were close, so if Greta also carried, he knew there was a significant chance that Angrboða would interpret that as Greta choosing Ella’s “side” over hers. He could see this going very wrong indeed. “It will not be easy.” 

“The truest path rarely is,” Ella commented. “You are best suited to the role of King of your generation of your family, there can be none of full mind that could argue such but to some, blood means more than mind and that is what we need to focus on, not letting such talk take too much hold because if it does, it does no one any favours.” 

Laufey listened for a few moments, contemplating her words and indeed everything that had been said as well as his own thoughts. “Arden?” The advisor looked at him. “Have Helbindi, Greta, Býleistr, Alma and Angrboða sent for, we deal with this now.” “Yes, My King.” He did as instructed and had the king’s other sons and their mates sent for. 

“Father?” Loki was unsure of it all. “We need this sorting immediately. I cannot rest without it being so. Ella, get yourself a seat, that child must be starting to weigh on you.” “He is resting contently, My King, and I am thankfully of good health to continue standing through anything I am required to at present, so if you do not take offence, I would rather remain standing for now.” Laufey chuckled slightly, knowing that little would convince Ella to do something she deemed unnecessary. “I am curious, without the Soul Forge the Allfather trusts so greatly, how have you come to assume it to be male?” “We have seen him.” Laufey found himself frowning at his son for his statement. “She has used her seidr to show him to us and he is male, I assure you.” Laufey could only smile proudly. “Such fine news. A female child would not be unwelcome either, mind.” 

“Going by the gender statistics, more than a few females are required to continue Jotunheim’s new prosperity. I have read…” Ella’s statement was cut short as the door to the room opened and Býleistr and his mates entered. 

For a moment, Býleistr looked worried but seeing the manner in which his father was seated and how Loki and Ella were standing, he became uneasy. “Father? What is this?” “We will speak when Helbindi and Greta arrive.” Was all his father gave him in response. 

Alma and Angrboða looked around worriedly also. It was most irregular for a mate to be brought in on such meetings but it was clear all were to be involved in this one. When finally, a tired-looking Helbindi and a somewhat confused Greta joined them, everyone was looking around with expectation. 

“Please don’t tell me there’s another war, I am going back to bed if there is.” Helbindi pleaded. 

“No, there is not,” Laufey assured him, “After one war, many realms like to regroup before beginning the next. No, we need to discuss a matter of importance to Jotunheim.” Helibindi and Býleistr looked at one another, then to Loki, who clearly knew what was afoot. “I am stepping down as King.” “What?” 

“How?” Laufey raised his hand, silencing his youngest and oldest sons. “I am stepping down whilst I still live. I am too weary for this, I have done so in all but name already. I cannot hold court for any notable length of time any longer and I cannot spend the last of my life like this. I want to rest before I die.” “But...we don’t...has this ever been done?” Helbindi asked. 

“Not that we know, but Father insists on doing so,” Loki stated calmly. “I tried to talk him out of it but he will not be swayed.” “Some will think this a bad idea, Father.” Býleistr declared. “Some will think it too soon.” “I know, but that begs the question, if I died tomorrow, would they think it too soon then?” “You would be dead, that alters things.” “It alters little. I am not fit for my station any longer. Be reasonable, what does it say for Jotunheim as a realm if the one who presides over it is a decrepit old Jotunn? What images does that portray of us over the realms? This is a realm that is about to see an explosion of youth, vivacity, growth and renewal, you cannot have an old being stand over that, the realm must be portrayed as it has to be.”

Býleistr and Helbindi did not argue that. There was no manner to argue such. “So, Loki takes the throne, why does this involve us all being here?” Helbindi asked. “I will not deny that being told in advance and not hearing it in the throne room without warning is nice, but our mates too? Why?” “Because you were not in the throne room yesterday, and as such, you are not aware of something that we are.” Laufey began. “There was a filthy lie circulated by Kristoff, do you recall him?” His sons nodded. “He and another circulated a rumour that your brother’s mate was disloyal to him in his absence.” Automatically, both Jotunns looked to their own mates, hurt at such an accusation. “No, not your mates, your brother’s,” Laufey clarified. Both then looked to Ella, who was somewhat grateful that neither seemed to think her capable of such a thing. Seeing the look on her face, they knew that there was no truth in the words. “She proved them to be nothing more than lies in mere moments, it is a pity you were not there, she tore Kristoff to strips, it was quite amusing. But that in itself is not the issue, what is was the manner in which he spoke, most concerningly, with regards bloodlines, specifically, Loki’s.” 

Both Býleistr and Helbindi found themselves reacting to that news in anger. They always joked with Loki on his mixed heritage meaning that he was slightly shorter and had hair as opposed to their standard Jotnar appearance but it was only ever in jest and they never allowed others speak down of their brother in their presence. “And?” Though Býleistr and Loki’s relationship was strained as a result of everything with Angrboða, Býleistr knew his Loki to be the only one of the three of them suited to the role of King, he had spoken many times with Helbindi on the matter, both hated the idea of being king, they were not of the mind and were entirely happy to serve their brother, knowing that he would listen to them when they would suggest matters and that he would never dismiss them from the home they knew their entire lives. 

“We are concerned that any show of doubt amongst this house in its entirety would cause issues moving forward,” Laufey explained. “I don’t follow, Father,” Helbindi confessed. “Why would there be doubt?” “With me?” Býleistr felt a terrible strike to himself at that statement. “That I would betray us?”  He thought of his time on the battlefield, his time before he left, how his guilt at loving his new mate had caused such consternation with his brother and how he thought they could move past it with everything, but instead, it was now that even their father did not trust him. 

“No, my son,” Laufey ensured he made that clear immediately. “Nothing of the sort. I merely wanted you all here so that we are all able to air any grievances we have because come my announcement, we must stand as one, this whole house.” 

Býleistr looked at Loki, who nodded. “I told you, after the war, I am not having anything so petty take up my time. Now, I have even more to consider, meaning I have even less time to worry about such things. You are my brother, you are one of the best fighters on our realm and you are the most learned on our military history, I can think of no place I would want you but by my side in this, especially with the transition over of the reign.”

That caused Býleistr to feel better, seeing his brother to truly mean it. “I will do all I can for Jotunheim, I always said that but understand that I also wish to assist Alma through carrying our child, that is all I ask, to be given the chance to be able to assist my mate. I assume you already know that she is carrying through your own mate as I am informed that she knows.” 

“Yes, I gave him a slight rundown of everything in your time gone. I did so with Alma’s permission, as of course, you are aware.” Ella smiled. “It is a good reason to do all of this right now, with the current number of child-bearing Jotnar, we need to make sure everything is as smooth as possible for the new generation and their parents for when they come, it is only a few short years to such.” 

“Then I guess if none can change Father’s mind and this is going to happen, we organise ourselves and ready for the madness that is going to be Loki’s reign,” Helbindi joked. 

“Like you could do better.” Loki scoffed in return. 

“Hey, I already said, do you know that Midgardian empire, Roman, I would have it like that.” He declared proudly. 

“You are aware there is a saying on Midgard about something entirely insane and falling down around you, society breaking apart is to be likened to the final days of the Roman Empire, don’t you?” Ella asked, recalling the empire in question and its implosion. 

“That was the best part of it, one emperor tried to make his horse a member of his council.” Though Ella could not agree that it was a good idea, it was clear Helbindi did actually know something of the era he referenced so she could only laugh in reply. 

“Now that is sorted, I need to ask all four mates, do any of you have an issues you wish to voice? For after today, any regarding the matters discussed today will be seen as purposely siding against us all and will not be taken well. We as a house must be one, even when we do not always agree.” 

There was no denying every eye on the room was on Angrboða, who saw fit to glare at Ella, who in turn merely stood forward. “Hate me, loathe me, be indifferent of me, I could not care less which you choose, but after today, come any reasonable request made by the new King, you do not stand against him on it lest you wish to embarrass this house, which I know you do not wish to do, or indeed his brother, your mate, which we all know you would never wish to do.” 

“Reasonable request?” Býleistr questioned. 

“Well, if Loki were to demand you and Helbindi go and live on Muspelheim or massacre all male born children or some other utter mad idea, I would expect you to at the very least question him as to why he would order such things, but if he were to say to check on the Western lands of Jotunheim as there seems to be some discord there, I would think it a fair request, would you not? You would not deny such a reasonable thing, would you?”

“You speak too much as one who acts like she has any standing in it, like you know so much,” Angrboða snapped. 

“And you speak as one who merely wishes to incite anger whilst never truly adding anything to a discussion.” Ella retorted. “I speak because I was asked to assist with this, when I was informed of my mate’s ascension to the throne earlier, I remained silent. I also need you to say what needs saying now and not any time after this so that we can ensure the wellbeing of the realm going forward.” She walked towards Angrboða with her shawl still warmly around her shoulders and blocking her pregnant stomach from view. “I know you feel attacked by this and I know you feel cornered. If we are all honest, it is you and your anger at myself and Loki that is the biggest concern moving forward, to say anything else would be a barefaced lie and if you would cause no issue, then it is an unwarranted concern on our behalfs and that is not fair on you but we need to know that the whole house will stand together and that includes in defence of you should it ever be required.”

“I will never require your help.”  

“We saw how long eight months can be, or indeed, you and Alma only had seven months without Býleistr, so do not say with such certainty that you will never require such. Seven months is a long time, not much shy of four thousand years is far far longer. But I will stand in your corner for that time, so long as we all remain as one unit throughout.” 

Angrboða was uncertain of what to say. She was by no means unintelligent, she knew that to decline Ella’s offer would be met with anger and was nothing short of a declaration that she was a liability to the House of Laufey. She had truly cared for Loki and his casting her aside for the ugly Aesir caused her immense pain but she could not allow her chance to remain with the mate she now had and the company in Alma, who she did truly like also to be taken from her because of the aesir she rarely saw. One glance at Býleistr and Alma told her that they were both pleading for her to cease her sniping at Ella, accept what was being said and get back to their own little area of the palace and continue with their own happy lives. For a moment, she looked at Loki, noting the indifference in his features. For a time after she declared she would no longer allow herself come second to the Aesir he had been assigned as a mate and especially when Loki had found out that she had bonded with Býleistr, she had seen forlornness, heartache and sadness in his features, now she only saw indifference. If anything, he seemed displeased at her even being so close to his mate, like he did not want her to even be in her presence. She did not need to look at Laufey, she knew well that the King disliked her beyond words for her actions with Býleistr and Loki and that the Aesir mate of his second son held a place in his heart she would do well not to upset. She finally looked at Ella again, who seemed all but voicing her attempts to have Angrboða agree with her. “I will never stand against my mate or this house, regardless of my personal opinion of some in it.” “Then it is settled.” Laufey rose to his feet. “I will announce it tomorrow, so everyone is to be in the throne room for it, no excuses and no being late.” 

He left the room leaving his sons and their mates standing there, Arden looking amongst them all as he did so. “Now, we best prepare everything,” He urged. 

“Yes,” Loki nodded. “We will ready ourselves now so that our night is not taken over with this.” He looked over to Ella. “I am sure you can think of a thousand aspects to this that none other can.”

“I never actually assisted in a coronation before,” She confessed. “My parents have protocols in place for if my father was to fall into a permanent Odinsleep and my brother was to take the throne to assist the transition for when such a mournful time is to come but actually doing one, I have not planned or bore witness to, but I know some aspects and I will endeavour to assist as best I can. I am sure whilst you deal with official matters, Alma, Greta, Angrboða and I can organise a few things between us?”

“Please, there is much to be done.” Arden gave her a list which consisted of many different duties.

“Norns, you men may see your beds tonight but I fear you will be alone in them with this list.” She scanned through it, allowing it to be altered in angle as Greta came over to read it too. “Easy knowing they left the real work to the more capable sex.” She handed the list to Alma who, along with Angrboða, read through it. “Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we are done. We will be in the old meeting room to the back.”

“That was the old war meetings room,” Helbindi informed her. “From, you know…” “Considering that if any bother us outside of providing us with something we requested or food, there will be war, I think it apt.” She walked off without another word, the other mates following her as she did, Greta smirking whilst she did so. 

“Something is different in your mate,” Býleistr noted to Loki. “She seems more...abrupt.” 

“I can’t believe Kristoff was so stupid as to accuse your mate of being disloyal,” Helbindi scoffed. “How did she deal with it?” “She stormed into the court, blasting both doors clean off their hinges and demanded the accusers step forward and stand over their accusations, Kristoff tried to act as though he didn’t loathe those not entirely of Jotnar blood and pretended they had been liaising in private for months but true to her personality, she ridiculed him as she proved his words false and had him reveal his true motives in the process, hence our knowing how some will react to my being named king.” His jaw clenched as he thought of Kristoff’s words. “He and his ilk are even more angered that in eight short months, we will be announcing the arrival of my even less Jotnar heir.” Loki awaited his brothers’ reactions. 

Býleistr simply frowned as he tried to compute Loki’s words while Helbindi visibly counted out the time. “But you’re not her mate long enough for you to have a child?” “Aesir and Vanir take only eighteen months to carry and birth.” Loki informed him. 

“So she...that quickly?” Helbindi was startled by such news. “How are their realms not infested to the point of overpopulation?” 

“They actively plan not to have children,” Loki informed him, having asked Ella himself how such was not an issue.

“Why would anyone wish to not have more children?” Býleistr could not comprehend such an idea. 

“Because unlike on this realm, others have a young population, not an old one. Ella told me of Midgard, it has had a population surge of nearly one and a half billion in the past two decades alone.” 

“One and...what in the...don’t they only live less than a hundred years?” Helbindi tried to comprehend such a concept. “So, that means you’re going to be King with about forty minutes before your mate has a child?” “More like eight months than forty minutes, but that is indeed what will be happening. Ella will birth our son in the near future.” Loki confirmed. 

“You cannot tell if it is a son before it’s born,” Býleistr scoffed. Loki merely gave him a smug smirk before going to deal with some of what needed to be done to ready for the impending announcement. “Wait, can they?”

Helbindi shrugged. “The only reason you knew she was in the same palace as you is because she called your name. According to Greta, she shot two jagged on-fire swords out of thin air and she knows spells that according to the Aesir we fought with, the Allfather and Allmother cannot manage, if she has told Loki that she carries a boy, then she is carrying a boy.” 

#pride and prejudice #chapter 47 #wolfpawn #loki fic

[queenofallwitches]

Singing cannot be silenced. Secrets will be spilt. Siren serenade to seduce the predator and deter their hunt, I’ll be the one who wins when the end is here. Watch for the rise of sorceress into a slayer of sickness and evil.

To tell my story in poetry and transmute the suffering as I stand before a crowd to perform as a warrior goddess rockstar. To slay with the weapons woven into my words, singing to purge a lifetime of hurt. Trauma to transmute my tales of desolation into something I can scream, singing a symphony of music created by my burning passion, my rage, my pain, my chains that I’m using this to break free of, to burn into an inferno, after being blackened, sullen ashes. I rise in flame and forged by fire, under the moons of Neptune with my sight set on transmuting my plight into a sound that is sacred, but soothing, and satiates the longing within my siren soul, to sing my truth, my testament; my towering anger built up after a lifetime of seething pain.

All those who have maimed me, or raped me, or scarred me without due cause, tonight I let my soul free from the birdcage it’s been bound by, under the bittersweet sky of attempting to survive in the daily brimstone, fire, called a liar when I wailed silently, with conviction, without being able to even have the right to my own pain because everyone in my life siphoned my kindness, my compassion and my ability to be open and non judgemental, generous and open to helping whenever I could. But after decades of being a people pleaser I became fed up of the pain when nothing could be gained from my nice disposition, inside I was seething in pain. But my nature is genuine in the most highest form someone can be, I was never something that would intentionally harm or maliciously behave in ways to hurt others. I seemed to be the one being stung.

Call it 12th house sun bad luck or just the karmic debts there within, I was the scapegoat, the one to blame, the one who was always betrayed. I always had people coming and going and no matter where or when, I couldn’t handle the emptiness that comes along when you are so young, year after year; fearful. Anxious. Outside the norm of society and the weird and awkward girl that people just string along because she’s “open to being friends with anyone”. But after decades of perpetually being manipulated, drained of my energy and life force, sucked dry emotionally; mentally and spiritually, walked on, stabbed in the back, strung along, lied too, bitched about behind my back by people I’d of taken a bullet for... I shut myself into solitude, stopped going to social events. I was tired, of trying but no matter how I behaved, I was the one to blame, the one who allegedly brought with her turmoil, and melodramatic petty pains. I walked away from all people who were unable to look inside to their own self, to reflect and introspect. Tired of being called out for making a mess when I was always the one without any malicious intent. Loyalty is a value I hold strong faith in. It’s rare to find a loyal friend, and each time he opened my soul enough, to who I was trusting to behave in the same way, I’d be betrayed. I’ve never had a strong circle of female friends, or companions, or mentors. I’ve met one or two across the way, but never can I integrate a group of women without some kind of toxicity or pathetic, bitchy mindgames that convoluted social interactions with malicious intentions. I always hated gossip, rumours and bitching and girls had to always engage even if I tried to ignore it, fence sitting doesn’t align to my value of loyalty. I was sick of trying to choose sides of something that was manufactured out of nothing and not my problem. People are notioriously picking at one another without seeing the importance of how women; especially need to be uplifting and elevating each other to build each other up and work on projects that are combining minds to create a world that can be being used for the selfish and sadistic parasitic needs of leeches and liars.

Listen to sorcery in la sirena song, I’ll be spilling the truth and you’ll be ready to take the fall. For I have nothing left to hide.

I

Am

Authentic

Honest

Raw

Truth

#words #moonchild #poetry #journal #spilled ink #poet #cptsd #culture #lit #writings #song #literature #mystic #poets #astrology #12th house #cancer moon #moon #luna #lost #reality #time to spill #secrets #living with cptsd #complex ptsd #cptsdrecovery #trauma journal #healing journal #soul healing

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Jenna, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Alecto Carrow (FC: Victoria Pedretti). Jenna!!! Wow, so excited that you’re picking up Alecto! She’s such a badass and I can’t wait to see her on the dash. Your biography of Alecto really draws out this character that’s so often one dimensional in this world. I think she’s going to add a lot of conflict to the gorup in the best way possible. EEp I’m PUMPED! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — jenna age — 20 pronouns — she/her timezone — gmt+10

IC Overview

name — alecto carrow age — 25 gender — cis female sexuality — bisexual patronus — non-corporeal, but it would take the form of a vulture. boggart — her brother lies dead at her feet, her parents standing above him, somehow more vicious looking than they are in reality. “it’s your fault,” they sneer, as alecto notices the blood on her hands.

IC In Depth

personality traits — ( + ) dedicated - though she may be dedicated to the wrong people and causes, Alecto is dedicated. If she decides she wants something, she will go after it with everything she had, and she won’t rest until whatever she wants is hers. Maybe it comes from the deep sense of entitlement she’s been raised with, or her insatiable need to be acknowledged and appreciated. ( + ) headstrong - Alecto has her opinions, and she won’t be swayed on them. She also will make them known, loudly, and publicly. She’s not a complete idiot, and has learnt to kept some of her more… unsavoury opinions under wraps since the end of the war, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still believe them. ( + ) loyal - Though Alecto rarely gets close to people, those she decides she trusts have her undivided loyalty, especially to her brother. She also has a strong loyalty to the Dark Lord, still trying to find a way to bring him back even years after his defeat. ( - ) ruthless - This goes hand in hand with her dedication, Alecto will stop at nothing to get what she wants, including hurting ( or even killing ) people to get her way. ( - ) brash - She can be incredibly rude, overbearing, and obnoxious. She asserts herself over everyone and anything she believes to be beneath her, and often comes across quite poorly. ( - ) vicious - Alecto is a shark raised by sharks, you don’t grow up how she did without earning teeth of your own.

character biography —

Alecto Carrow was not a wanted child, this much has always been abundantly clear.

The marriage of Alecto’s parents was not one born of love or affection, but of duty. They both hailed from affluence, highly-regarded pureblooded families, and shared values typical of such a background. The sole purpose of their marriage was to produce an heir and perpetuate their bloodlines, nothing more, and nothing less. Only a year after their marriage, they had succeeded in this endeavour with the birth of their son, Amycus. He was exactly what they had wanted in a child; he was the perfect pureblood heir. Unfortunately, he would not be the only child the couple would sire.

Alecto was not expected. The exact nature of her conception remains elusive to this day. Some speculate that Alecto came into existence one night after her parents had a little too much to drink at one of their parties, falling into bed together before they could think about the consequences of what they were doing. They never wanted a second child, let alone a daughter, but, nine months later, they were one again at St Mungo’s awaiting Alecto’s arrival. Unlike her brother, Alecto was born screaming, demanding attention from the very moment her lungs were able to draw breath, turning her face red and angry with the effort of it. Maybe that’s where they got her name from – unceasing anger. She didn’t stop crying for almost a full day.

She was brought home from the hospital the next day and instantly thrust into the arms of awaiting nannies. To the Carrows, children weren’t something that required a lot of hands-on attention, they weren’t something to be cared for or raised carefully. They existed solely to preserve their legacy, and as long as they were capable of that, the rest of the day-to-day maintenance could be seen to by household staff. Alecto’s father had a job at the Ministry which kept him exceptionally busy, and her mother never worked, instead spending her days out fraternising with her peers and climbing up the social ladders of pureblood society. They paid little attention to Alecto, leaving her mostly neglected in her nursery, save for curious visits from her older brother, wanting to catch a glimpse of his new sibling.

The Carrow household was cruel and cold, and with their parents rarely around, Amycus and Alecto came to rely on one another. During her childhood, Alecto’s only solace was in her relationship with Amycus, despite both of them inheriting many of their parents’ less desirable qualities, the siblings had a close bond. They genuinely cared for each other, though they often had strange ways of showing it. There were few people who could truly understand the childhood that Alecto had experienced, and fewer still who could understand Alecto, but her brother has always been the closest. Alecto idolised her brother, she wanted to be just like him, and she his was the only direction she would follow without question.

Lessons for Amycus and Alecto began very early in life. Lessons on what to say, when to say it, and who to say it to. They were trained to hate anything that was different to them – and hate, Alecto would. Perhaps, had she been raised differently, she would have become a far more kind and empathetic soul, but, then again, this is perhaps a slight exaggeration. Something inside of her may have been broken from the beginning – she accepted the hate-filled ideas her parents presented her with. She accepted the prejudices, the fact that she was simply better than everyone else. That, because of the blood that ran through her veins, she deserved to have the world grovelling at her feet.

While Alecto took to her lessons of cruelty and superiority like a moth to a flame, there were other lessons she didn’t take quite so well to. For the most part, Amycus and Alecto were raised identically, but, as they grew a little older, their paths started to diverge. Amycus was the male heir, he was trained to carry the Carrow name with pride, while Alecto was taught to rid herself of it as soon as possible. Her parents intended for her to marry a nice young man ( preferably one from the shortlist of candidates they’d had picked since her birth ) as soon as she was of age – Alecto herself had different ideas.

The two years between Amycus leaving for Hogwarts and Alecto doing the same were two of the loneliest of her life. She became aware of how quiet their house was, without her brother in it. Her parents ignored her even further when Amycus wasn’t around, when she wasn’t sticking to him like gum to the bottom of a shoe. She tried her hardest to please them, but eventually realised that doing exactly what they wanted wasn’t working. So, like many neglected children, Alecto reached the conclusion that negative attention was better than no attention at all. She had always tried to tone down aspects of her personality to appease her parents, but Alecto wasn’t the porcelain doll they always wanted.

She was sent off to Hogwarts at eleven, and it was a breath of fresh air. She was sorted into Slytherin, like her brother before her, and quickly established herself within the cohort with her good looks and her strong opinions. It certainly helped her that she bore the same last name as her brother, who had already amassed a number of allies in the Slytherin dorms, simply adding his sister to his posse once she arrived. She was loud and unapologetic and gained herself a rather unsavoury reputation – but people couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. Much like at home, much of the attention was negative, but it was attention, and she would take it.

Though she always had a certain charm, a magnetism to her, Alecto never really played well with others. Her parents wanted her to be beautiful, charismatic, but submissive – capable of pleasing the sons of their friends. Submissive was the real problem. Even during her childhood, Alecto had cunning and ambition to rival the greatest of Slytherins, she was callous and brash. She met any attempts at courting from young men with a sneer, as she matured, she decided she found far greater pleasure from the physical relationship than an emotional one. Alecto was not at all like what her parents expected her to be in this regard, and they never made their displeasure a secret.

The war was something Alecto had always been ready for. Her parents had believed it was inevitable, that they would need to fight to rid the world of muggles and muggleborns once and for all, to ensure that only purebloods remained. They trained their children to believe the same. Alecto knew that she would one day need to fight, that she would be thrust into war. Her father insisted on special training to ensure she would be of use to their master – dark magic was something she became intimately familiar with when she came home for summers during her school years, training to withstand the cruciatus curse, to counter dark spells, to wield them herself.

While rumours of war that swirled around during her final years of Hogwarts set most people on edge, they simply invigorated Alecto. Amycus had already graduated, he was already doing his part, and Alecto desperately wanted to do the same. Though she had given up on winning the affections of her parents a long time ago, she wanted to please the Dark Lord, she wanted Amycus to be proud of her, and she wanted to do what she believed was the right thing. She grinned with maniacal glee as she received the dark mark – and if she saw her parents smile as she did so, she never mentioned the fact.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was losing. At the tender age of twenty, Alecto had never really known what it was to lose. On October 31st, 1981, she found out – and she didn’t like it. Nobody had anticipated that the Dark Lord would fall, least of all Alecto. Her parents immediately went into damage control, trying desperately to restore their name before the hammer fell. Their children wouldn’t be so lucky. It had been Amycus who suggested that only one of them needed to go to Azkaban – Alecto had first imagined it would be her, but Amycus took the fall for the both of them, accepting his sentence and insisting that Alecto keep herself out of it, to keep serving their master while he was away.

Not only had everything Alecto ever believed fallen apart, she’d lost her brother and her best friend, and, if his life sentence was to believed, she might not ever see him again.

Alecto had still been living with her parents at the time, but when she returned home after Amycus’ trial alone, she endured a wrath she could have only imagined up until that moment. It didn’t matter that it had been Amycus’ idea for her to walk free – they were furious that their male heir was to go away while they were given Alecto as, what? A consolation prize? Though she was fairly certain they’d calm down eventually, Alecto took the first opportunity she could to leave her parents’ house and get out on her own. She managed to secure herself a position at the Ministry, and has been doing her best to provide for herself in the years since her brother’s arrest. She may not be living the life they imagined for her, and they may vocalise their displeasure whenever she sees them, but it simply spurs Alecto on.

Alecto believes that the Lark Lord will return one day, and she intends to be the one to bring him back. She has been searching far and wide for any trace of her father, detailing her expedition in her letters to her brother. Of course, she has no idea where to begin. Her ‘search’ is more of a vague exploration, hoping against hope that she will stumble upon something. She’s trying to prove to herself, to her brother, to her parents, and to her peers, that Amycus made the right decision – that she’s better off on the outside, that by avoiding arrest, she can make use of herself and help bring back the Dark Lord. To Alecto, it’s almost like a race, and she thinks she’s vicious and scrappy enough to do what it takes.

She just hopes Amycus really did make the right decision.

plot ideas —

Amycus | Honestly, her relationship with her brother is probably the closest thing that Alecto has to a healthy relationship, and that’s saying a lot. The pair are still deeply dysfunctional - Alecto craves the validation she never received from her parents from her brother, and would literally follow him into hell. Letting him be imprisoned after the war was something that was incredibly difficult for her, so I’d love to explore how she’s been coping without her big brother’s guidance. She’s managed to get herself a fairly decent job and an apartment on her own.. did she ever really need him in the first place? I’d also love to see Amycus as a playable character in the future ( perhaps Alecto could even be involved in his breakout from Azkaban… hint hint ), to explore their dynamic properly, as well as how it has changed in the years they’ve been separated. Death Eaters | Alecto is on a quest to bring back Voldemort, and this probably isn’t a secret to anyone who she believes to be sympathetic to her cause. Of course, she doesn’t want any help because she wants the entirety of the credit for herself, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t curious about what exactly she’s doing ( please can somebody call her out on her stunning lack of progress? ). I’d also like to see her interact with some of the less loyal Death Eaters. She’s big on dedication and loyalty, and if she feels that there’s traitors in their midst, Alecto will not hesitate to make this known… or exploit it for her own gain. Ministry | Alecto works as an Obliviator for the Ministry. She’s not so stupid as to go around telling everyone that she’s an active supporter of You-Know-Who, but for anyone who was part of the Order ( or with any common sense ), it’s not hard to figure out where her loyalties lie – her brother is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, and her parents are active pureblood supremacists. I’d like to see her trying to keep up appearances at the Ministry, interacting with former Order members or even muggleborns… how much will it take for her to crack?

extra —

mock blog / pinterest / playlist

extras that didn’t fit in the bio:

Parents. Alecto’s relationship with her parents has always been strained, however, over the last few years it has become even more so. They have made little secret of the fact that they would prefer Alecto be rotting in Azkaban than Amycus. Alecto doesn’t see them very often, and when she does, they’re trying to pressure her to marry a nice pureblood man before they’re all gone, or making her feel even worse about Amycus’ imprisonment. She still has a great deal of respect for her parents, but she knows they’ll never have a great relationship.

Residence. Alecto lives in a small apartment not far from Diagon Alley. It’s quite lavish, more than she should be able to afford with her salary, but she had considerable financial assistance when buying it… her parents couldn’t have her living on the street, could they?

Occupation. Alecto works as an Obliviator for the Ministry. She’s always been quite skilled with charms ( though she usually uses her skills for evil rather than good ), and her father had always told her that having a job at the Ministry was a good position to be in ( well, he’d said her husband should have a job at the Ministry, close enough ). She doesn’t enjoy having to interact with muggles… but she does enjoy robbing them of their memories.

Romance. Alecto isn’t one for commitment, but she learnt young that her looks were a powerful weapon, and one she wields expertly. She likes to toy with people, and she’s not fussed about anything so trivial as gender ( blood status is the only thing that matters to her ). She’s never considered herself bisexual, much less put a public label on it, but if she gave it any thought, that’s probably the conclusion she’d arrive at. She’s never told her parents about her relationships with women, and has no intention to.

#al:accepted #alecto carrow #harry potter rp #hp rp #marauders era rp

[flamelikesunset]

“Let no more gods or exploiters be served. Let us learn rather to love each other.” The execution of Catalan anarchist and educator Francisco Ferrer, on this day in 1909, was not punishment for the crime of which he had been accused. That the charges against him were fabricated is not in any doubt. Rather, his execution was the ruthless elimination of a vocal critic by powerful vested interests. His firing-squad in Barcelona was an act that echoed the death of Socrates more than 2,000 years earlier. For there is no more succinct summation of the real reason Ferrer was murdered by the state – at the behest of the Catholic Church – than those charges levelled against Socrates: “Failing to acknowledge the gods that the city acknowledges”. And “corrupting the youth”. These are the reasons why Ferrer – anarchist, humanist, educator and revolutionary – was killed. As is traditional in these cases, the man who would prove such a thorn in the side of the Catholic Church was born into a Catholic family. But by his late teens, he was far from the faith. Militantly anti-clerical, and a revolutionary republican with it, he saw Spain exploited and persecuted by both its political leaders and the Church. And was determined to do something about it.

Implicated in several anti-government plots, Ferrer was exiled to France in the 1890s where he met Paul Robin and Sébastien Faure. Their school in Cempuis was to become his inspiration. Anarchist activists, they believed the most effective revolution would take place not on the streets, but in the schools. It was in the education of children that the class divide was perpetuated and only by liberating our minds from tyranny could we hope to drive it from the world. Fired up by their example and determined to free his native Catalonia from the Church’s monopoly on education, he returned to Barcelona in 1901 to found the first of his “Modern Schools”. Controversially, unlike other schools, the Modern School was co-educational. It was secular and had students from all social classes. With the explicit aim of challenging the established order, Ferrer saw his school as an incubator for original thought, or in his own words, it provided “antidotes to all dogma”. Most importantly of all, it would foster in its students a deep respect for life, for nature and for each other.

The school was successful. Soon there were almost 40 Modern Schools in Catalonia, and almost a hundred others were teaching from the textbooks he published. Suddenly Francisco Ferrer found himself at the head of a movement, and by 1906 there were over a thousand children in his secular schools. Unsurprisingly, the Catholic Church fiercely denounced these “atheist schools” and placed pressure on the government to intervene.

Finding a pretext to do so wasn’t hard. The Modern Schools were not just about educating children. In the evenings they were adult learning centres. And were also used by labour unions and other anti-establishment groups to host meetings. So when the librarian at a Modern School threw a bomb at the king in 1906, Ferrer was arrested.

Despite being held in prison for a year, no evidence of his involvement was ever produced and he was released without charge. In the meantime, however, the authorities dismantled the Modern Schools and by 1907, not one remained. Unbowed, Ferrer set about rebuilding. He lectured throughout Europe, published a book, The Origins and Ideals of the Modern School, and founded the International League of Rational Education. All the while he remained involved in local politics, and was a vocal supporter of Solidaridad Obrera (Workers’ Solidarity); an alliance of labour unions and anarchists.

But in 1909, in announcing his intention to re-open the schools, Ferrer became a marked man. And the chaos of what became known as the “Tragic Week” provided the opportunity to end his work. An anti-government uprising was ignited by a strike called by Solidaridad Obrera as well as opposition to military conscription. For a week the striking workers took control of the city, while an anti-clerical group, The Radical Party, set about burning down religious buildings. By the time the army brutally suppressed the rebellion, 80 churches and convents had been destroyed.

Although he wasn’t in Barcelona at the time, Ferrer was arrested and charged with “leading and organising an armed revolt”. Though as one contemporary commentator said; “Founding schools was his crime”. His trial was before a secret military court, and it quickly became clear he was being silenced. “With such infamous lies they are trying to kill me”, he wrote to a friend. It’s rumoured Pope Pius X sent a personal message of congratulations to the prosecutor when the founder of the Modern School was sentenced to death.

And on the morning of October 13th, Francisco Ferrer was executed by firing squad. As he was shot he cried out, “Long live the Modern School”.

But the story of this revolutionary educator didn’t end there. His death was met with public protests throughout Spain and in Paris, Rome and Brussels. The backlash to his “legal murder” was so severe it forced the King to demand the resignation of the Prime Minister. And soon, thanks to his book, schools inspired by his ideas sprang up all over the world, the largest of which — in New York — remained open until 1958. While there are no surviving Ferrer Schools, his ideas have nonetheless helped shape modern theories of education. Though, arguably not nearly enough.

The night before his execution, Francisco Ferrer wrote on his cell wall… “Let no more gods or exploiters be served. Let us learn rather to love each other.”

#anarchism #modern school #education #anarchist education #francisco ferrer

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Stroneth Port

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple, 

Another letter so soon on the tails of the second -- not that it makes much difference to you. 

We were attacked by pirates as we began to cross Nibiru. Further east than usual, but add that to the list of things I am uncertain and uneasy about. The storms are pulling in quick, and they attacked beneath the cover of night. I am proud to say that the Titan withstood their attack, though took considerable damage to the hull. Two brand new holes that I am currently taking a break from bailing. Grissa has taken command of the water for the moment. I will have to leave something to Ydir when we make it to Aelem, and of course give Grissa a break once we are in the clear. 

To the matter of the pirates, I did not recognize the flag they flew, but they had an airship that rivaled the Titan (but not a crew to do the same, I am proud to say). They managed to get two bolts from their heavy artillery through our hull and tried to pull us in to them, but we managed to take down their masts (completely shattered them with a word from Grissa). 

Pasha attacked with relentless ruthlessness. I do not think his time at Stofiss had faded any by this point, though I had hoped. I know he might pass it off as defense of Adi, especially when the pirates began to board, but I do not think that was all. I worry for him. 

Ulutka was shot twice, but he assures me he is fine. He joked about needing to find a laundry service when we made port. I suppose if I could trust anyone to know if they are well, it would be our healer, but I will keep an eye on him to ensure that he is alright. 

The captain squared off against me, a small gnome who showed nimble aptitude against a larger foe and with not but a thin blade. Certainly managed to give me a bit of a run for my money -- but before you start worrying, I am fine. A few scrapes and nicks, but nothing serious. 

Natalya came to support me and, to my surprise, managed to put the captain to sleep with a mere suggestion. Again, I worry. Again, I am frightfully curious, but I don’t know how to press. 

I called for a ceasefire. I handed the captain back over, allowed the pirates to collect their fallen comrades, and let them limp away. 

Again, again, again: do people wonder why I do not press the attack? I am here to maintain the peace. I will defend if attacked, but I will not take advantage of a weakness. Let them know that Albion and Antilla are not looking for another war. I would do this even if it had not been asked of me by His Majesty, but I am glad that I do not have to go behind his back and offer forgiveness when he would prefer I destroy those in my path. 

We have seen so much during the war. Why do people think we insist on perpetuating the violence? What can we do to support those who have less -- you laugh and say that I have taken on too many strays, and while that is true, I cannot add another ship to my non-existent fleet. 

Besides, I think even Sebastian has a limit to his patience when it comes to my leniency. Giving a ship from the pirate contingent Albion’s flag would be a bit much. 

It has been a few hours since we have pulled into port in Nibiru. It is called Stroneth, a small port on the eastern half close to the regional divide. They do not have a dry dock, so we must work quickly and, I am afraid, exhausting poor Grissa in the process. I have crew on standby below deck to help bail the water for him. I was sent to rest and tend to my wounds -- superficial though they are. 

I think I shall sleep and, in the morning, finish this letter before I post it. 

But in case I forget to finish it and post it as it is, know that I sign it with my love, like always. 

++++

It appears I shall not be posting these letters today as I planned. Today has been a whirlwind of activity and it is not yet even time for tea. 

I did not sleep much, in fact very little, and was back down to assist with the process of bailing the water after I dressed my wounds and caught my breath. 

Pasha and Adi spent the night on the shore, and Natalya and Ulutka have left this morning to explore. Several of the others have gone ashore as well, but many are helping with the dock master's crew to start repairs to the ship. 

The alarming event, however, is a pair of stowaways that must have sneaked on with the workers and decided to camp out over the side of the boat. A pair drow twins, who are probably the most exhausting people I have ever spoken to in… well… ever. 

I have thrown them in the brig and, in the process, received a map from them of a Ptallo Fort on the western half of the country. I was prepared to write it off and hand them over to the dock master or possibly even Albian authorities in Aelem if I could tolerate them that long but they mentioned one thing which caught my attention: undead. 

A disconcerting amount of undead, they say. They wish to retrieve something from the fort which, while of no consequence to me, lies through the path of said undead. 

I worry. I worry. I worry. 

There is something familiar about these two, but I cannot place my finger on it. At the moment, I am too overwhelmed by simply listening to them talk over each other at such a rapid pace that it’s a wonder they can even understand one another. Perhaps, after I get some actual sleep, I will figure it out, but at the moment, that does not seem likely. 

Adi has returned to the ship, speaking of a small girl who was trying to find her older siblings, and, after yet another frightening display of frustration from Pasha, confessed to looking for two who stole something from a group of bandits. It does not take a scholar to put the facts together. 

I have a feeling the twins aboard my ship, while not matching the description or name provided by the girl, have come to a very convenient place to hide -- even if they claim it is because there was no sign telling them they could not step onto my ship. That our flag might have been merely a colorful tapestry instead of an emblem of a unified force of Albian and Antillan governance meant to keep the peace through Assalia. 

I have asked Adi and Ulutka to accompany the twins on their trip out to the fort: Adi, to keep an eye on them, and Ulutka, to investigate the rumours of the undead. I hope that it is nothing to worry about. I hope I am overthinking it, like always. 

We have been stalled for several days due to the damage to the Titan, but I am glad to at least know that the ship has held up. Ptallo Fort is not too far from the border of the eastern half of the country, so I have faith that they will be able to make it there and back again by the time we have finished repairs to the ship. 

All the same, I will entrust Pasha with the sending stone again to keep me updated. 

For now, I will go post these letters and try to get some actual sleep, despite my mind running scenarios over and over again until I have to work myself to exhaustion. 

All my love, a second time,  Ean

++++

(a note, hastily scribbled out, not bothering with the normal formalities. It is dated two days after the last letter.) 

Clarence: 

The twins. I have figured out where I know them from. 

It is the drow siblings from Agartha, the ones who were part of the group attempting to assassinate Sebastian. 

I thought they had died. No, truth be told, I do not know what I thought happened to them. 

It is true that they asked for our assistance in making it look like they had died, to trick the woman who they were working for. But after that…. I did not think that it was possible they would reappear. And in Nibiru, of all places. 

I do not know if they recognize me. I look different now than I did during my time in Agartha at Sebastian’s side. I will have to ask them when they return. 

I will have to keep them on the ship, I think. 

I wonder if I should hand them over to authorities… or if I should simply deposit them somewhere safe and out of the way? I do not feel a thing towards them one way or another, but I worry (I know, I say this often, but it is true). Did they recognize the crest and picked the Titan  because of her ties to Albion? Do they plan to attempt another assassination, to finish what they started? 

Should I break my vow of ending violence to simply save us the trouble down the line? (Would I kill them? Could I even? I do not know. I do not know.) 

I am writing a letter to Sebastian and Noah as well, but please, we must make a plan. I do not want to bring them back to Albion. I do not want to keep them on my crew if I know the kind of things they are capable of. 

-- Ean 

#ch: ean de gillis #logs & letters #mutiny confirmed

[redfire-blackash-whitegold]

Coyote

No one knows when the Fakes first became associated with coyotes. It happened naturally, organically. Maybe it was something about them that reminded people of the fierce pack animals, the fervent loyalty, the way they attacked prey far bigger than themselves, the tricky nature that drew the line between bravery and cowardice. Maybe it was all those nights, when the desert heat couldn’t be quelled by the darkness, when sirens howled, and coyotes howled along with them, voices mixing with artificial sounds to the point where it became hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Those nights that surely meant the Fakes were about. 

The Fakes had long been associated with animals, wolves and bears and lions and bulls. There was something about them that seemed rabid, and primal. It was in the way they craved blood, in the way they could smell fear. Times when Michael got so caught up in his rage that angry words turned into a wordless roar. Times when Lindsay hunted and stalked her prey all night just for the opportunity to destroy something for just a few minutes. It was in the way the Fakes could communicate without talking, how just a head nod could mean “kill” and a smile could mean “get ready.” How they liked to encircle their prey. 

But while the association with other animals came and went, the association with coyotes stuck around. 

It did fit in a lot of ways. Coyotes were solitary, familial, worked well all together, in pairs, alone. Los Santos had a tendency to see coyotes as scavengers, but they were hunters, predators that preferred fresh meat but took what they could get. There was something about that animalistic ferocity that fit the Fakes to a tee, the way they fought, the way they played with their food. They were adaptable and intelligent, dishonourable survivalists that did anything to stay alive, to protect each other.

It didn’t exactly hurt this new association that there were rumours, growing tales of coyotes seen downtown in the middle of the day. And it especially didn’t hurt that these odd tales had a tendency to line up with each other, with the same coyotes being mentioned again and again. 

A red-furred Texas plains coyote, with its elegant build and softer features. It had an almost domestic look that had lured concerned pet owners in before they realized what a predator it really was. Upon closer inspection, it was usually sighted in the middle of a bloody meal.

A Peninsula coyote, with darker fur and a light grey facial mask, wild eyes that always seemed to be searching, for enemies, for prey, for the next hunt, and was only ever seen near the scene of a crime, given a robbery, an arson, or a murder. 

A Colima coyote, with fur the colours of silver and gold and a slender frame, some people said it looked noble and soft, others said it looked scrawny and skittish. It was usually seen in back alleys or along roads, busy trying to get from one place to another. 

An Eastern coyote, with fuzzy fuzzy brown-red fur, that was larger and, on the surface, fiercer than any of the others. It had a perpetual look of anger, brown eyes hot with rage and fur puffed up even fuller than normal. It was rarely sighted on its own, always seemed to be around one of the other coyotes in times of need.

A San Pedro Martir coyote, with orange fur and a shit eating grin, that always seemed jumpy and excitable, and that was only ever seen around bars and the nightlife, and only ever in the early morning before the dawn, when the last of the drinkers were filtering home.

And there was one more, rumoured to exist, a Simple Plains coyote, with no defining features aside from the fact that it, it is rumoured, has only ever been seen on rooftops of skyscrapers, deep downtown where coyotes are almost never seen.

Older, native religions of the area spoke of a trickster, a skin walker. A Mystical being that were both man and coyote, who would move between the two forms as easily as moving from water onto land. This trickster was defiant, creative, neither quite good or bad. He brought work and humour, knowledge and suffering. Coyote was clever, cunning, guile. He brought death to the world, the great equalizer, necessary and important. He brought fire to the people, for warmth and cooking, but also for bombs and burning evidence. 

But of course, there were more than just one Coyote now. The others were said to be his creations, imperfect copies with their own brands of creativity, of powerful trickery. Some were deceptive, others, forthright and brutal. They laid traps, spewed lies, got in fights, killed and stole as they wished, and always, always won. At least, if you believe in that sort of thing.

#fahc #fake ah crew #fahc geoff #the crew #is this a werecoyote au #or are the people of ls just really good at projecting? #you decide! #also i know that coyotes are an actual thing in the criminal world #oh well #it's my turn to write