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adventuringblind · 10 months

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I See Your Beauty

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Genre: a little angst mixed with fluff and comfort

Summary: the youngest Verstappen is forced to do life without her vision. Thinking she might not be able fully experience her life due to the remarks of her father, she concedes that finding love is unlikely. Until she runs into Charles who helps her believe she doesn’t need her eyesight to be loved.

Warnings: Jos is his own warning now. Talks of disability and reader having an accident. Talks and depictions of verbal and physical abuse.

Request: nope this is self-indulgent. However, I am taking requests for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel.

Notes: written in third person. Also, this fic deals with disabilities, particularly blindness. I myself am blind though I still have some vision left, which is mainly what I’m basing this off of. Please remember that blindness is a spectrum like many other disabilities. It is defined really by a loss of vision that can’t be corrected. I’m open to answering questions about it if y’all have any. My inbox and asks are always open :)

Masterlist

The youngest of the Verstappen’s very close with her brother, Max. The two are barely a year apart so it makes sense. Though they get in each others nerves often as well. Victoria doing her best as the oldest to settle arguments between the two.

Jos decided that two children in racing gives him better odd then just one. Electing to have both start karting at an early age.

They liked racing together. Getting used to being each others rocks when their father was harsher then necessary. It became routine for the two to defend each other.

Then everything changed.

The two were moving up through the ranks. Competing harder then ever to make your dad proud.

The accident wasn’t her fault. A consequence of her father from trying to build a faster car and not having test run it.

The engine exploded during the race. Every one of her senses ranged useless as she tried to react.

Ears ringing.

Smoke from the fire burning in her nose.

Blood from whatever hitting her knocking her teeth into her lip.

Heat nipping at her skin.

Lack of sight making her steering erratic.

Max had immediately rushed to aid his sister. Their father only staring in disappointment. He became resentful of his father that day.

The ambulance arrived and took you away. Max begged to go with but Jos ignored his request, telling him he needed help cleaning up his youngest daughter mess.

After hours the finally arrived back home. The other two Verstappen’s confused why the youngest was nowhere to be found. Max finally broke down in tears, much to his father dislike, and clutched Victoria for comfort. Telling her everything that had happened.

While three of them went to the hospital to find you, the fourth sat wallowing in disgrace at the display from his children today. He couldn’t admit he’d made a mistake. One that might have cost him a child.

Meanwhile the youngest was out of surgery. Continually crying for her family. The nurses had tried to reach her father who had given the medics his cell number, but they had yet to hear from him.

When her family arrived she tried her best to make out their faces. The sparks from the engine had been so bright that they burned her retinas. The combination of the fire doing permanent damage. The impact of the engine had knocked her helmet almost all the way off and she instinctively pushed it away to try and see again. The protection of the visor gone.

The three siblings cuddled together in her hospital bed. The youngest not fully comprehending why she couldn’t see. The lights were too bright. She was squinting to make out the small details.

Things didn’t improve after that. Jos became angry towards her. Constantly reminding the girl of what happened, what she did wrong, and how if she hadn’t messed up she might have been successful.

Regardless, she listened to him berate her at everyone of Max’s races. He stopped commenting about Max when she was within earshot. Mostly because she told him off every time he insulted her brother. Jos already deemed her the disappointment of the family, standing up for Max couldn’t possibly make things worse.

Max had also gotten more protective of his sister. Having been the one to pull her away from the wreckage and cleaning up the damage made him realize he didn’t want you to get hurt again.

He made it to every doctors appointment he could. He attended as much physical therapy as you would let him. He even put on a blind fold so he could understand a bit better. He helped her learn cane skills and how to guide you himself. All in an effort to help his sister feel less alone.

He was aware she still had some eyesight lift. Mostly cloudy and bright patches dotted her eyes making it difficult to make out where things are and any specific details. She liked seeing what she could of her siblings faces though.

Max determined he was going to bring you to every race with him. The Verstappen losing all ability to drive now making things harder for her and she didn’t want to stay with her father.

Victoria had a room for her in her house and let her stay when she needed. Max always made sure there was a room for her if she wanted to travel with him. She loved how willing her sibling were to help her out. However, it left her feeling useless and vulnerable at times.

Eventually, Max helped get her a job with Redbull as a strategist. She enjoyed playing with the different data. Listening became a more essential job then seeing.

Race days were spent in the garage unnoticed in the back. Hopefully out of view of the cameras and away from her father. They saw each other often, much to her dismay. He always had something to say to her when Max wasn’t around.

It was during her downtime that she met Charles.

Deciding her cane was unnecessary since she knew her way around the paddock and the ground is relatively flat, she went to hunt down her brother.

Neither party was paying attention leading to them running straight into each other. She could vaguely make out the Ferrari red race suit standing in front of her. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Came the voice of Charles Leclerc. Though the two had never formally met, she had heard during interviews enough to know his voice.

“It’s alright, neither was I.” She smiled at the Monegasque. “Have you seen Max anywhere?”

He chuckles. “Unfortunately no. Are you his girlfriend?”

The question makes her laugh hysterically. “I’m his sister.” She can hear him sigh in relief at the clarification.

“That’s better at least because I wanted to say that you are very beautiful.” The playfulness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Completely taking her off guard. Sure she’d gotten complements, but not often enough to make her used to them. The words of Jos not letting her believe them anyway. “Would it be alright if I give you my number?”

She lost all words in that moment. This had never happened before. “Sure-” she manages to stutter out before handing him her phone. The screen reading out things to her so she could get to her intended destination.

“I’ve never see a phone do that before.” Charles takes the phone from her and starts to put in his information.

She mentally face palms herself. Obviously he hasn’t realized she’s blind. “Actually I don’t have much of my eyesight.” She play with the bottom of her shirt. Her father having instilled in her that her blindness is something to be ashamed of.

“Wait- so you are blind? That is very interesting, I would like to know more if you’re okay with it.” The curiosity in his voice rising.

She wasn’t prepared for this. Nobody asks her questions about her condition. Even Christian doesn’t touch the subject and she never brings it up in conversation. “I guess, if your really interested.”

“Great, I’ll see you later tonight. Send me the address of where you’re staying.” His playful and flirty manner never faulted as he walked past her. Leaving the girl confused and blushing.

Little did she know that Charles had seen her around the paddock. Mostly hanging off of Max’s arm. He assumed she’d never notice him wave or try to get her attention. Turns out she couldn’t see him. He knows better then to assume. He blames it on the anxiety of being around her.

The youngest Verstappen finished up her duties as quick as possible. Catching a ride with her brother back to the hotel. He has learned to read her though and immediately noticed something was different. “What’s going on with you? You seem very smiley today.” He laughs.

“I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me.” She did her best not to appear nervous but was ultimately failing. Her hands fiddling in her lap.

“I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She glances over at him. Eyes planted on the road. His calm demeanor putting her at ease. “Charles Leclerc asked me on a date tonight.”

Max begins laughing hysterically. His once smooth driving now a bit jerky from his sudden movements. “You thought I would hate you because of a date?”

She stutters a bit. “Well- aren’t you two rivals?” She manages. His laughing throwing her emotions all over the place.

“Sure, on the track. Off the track we are still friends and I trust him.” He explains. Relief floods through her body at his words. Her confidence in the situation going up a little.

She can feel the smug look on Max’s face. “Do you want help getting ready?”

The two siblings spent over an hour playing dress up. Max eventually having to video call Victoria and ask her opinion. The two trying to make their sister feel like she owns the world.

Dressing is less tricky then make-up. Sometimes she didn’t feel like it was worth the struggle and didn’t put it on. Some day she had to call Victoria to make sure everything looked right. If there was good lighting she was typically fine, but tonight was not one of those nights.

Growing up between two sisters, Max had learned a decent amount about make-up. He even enjoyed getting to do it on his sisters if they would let him. The almost squeal he let our when his sister asked for help was both hilarious and ridiculous. Immediately setting things up on the bathroom counter and going to work.

Max could tell his sister was anxious. Their father having scared away any of your potential boyfriends. Even going as far as to tell they that she is diseased. One of the worst things about having Jos around the garage, is that you’re left with him.

Though Max has stepped in many time and even lectured his father about his word choices, he never let up on any of the Verstappen children. All of them getting some aspect of their father’s insecurity thrown back at them like it’s their fault.

When he was done, Max tried to sooth your nerves. “Dad isn’t around. He’s in his own hotel room. Go have fun.”

And that’s exactly what she did.

The conversation between her and Charles flowed. He asked questions that weren’t invasive and was respectful if she didn’t want to answer. He made her laugh ridiculously hard.

So they kept doing it. She had to follow Redbull for work which made things easier in the two. Finding down time to meet up or celebrating together after races.

After the season was over, the two went on a holiday together.

Charles spent a good amount of time learning from her (and in turn Max) how to guide if the need ever arose.

Charles was so gentle with her. Always letting her know if there was something unexpected around. Telling her who was in the room.

If felt like a dream. One she never wanted to wake up from. Charles had assured her multiple times that she wasn’t dreaming and that their love is very real.

But alas, Jos likes to make things difficult.

A few races into the new season, Charles still had yet to formally meet Jos and the Verstappen siblings intended on keeping it that way. It wasn’t secret. Everyone in the paddock know the two were dating. Jos just hadn’t had the chance to talk to him yet.

She’d mentioned her childhood a few times but could never get out the full extent of what happened. Charles thankfully is patient with her and lets her take her time. He knows Jos’ reputation. Her childhood couldn’t have been the most amazing with him around.

This particular race, she was forced into close proximity with him. There had been a mistake during a pit stop for Max which made him lose some positions. Ending the race in fifth. To her it isn’t bad at all, but to the angry Dutchman unleashing his fury on everything, it most certainly is.

Sensing his rising anger, she had pulled her father into a more secluded area. Hoping that Max wouldn’t come back to the garage for awhile. At least not before she could talk some sense into their father.

She said nothing as strings of curse words left his lips. Only waiting for him to run out of breath.

“Did you see how he got lazy? He would’ve finished higher after the idiots didn’t do their jobs if he had put in more effort.”

“Max put in all his effort and you know it.” She scoffs. Arms folded over her chest. This is nothing new to her.

“Like you have any room to talk.” He snaps back. Her head now sagging, knowing his anger is now finding a new direction.

Charles, on the other hand, had been looking for her. It’s his first win of the season and she is nowhere to be found. Max ran up to him as the podium celebration ended. Patting him on the back for his well earned win.

“Have you seen your sister anywhere, mate?” He asked the Dutch.

Max ponders for a moment. “She might still be in the garage debriefing after what happened.” He replies. “I can walk you over if you want.”

The two drivers made their way to the Redbull garage to find most of those who would normally be inside, standing outside in a huddle. “What the hell is happening?” Max shouts over to Christian as the two approach him.

“I was just about to go find you.” Christian sighs in exasperation. “Can I call security on your father? He hasn’t stopped shouting since the race finished up.”

Charles and Max exchanged glances. The young woman’s absence now making more sense. “I’ll try and talk him down.” Stated Max before weaving his way through the sea of Redbull shirts. Charles following close behind.

Before the two could get further away, Christian yelled out to them. “Good luck, your sister has been trying!” The statement make the two move faster.

Charles could feel his emotions bubbling as the shouting got louder. As him and Max turn the corner, he immediately spots who he’d been looking for. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt around the floor looking for something.

Max steps in between her and the angry Dutch, shouting back and forth in their native tongue. Charles tries to spot what she’s feeling for. Scanning the ground until he spots her phone. The entire thing shattered. Small pieces of glass just barely reflecting the light. He’s down by her side in an instant.

“Love, it’s Charles, max is here also, I’m going to get you out of here okay?”

Her body turns towards Charles. It’s then he notices the specks of blood dotting her hands from feeling around the glass and a deep purple bruise forming on her forehead.

She’s struggling to breath now. Listening to the angry shouts. The pain in her head and the bright fluorescents not helping her see anything. She back in the crash.

Her father had spend from the end of the race until now laying into her. She had successfully defended Max and thought she was prepared to take the brunt of it. Until he snatch her phone and threw it at her. It hit her head so hard she was in the ground in seconds. Trying to feel her way around to where it might have gone so she could call Max.

The words were so familiar to her. The ones she heard in her nightmares when she was once again surrounded by smoke and bright lights stealing away her vision.

“I don’t want to crash again Charles. It’s to hot. It hurts too much. I can’t see anything.” She tried to search for him but ended up with more glass in her palm. The tears only thickening.

“Stay put, okay? I’m going to help Max and then I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to leave her on the floor. She looked like a child, and so did Max in this moment. The two getting their fathers wrath with no end in sight.

Charles sprints back to Christian, yelling at him to call security, then sprints back to Max.

“Mr. Verstappen I think you are out of line here.” Says the monegasque. Signaling Max to stay with you. He didn’t move at first but it was obvious he was getting nowhere, so he obliged. Kneeling down to help his sister calm her breathing.

Jos scoffs at Charles. “You have no right to get in between me and my children.” Anger pooling from his features.

“I mean no disrespect sir, but you’re being an asshole.”

“And is she-“ he jabs his finger at the girl on the floor, “-not disgusting.” Charles almost hits him but refrains from doing so knowing security will be arriving soon.

“On the contrary, I think she is an angel.”

“She’s diseased. She hasn’t even tried to fix her mistakes. Look at her! She just wants attention for what she did to herself!”

Now Charles doesn’t hesitate to punch him. His fist colliding with Jos’ jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall.

Max took his attention off his sister, who was leaning against him, and placed it on Charles. Shock clearly evident of his features.

Jos attempted to confront Charles again, but security finally showed up and escorted Jos out of the paddock.

Charles exhales, glad the confrontation is over. “That’s not how I imagined meeting your father for the first time.” Charles chuckles nervously.

Is doesn’t take much longer until Charles has his love safely wrapped in his arms. Whisking her away to his hotel room. Max had stayed ti make sure everything got cleaned up at the paddock. Kelly arriving shortly with Penelope in tow, ready to comfort Max.

She cried when they were finally safe inside. Pouring out to Charles about the accident and what it had caused in her life. He listened intently, doing his best to soothe the girl. Her panic still clearly evident.

Soon enough she’d calmed. Her head laying in Charles lap while he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“It don’t care what anyone else says. I see your beauty and it is not defined by what you can’t see.”

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suzukiblu · 4 months

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i think i'm in love w KryptonLives!Kara now 😍

. . . I appreciated you saying that and then I got carried away, lol. 😆

“Alright,” she repeats. “Then I’ll show you your room and get you fed, and we’ll see if we can’t get the tailor in this afternoon.”

“The . . . tailor?” Thirteen wrinkles his nose, looking puzzled. “We’ve got clothes.”

“Do they all look like that?” Kara says, pointing at his current outfit instead of addressing just how empty both their bags look.

“Yeah?” He looks still more puzzled.

“Then no, you don’t have clothes,” she says. “You can’t go around dressed like that. Especially not you,” she adds, eyeing the crest on Match’s chest. “Whose family crest is that and why did Kal leave it on you?”

“It’s not a family crest,” Match says, clearly mystified by the assumption. “It’s branding.”

“. . . ‘branding’,” Kara echoes very, very slowly.

“We, uh, came from different labs,” Thirteen says, touching the El crest on his chest self-consciously. “Cadmus put, um, the S-shield on my suit, but the Agenda put their own logo on Match’s.”

“Logo?!” Kara demands in horror, because she cannot even approach the thing where Thirteen just called the El crest an “S-shield”, whatever weird nonsense that phrase means. Match just stares blankly at her in a way that distinctly reminds her of every subordinate she’s ever had transfer in from under an abusive bastard of a commander.

Right. Okay. If she can’t get a tailor in this afternoon, she’s going to go steal clothes out of Kal’s own damn closet for these two. That’s just what’s going to have to happen.

“You can’t wear that here,” she tells Match, forcing her voice to stay calm. “The council will think we haven’t accepted you into the House of El, if you’re wearing another–crest.”

“I’m always wearing it,” Match says, perfectly blank and perfectly neutral. “It doesn’t matter if it’s on my clothes or not.”

“. . . what does that mean,” Kara asks with fresh dread, and then has to deal with a physiological teenager unfastening the back of his already-indecent clothing and pulling the top of his bodysuit down to expose his chest, which, thank fuck she’s Warrior Guild or she’d have to have a conniption about that.

Which she doesn’t have time to do, because there’s a tattoo on Match’s chest, and that’s a much more important conniption to be having right now.

A tattoo of the Rao-damned logo, to be specific.

“Aethyr’s ass,” she says, staring at it in horror for a moment before she snaps out of it enough to cover her eyes. They’re “family”, yes, and Match is technically a child, but his body and mind are developed far past his chronological age and she just really doesn’t want him getting the idea that it’s acceptable to go around taking his clothes off this easily either way. The clothes are bad enough as they are. “Cover yourself, that’s not–you can’t just take your clothes off like that!”

“It was just my chest,” Match says with an audible frown in his voice, though at least she hears fabric rustle, and hopefully that means–yes, he’s fixing his bodysuit. Thank fuck.

“Your chest is not just,” Kara says, then vaguely remembers Kal mentioning something about how risqué most of the Earthling fashion he saw was and tries not to grimace. Just–gods, this whole experience is going to involve so much culture shock, isn’t it. “Your sex characteristics are inseminator-based, not carrier. You can’t just show people your chest.”

Match keeps staring blankly at her, the obvious desire to ask a question concealed in the back of his eyes, then just barely slants a look towards Thirteen, who glances back at him before frowning at her in confusion.

“Uh,” he says, still frowning. “Why not? He doesn’t have ti–breasts or anything. So why’s it matter?”

. . . Earth is very different from Krypton, Kara realizes.

“The only reason you should ever bare your chest in front of anyone not a sexually-inclined lover or a physician who’s directly examining you is if you’re feeding an infant,” she tells them. “Which most of us don’t even do, for the record, the birthing matrix generally means lactation isn’t triggered in carriers. Only the extreme throwback communities actually do carry anymore.”

“. . . what?” Thirteen says, clearly baffled. “Like–you just don’t get pregnant? None of you?”

“It’s not necessary, and it’s more difficult to genetically optimize children in-utero than in a birthing matrix,” Kara says. “Match, just–don’t show anyone that tattoo. Or mention it to anyone. The crest issue is bad enough, but getting tattooed is just . . . not a thing we do in proper society.”

Admittedly, she’s known a few Warrior Guild members who got something small, but it was never anything like a logo or–

“I didn’t ‘get’ it,” Match says, frowning at her. “The Agenda put it on me to identify me as their product.”

. . . Kara wants to scream.

“Either way, don’t mention it,” she says instead of doing that, because she is a grown goddamn woman and a general. “Well–you can tell Kal, obviously, but no one else."

“. . . why is that ‘obvious’?” Match says, and the fact he has to ask really does not make Kara feel good about this situation.

“He’s your petitioner,” she says. “He might need to know, especially if the council intends to have you two examined by physicians. Also, he won’t be an ass about it, unlike a lot of other people probably would.”

She doesn’t think anyone in their family would, at least as long as they knew Match didn’t get tattooed willingly, but she’s sure there’s a goddamn nosy neighbor or bastard council member or local gossip who’d take the excuse to.

“Uh, so body mods are a no-go in general, then, or . . .” Thirteen trails off, tugging uncomfortably at his earring.

“The earring’s a bit out there as a fashion statement, yes,” Kara says. Thirteen looks even more uncomfortable. She wonders why he even has it, considering. And only one, too? Not even a matching set?

“The hole, uh, won’t close,” Thirteen says, tugging at it again and not quite looking at her. “They pierced it when I was in early development, so . . .”

“What?” Kara blinks at him in bemusement. What does he mean by “early development”? Not when he was an infant, right? Why would–“Who did?"

“Uh,” Thirteen says, staring at the floor. “Well, Match got tattooed, and I got . . . tagged.”

. . . Kara wants to bomb so much more than just a lab right now, but if she gets any more enraged, a Red Lantern ring is going to come find her, and she just doesn’t have the time for that right now. Just–no, she really doesn’t.

“I see,” she says very, very calmly, then just . . . gestures towards the hall. “Your room’s this way. I only have one guest suite, so you’re going to have to share, but I got a second bed put in yesterday and you’ll have your own bath to share too. It’s fully stocked, and I’ll show you how to run the cleaning systems and how the plumbing all works.”

She can’t imagine Kryptonian plumbing or cleaning systems being particularly similar to Earthling ones, so . . .

“Um, okay,” Thirteen says, shifting awkwardly. “Uh–thanks. Ma’am. Uh, when’s lights out?”

Kara is going to have a fucking time with these kids, isn’t she. And not in a good way.

Lorra’s left tit. She is definitely, definitely throwing Kal off that building. And then she’ll take his new wife to tea while he recovers in the healing chambers, the little bastard, and show her every embarrassing childhood holo she can find.

“I have absolutely no idea how much sleep you need, so we’ll be figuring that out together,” she replies frankly. “For now, just don’t leave the apartment without me. I don’t want you getting lost and the council won’t like you wandering around unchaperoned yet either.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both say in stiff, discordant unison, both looking tense.

Kara . . . exhales, slowly, and then leads the way down the hall.

“My suite and office are the whole top floor,” she says, pointing out doors as they go. “The kitchen is through here, that’s the guest bathroom, those are both storage, and that’s the living room. You can go anywhere in the house except for my suite and office, and if you need me while I’m in either of those, just chime.”

“‘Chime’?” Thirteen wrinkles his nose.

“Yes,” Kara says, then realizes he doesn’t know what she means. “Ah–you know? Chime?”

They both stare blankly at her. She sighs. She’s too damn old to chime, but . . .

“Like this,” she says, and then vibrates her secondary vocal chords to produce the sweet little sound. She hasn’t chimed in . . . Rao, since before she left for the academy, probably. Still, they’re still children, so–

“We’re–allowed?” Thirteen asks, his expression looking . . . strange. “To do that?”

“Yes,” Kara says, thinking longingly of bombing Earthling Thinkers’ labs. What does he mean “allowed”? “It’s chiming. Who’d keep a kid from chiming?”

“It’s obnoxious,” Match says flatly, clearly repeating someone else's words. Kara stares at him. Once again, he’s found a way to say something even worse than the thing she already thought was the worst thing she was going to have to hear today. It's almost impressive, at this point.

“It’s how you’re going to get my attention,” she says. “So you’d better get used to doing it, or you’ll have to call me on my comm every time you need something from me.”

“Can’t we just . . . knock?” Thirteen says. Kara has absolutely no idea what that means. She can’t think of a single child-call that sounds like hitting something.

“Depends,” she says, tilting her head. “What’s a knock call sound like?”

“A–what?” Thirteen looks baffled. “No, like–it’s not a . . . ‘call’?”

“It’s a knock,” Match says.

“Like, you know,” Thirteen says, and then reaches out and raps his knuckles against the wall. Kara gives him a blank look.

“How would I even hear that?” she says. Chiming carries. That was just . . . hitting the wall. Not even hitting it hard.

“I mean–you do it against the door,” Thirteen says, looking a little flustered. “Like, of the room someone’s in.”

So she’d be encouraging teenagers to hit her doors on the regular. No, that’s not happening.

“Just chime,” she repeats firmly, folding her arms, and Thirteen and Match share a look. Thirteen looks anxious. Match looks blank. Kara . . . doesn’t even want to know how she looks, at this point.

#eleutheria-has-won #wip: krypton lives and kara did not sign up for this #long post

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theshippirate22 · 6 months

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I have a theory

listen up bitches (gender neutral) (affectionate) i’ve been cooking this for an incredibly long time and i’m very very excited to share it but it is gonna be long so i’m putting it under a cut

my theory is that there has been a new set of archetypes created by popular m/m media either in canon or coding and i would love if it was more widely recognized by a distinct name so here we go:

I present to you: The Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill Boyfriends™️ Theory

i need to preface this by saying that i am absolutely not an english major or expert but i have done so much analysis that i’m 98% positive i’m on to something here

so usually mlm ships- at least in my experience- get boiled down into typical Grumpy x Sunshine, Golden Retriever x Black Cat, or like. Babygirl x Badass. and i hate that because those are like really watered down hetero romance stereotypes and i think queer people deserve to get our own archetypes instead of trying to force queer characters into prepaid boxes but that’s a story for another day so:

basically, all content with widely accepted mlm ships (even if they are more in coding than in canon) has this pattern with the ship that fits into Mirrorball x Running Up That Hill

(name pending- open to suggestions)

Boyfriend No.1 of course is the epitome of Mirrorball by Taylor Swift (i know, i know. bear with me here). He’s constantly trying to prove himself and his worth and usually he’s driven to hide or overcome 1-3 specific and intense insecurities/character flaws. He often has innate loyalty to a system or person who has repeatedly abused/neglected/abandoned him and thinks that this treatment is a result of his own character rather than a reflection of the abuser. In relation to the plot and audience, this is the “more dangerous” of the two because he’s so desperate to hold onto the status quo that he’ll often act in a way that makes things more difficult for himself, often by leaving Boyfriend No. 2, sacrificing himself, or doing “the wrong thing.” He also commonly has an older male figure that is breathing down his neck constantly, haunting his perceived inadequacies, and fueling his self-loathing. He’s constantly mischaracterized because he’s either boiled down to “the silly one” or a visage of his trauma and the people that relate to love these characters are usually extremely sad people. Usually this character is also the “mean girl” of the couple.

Examples of the Mirrorball boyfriend: Dean Winchester, Aziraphale, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Sherlock Holmes, Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler, Prince Rupert, etc.

Boyfriend No. 2 then, is the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend, based of course, on the song by the same name by the perfect Kate Bush. He’s the one that’s seen The Horrors™️ and gained a layer of cynicism that Mirrorball doesn’t have. He was once loyal to something that used/hurt him but he rejected it and used his newfound freedom to restructure his entire personality and reach his much higher potential. Usually, he has passed so far from having a few insecurities to perceiving himself as utterly worthless and unlovable but he’s so convinced that it doesn’t even haunt him, he just goes with it and usually comes off looking overly-confident or cocky. This is The Bitch (affectionate)™️. There’s probably a scene of him covered in blood. This is The Girls’ favorite blorbo and ultimate whump. He tends to be really good with kids and he’s the kind of character that would and often has to CLAW a life out for himself by his fingernails.

Examples of the Running Up That Hill Boyfriend: Castiel, Crowley, Ed Teach, Black Pete, John Watson, Steve Harrington, Will Byers, Prince Amir, etc.

unfortunately i haven’t seen a lot of popular queer stuff so if you can think of other mlm or mlm shaped characters that fit into these archetypes please please please tell me

i’m specifically curious about:

-Hannigram (Hannibal)

-Buddy (911) (@criminally-obsessed if you would mind weighing in but obviously no pressure)

-Lokius (Loki) (@henderdads same thing)

-Any of the marauders but specifically WolfStar

-Stucky (MCU)

-RWRB (i’m so sorry i don’t remember the guys’ names)

-Nick and Charlie (Heartstopper)

-What We Do In the Shadows has one I think?

-literally anyone else please and thank you 🙏🙏 love you all

if you want like explicit examples of each piece for a character lmk for sure because i could talk about this all day long

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void-wolfie · 1 year

Text

Seventy-Two

summary: a little arguing and some bad memories push you into a panic attack, good thing Tara's there to help you through it.

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader

words: 1.3k

tw: some angst, some fluff... mentions of abuse, (very brief) mentions of drugs/alcohol, descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks

a/n: apparently I'm back on my angst train lol. I'm not a professional so apologies if this isn't completely accurate. Briefly based this on my own experiences and some light research.

*if anything here may be a trigger for you, please don't read

You set your motorcycle helmet in your locker, grabbing out the few textbooks you'd need for the day and slamming the locker door shut.

"Where've you been?"

You jumped a little, not having expected the shorter girl to be on the other side of the locker door.

"Hi, Tara. Good morning to you too. Oh, I'm fine thanks for asking," You snarked, disregarding the girl and heading towards your first class.

She sighed, you two played this little game too often. Out in public, it was sideways glances and off-the-cuff remarks. She only ever got to see the real you when you were alone.

Right now, there were eyes everywhere; students and teachers alike all crowding the halls, trying to get to classes. She wouldn't get anything out of you here.

She grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into an empty classroom, making sure to shut the door behind you.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're tenacious." You smirked, looking around the empty classroom in boredom. Turning back around, you noticed the less-than-enthused look on her face.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're annoying."

"Actually you, every time we talk,"

You didn't take the jab to heart; she was just worried and stressed.

"Where've you been?" she asked again, her calm demeanor slipping away.

"Awe, do you actually care for me, princess?"

She huffed, rubbing her eyes with her fingers, something she often did when annoyed. Her patience was running thin, and classes hadn't even started yet.

"I've been trying to text you. Wes told me your dad had to bail you out for drug charges, then you go M.I.A. for two weeks and come back looking like you had the shit beat out of you."

"Yeah, well what else did Wes tell ya?"

You didn't exactly like Wes. He wasn't terrible but his nose was always stuck in someone else's business, which irritated the living hell out of you.

That, plus the fact you couldn't help but be jealous over their relationship. You know you shouldn't be, after all, they're just friends. But nothing ticked you off quite like Wes following Tara around like a lost puppy dog for everyone to see, while your relationship with the girl only existed behind closed doors.

"He told me your dad looked mad, like seriously pissed off." She took a few steps closer, getting into your personal space, not that you minded. You flinched slightly as her hands cupped your face, her thumb lightly tracing your black eye. "Did he do this to you, your dad?"

Despite the voice in your head screaming to finally admit it, to tell the whole world about the shit he puts you through, you just couldn't do it. You shook your head no, quickly wiping at the tears that threatened to fall.

You pulled yourself away from her, stepping further into the classroom to try and get some space.

"Then who did?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Have you looked in a mirror, you look like shit. Of course, it matters."

"Just leave it alone, Tara."

She wouldn't understand, you barely even did yourself. You just couldn't turn him in.

The man may be an abusive asshole and borderline alcoholic, but he's still your dad. For every terrible memory, there was a good one.

Sure, he'd beaten you to a pulp, hit you countless times before, and who even knows how much therapy you'd need one day. But he'd also bought you your first motorcycle, taught you how to do oil changes and engine repairs, he helped you prepare for softball tournaments and school projects.

It was all just so conflicting.

"y/n?"

You were so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed the tightness in your chest or the way your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, almost drawing blood. You were lost in your memories trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

You were completely overwhelmed. Your entire world was crumbling down around you. It felt like you were drowning with no end in sight.

You yanked your backpack off, then your jacket, gripping the desk in front of you as you tried to figure out how to breathe again.

"y/n?"

She'd never seen you like this before. You were always so strong, so guarded. And yet here you were, looking the most vulnerable she'd ever seen you.

"I- I can’t-" you stumbled over your words, not sure how to form anything coherent with the dizziness in your head and tightness in your chest.

You sat down on the floor, leaning your back against the teacher’s desk as the world spun in front of you.

Tara recognized that look, she'd seen it in Sam countless times before. You were having a panic attack.

"Shit."

She dropped her bag, getting down on the ground next to you, careful not to crowd you in case it only made it worse.

"Hey, you’re good at math, right?"

You looked at her a bit puzzled but nodded nonetheless. What the fuck does math have to do with anything right now?

"Ok, what's six plus four?"

"T-Ten." You wheezed out an answer, still focusing on trying to get your breathing under control.

"Good, now what's nine times three?"

She could tell you were still overwhelmed, not really focused on her at the moment. Your eyes seemed dazed as they darted around the room.

"Hey," She grabbed your hand gently, interlacing your fingers, "focus on me, ok?"

That seemed to work, grabbing your attention, "What's nine times three?"

"...Twenty-seven,"

She was doing her best to stay calm, even if the sight of you hurting was killing her inside. But she'd done this before, she knew what she was doing... well, mostly.

The research she'd done over the years rang out in her head. Stay calm, get them to slow their breathing. Make your own breathing relaxed, keep it slow and even-paced, and theirs will follow suit... Get them to focus on something else for the time being... If things get worse, call for help...

"Good, and what about seven times eight?"

"...Fifty-six,"

"Five times eleven?"

"Fifty-five,"

Now she had your attention. You didn't notice but your breathing had started slowing down and your fists weren't clenched as tight. You were starting to relax a bit.

"Ok, what about forty-five divided by three?"

"Fifteen."

"And sixty divided by five?"

"Twelve,"

"Good," you were finally calm again, mostly anyways, "want me to keep going?"

You were exhausted, you felt a little better, not great, but better. Your head didn't feel like it was going to explode anymore, and your heart wasn't beating out of your chest.

You shook your head no, not wanting to do any more math. You patted the spot next to you, which Tara happily filled, glad to see you weren't hyperventilating anymore.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on her shoulder.

"So, am I officially smarter than a fifth grader?"

She rolled her eyes, not that you could see that, too busy cuddling into her side, "not a chance,"

"Your just jealous I'm better at my times tables than you are,"

She didn't have to look down at you to know you were smirking. But she did anyway, finding it adorable with the way your eyes were still closed and you were leaning into her.

It was almost comical, she thought, looking down at you. The big scary drug dealer with a fuck-around-and-find-out attitude and a deadly glare cuddling into the popular girl who has the personality (and height) of a teddy bear. If anyone else at school saw this, they probably would've thought they were hallucinating.

She scoffed, "that's so not true."

"What's nine times eight?"

There was a moment of silence, in which you couldn't help but smile a little brighter.

"I hate you."

"Seventy-two."

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #jenna ortega #void-wolfie

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wardenparker · 7 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 3

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships.* Wicca, anxiety (making friends takes spoons), self-doubt, lots of secrets being kept, Bat Max comes with his own warning. Summary: Making new friends isn't always easy, but when those new friends are the local coven sometimes it's a lot easier than you think! Notes: The portrayal of Wiccan characters in this story is based on my own experience and the experiences of people I know personally. It's very safe to say that almost all practitioners have their own special way of doing things and each coven is a little different, so we're just going with what we know. 🧡🧹🍁 A little insight into Dolly's mansion: this chapter image is the fireplace in the morning room at the real life Chateau-sur-Mer!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

Waking up to no alarm, no banging or crashing around the house, and no feeling of terror at being late for work is a very strange sort of miracle. The sun is up and the clock on the mantle reads eight o’clock, but the house is silent. That in and of itself is odd, but what is stranger is that you don’t remember getting into bed last night. Popping up from the plush pillows, you find yourself covered with your own comforter and still in your clothes from yesterday, but your book is sitting neatly on the chaise and the window is shut. Did you just have the weirdest ass dream in the world about petting a bat and reading to it? You must have. Right? There is no way that actually happened…

There’s a soft knock on the door. Hearing you stir slightly has Renee waiting for you to give permission to enter before she turns the handle and smiles as she walks in. “Good morning, Dolly.” She murmurs softly. “Would you like a breakfast tray here or would you prefer to eat in the dining room?” Learning your preferences is key and since Mrs. Taylor is handling the blood from the blood bank in the kitchen right now, she doesn’t want you wandering in.

“Morning Renee.” A little groggy from the confusion of how you woke up, you dig the palm of your hand into your eye and smother a yawn. “I’ll come downstairs, you don’t have to bring a tray all the way up.” You’re more than capable of going downstairs, of course. And if your roommates are downstairs you don’t want to seem rude or standoffish.

“It’s no problem.” Renee protests. “Max and Eddie have already eaten, having early morning schedules.”

Somehow you didn’t figure Max for an early riser, but you shrug off that detail and offer her a smile. “I’ll still come down,” you decide. “Maybe a trip into town would be good today? Just to check things out and get to know the area.” It’s Mabon, but you don’t know if anyone else in the house is pagan or Wiccan or would be offended by having witchy holidays brought up, so you don’t say anything. Instead you’ll just quietly get a few fall-themed things for your room and not bother anyone else with it.

“It is the beginning of the autumn equinox, so perhaps it would be good for you to tour around.” Renee nods. “Mrs. Taylor and I will be setting the house up and Mr. Taylor will be decorating.”

“How did you—?” It’s like she was reading your mind, and you tilt your head slightly in curiosity. “I don’t suppose Newport has an autumn festival or a farmer’s market this weekend?” It’s too much to ask that there might be a community of witches nearby, but your parents’ Wiccan upbringing has seeped into your bones and happily stuck there.

The younger housekeeper nods with a small chuckle. “Of course there is. We are only two hours from Salem.” She explains. “This is a magical time of year where traditions outweigh conservatism.”

“Then I think I’ll head into town after breakfast.” The idea of fresh air and maybe hearing someone wish others a Blessed Mabon again gives you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“If you need any directions or would like to be driven around, just let me know.” Renee tells you before she hums. “Oh, would you like to drive the Volvo or the Corvette?” She asks. “Mr. Taylor was in the process of giving the Volvo a tune up, but he can have it available for you whenever you need.”

“I don’t want to bother or interrupt anyone.” You insist right away, sitting up and moving to the edge of your bed. “I guess…I’ll drive the Corvette? It’s…that is okay, right?”

“Of course.” She gives you a smile, having already concluded that you will be asking permission for things rather than just doing. Perhaps in time it will change, but she will just roll with it for now.

“Okay.” Adjusting to the idea that these things are yours to do with as you please is going to take a long time, but you nod. “I’ll be down in a few minutes, then.”

“Of course.” She repeats, nodding respectfully and turning to slip out of the room. She will let Mr. Taylor know to pull the corvette out of the carriage house and tell Mrs. Taylor that you are ready for breakfast.

******

It seems like Newport has two parts. There is the ritzy, expensive, even touristy part of town — and then there is the old New England side of things. The locals are a little crotchety but ultimately nice enough, and one even pointed out his favourite coffeeshop to you when you finally ambled your way into the farmer’s market nearby. There are farm stands and crafts people, handmade goods and stalls from small businesses selling everything from soap and tea to jewelry and housewares. It’s an autumn festival minus the feast, but with all the food for sale it won’t be hard to make a feast of your own.

“Miss?” The vendor for the Say Cheese! booth, a gourmet, small batch cheese producer, tries to catch your attention. “Would you like to try some of our caramelized onion and thyme goat cheese?” She asks, offering a tray of the creamy spread that has been smeared on crackers. “Or we have honey and fig if onions aren’t you’re thing.”

You almost want to ask if it’s okay to try both, but that seems greedy until you turn and find a girl about your age with a shiny ’She/Her’ pronoun pin affixed to her apron alongside a name tag that reads ‘Allison’ in curving, cheery lettering. A foam witch’s hat is stuck to the corner and covered in purple glitter, making it extra chipper. “That sounds wonderful,” you say instead, nodding and stepping closer to the booth.

“It is.” She insists. “Although the pumpkin spiced brie can be a little…targeted.” She laughs and shrugs. “But it’s actually pretty good.”

“I’m a big fan of pumpkin spice.” The little witch hat makes you smile and you shrug. “Don’t they say that clove, cinnamon, and ginger keep evil away in folklore? That’s most of what pumpkin spice is.”

“To be honest?” She grins conspiratorially. “Most in my coven are thrilled that it’s become so popular. Protection while not even being aware.”

“You have a—?” You nearly freeze when she says out so freely - so openly - and blow out a happy breath. Happy is an odd feeling. “Blessed Mabon.”

“Blessed Mabon.” Her smile deepens and her eyes light up with delight. “May your harvest be bountiful and your light bright.”

“May the equinox bring you abundance and joy.” That was always your mother’s favourite way to return a Mabon blessing, and you had adopted it over the years. Not that you had had anyone to celebrate with in years, but that’s different. “I—I’m so glad to meet you.” Despite Renee assuring you that there are plenty of pagans, Wiccans, and witches in Newport, you hadn’t just expected to run into one first thing.

“I don’t know if I’ve seen you here before.” Allison comments as she starts to load up a small taster plate with an assortment of cheeses for you to try. “Are you just visiting or new to the area?”

“I just moved.” Though you’re wary of giving more detail than that, this woman is beaming and friendly. “Just trying to get out and see the town a little this morning and you’re the first person I’ve actually met.”

“Then that means we are connected.” Allison beams, reaching behind her neck and removes the smoky quartz crystal that is hanging on a delicate chain. “Here. A welcoming gift for you. It had been blessed during Beltane.”

She does not mean to be anything but kind and perhaps generous, but the gesture of a gift almost has you in tears as she presses the crystal into you stunned, frozen palm. It’s such a small gesture to her, no doubt, but any kind of gift nearly has you in tears that you have to wave off quickly. “Everyone has been so kind since I got here,” you explain quickly. Everyone but Max, you think just as quickly, but she doesn’t need to know your saga. Especially when your other hand has the sample plate in it now and you can’t even recall her putting it there. “It’s overwhelming. In a good way.”

“Our community can be very friendly.” She chatters happily. “Perhaps a bit odd, but that always comes with the supernatural, right?”

"Usually." You smile a little, eventually closing your fingers around the crystal and nodding gratefully. "Thank you...Allison." Her nametag is just out there shining in the sun and you gesture toward it before you introduce yourself.

“You are most welcomed.” She hands you the plate with a slight flourish. “Please let me know what you like out of these cheeses.” She tells you. “And, if you are interested, we have the harvest bonfire tonight.”

"Really?" Again your head shoots up in surprise, and the question is muffled around a bite of the pumpkin spice brie that makes you groan immediately in delight.

“Absolutely.” She winks at you and grins at the absolute bliss on your face. “It’s the first night of the spooky season. We have an eclectic group that comes together. Maybe you would like to meet some spiritual sisters?”

"My roommates were talking about decorating the house." It's still odd to think of having roommates - of living with anyone besides Derek - but remembering the little bat from your dream does make you smile. "I haven't had a coven since college. It...would be really nice to have a community again."

“We are welcoming to all.” She promises and pulls out a little card that has the information on it. “We start a little before sundown, socialize and relax.” She tells you. “Please come. It’s always fun.”

"Thank you." Your quiet murmur is full of gratitude, and moments later when the samples are gone from the little plate, you are buying all three flavours of cheese and whatever else Allison recommends from the stand she is working at. With the ability to actually spend money comes the desire to make sure that it goes to people who will actually benefit directly from your purchases - it's going to be a lot of farmers markets for you in the future and not so much time spent in big chain grocery stores.

Once the transaction is completed, Allison smiles at you. “I hope to see you later?” She asks questioningly.

"I think so." There is always a chance you'll get too anxious and freak yourself out a bit, but you nod. You want to have the emotional energy to make new friends tonight. Maybe you'll cut your outing short earlier in the day so that you don't run out of steam. It's been a long time since you had something you actually wanted to do like this. "Is--can I bring anything?" Always taught never to show up empty handed, you'll surely end up bringing something no matter what the answer is.

“An opened mind and heart.” Allison shakes her head. “Our guests are never required to bring anything more. It will be our pleasure to host you this evening.”

"I'll see you tonight." You will make it work. And besides -- the trip out this morning will have to be quick. You've got precious cheese to get back home.

******

“I hope that she is okay.” Mrs. Taylor glances out the window with a frown on her face. “She seems like such a timid thing. So surprising about that, considering.”

“We don’t know what she’s been through,” Renee reminds the older woman, methodically working her way through folding the last of your laundry. There was a lot of it that seemed barely touched — fun things like dresses and logo tees or more fitted things — and looser, more office work clothing and jeans that are surely baggy on you, that look far more worn. “A lot’s happened in her life. Or at least…a lot could have happened.”

“It makes me want to protect her.” Mrs. Taylor admits quietly. She’s never had children of her own, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have a motherly instinct. “No wonder he wanted her brought here.”

“He should have been able to protect her before now.” Renee tuts, carefully folding a sweater depicting a black cat perched like they’re in a windowsill. “But that’s none of our business, of course.”

“There were reasons.” She’s not sure what those reasons are, but there’s very little he does that doesn’t have reasoning behind it.

“I’m sure.” She isn’t, not really, but Renee has never been the one to make the decisions. She prefers it that way. “At least we can do our part in taking care of her now.”

“Of course we can. It’s why he had her brought here.” She’s incredibly proud of her role in taking care of Cookie and there is a lot of trust that was placed in her hands to do that. Renee hasn’t been with the family quite as long, so she doesn’t understand that quite yet. “Perhaps we can put together a lovely tea time when she gets back.”

“I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t come back with a few things from the farmer’s market.” The thought of you settling in makes the younger woman smile and she sets the stacks of your folded clothes into the dresser beside her. “We can make a tray with some of what she finds?” As if on cue, the front door opens and closes, the sound reverberating through the house despite being gentle. “Hopefully that’s her,” Renee hums, quickly depositing the last of your clean things in the bureau and heading for the stairs.

Nodding, Mrs. Taylor quickly follows the younger housekeeper out of the bedroom to see who has come inside. Mr. Taylor is finishing up with the car out in the carriage house but he would come in the back door.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Renee is the first to spot you, looking a little more relaxed than when you left this morning and caring many more bags. “Please, allow me.”

“Oh, it’s okay, Renee.” The fresh air has you feeling better, after having spent hours at the farmer’s market and debating whether or not to take a walk around the nearest bakery or florist shop, only to end up overwhelmed by the change in the people in those places. They were tourists - obviously wealthy and snobbish - and not nearly as friendly as the people you’d met at the market. “Only…” You separate out the bag that has your precious cheeses in it. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind putting these in the refrigerator for me? The farmer’s market had amazing things.”

“Absolutely.” She beams, happy that you had found things that you wanted at the market. “Mrs. Taylor was just suggesting putting together a tea tray for you. Would you like anything from here on it?” She asks, wanting you to have some input.

“There is a spiced plum tea and some goat cheese with fig that—” As soon as the thought begins, you frown and shake your head, becoming tight and self-conscious again. “You don’t have to trouble yourselves. I can take care of it. I—don’t want to give either of you more work than you already have.”

"Of course." She nods, but she has no intention of listening to you. There is plum tea and fig goat cheese that you have fallen in love with, so that will be added to the tray along with the tea sandwiches that Mrs. Taylor has no doubt already started making in the kitchen.

“I’ll just go and put these things upstairs first.” Crystals, candles, some waxed flowers, and cute little needlepointed pillow with a bat in a pile of leaves have all come home with you and they’re going to help your space feel a little more personal instantly.

"I'll bring the tray up in just a moment," Renee turns. "Unless you would like to have tea in the morning room?" The light is bright and airy in there and it's a lovely space for a tea service.

“You don’t have to—” Her face makes it abundantly clear that there will be a tea tray and the only conversation she’s willing to entertain about it is the location in which you will be receiving it. “The morning room would…it sounds very nice,” you admit after a breath. “Thank you, Renee.”

"There was a book on your bedside table this morning." She mentions quietly. "Would you like me to bring it down so you can read, or is that an evening book?"

“That’s an old favorite.” The hundred-year-old copy of Jane Eyre has even seeped its way into your dreams, but you enjoyed it thoroughly. “I’ll pick something else from the shelves for day reading.” It’s such a luxury, and it’s hard to process that that is your life now. Luxury. Doing whatever you want. No one is going to stop you.

"Of course." This time the nod is accompanied by a small smile before the assistant housekeeper rushes off to make sure that your tea tray includes the small little treats you had brought back from your first trip to the town.

The small bags with goodies in them are easily deposited in your room, where you notice that your childhood throw blanket with ballet slippers prominently featured has been folded and left at the bottom of your chaise, and your bed has been made again. It’s not bad, it’s just…odd. Something your great-aunt was so used to and maybe occasionally even took for granted…that you will have to remind yourself is perfectly reasonable. Refocusing yourself, you put down your bags and take the little throw pillow out, deciding to bring it down to the morning room window seat with you. It will be a sweet little thing to have with you, and you can bring it upstairs again afterward so that you don’t get in anyone’s way.

******

"She has been to the farmer's market and would like to use the plum tea and the fig goat cheese." Renee hums happily as she sweeps into the kitchen with the bag you had given her. As she had expected, the little three tiered display is already layered with little sandwiches on the bottom. She's sure some are cucumber and others are the curry chicken salad she had been experimenting with.

“I’m sure she insisted she would do it herself, and that we shouldn’t trouble ourselves?” Mrs. Taylor raises one eyebrow but continues her work on the tea server, adding orange flavored Madeline cakes to the top tier.

"You know she did." Renee tuts and rolls her eyes, although she's not bad mouthing you. "I will start to brew the tea."

“Did it seem she enjoyed herself at least?” The two women are very coordinated in the kitchen and move gracefully around each other as Renee starts the kettle and Mrs. Taylor puts the other cheeses away. There are some lovely crackers in the pantry that she can include to go with the cheese you particularly wanted to enjoy today.

"There was light in her eyes that was not there yesterday." Renee confirms as she brings out the silver teapot to set on the tray. Ms. Brown's favorite tea set is already laid out and tomorrow, Renee will suggest rotating the sets until they are certain of which ones that you prefer. She pulls out the canister with the sugar cubes to put into the small dish. "I would say that she enjoyed herself very much."

“We can finish decorating for the autumn this afternoon.” Mrs. Taylor decides, working quickly to make sure the tea service is just so. “Mr. Taylor brought the rest of the decorations down from the attic for us and Mr. Finchley suggested adding some garlands to the outer gates.”

“That sounds good.” Renee agrees. “I think that it will be good to have a sense of ‘life’ back in the mansion.”

“As it were.” Mrs. Taylor chuckles as she arranges the seeded crackers on the tea stand. “With so many undead about, it seems an ironic choice.”

“I honestly wonder if there doesn’t need to be a human in the house.” Renee muses. “When it was just us, there was something missing. I’m sure that I’m not the only one who felt it.”

After a moment, the younger woman hums again. “There does seem to be an extra element of activity with a human around.” For Renee, it is treasured. She was turned hundreds of years ago but she is still pulled toward humanity for so many reasons other than their blood. “Do you think…perhaps Eddie has taken a shine to her already?”

“He has.” Mrs. Taylor looks up from arranging the crackers with just the perfect amount of cheese with a hopeful smile. “I’m not sure if it’s brotherly or romantic yet, but our dear Eddie so needs another tender heart around.”

“Wonderful.” Renee sighs. “It would most wonderful for everyone to be happy.” But after a moment more of consideration, she chews on her lip and turns her head back to the older vampire. “Is Max trying to irritate Dolly?” She asks warily.

“He might be.” And it bothers the housekeeper to no end, knowing how timid you are. “He doesn’t know…” she shakes her head, carefully cutting coins of the goat cheese you found today. “If he did, he would leave well enough alone.”

“Or he would be trying to smooze her.” Renee snorts. “Which might be even worse than irritating her. If he touches her, he might stake him and not bring him back again.”

“We would be getting a surprise visit immediately if Max decided to do that.” Considering the way their boss had behaved when suitors arrived for the other young lady of the house so long ago.

Renee winces and shakes her head. “He will stay away if he knows what’s good for him.” She huffs with a smirk, knowing Max Phillips is nothing if not egotistical enough to try to play some game with you.

“But he doesn’t,” Mrs. Taylor reminds Renee as she puts the finishing touches on the food our your tea tray. “That’s how he ended up here in the first place.”

“I remember.” Renee snorts. “I had to take care of him when he was first brought back and his new skin was raw.”

“I still don’t understand why he felt strongly enough to bring Max back.” It was a mystery that Mrs. Taylor had not quite parceled out yet, but she certainly spent more time thinking about it than she let on.

“Of all the vampires he could have brought back.” Renee hums, shaking her head. “Max Phillips is the one he chose.”

“He will have had his reason.” Although what it is, Mrs. Taylor has yet to figure out. Instead she sets silverware and a cloth napkin on the service cart with the tiered server and dishes. The only thing missing now is the tea, and that should be ready momentarily.

As soon as the teapot starts to whistle, Renee pulls it off the heat and flips open the lid to the serving teapot, pouring the hot water in to infuse with the tea leaves you had brought home. Closing the lid with a satisfied smile. “There. Now I will deliver this to Dolly.”

“Will you let her know that dinner can be served wherever she likes tonight?” Mrs. Taylor wipes her hands and begins to pick up the counter right away. “Eddie and Max will both be out. I didn’t ask why, but it will be good for her to be able to relax.”

“Yes ma’am.” Renee wheels the cart out of the kitchen towards the elevator.

******

Upstairs, you have unearthed a first edition copy of Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle and settled back in the window seat with your little pillow and the muted afternoon sun. Every window in the house seems to be coated with something that tints the light the barest shade of yellow and you wonder vaguely if it was some Victorian architecture fad. Or if architecture even has things like fads.

Wheeling the cart into the ‘secret’ room, Renee finds you already settled into the window seat and smiles. “Tea is served.” She announces, happy to see that you do not startle when she comes in. Yesterday you looked like you would jump out of your skin, but something about the new day seems to have settled you.

"You really didn't have to." Although you had a feeling that she might. Mrs. Taylor is the type to do things properly or not at all, and Renee is her dutiful second in command. "Thank you, of course." Grateful as you are, you put your book aside as Renee sets the cart beside you by the window.

“My pleasure.” She nods respectfully and steps back. “Mrs. Taylor and I are going to finish decorating this afternoon, but we will be available anytime you need us.”

"Thank you," you murmur again, catching a whiff of the spiced tea that you brought home and rolling over in your mind whether you want to venture out of the house tonight. Allison was so friendly, but you're nervous. "Renee...can I ask you something?"

“Anything.” Her job is to take care of the house and you are now a part of that. Anything you need, any questions you have, she will help as much as she can.

"I was invited to an event tonight." As silly as you feel about asking a virtual stranger for her opinion, Renee has been so kind to you at every turn. So you pull the little card that Allison gave you out of your pocket and hand it to the young woman. "A local coven is having a Mabon bonfire. I only..." you frown slightly, feeling small as you shrink against the wall. "I don't know if I ought to go? Or if that would be imposing too much."

There was a time that vampires and witches were enemies. At that time, she would have encouraged you to keep your distance. That had changed over the millennia and they had joined forces to keep the secrets of the world away from the humans, except for rare exceptions. “Allison?” She smiles as she looks down a the card. “You should go. I was supposed to tell you that dinner will be served wherever you wish tonight, but I think you will be out during the dinner hour.”

"I haven't had a coven in so long." When Renee hands the card back to you, it ends up cradled in your hands like precious cargo. "And she was so terribly nice."

“I know her vaguely. She’s extremely nice.” She agrees. “She would come to visit Ms. Brown sometimes.”

"Was...Ms. Brown...?" Somehow the image of this ninety-one-year-old woman that you had in your head with the first phone call from the lawyer's office has already changed twice over in the very little time you've been here, but you still hadn't expected this find out she was Wiccan.

“A witch?” Her brow arches up and she purses her lips in amusement that you cannot quite come out with the questions you need answered. “Oh yes. Probably the greatest witch in Newport, perhaps the East Coast. She oversaw the coven for years until….” She shakes her head. “Until her heart was no longer in it. Then she allowed others to take over.”

"Do you mind if I ask you what changed?" You could understand if age or infirmity had kept her from being as active in her coven, but this is not what it sounds like Renee is saying.

“She….lost someone close to her.” Renee knows she is not permitted to tell you the truth, that would have to come from him, at his discretion. However, acknowledging some of the reasoning behind Cookie’s change of heart cannot be too bad. “Very dear to her.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” It feels like intruding to ask more, so you only nod your understanding and leave the topic alone for now. “Well…thank you, Renee. Again. I think I will go out tonight after all.” It feels heavier now, somehow. More important. And there is a thought in the back of your mind that getting to know this relative you had never met by accepting the invitation of someone she knew is the best possible way to spend your night.

She bites her lip and then nods, as if making up her mind, which she has. “If the tea can hold for a few minutes, perhaps you will allow me to show you something?”

“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with letting a teapot steep, and you set your book and pillow aside immediately.

“Follow me.” She asks, turning to leave the morning room through the bookcase door.

Through the hidden door in the wall and through to the library, you’re surprised when Renee crosses the room toward the marble hall and pulls open an even more hidden door in the window nook. This one has no visible knob but is activated with the pull of a false book exactly like a spooky story or horror film. A room no bigger than a closet houses an elaborate spiral staircase that seems to crawl up toward the sky and Renee beckons for you to follow. Up and up and up, the ornately carved wooden staircase just keeps going until you’re sure there can’t possibly be any house left, because you’ve counted to four floors and you were certain the place only had three.

When the stairs run out, they deliver you into the most incredible open room covered in overlapping rugs and thick, heavy, blue velvet curtains. The ceiling is painted like the night sky — blue-black with silver and gold stars and an immense chandelier that hangs high in the middle of the room. Renee has moved to the wall quickly, pressing a button that turns on the electric lights in the chandelier and lights up the room. The shape of the sloping gold and purple-fabric covered walls and ceiling tell you that you’re in the top of the East tower on the left of the house, but the point is driven home when you can see out the tinted window to the front yard. In front of the window, though, is a sizable altar all decorated in candles and a myriad of different size bowls of many materials. To the left is a bronze statue of a goddess and to the right in a black marble statue of a god - the two images presiding over the rest of the altar like the dutiful deities they are.

“This was her ‘spell room’ as Cookie liked to call it.” Renee tells you fondly. Even though they had believed that the room might never be used again, it is meticulously dusted. A labor of love to the woman who had used it before you. Now, Renee was proud to believe that the tradition of a witch in Chateau-sur-Mer would continue.

“I guess it really does run in the family…” Carefully stepping up to the altar, you hum with satisfaction to see that the goddess statue depicts Persephone and the god is Hades — favorite deities of yours, as well. “My parents were witches, too. Our altar at home had statues of Artemis and Apollo. My mother loved the idea of the balance between moon and sun.”

Renee nods, keeping her face neutral. “Another good set of deities.” She agrees.

“This is amazing…” There are elements of old traditions and new all over the room. A hand sewn broom leans against a case of carefully crafted poppets. An enormous collector cabinet dominates the far wall with labels for every herb and potion ingredient you can think of, and a circular scrying table stands ready in the middle of the room. Gothic style chairs surround it, suggesting it was used for much more than just scrying. “I never would have guessed,” you admit, looking back at Renee in wonder. “Not in a thousand years.”

“That is a good thing.” She tells you with a grin. “It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Then it will stay a secret.” You make a motion out zipping up your lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. “Is it…a secret from other people in the house?” Noticing other doors off of the room, you curiously poke your head over to see if any of the doors are open. Most are open archways, but one door is firmly shut.

“No. The - they know of it.” It was never a secret here what Cookie was, not when this was her refuge.

“Okay.” Nodding, you look back at the door and then to Renee. “Is there a key for this door?” The handle hadn’t budged when you tried it, and fortunately you hadn’t seen the maid flinch, either.

“There is a key.” She bites her lip and wonders if you want it bad enough to go in there.

“One I would assume Mrs. Taylor has?” The blinding fear of curiosity in your chest is a little nerve wracking, and you try to push it aside even though it has your blood beating in your ears. Forcing yourself to smile and step away from the door that has all of your focus narrowed on it, you swallow and feel the tingles of nerves all through your veins. “Tea will be cold if we stay up here much longer,” you decide, steadily trying to ignore the door that seems to call your name personally.

“Of course, Dolly.” She tilts her head, wondering if she had imagined the shiver that rolls through your body. She focuses on your heartbeat and finds it slightly faster than normal, which is already ticking at a nervous beat.

When you all but flee back downstairs, Renee is at your heels but leaves you to go through to the morning room alone. Or— you thought you would be alone. But when you walk in, Max is sitting in the window seat wrinkling his nose at your tea tray.

Max looks up from the tray that includes nothing bloody and the clove from the tea is nearly overwhelming. Grinning, he thinks about how you had stroked a bat who was sitting in your lap last night. “Hey Dolly.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. “Looks like you’ve settled right in. Cozy little tea?”

“Renee— a-and Mrs. Taylor…they—” There is judgement in his voice. An accusation. And instantly you are petrified of what he might think of you. “I didn’t ask for it,” you insist, hands shoved into your pockets instantly as your posture shrinks.

Your reaction is completely off kilter for his good-natured teasing. “Of course you didn’t.” He tuts. “You wouldn’t ask boo from a ghost.”

"I just went to the farmer's market and they were nice enough to make a tray for me." With your eyes trained on the rug, you shrug your shoulders and let your weight shift from one foot to the other awkwardly.

“What smells?” He asks you, moving over to the teapot. “It’s like a batch of potpourri. Very…spicy.”

“Clove and cinnamon. And I think some ginger, too.” The three ingredients remind you of what you and Allison had observed about pumpkin spice and you almost manage a smile. “It’s Plum Spice black tea.”

"It's....pungent." He comments, picking it up and lifting the lid, curling his nose up at the strong scent. Still, he pours the purplish tea into the dainty flowered cup sitting on the small plate. He picks it up and shrugs, "Whadya take in this? Flowers?'

“Flowers can be delicious,” you protest softly, but motion to the tray again. “Sugar or honey, or whatever sweetener you like. I guess you could do cream if you wanted but fruit tea never seemed like a good choice for cream to me.”

Max frowns slightly and adds one sugar cube to the tea and stirs it, before adding a drizzle of honey. Tilting his head and biting his lip as if he were performing delicate surgery before handing it to you.

“I—um…thank you…” You had fully expected him to drink it himself, and when you take the cup from him it’s like you’ve forgotten what to do with it for a second. “Would you, um …want to sit with me?“ Even the most awkward of moments deserve kindness, don’t they?

“Sure.” Max shoots you a grin and sets himself down on the other side of the window seat and uses a small pair of tongs to poke around the three tiered tray. Not even a rare roast beef finger sandwich. He huffs slightly and picks up a cream cake. “So…how did you like the town?” He asks with a smirk to hide the grimace as he takes a bite of the cake. It’s no blood pudding, that’s for sure.

“It’s beautiful.” The turning leaves and picturesque streets that you saw while driving around today were lovely. Perfect for a gorgeous fall day. “And bigger than I thought it would be. I’m pretty sure I saw a cruise ship in the harbor.”

“It’s okay.” Max shrugs as he takes another bite of the cake. “Very slow kind of life here. Am I right?”

“That’s not always bad.” You would take slow and steady over the chaos of uncertainty any day of the week, but Max seems like the kind of person who likes to stay busy.

“Maybe.” It still irks him that Evan got the best of him. Him and that little doormat girlfriend of his. Zara Beth was more to his taste, she had teeth. “Must have been a good night though? Didn’t hear any screams of terror.”

“No, no nightmares or anything like that.” In fact, you’d slept remarkably well considering it was your first night in a new place. The anxiety of uncertainty hadn’t been a problem. And you’d had lovely dreams to boot. “Do you mind if I ask you how long you’ve lived here?”

“Four years.” That admission comes with a distinct grumble.

“And you don’t like it?” You guess, from the way he seems to begrudge that little piece of information.

“It’s not bad.” He huffs. “But it’s more that I’m a --" he stops, shrugging slightly since he has no real reason to grumble besides being told to stay put.

“Maybe you just haven’t found the thing that makes it enjoyable yet.” Everything has a silver lining, you have told yourself many times. Right now your silver lining is that your tea is perfect. Who knew sugar and honey was the way to go?

Max chuckles, knowing that despite not knowing you well, a comment about orgies leaving him unfulfilled wouldn’t go over well. “Maybe. Could always get a pet.”

“That would be sweet.” All of the snacks that were put out for you amount to a sizable lunch, and it isn’t until you start eating Mrs. Taylor’s amazing food that you realize how hungry you were. “What sort of pet?”

“A fox.” Max hums, smirking slightly. “Or a bat. That would be cool.”

“Bats are sweet.” Or, at least, the one you had a dream about last night was adorable. “They get a bad reputation.”

His brow lifts and he settles back against the fluffy, embroidered pillows. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You agree, taking another sip of your tea. “They’re cute. I mean cats and dogs and stuff are cute too, obviously.”

“A pet bat, huh?” Max hums, wondering if you will admit to your experience last night. “Dogs don’t like me.” It’s a natural reaction, smelling that they aren’t the top of the food chain when he’s around. “Cats just…don’t listen.” He can admire that, but as a moody creature himself, he doesn’t want that reflected in his pet.

“So you’d go for a bat instead?” It actually makes you smile, which might be the first time that you’ve ever smiled at him. It’s half from him and half remembering your extremely vivid dream. “I’ve always wondered if they like to be pet,” you admit after a second.

“They do.” Max can attest to that, but he gives you a shrug. “Watched some bat thing on NatGeo.” He explains. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Good to know.” It somehow makes the dream you had sweeter, and you smile a little wider at the knowledge. The mood between you and Max is calmer now, as if you’ve found a little common ground, as you’re silent for a moment before asking another innocuous question. “Did you have a good morning? Renee said you and Eddie left the house early.”

“Early bird gets the worm.” Max quotes with a grin. “I had some business meetings that I wanted to get out of the way before the sunset tonight.” He hums. “Too many witches out and about.”

The thought that you don’t know any places that do business meetings on Saturdays is walked away instantly by dread. “Do you…” Appetite suddenly gone, you set your teacup on its saucer. “Do you not like witches?” You can’t figure out why you should even care because you don’t much like Max, but somehow it still stings.

“Nah. They’re okay.” He watches you closely. “But I’d rather be socializing tonight than working.” He winks at you and grins.

“I mean it might not be an out-and-out party like Beltane can be, but I would hardly call celebrating Mabon work.” Just like flipping a switch in your mind, the defense that rolls off your tongue is completely automatic. Having spent many years feeling like you either shouldn’t speak about your faith at all or having to defend it when you do, you can’t help yourself — but you clamp your mouth shut immediately when you realize Max is smirking even more widely now.

“Well, well, well.” Despite your fiery outburst, which has a sensation similar to butterflies fluttering in Max’s stomach, he’s nothing short of amused. “Blessed Mabon, Dolly.” He chortles. “The witch of Newport is here to claim her throne.”

“I don’t know anything about a throne…” That definitely should have been mentioned by now if it was literal but you just can’t imagine it would be at all. “But…thank you. A blessed Mabon to you, as well.”

“So do you have plans for the night?” He waggles his brows. “We could dance naked around a fire in the garden.” He suggests playfully.

“I was invited to a bonfire.” You tell him, though it still feels odd to have been invited anywhere at all. “I met someone from the local coven while I was out today.”

“Ah.” He picks up a cracker and small medallion of cheese. “I see. You met…was it Allison or Tracy today?” He asks curiously. The witches are friendly to him, but he’s never taken it beyond flirting.

“Allison.” It takes a second to remember that Renee said that Allison had been around the house when Ms. Brown was alive, so that accounts easily for how Max knows her. “She was working at the Farmer’s Market.”

“So you’re going to the pot luck?” He asks, trying the cheese and finding it to be slightly better than the cake.

“I was planning on it.” Despite knowing he doesn’t technically have a say in what you do, you’re prepared for him to tell you no. To tell you to stay home or give you a reason not to go and meet the rest of the coven. Years upon years of experience have conditioned you to expect a ‘no’ and now you don’t even realize you’re bracing for it.

Max purses his lips and looks out the window. “A good night for it.” He agrees. “Take a sweater, Dolly.” The night can get a little cool after the sun goes down with the wind coming off the water. “It can get brisk after dark and you call if you have too much of the festive punch.” He teases with a smirk.

"I don't drink." The words are quiet but firm, and you pick up a cracker topped with a perfectly round slice of goat cheese. "But I'll bring a sweater." The obediance is automatic, but you dont know if he's giving orders on purpose. Or if he's just trying to give a kind suggestion and your mind has been actively rewired to perceive it as an order.

“So why don’t you drink?” Max asks, keeping his tone conversational for once instead of slightly mocking. You’re still young, and it’s not a religious thing.

"Ex-boyfriend was an alcoholic." It's only just starting to feel real, the 'ex' part, but you shrug. "I know not everyone who drinks overdoes it, but I just...don't like it anymore. Not when I've seen what it can do to someone." Someone I love is the end of that thought, but surely alcohol has fucked up a whole lot of lives that you personally had nothing to do with.

Max’s eyes narrow, his hands - idly playing with the edge of a pillow braid curls into a tight fist - entire body tensing as he sense that there is a lot more to that statement. “Really?” For all his cocksure bravado, Max had manners instilled into him by his own father. And suddenly the actions that seemed bashful when he first met you are making more sense. “Did he drink himself to death?”

"No." When you shake your head, your eyes are back down on the rug immediately. "He drank himself into debt, into irresponsibility, and into anger." Violence would be a more accurate word, but you're not ready to talk about that yet. Not at all. "It--it's lucky that I had this house to come to. That's all."

It’s a good thing that you are looking away from him at the moment, because Max’s eyes flash a deep and unnatural yellow before shifting back into their normal brown as he forces himself to relax. You aren’t his to protect and he doesn’t know why he wants to protect you. He doesn’t know you. “Then it’s good Cookie gave it to you.” He tells you simply, truthfully. He clears his throat and stands up, brushing his tweed pants off and adjusting the cufflinks that are too formal for a Saturday afternoon. “Well….I have some calls to make.” He tells you awkwardly. “I’ll leave you to your tea. Enjoy your Mabon, Dolly.”

"Thank you, Max." It has been unexpected to have so many people around you be supportive about your faith, but what is on your mind more is now that you worry you've said too much. You can't tell if he's affected by your reason for not drinking or simply finds you dull or even prim for the decision, but at least he didn't tease you. That counts for a lot.

Max stares at you for a moment before he nods, turning around and walking out of the main door of the morning room, the sound of his dress shoes quickly fading inside the house.

******

It takes an hour standing in front of the armoire in your room before you finally pull out a dress and tights that are great fall colors. Grabbing a sweater is almost an afterthought, but you did make a promise. And promises are meant to be kept, so you shrug a cardigan on over your shoulders and pull on a pair of boots before going into your dressing room. Renee has set up your few pieces of jewelry and grand total of two purses here along with all of the makeup that Derek used to insist that you wear to look ‘normal’. Ultimately you leave the house in minimal makeup with the sweater you promised you would wear, and the warming container full of stew that Mrs. Taylor had brought upstairs to send with you to the potluck. Apparently it had been a favourite when Ms. Brown used to host the coven at Chateau-sur-Mer.

“While Dolly is out, you can have your ‘wine’.” Mrs. Taylor is almost snickering as she sets a goblet of deep red blood in front of Max when he comes strolling into the kitchen. “I keep telling you that one of those tumbler things with a straw would be less conspicuous, but you like to be dramatic.”

“He calls it a bottle,” Eddie rolls his eyes in amusement as he accepts his favourite coffee mug from Mrs. Taylor, also full of blood. “But I think that’s pretty appropriate since he’s being a big baby about it.”

“It’s Gothically classy.” Max huffs, picking up the wine glass and taking a large gulp of the warmed blood. “Besides, someone would end up putting ice in it, ruining it.”

“No one would touch your drink, dear.” Mrs. Taylor assures him without doubt. “But enjoy your Gothically classy wine glass. I don’t expect Dolly will be home very early.”

“No, she’s going to the coven’s thing.” Max shoots the old housekeeper a smirk. “Did you make her the same thing that Cookie would take?”

“Of course I did.” Mrs. Taylor answers, huffing slightly like she’s offended he would even ask. Her homemade sausage and lentil stew was a favourite of the coven’s and she would never have sent anything else. “So you two will have blood sausage with dinner tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.” Max rolls his eyes happily as he licks his blood red lips. “That will be delicious.”

“Just because a few things will change around here doesn’t mean we aren’t going to take care of you.” Even if that was the kind of women she and Renee were, Mrs. Taylor knows that he wouldn’t stand for it.

“Has anyone heard from the big guy?” Max asks as he looks around the room. “Figured he’d be here today of all days.”

“He was detained on business.” Mrs. Taylor reports, lying very smoothly through her teeth. The one man that everyone in this house reports to had arrived when the rest of the household was otherwise distracted. “I’m sure that when he decides when to reveal himself, we will all be made very aware.”

If Max thought he was dramatic, he had nothing on the man who had sired him. Rolling his eyes, he shrugs. It’s not like the man had come back to magically release him from this house arrest. “I just assumed he would be back here. Since his soulmate loved Mabon.”

“She certainly did.” Wiping her hands on a dishcloth, Mrs. Taylor turns around to face the two men. “And it seems as though not so much will have changed in this house.”

“Talk about weird.” Max snorts. “Wonder why it’s this witch.”

“I’m sure Ms. Brown had her reasons.” Mrs. Taylor’s own penchant for the enigmatic is as well documented as any other member of the family, and Eddie chuckles when the housekeeper simply smiles and moves on to the next chore.

“Alright then,” he huffs in amusement. “Keep your secrets. We’ll find out eventually.”

“Anyway.” Max shakes his head, “I’m going to go get ready.” He tells the group, draining the last of his blood. “See if I can’t go seduce one of the pretty witches who are feeling spunky tonight.” He smirks, winking at Eddie and sailing out of the room whistling the theme song of The Craft movie, Love Spit Love.

******

The warmth from the sun is starting to dissipate by the time you arrive at the sweet little Dutch colonial that Allison shares with her sisters Tracy and Kristin. The family home had been the center of a farm a few hundred years ago, according to what Allison had told you earlier today, but now what they had left was their farmhouse and its small backyard, and they were perfectly happy with that. A half dozen cars are already outside when you park the Corvette, feeling conspicuous but grateful that Mrs. Taylor had sent you with a dish. Alison gave you no hint that it was a potluck.

"You came!" Before you are already out of the car, Allison has opened the door. Greeting you like a dear friend. "Oh - you are our guest," she tuts when she sees you grab the dish out of the passenger seat. "I didn't want you to feel obligated to bring something."

“I couldn’t possibly come empty-handed.” Even though it almost happened, you would have been extremely embarrassed if it had. As it is, you are happy to hand over the dish that Mrs. Taylor so lovingly crafted and packed. “I’m…I’m told it’s an old favourite of the coven,” you murmur, not having told her who you are or where you live when you met earlier today. Why would you? But now it seems essential.

"Oh?" Her curiosity is peaked for all of three seconds until she smells the casserole from the edges of the top. "Oh my god!" She cries. "Is that- that's the sausage and lentils that Cookie Brown would bring?" Her eyes widen and she looks at you with a sense of gratefulness and surprise. "How did you--"

“I—I didn’t know Ms. Brown,” you preface your explanation immediately. “But it seems we were related. And she left me her estate in her will. Mrs. Taylor…she’s amazing. And wouldn’t let me come without bringing this for all of you.”

“Ohhhh bless you both.” She tilts her head in curiosity, wanting to ask if you know about the residents of the mansion, Ms. Brown had confided in the coven about them, but she doesn’t ask you. Figuring she didn’t want to open that can of worms if you didn’t.

“I understand Cookie used to hold events for the coven fairly frequently?” It’s no wonder, being only one person - or three, with Max and Eddie there - and having all that space. “I would be happy to do the same. And I know Mrs. Taylor would be, too.”

She's startled for a moment, amazed that you would offer the space back to the coven if you aren't practicing. "That is very kind." She smiles. "We will have to see about showing you what some of the events at the manor would look like." She giggles. "We had talked for years about having a ball."

“I guess she used to have them all the time. You know…when she was younger?” Following Allison into the farmhouse, the sense of calm and scent of spice in the air reminds you distinctly of the Mabons of your childhood. “My roommates and I…well, they were encouraging me…we were talking yesterday about maybe having a masquerade.”

"That would be a wonderful thing." Allison sets the dish down amongst the others on the table and guides you towards the drink table. "I can imagine it would be a beautiful thing. If you do decide to hold one, please let me know what I could do to help."

“I would love the help, honestly. I have no idea what I’m doing but it sounds so nice.” A large slow cooker of warm, spiced apple cider stands at the ready and you defer to that happily when offered a drink. “But thank you for inviting me tonight. I really…I had no idea there would be witches here when I moved.”

"Our coven isn't quite as publicized as the ones near Salem, but we are well known on the eastern seaboard." She boasts, proud of that fact. "But it's more of a myth than anything else."

“A myth?” People are milling around greeting each other with enthusiastic hugs, so you get the feeling that you might be the only ‘guest’ here tonight. It gives you a slight feeling of needing to cling to Allison, and you eagerly ask for the story if she’s willing to tell it instead of daring to meet more new people just yet.

She smiles softly, her expression turning slightly dreamy. "It's one that you might not believe." She cautions. "But back nearly two hundred years ago, the head of our coven was soulmates with a vampire. Their love changing magic and this area forever."

“But…” Your brow furrows immediately, confusion and incredulity more than anything else — but you also don’t want to sound rude. “Vampires…they don’t exist?”

She tilts her head, shrugging slightly. "Hence why it's a myth." She won't correct you, since you obviously don't know about the residents and staff that are near you every day. "But it's said that the vampire who was her mate was incredibly devoted to her. Not caring that they were historical enemies and proving his love for her was real. His marks matching hers and his heart jumping to life when she was near. Feeding her some of his blood to prolong her life well beyond a mere mortal's existence until she was ready to shuck her mortal coil."

“It sounds terribly romantic.” The spice of the cider in your cup is a welcome sip, making you almost hum in pleasure. “A soulmate to help you live forever sounds…daunting, though. I suppose happiness makes it worthwhile.” Not that you can particularly relate on that front, but you can dream. An eternity with Derek might have been what killed you, not kept you alive.

"It would." Allison agrees, her own cup of cider is curled up to her lips. "I hope that one day I find my soulmate and he's that devoted to me."

“I don’t see how he couldn’t be,” you promise her with a wistful smile. “You’re too sweet to have anything else.”

She hums happily and shrugs. "I don't know, might be horrible to live with." She winks and reaches forward to curl her arm through yours.

Allison leads you out the back door of the kitchen to the small patio just outside where a dozen or so other women have now congregated with their drinks. They have all noticed you at this point but no one has questioned your appearance at all. Allison has a bit of a history of picking up interesting strays and bringing them home.

"So we don't have many male members of the coven." Allison admits. "Few want to admit that they practice, so it's just going to be us ladies tonight."

"The only man I've ever known in a coven was my father." You tell her with a small shrug. "It's a shame that it's still rare."

"Being Wiccan or having a coven is still one of those things that is viewed as feminine in a lot of mindsets." She huffs. "Although Ms. Brown's soulmate always came with her when he was available, even if he wasn't practicing."

"I know it's just because I miss her." A short woman with bright orange, curly hair and wide glasses comes out of the house behind where you and Allison are standing with a confused expression on her face. "But I could have sworn I smelled Cookie's lentil stew coming through the kitchen. Wishful thinking, I guess."

"Actually..." Allison smiles. "Candice....our guest here brought Cookie's lentil stew. She's related to our gal and inherited her house."

"No!" Candice gasps, but her face lights up with excitement. "That's so fantastic! I mean we all miss Cookie so much but I'm so glad to know that her legacy is continuing on."

"She seems like she was a very special woman." There is anxiety in the way you shift your feet, but you smile. "Unfortunately, I didn't know her at all."

“I’m so sorry.” Candice frowns and reaches out to touch your arm. “She was well respected and loved in the coven. If you want us to tell you about her, just ask.”

"I would really like that, actually. My roommates have only told me a little bit so far." Granted it has only been two days, but it's almost like Mrs. Taylor and Renee are afraid to say too much. And if that's true, you have to wonder what they're so afraid of.

“I’ve told her about our coven legend.” Allison tells Candice, knowing the chatty witch would spread the word. “About the witch and the vampire soulmates? She likes the story.”

“I know everybody thinks vampires are folklore,” Candice laughs, waving it off like it’s the silliest thing in the world. “But those are the same people who think magic isn’t real. So I guess ignorance is bliss.”

Allison smiles blandly, eyeing her fellow witch. “Of course.” She hums. “Come on.” She tells you. “Let’s go get you settled.”

The introductions seem endless. Every one is very nice and very glad to hear of the relationship you apparently hold to their old friend. It’s only when Allison’s sisters are giving you a little tour of the house and refreshing your drink that Candice pulls Allison aside. “She doesn’t know, does she?” The older woman asks, chewing on her lip with nerves.

"Not a clue." Allison keeps her eyes on the stairs, making sure that you aren't coming downstairs. "I'm not sure what is going on, but it seems like she has no idea that her 'roommates' are vampires. Or that our legend is real and was her relative."

“Gods.” Candice exhales deeply and shakes her head. “That’s a hell of a secret to keep while she’s in that house.”

"I'm sure there is a reason that it's being kept from her." She murmurs softy. "We just need to make sure that we aren't the ones to tell her."

“We zip our lips and throw away the key,” Candice agrees. “He was always nice enough to us when we met him, but the last thing I want to to make him upset.”

Allison snorts at the understatement of the year. "He did manage to steal from the devil after all." She reminds Candice with a knowing look. "I wouldn't want to upset him either."

“Never.” With another shake of her head, Candice huffs a laugh. “But I like her. She seems sweet.”

"She seems...." Allison flounders for a better word than what springs to mind, but none come to mind. "Broken." She voices, her tone concerned and sad. "Like maybe Newport is a haven for her."

“I would’ve said skittish,” Candice admits, but she smiles softly. “Fate had you stumble into each other’s paths this morning. Now it’s up to us to offer her family. Who knows what’s happened? The best we can do is offer her open arms.” It’s what Cookie would have done, and they all know it. So for her, they will make sure you are safe here.

"We will protect her." Allison agrees. "I will visit Mrs. Taylor tomorrow to see what the plan is for having her in their household."

“Tell her we said hello.” The whole coven loves Cookie’s vampiric housekeeper, but Candice in particular loved all of Mrs. Taylor’s stories about the ‘good old days’ of pre-plague England.

"Of course I will." Allison knows that Mrs. Taylor will insist on sending back some cookies or a cake to the coven of witches who had been regular visitors to the mansion while Cookie had been alive.

“Good.” Candice told her head slightly when she catches sight of you coming downstairs with Tracy. “Lets start the fire up and sit down to eat. This night just got a lot more important.”

The fire is crackling, lighting up the back yard and the logs that have been situated around them in a generous circle. Providing seating that is inviting and natural. All of you drifting out to gather around it after filling your bellies with the food, the lentil stew completely demolished with appreciative groans of happiness.

Prayers and wishes of plenty are shared for the equinox. An opportunity to cleanse before the new year starts is always appreciated, and bay leaves with refreshing wishes written on them are dropped one by one into the fire until everyone sits back again and begins to chat amongst themselves. The night is beautiful, and you hug your sweater around yourself — glad for just a moment that Max had suggested it. The temperature has dropped sharply tonight and you have to wonder if it’s due to being so close to the ocean.

At first, the bat isn’t noticed, sitting on the branch of a tree just outside of the dancing light from the fire. Black, beady eyes taking in the ground and then flapping his wings to take flight, honing in on one particular witch.

Allison had been asking you something animated about living in Nashville when you caught the movement out of the corner of your eye. Black wings blend into the darkness easily, but as the little figure gets closer to the fire you can make it out perfectly. “Gods!” You almost startled but the gasping sound you make it delighted. “You’re real!”

Max squawks as the bat, circling your head twice as the entire coven watches with various expressions of bewilderment at the appearance of the vampire. Everyone knows you don’t know about the feeding habits of your roommates, so why are you familiar with the bat form of one of them? He lands on your shoulder again and ruffles his wings as he folds them up, his face turned towards you expectantly.

“Hey cutie,” you greet the little creature the same way you did last night, deciding to grapple with the fact that you obviously didn’t dream the entire thing later. For now you put you hand up gently and pet the bat’s little head with two fingers. “How’d you find me so far from home, huh?”

Max chirps indignantly and flaps his wings at you. Insulted by the idea that this was far from home.

“Alright, so you’re a very crafty bat, then. I’ll give you that.” Your fingers pet the little creature’s head gently and you smile, instantly more relaxed. “Could’ve sworn bats were supposed to be blind, though. I feel like you’re looking right at me.”

He would roll his eyes at you, but he just nuzzles into your hand and hops up closer to your neck. Feeling the warmth from your body and sensing your pulse. Craving the closeness tonight.

“This little guy flew in my window last night,” you explain to Allison and several other nearby witches who look nothing short of shocked. “I could have sworn I dreamt the whole thing, but look at this. He found me again.”

“That bat?” Allison asks, watching as the larger than normal bat turns his head and she swears he winks at her before nuzzling you.

“Yeah.” The feeling of having the little guy nuzzle into your neck makes you laugh. “Weird, right? I always thought bats stayed away from humans.”

“Some of them are apparently friendly.” Candice snorts, watching as a vampire stake his claim on you. That’s the only thing that it could be. While he had come to plenty of ceremonies, never had he been in any form but his normal self. Where this had to be Max. Cookie had said he was a black bat.

“He let me read to him.” Knowing that it actually happened and wasn’t just a cute little dream basically lights you up inside like a little goth Disney Princess. “Cutest thing in the world.”

The little bat preens, as if he understands what’s being said about him, because he does. Max chirps and stomps his little bat feet on your shoulder.

“You don’t…mind him, right?” Just because you think he’s cute as all hell doesn’t mean the other coven members will, and you raise your eyes to Allison with concern and care. “I wouldn’t bring him in your house. I promise.”

“I think that he will go where he wants.” She tells you diplomatically with a small smile on her face.

“Maybe.” Bats are wild animals, after all. Even as cute as this one is, that doesn’t make it a pet. “I just think he’s sweet.”

The other witches giggle and ‘awww’ over the sight of the bat on your shoulder, all of them aware of his true nature. “Bats are sweet.” Allison agrees with a grin.

“Who knew?” Candice all but giggles. “I always thought bats were a little dickish. Like little winged misogynists.”

Max ruffles his wings, glowering at the witch and huffing, the sound coming out as little squeaks.

“Aww, it’s okay cutie.” The chattering by your ear makes you laugh softly and you pet him again. “You’re just a softie.”

He settles to your touch, cuddling against your hand and deciding that he’s not close enough. The next time you move your hand to pet him, he jumps into your palm.

It earns a wistful sighing noise from a few surprised witches nearby and a giggle from you. “You want cuddles again, don’t you?” Looking back at Allison and Candice, you shrug a little as you cuddle the bat to your chest. “Last night I made him a little nest to sit in my lap while I read.”

Max grins as he burrows into your chest. Unhappy that he’s not skin-to-fur, but at least he’s getting to cuddle into your breasts. Not that he’s trying to be creepy, but you are snuggling him to his favorite part on a woman and you are gorgeous to him.

“That’s super cute.” Candice can barely contain her laughter with the image in front of her, but she sips her cider and smirks. “So how are you getting along with your roommates?” She prompts, keeping her tone light and airy.

“Oh! Um…Okay, I think?” Really, everything about having this little bat with you is oddly comforting, but you do get a faint whiff of something weird like…sunscreen? Maybe? Which is weird but not off putting. You had just never heard that bats smell like sunscreen. “Eddie is really nice. And I don’t…I don’t know Max very well yet.”

Max the bat, coos at you in soft protest. He’s the one that’s spent the most time with out of all of them. Even putting you to bed last night after you had fallen asleep reading to him.

If you had known it was him — had any idea whatsoever — you might have laughed. A stifled giggle if nothing else. But since you have no idea, you just pet the little creature and shrug as Candice asks, “Max hasn’t been nice?”

“I think I’m not what he expected,” you admit with a small frown, thinking of his behavior at dinner the night before. “But he was very nice today. Mrs. Taylor made a beautiful tea tray with some of the cheese I got from Allison today and Max and I shared it.”

“Max shared tea with you?” Candice raises her brow. “It’s rare that Max really socializes. So if he’s spending any time with you, I bet you he’s finding you interesting.”

“Oh…I don’t know about that.” Despite sitting here at a coven gathering with a snuggly bat in your palm and the keys to a mysteriously inherited mansion in your purse, you shrug. “I’m not particularly interesting.”

Max flaps his wings, fluttering and against your chest again. Snuggling his head into your skin against your heartbeat.

“Maybe he thinks you are?” Candice offers, trying very hard not to giggle and give the apparently secret identity of your little friend away.

He doesn’t know why the witches are giggling, no one knows it’s him. Perfectly disguised for the evening to watch over you, since he’s felt the need to see what you are up to.

“Maybe.” Though you shrug, you can’t think why someone as sophisticated and obviously worldly as Max would care. “I suppose new things are interesting for a time.”

Max frowns, unsure why someone as pretty as you would have such a negative outlook. You should be flaunting your health and beauty.

“Sometimes new things stay interesting for a long time,” Allison smiles kindly and pats your knee. “You never know which new things can become old habit.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #a mysterious inheritance #wiccan reader #Bat Max

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dreamonminecraft · 2 months

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Ok so u support dreamnap? Me as well but what are your thoughts bc ur extremely educated and well spoken

Okay first of all careful with the "well educated and well spoken" part. I'm 16 and trying my very best not to lose my mind. After four years in this fandom, I'm very well aware of how words can become violently misconstrued and everything is taken as the end of the world. I get it, parsing through information like this is difficult and trying to figure out where you stand is even harder- but don't take my words as final. Don't take anyone's. Consider your own thoughts and feelings against the evidence we all have and make up your own mind. That's part of the reason we're in this mess. That being said:

I think the largest factor here is that George and Caiti lived two very different experiences that night. I don't believe that George was attempting to get with her in any way- I don't think that any of the girls were invited to Dream's hotel room for any sexual reasons. I think from the first night they hung out Caiti was uncomfortable with the age gap and thought of George as weird, potentially flirty, and maybe untrustworthy. Neither Caiti or her friends liked Dream to begin with.

When they decided to go up to Dream's hotel room that night, Dream did not know how old Caiti was. Caiti says that George did. I don't know what their instagram dms were. However they interacted, they were all drunk and Caiti perceived George's actions to be sexual.

I think, based on how we know George to act when he's drunk (Sapnap's stories, Dream's stories, and the drunk banter episode) that he likely was touchy with whoever was around them that night. That doesn't invalidate what Caiti felt. She hasn't been around George much prior to this, certainly not while drunk, and she already felt like he was flirting with her. Whatever touching happened wasn't called out or even noticed by anyone in the room. Nobody remembers it happening except Caiti (and potentially George, but it's unlikely)

When she went to leave, she was already uncomfortable and then he followed her to the elevator. Benefit of the doubt, he was probably just going to walk her back to her hotel room, but she was very drunk and very uncomfortable, which he failed to recognize. The minute she told him no, he backed off and left her alone.

He likely did not interpret any of her signals that night, as she said they were all non-verbal until the elevator. He probably doesn't even remember it. We know that when George is drunk, he'll often sit on the laps of his friends (Sapnap) or hang on them (Karl) or even kiss them (Dream) but that's not okay to do with strangers.

This isn't a story about an abuse of power or age, but likely recognizing that some people just can't handle getting drunk. George is not good at reading people when he's sober, and can't be trusted not to trample on people's boundaries when he's drunk. Alcohol is not for everyone.

This is likely, hopefully, a one-off event. I believe that George's tweet yesterday was reactionary, as our first time seeing the allegations was likely also his first time hearing them. I doubt that he remembers the details of the night.

None of this is to abstract his fault. If Caiti was uncomfortable with any of his actions, he should have been able to recognize that and step away. The fact that he couldn't proves that he was too drunk and needs to reflect on his own problems with alcohol.

That being said, if what I think happened and what actually happened are the story that George explains when and if he goes live, and on the condition that Caiti believes him and accepts his apology, I will continue to support George.

I think there is a lot of growth that needs to happen in his own life. I think he's emotionally stunted, I think he uses alcohol in an unhealthy way, and I think he needs to come to terms with the fact that he hurt someone even if it was unintentional.

Lying will not get him out of this.

With all that said, I will continue to support dream and sapnap regardless of their reaction to this. Sapnap wasn't there. He has no part in this other than being George's friend. Dream didn't notice it when it happened and was never aware of any of it. He's been caught up unfairly in the allegations and I don't feel it's right to drop him over this, at least personally.

I don't think Dream or Sapnap will stop being friends with George. I think dream and George are more than friends and have completely built their lives around each other. I think sapnap's content is already mostly stand alone but dream has been his best friend for over a decade and George is such an integral part of that. I think it is naive to think George will be kicked out, and that doesn't mean that either of them are supporting a bad person, it just means they're being good friends.

Sometimes you have to be a good friend because somebody needs it. I don't know when George will go live and I don't know what he'll say, but I don't regret my time here regardless of what it is.

#ask any more questions if you have them #asks

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littlediscoveredstars · 2 months

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Alright I’m on my Yugioh shit, but I think what Pegasus did to Seto Kaiba was waaaay more personal than any other Yugioh villain.

None of my thoughts are organized, but I’ll try to get it out in some kind of way that makes sense.

Let me first start by saying that Seto Kaiba is a minor through the whole series. This is important to his character, almost more than the others, because it is exactly what he’s trying to erase about himself.

Kaiba dresses himself up in outfits that accent his masculine features similar to how an adult will. His shoulder pads make his shoulders seem broader. His coat goes inward to give a very triangular shape to his torso. He’s got belts everywhere (and while yes, this is just the style of Yugioh, I believe it cannot be completely written off as just that).

At the base of it, Kaiba wants to be seen as an adult. He NEEDS to be. He runs a company and is in near constant threat of being taken advantage of by others. We see this many times throughout the show, especially by Pegasus.

Now, to connect things once again. Kaiba is a minor who was thrust into adulthood far too early, yet, he engages in child-like activities. Duel Monsters, while used for their ancient shadow games, is still just a game. A game Kaiba is OBSESSED with, to the point he becomes the face of the Blue Eyes White Dragon.

(Which is his symbol of power and autonomy over others, which further proves why he so badly hates the ancient talk, but that’s another essay)

Pegasus is the created (re-created, technically) of Duel Monsters. He made the paintings, the cards, the rules. He shows in many tournaments (assumed based off episode 2) and given how much Kaiba has won? I’m guessing they met before becoming business partners.

In short, it makes sense that Pegasus would be an important figure to Kaiba. Maybe an idol, an inspiration, or whatever it might be. Kaiba saw Pegasus and saw a man who’s game kept him alive through his years with Gozaburo, who gave him a connection to his own brother.

Pegasus is powerful. Pegasus has full control of his own actions. He is everything Kaiba wants and changed KaibaCorp. to be.

A little ways down the line, Pegasus becomes his business partner. Kaiba gets to work a littler closer with him. We never see what exactly that entailed besides letting Kaiba use the Blue Eyes (and other cards) without copyright issues and Pegasus using the holographic stages, but even that is a significant exchange.

(Makes me wonder if things hadn’t turned out the way they did, would Kaiba and Duke Devlin view him the same way?)

Then, Pegasus starts Duelist Kingdom. He uses Kaibams vulnerability to his advantage and steps in to take over. He kidnaps Mokuba, then takes his soul and shows it off like a trophy.

Pegasus has not just betrayed Kaiba’s trust, but he turned into a real person for Kaiba. It shows him that, just like everyone else, Pegasus is greedy and selfish. He takes what Kaiba worked so hard for, what he loves, just because he can. And he does so with the same smiles and teasing as before.

It’s beyond disappointment. This is heating your favorite person side with your abusers. This is a childhood hero watching you get kicked and laughing as he kicks you alongside them.

So, naturally, Kaiba won’t forgive him. We see in Battle City how bruised Kaiba’s ego is. He’s mad at Yugi, he’s mad at Izushi, no one is saved from his ire. Even Mokuba gets the short stick every so often. He is compensating BIG TIME and it’s directly connected to how things went over last season.

Might I add that Duelist Kingdom takes place less than a year after Kaiba took over KaibaCorp? This is a still pretty fresh CEO with some very big trauma that he simply has not dig into yet.

I think in a world where Pegasus was not so disillusioned by his own desperation to revive Cecelia, he would’ve been a good mentor to Kaiba. They both have a love for games, for the visual experience (painting and holograms) and they’re both very particular. Honestly, their traits would work relatively well, all things considered.

But it didn’t and we see Kaiba go through cycle after cycle of trying to get better and stumbling every step of the way.

Anyway, that’s my TedTalk. As a Pegasus enjoyed and Kaiba analysis, I found this topic very fascinating.

#yugioh #seto kaiba #maximillion pegasus #pegasus j crawford #character analysis #duelist kingdom #not toonshipping!#essay #cycles of abuse

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pinegreenapples · 10 days

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Radiostatic Fic Recs

Do you like radiostatic? Are you looking for something good to read? Here are some of my personal favorites that I think everyone should read! As a reminder, if you don't like something listed, just don't read it! And don't bother the author or me! Staying in your lane is free! 😊

Finished works

Control + V

Vox and Alastor are on the cusp of a relationship but Alastor worries that he isn't enough for Vox. Val interferes.

Get Your Thrill Just to Get At Me

Alastor experiences a rut for the first time and Vox refuses to waste good dick on a panic attack.

Hold Me Like A Grudge

This one's ABO and pretty much just smut. Suppressants fail all over the city! Guess we gotta fuck!

Put Your Fingers Back to the Keys

Alastor gets publicly summoned by Lilith and Vox searches for him.

Escape Was Just a Nod and a Casual Wave

This one's a really cool predator/prey fic where Vox chases Alastor.

Keep You Like an Oath

Alastor sneaks into V Tower and discovers Vox's video logs. It causes a revelation.

Lucidity's Fog

Vox has one final sex dream of him and Alastor together.

How to Commission a Radio Demon Body Pillow (and other assorted things)

This one is based off a tumblr ask thread about Vox having an insane amount of Alastor paraphernalia. It's funny, but it is one-sided.

Would You Download a Demon?

Alastor tells Vox and Rosie that he sold his soul. Vox does something so stupid, it's smart.

Classic and Better

Oooohhhhoooo, this bad boy is what made me start writing again. The characterization of them is so good and I love it so much. Alastor tempts Vox back into his folds and Vox follows blindly.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Alastor lays claim to Vox by biting him. This one is short and sweet.

Couple's Therapy

This one was funny and sadly too short. Modern day Alastor and Vox decide to go to therapy as a joke and it actually makes them realize a thing or two.

Bambi

I love this piece. It's cute! Vox and Alastor have two different versions of Bambi-their clashing interpretations lead to an adorable misunderstanding.

Joking Matters

Vox and Alastor got married to consolidate their power and have kept their relationship a secret since.

Obligations

Vox trades for Alastor's soul but it isn't at all like how he wanted. They both cope in their own ways.

Meant to Be Yours

This one's one-sided. Vox gets rejected and takes it really badly. An excellent piece exploring his side.

Bargains

This one is also so so so good. Alastor has a rut cycle and the only person who knows is Vox. However, Alastor hates that he has a rut and takes it out on Vox. Vox just wants to know what Alastor actually wants.

Spite

This one is delicious. It's based off the first episode where Alastor says he pulled a few strings to get the commercial to air. Vox demands that he act in a porno for blackmail.

Just a Slave to Your Instincts

Vox researches deer instincts and uses it very effectively against Alastor.

That One Tuesday

Similar premise to Classic and Better but it involves more of the Hazbin cast and the main plotline of trying to redeem sinners.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Afterlife

This one is light on the relationship but funny. Basically, every rut Alastor goes fucking nuts and takes it out on Vox. However, no one believes him and they think he's going crazy.

666: Live on Air!

An excellent series that does a good job exploring the push and pull between these two and what a relationship between them would look like with all their hang ups and miscommunications.

Seeking Solace

This story plays with Dom/Sub designations and Vox is a sub who hasn't dropped in too long. He calls Alastor to help.

Radio Made the Video Star

I haven't fully read through this series but it is well written and I'm liking it so far!

Thawing Out

Vox is in an abusive relationship with Valentino. Alastor finds him one night by accident when he's mulling over his relationship. For the first time, Alastor notices that something else might be going on at Vee Tower and he has these awful feelings about it that he can't seem to shake.

The Pitch

Vox swaggers into Alastor's radio tower to propose a deal, he ends up limping out. Wink wonk!

Hypnosis, Live in your Bedroom!

This is inspired by the 666 hypnosis fic and it is quite good! It’s another smut piece of Alastor and Vox exploring his hypnosis.

Other Place

This piece is really sentimental. It made me cry and think about death. Basically, Alastor visits Vox on the anniversary of his mother's death and they talk through his many emotions.

This Wasn't on the Agenda

One-sided but funny! Vox and Alastor start a hissy fit in an overlord meeting about their brief sexual history together.

Staticradio Woodland Fun

This one's cutesy! Vox and Alastor are both mythical creatures experiencing rut and so they spend it with each other.

Feeling from Grace

Angel Dust comes to Alastor with some concerns about Vox’s wellbeing. Alastor manages to fuck it up, as he does all things regarding Vox and feelings.

Music on T.V. and Sex on the Radio!?

This one’s funny and sexy. After their little fight on air, Vox tracks Alastor down in his tower to have some good old fashioned fun.

Stay

Alastor can’t seem to let Vox go, even when Vox decides he can’t keep playing this game anymore.

Like Old Times

Alastor pays Vox a visit in his office after their musical spat to say hello.

Deer in the Backlights

This piece is nice in the way that it explores Vox finally getting closure from his obsession with Alastor. Val and Velvette set up a meeting for Vox and Alastor to finally fuck and get rid of their weird psychosexual tension. Vox wonders if this was really what he wanted all along.

198

This one is pure smut and it’s so delightful. Vox manages to mind break Alastor and turn him into his own personal sex toy. I also highly recommend anything by childishsadism, they write very compelling work!

Undisclosed Desires

Alastor and Vox get into another fight and Alastor finds he likes it a lot more than he thought he would.

To Be Yours

This is my own work! Alastor hears Vox open their personal frequency for the first time in years. Curious, he goes to find out why exactly Vox has chosen to break the silence.

Unfinished works

Addicted

Addicted is really good. Vox finds out he's been drugged by Val for decades and as a result has long term amnesia. He runs away and tries to reckon with a past he can't even remember.

Hypnotic

This one is a rape fic. Vox hypnotizes Alastor against his will and forces him to recount his first sexual encounter as he has sex with him.

Prey of the Video Star

This one is really really good! After the battle, Vox takes Alastor back to Vee tower, determined to finally make the other his. Alastor, weakened, struggles the best that he can even as the noose tightens around his neck.

Safe with Me

This one's good! It's a modern AU where Vox is a CEO and Alastor is a serial killer and podcaster. After separating as childhood friends, Vox and Alastor meet once again and find love with one another.

Equilibrium

Vox saves Alastor and accidentally creates a soulbond between them. This sets in motion a landslide of unexpected events between them.

The Answer is Yes

Okay, this one is extremely well written. It's a fascinating exploration of Vox and Alastor's relationship through a vignette style. It blends all sorts of memories with modern day and it's really cool. I like it a lot.

Bluest Monday

This one is so well written and the romance between them is absolutely heart wrenching. Alastor fears losing Vox to modernity, so he finally accepts Vox’s courting in an attempt to keep the other at his side. This decision has unintended consequences neither could foresee.

Hell’s Televisionary

This one is a really interesting take on Vox and his first few years in Hell. I’m really enjoying it! Vox is new to Hell and looking to make a name for himself. He’s also looking to reconnect with the elusive redhead that helped him when he first fell.

Rival Frequencies

Vox goes after Alastor after the extermination and patches him up. He discovers that maybe his feelings haven’t waned, and he tries to rekindle a friendship with Alastor again.

Tune On In!

This one is based off of an art post where Vox and Alastor got platonically married and details their life together.

Unraveling Emotions

Falling in love makes a sinner’s heart human again and their second death permanent. Vox has never stopped loving Alastor. Alastor makes a mistake and Vox nearly pays the price.

For my friends who liked my post, I hope this finds you!

@rae-does-stuff, @drakepad-luv-2000, @motherarts, @freakshowmemories, @bratpfanne-of-doom, @superpersonpatroleclipse , @nocakesformissedith , @coins-that-never-land , @matrixbearer2024, @dancingafterdark ,@pedi-bug , @starlightthenightwing , @unnecessarilysalty

#radiostatic #staticradio #staticlovetune

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lily-orchard · 16 days

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What do you think about the idea that you can't control your intrusive thoughts and kinks?

Two people can engage with the same kink in different ways. Engaging in BDSM because the sting of a leather whip on your skin does it for you is one thing. Engaging in BDSM because you fallaciously believe you can take control of your past childhood trauma by reclaiming it is very much another.

Sex and Kink are mental health neutral. On their own, they do nothing for your mental health, it's about what you put into it. This is why doing something kinky with someone you love and trust makes the post-nut clarity feel relaxing, in the same way it feels good after cleaning the kitchen. But if you're alone at your computer reading something horrible, the post-nut clarity feels like "Fucking hell, what's wrong with me?!"

This is also why "toxic relationship sex" is the single most emotionally numbing and miserable experience in the universe. Your nerve endings and your lizard brain that craves dopamine only understands "Friction = electricity = yay" and it's your conscious mind that adds everything else to it. Your conscious mind, which you control.

The dirty secret of your turn ons, turn offs, and opinions is that you have more direct control over them than people would like to admit. When I realized by verbal abuse kink was just an unhealthy coping mechanism based on fallacious ideas about reclaiming trauma, I stopped engaging with it. I made the conscious decision to stop.

I also made the conscious decision to stop reading Grimdark.

Your brain is not a 100% autonomous vehicle completely independent from yourself as a person. At least not where your conscious thoughts are concerned.

It's never a bad thing to examine yourself and wonder "where did that thought come from?" Even if the answer is "Oh it came from nowhere, everything is fine." It's no more unusual than checking your tits for lumps. The people who actively push to discourage you from doing that are usually the ones who need to have an uncomfortable conversation with themselves and don't want to.

I call this "Drinker's Denial." If you've ever noticed that some drinkers can be really pushy toward people who don't drink alcohol, it's usually because they know they have a problem and actively resent you making them think about it with your presence. Your very existence as someone who made the choice not to do the thing makes them think "If they're right, what does that say about me?"

People who don't have an objective problem, or who aren't in denial about it, don't react that way.

Smokers will be the first people to tell me "Don't start." Because they know what they've done to themselves and are like "Don't make my mistakes! Please!"

Conversely, alcoholics and potheads will wrap themselves in knots trying to argue "actually this is good for me because THC is-proceeds to ignore the concept of water intoxication"

People who don't want to have uncomfortable conversations with themselves are the ones who push the idea that your opinions and tastes are completely random and not informed by background, environment, and beliefs. And they're the first ones to demand you stop thinking about things.

It's not puritanical to think critically about things. In fact, it's the exact opposite.

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maleyanderecafe · 5 months

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I Said I Love you to Death, Didn't I? (Manga)

Created by: Sankaku

Genre: Horror/Mystery

This manga complete at about four chapters and man, is it rather dark but fun. It very lightly reminds me of Killer in Love with the way that the story is going. I'm a big fan of yanderes in mystery stories and I think that the main female, Ai is also rather suspicious in the way she acts around Asumori.

The story starts out with Asumori seeing a ghost affect a man by causing him to drop his phone. Asummori feels useless as he's unable to do anything, but quickly turns to his phone to think about his angel, Ai. At school, the two of the work together to clean up afterschool, with Asumori noticing that a ghost is haunting her as well, thus causing the various injuries she has all over her body. He seems surprised that Ai knows his name, and is overjoyed to be hanging out with her. After he catches her when tripping down the stairs, Ai declares him as her savior after he apologizes for touching her, making him extremely happy. After the two walk home, we see that Asumori lives in a rather abusive home. We see that Asumori has been collecting things that Ai has given him, as well as the fact that his spirit perception seems to transfer, probably explaining why Ai is so strong affected by spirits. As such he promises to stay away from her as much as possible, however, Ai continues to follow after him during school and even afterwards. Asumori gets beat at home by his brother, and ends up walking to the park where he meets Ai again. He explains his bruises to Ai, and Ai explains her own experiences with domestic violence. The two of them continue to get closer, with Ai buying Asumori clothes, going to amusement parks and buying gifts for each other. and Asumori gets more and more obsessed. Asumori watching other guys get close to Ai, to which he starts to get jealous and promises to kill any guys that get close to her. Ai eventually gains powers from Asumori, though despite everything she still wants to be with him. He ends up going to Ai's house where he meets her mother, whom he believes has a distaste for him. Ai tells him that the black shadows come from her father, who had died a while ago. When Asumori goes home, he becomes increasingly worried about what will end up happening to Ai and goes back to her house. There, he is greeted by Ai's mother and Asumori accuses her of killing her husband as well as several other people. We find out that Ai's mother was there to basically stall Asumori and when he goes back, he finds that Ai has already killed off his family. He realizes that the spirits surrounding her are actually the vengeful spirits that she's killed. Ai's mother explains that Ai has anti-social personality disorder and that she was the one who killed her father and is incredibly good at pretending to be normal and that her mother has been moving them around and helping to hide bodies. Ai reveals that her cuts were because of the struggles of other people who tried to resist her, and asks if Asumori would ever abandon him. He promises to never, believing that he was given redemption by Ai. He ends up killing himself to make sure that Ai isn't arrested, and blaming his family's murders on himself, as he loves Ai.

Like I said, although this series is short, it is a good start to what I hope will be a good mystery, perhaps even a psychological one. It reminds me a bit of Killer in Love or even He was My Brother in that aspect, with the yandere growing more obsessed with their lover as the story goes on. We see that the ghost aspect and the fear of him projecting on his, I want to say power, onto her is keeping him from really trying to be close to her, yet he can't help but be drawn in by her kindness. I am a little suspicious of Ai though based on the sudden way that she treats Asumori with kindness, since it seems to be out of nowhere, but it is hard to say with only two chapters out. It could go the Killer in Love route where Ai does actually slowly corrupt Asumori to her own needs, but it feels more like Asumori will become more corrupted because of Ai's unintentional actions like talking to other guys. It does make me wonder where he gets his powers from, whether it's something that he had when he was younger or if it was something that was passed down, as well as what might happen in Ai gains these powers as well. As a yandere, we see that Asumori idolizes Ai a lot, stalking her and keeping track of all the things that she has given her and even taking pride that he is her savior, especially after he finds out that he can dispel the spirits that surround her. I wonder if it ties in with the missing persons report that we hear in the television later on, or even if he's already been doing that before we even knew what was going on.

What's written above are my initial impressions of the series back when there were only about one or two chapters. Now that the story is complete, I have to say I was right about Ai being suspicious and I really love how the story went in the end. I've always mentioned before that I really like it when the yandere's darlings are as bad or sometimes even worse than the yandere themselves and this story really does it well. It first gives the impression that Ai is the one being abused because of her cuts and the various spirits that surround her, however twists it when it's show the cuts are actually from people trying to fight back from when she was killing them. I'm surprised that the mother didn't try to call the police or anything and just continually helped her daughter hide corpses. I suppose living under the fear that her daughter might kill her at any moment would do that to you. Asumori's devotion goes even further when he commits suicide in the end to cover for Ai, fully embracing the love he has for her even in death.

It's a very good, albeit short series with a dark yandere story. I do wish that this creator will make more yandere content in the future since I was a fan of how they were able to surprise me about how Ai really was and how the outcome of Asumori's story ended up being. I hope you will enjoy it too if it is to your taste.

#I said I love you to death didn't I?#male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #completed #manga

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saltypiss · 1 month

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Israel and their defenders are devaluing the Holocaust by several hundredths of measures and the fact most jews aren't up in arms against Israel committing a genocide goes to show the weakest most inhumane aspect of our humanity:

It's Always and Only selfishness.

Jews don't care about the holocaust. They don't care about the survivors or the contexts and nuances. All they saw, was "they" were being genocided. Not that Genocide was bad.

Incredible that israel and many jews would want to devalue their cultural importance by showing, if anything was learned from the holocaust, it's that it was bad it happened to jews. But those same jews don't give a shiiiiiit about all the other groups involved in the holocaust, only themselves.

I've never paid much mind to anti-jew rhetoric, nor am I about to. What my opinion is based on, is what I've seen by the jewish community. And from what I'm seeing, they aren't anything more or less special than any other group of people. Clearly, even being involved in the holocaust won't make a damn bit of difference, when generations have passed and the next generation was only taught self-pity and self-defense, all you're left with is genuine full grown adults using playground arguments, again, to justify a genocide.

To end off. I don't dislike or hate jews. I respected them. But now? I think Far Less than ever before. It's like being born rich but still being shitty. Ya'll had the experience, the knowledge, the humanity, and threw it the fuck away the second it became convenient. At least white people were always shitty. Ya'll were victims, now perpetuating more victims, but to ya'll, they ain't victims, they're Hamas.

Congrats on the absolute failure on your moral compass, humanity, critical thinking, and rationality. Please. Tell on yourselves more trying to convince the unconvincible anti-genocider into being pro-mass murder. Please, keep telling on yourselves, because Obviously Ya'lls Image is and Has Always Been A Fat Lie. Otherwise, ya'll would try to retain it, instead of beating down people, even your own people, trying to reach your most base form of sympathy for another human being.

Awful. Awful group of people. Worse than most, but only because they had The Start to being better humans than most. They decided against that, to play victim for the rest of their lives. It wasn't conspiracy theories about jewish lasers, or jokes about banks and noses, it was always, Always, self-victimization that Everyone agreed was okay. They're Very Clearly not an oppressed group even in the smallest of percentiles. Otherwise, this post couldn't have formed. It takes information, video, personal opinion, abundant anecdotes, pictures, stories, to form any of my opinions. Not 4chan, not whatever republican space. Purely Jew's actions.

Much like a retard abusing someone, people will defend the retard because it's socially acceptable and easier than dealing with a complex nuanced situation. If ya don't got a clue, ya don't get involved, let adults handle complex situations, not self-victimisers and their enablers.

#jews #israel #genocide #literally the only time I've paid any attention to the idea that jews may contin alot of bad people #back of my mind I always thought of them as essentially underdogs #but here we stand #they're genuinely worse than most people #as a collective #like lemme put it to you this way #I expect white people to be ignorant of slavery and systematic racism #they haven't dealt with that shit before #jews?#come the fuck on #no excuses #they need to be parented fucking Hard

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trans-axolotl · 1 year

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hey do you have an antipsych reading list or anything like that? i’m trying to learn more about the topic. thank you!

yes!! This is more a list of mad studies books than like, sociological theory from the 60s because disability justice + mad pride is more what I vibe with, but if you want some more in-depth theory recommendations I can do that as well. blanket trigger warning that all of these books discuss psychiatric abuse, institutionalization, and many of them candidly address topics of suicide, mental distress, and sexual assault. If anyone wants more specific trigger warnings please feel free to ask!

Books:

The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang: This book is a fabulous collection of essays based on the author's own experience of schizophrenia, and explores the complexities of diagnosis and institutionalization.

Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare: This book is incredibly important to me and explores the concept of cure, what it means to have anti-cure politics, and all the nuances of cure. Truly a beautifully written book and I really recommend it.

Disability Incarcerated: Imprisonment and Disability in the United States and Canada edited by Liat Ben Moshe: This book is an amazing exploration of institutionalization and incarceration from so many different perspectives, including the special ed to prison pipeline, segregation, psychiatric medicine within prisons, and how institutionalization functions as incarceration. This book can be challenging to read as a psych survivor, but I highly recommend it.

How to Go Mad without Losing Your Mind: Madness and Black Radical Creativity by La Marr Jurelle Bruce: I highly recommend this book. It really delves into complex meanings of madness, how that's tied to radical tradition, aesthetics, art, liberation, so much more, and also really engages mad studies and Black cultural studies.

Mad in America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill by Robert Whitaker: I think this book can be a good foundation for learning the history of psychiatry in America in particular, and although I don't necessarily vibe with everything in this book, I think it is still absolutely worth reading and engaging with critically!

The Protest Psychosis: How Schizophrenia Became a Black Disease by Johnathan Metzl This book does a really good job looking at the history of psychosis in the context of the United States, the civil rights movement, and how pyschosis diagnoses connects to eugenics and slavery.

Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates by Erving Goffman I have not actually read this yet, but it is a classic and it's been on my reading list since @bioethicists recommended it to me!

Open in Emergency: DSM II: Asian American Edition edited by Mimi Khúc This collection of essays has so many different fabulous perspectives on mental health, disability justice, community, and resistance.

Miscellaneous:

Girls do what they have to do to Survive: Illuminating Methods used by Girls in the Sex Trade and Street Economy to Fight back and Heal by the Young Women's Empowerment Project I'm including this on the list even though it might not connect as clearly to antipsychiatry as some of the other titles, because reading this was transformative to me for understanding my own experiences and the ways in which social services like the medical system are not our friends. I also view liberatory harm reduction as essential to building alternatives to psychiatry and YWEP is so completely foundational and groundbreaking in many ways.

Harm Reduction Guide to Coming off Psychiatric Drugs

Cutting the Risk: Harm Reduction and Self Harm I want to add an extra trigger warning for in-depth discussion of self harm and anatomy, including anatomy diagrams.

Asylum Magazine

Mad In America Website--this can be a good place to keep up with psychiatric news in America.

This is very much not a complete list, so followers PLEASE add on!

#antipsych #antipsychiatry #mad studies #mad pride #disability studies #disability #mental health #and obvious disclaimer that i don't agree with 100 percent of every page of all these books #approach these critically and take what works and leave what doesn't!#okay to reblog

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arvandus · 9 months

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Touch Chapter 15 - Past and Present

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!AFAB!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft!Dabi, Fem!AFAB!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events (I started this before the canon stuff dropped), manga spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal (with inaccuracies since it’s outside of my experience and relies on research and imagination), violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, pining, slow burn, eventual emotionally charged SMUT, all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Reader has a panic attack (described in detail); explicit violent thoughts; friendly reminder that this fic has a fanon-based backstory for Dabi and a fully-fleshed out backstory for Reader (think OC without a name/face); multiple uses of Y/N (sorry, couldn’t really be avoided this time).

Chapter Songs: All The King’s Horses by Karmina (Reader)/The Fragile by Nine Inch Nails (Dabi)

Part 1 Part 14

Chapter 15: Past and Present

Dabi felt like an idiot. A complete and utter dumbass. It had happened so fast, so suddenly. He hadn’t thought about the consequences of what he was doing when he pinned you onto his mattress in an attempt to wipe the smug grin off your face.

But as soon as he was over you, it was as if his mind went blank, the inner voices that criticized and warned falling unexpectedly silent. All that had mattered in that moment was the look in your eyes, the feel of your skin beneath his palms, and your voice...

The way you’d said his name, as if you wanted him, needed him...

Dabi had always known you were attracted to him; you were never very good at hiding it. He could tell in the way your gaze became bashful as you touched his scars on his face. He could tell in the way heat rolled off your body whenever you flushed hot in response to his close proximity, his own quirk-sensitive skin fine-tuned to temperature changes in the environment. And of course how could he forget how flustered you got when he’d opened his door, fresh out of the shower that one night.

Dabi knew; he always knew. He never really understood it, but that part didn’t matter, because it was fact. It was why he enjoyed flirting and teasing you so hard early on, just to see you fluster beneath his gaze.

But physical desire was one thing. The way you had pleaded his name was another entirely. It had nearly unraveled him from the inside out, your soft voice pulling at an invisible loose thread within his chest. It was more than just wanting; there was longing, as if you were begging him for something only he could give you.

So, for the briefest of moments, he let himself hope...

But then your phone rang, and then later you had left before he’d so much as had a chance to speak. It was obvious you were running away, and it stung him to the point of dumbness, the simple goodnight falling from his lips while his mind screamed for him to stop you.

Maybe he’d assumed too much too quickly. He’d felt a crashing wave of relief at your explanation for the birth control pills, but now his doubts had returned full force. After all, it may not have been your only reason.

Maybe you were involved with someone else, and your quick exit the night before was fueled by guilt, guilt at allowing yourself to get caught up in the moment.

Or maybe, the attraction between you two wasn’t enough. After all, you’d gotten to know him well enough now to see him as the hot mess that he was. It was no surprise to him that you wouldn’t want to get involved beyond the precarious friendship you’d built.

Either way, your actions spoke volumes, and the defeat settled heavy on his chest.

Sleep was hard to settle into last night as it always was. Dabi’s mind replayed the events over and over, partially to obsessively decipher the meaning of it all, and partially to avoid drifting off into the nightmares that would undoubtedly plague him. He had half a mind to go knock on your door demanding answers; he was tired of guessing, he was tired of the uncertainty. And most of all, he was tired of the distraction, of the way you occupied his thoughts. He just needed to know.

But he never did. Maybe it was pride that kept him locked up behind his bedroom door, refusing to buckle first. Or maybe it was cowardice, his refusal to come face to face with the very real possibility that you didn’t want him, not really.

He should be used to rejection; it was written through every page of his life, so this time should feel no different. But at the same time, it was the rejection that had broken him in the first place. So, if he showed up on your doorstep, vulnerable and exposed and you refused him...

Dabi shoved the thought away. He didn’t want to entertain the possibility. Besides, last night had been enough of an answer, right? It told him everything he needed to know.

So, he stayed in his room, his mind replaying the sound of his name on your tongue over and over again, letting it torture him in the hopes that it would follow him into his dreams where you’d be waiting for him. He let the memory of what had almost happened play out in his mind as he finally allowed himself to indulge, relieving his frustrations with the grip of his hand in the silent solitude of his room.

He had to fulfill his needs twice before sleep finally claimed him, only to wake up later in the night to sweating skin and wordless whispers haunting his ears from dreams he couldn’t remember.

Now, Dabi sat on the train with you in silence, the railcar slowly rocking back and forth as it moved along the tracks. Your quirk once again coated him like a whisper, his mind eased slightly by your pills, as his nerves hummed quietly beneath the surface of it all. Neither of you had brought up last night’s events, and while the air between you wasn’t uncomfortable like it used to be, there remained an undercurrent of awareness that neither of you wanted to breach; at least not here in public, under the watchful eyes of strangers.

Dabi was once again wearing his hoodie; it was still damp from the night before, and the feel of it along with its musty odor annoyed him. But it was the only one he had, his wardrobe limited to what he was able to find in trash bins and homeless shelters, and the occasional donation from Giran when the old man finally took pity on him.

Dabi increased his body heat just enough to warm the cotton fabric in an attempt to help it evaporate faster in the cool, damp air, but the action only made the humidity inside the hoodie worse, causing his unscarred skin to sweat and his healing wound to itch.

He wiggled his shoulders slightly in an attempt to alleviate it, and you glanced at him.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Itchy,” he replied.

If Dabi had a choice in the matter, he would have worn his usual stitched jacket. But as soon as you’d told him where you were going – into the heart of Musutafu – he knew such a trademark piece would get him caught in an instant. So, begrudgingly, he’d donned his disguise from the day before, complete with sunglasses and a mask to cover his scarred skin.

“It just means it’s healing well.”

“It needs to heal faster.”

You gave him a soft smile, and the pounding in his chest skipped. “At least you only need to have your bandage checked once a day instead of twice like before.”

So you’d said that morning when you had treated him. Dabi was glad that his healing wound would soon be a thing of the past, and so too would his reliance on your pills.

“How much longer ‘til we get there?” he asked. His leg bobbed its usual rhythm.

“Two stops away,” you reassured.

“I don’t like how central your source is. It’s too dangerous.”

“Sometimes it’s better to be right under the heroes’ noses,” you replied. “Besides, normally it’s not an issue. Compress and I pass off as perfectly normal citizens.”

Dabi humphed and sank back into his seat with his hands shoved deeper into his hoodie.

Compress.

Dabi still wasn’t convinced you two weren’t involved. The selfish part of him didn’t want to care; he wanted to take you anyway, make you his; put an end to any possible involvement with a press of his lips against yours.

The selfish fantasy soothed his moodiness.

A few minutes later, the automated female voice rang out through the railcar, interrupting his daydreams.

‘Now approaching Musutafu City Hall and Cultural Center. Next stop: Hero Commission Headquarters and Hawks Agency.’

“This is our stop,” you announced as you stood.

Dabi followed you silently like a protective shadow as you exited the railcar into the underground space. His presence behind you made the hairs on the back of your neck and your arms stand on end, a constant awareness of him. And yet, at the same time, that acute awareness made you feel safe. He was watching over you.

You had forgone your usual medical bag that you had, keeping it locked away in your room with the exception of a few of your pills that you kept in your pocket, just in case. Instead, you kept the bare minimum on you, your fake ID provided by the League and cash in one pocket, and your burner phone in the other. It made traveling easier; you didn’t have to worry about losing items or being pick-pocketed, especially with Dabi behind you, protecting your rear.

It was a Saturday, and the streets and sidewalks were busier because of it. You and Dabi passed through crowds of people unnoticed as billboards, signs, and moving pictures covered the tall buildings that towered above your heads. It wasn’t long before you were once again entering the familiar building of Yatsumoto’s residence. Only this time, it was a new front desk clerk – a young lady with a warm smile and trusting eyes. You announced your arrival and a moment later were granted access to the elevator.

“Nice place,” Dabi commented as he eyed the locations of the cameras. You smiled, appreciative of his perceptiveness.

"He does well for himself," you replied.

You both stepped off the elevator together, and you knocked on the door. A moment later, Yatsumoto answered, ushering the two of you inside.

“You’re early,” he commented.

“We were in the area,” you lied.

In all honesty, it was Dabi who had pressured you out the door, eager to finally get his hands on his medication.

Dabi watched the man who you seemed to know so well with distrusting eyes. He was attractive. Unfortunately. Dabi half-wondered if this was who you were involved with. He wouldn’t be surprised... he seemed like your type, or at least someone he’d picture you with. Handsome, well-off. He seemed to like you well enough, based on how he smiled at you and how he addressed you. It made Dabi’s skin crawl, and he subconsciously stepped forward to position himself slightly ahead of you.

You caught it instantly, the undercurrent of tension, the change in Dabi’s behavior. If you didn’t know any better, you’d call it protective at best, and jealous at worst.

The possibility almost made you laugh out loud in disbelief. For Dabi to be jealous, he had to care about you enough to want to lay claim to you, to consider you his. And that mental picture did not meld with how you viewed yourself when it came to Dabi. Sure, you knew he was attracted to you, and you knew the two of you had a connection that was ever-changing. But you certainly didn’t see any heartfelt confessions of love or promises of commitment coming from scarred lips any time soon.

No, Dabi seemed more the ‘friends with benefits’ type. And friends with benefits didn’t get jealous. Or, at least they weren’t supposed to.

Either way, there was nothing to be jealous of. There was nothing between you and Yatsumoto. Not anymore, at least.

As you and Yatsumoto exchanged words, Dabi’s eyes scanned the space. It was neat, organized. Nothing that would imply a stash of high quality, very expensive drugs on the premises. Dabi wondered if he had a second, secret location that he pulled from as needed, or other handlers that fulfilled his orders from government facilities.

Yatsumoto stepped away into another room to grab the order, and you waited patiently. Your eyes locked with Dabi’s, and you looked away quickly.

Dabi stared at you a moment longer before looking away as well.

“You two are close, huh?” he commented.

“We’ve known each other for a long time...” you replied.

Dabi didn’t respond; instead, he let his feet begin to take him where his gaze wandered.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously.

“Nothin’,” Dabi replied. “Just checking it out.”

“Nosey...” you accused.

“Curious,” Dabi corrected.

“They mean the same thing.”

Dabi smirked at you beneath his mask, but you couldn’t tell. He made his way slowly to the nearby table that had papers stacked on it, his fingers drumming the surface as they itched to peek at their contents.

Yatsumoto came back, a small bottle in his hand.

“Got it,” he announced, his keen eyes on Dabi. Dabi stepped away from the table nonchalantly to stand protectively at your side.

“Thank you,” you replied. You took the bottle from his hand, and Dabi read the contents on the label.

His temperature shot up in anger.

“What the hell is this?” Dabi demanded, snatching the bottle from your hand before you could stop him.

Yatsumoto bristled. “What are you talking about? It’s what she ordered.”

“Bullshit, the dosage on this isn’t right.”

“Stop,” you whispered at him harshly. You reached for the bottle, but Dabi held it out of your reach.

“How much are you charging her for this?”

“Half of what I charge everyone else.” Yatsumoto replied with narrowed eyes. “And I don’t appreciate the accusation you’re making.”

“Stop!” you repeated, your voice louder, more insistent.

Dabi ignored you, though. His eyes were set on Yatsumoto, and any moment now you expected the sunglasses to melt off his face.

“I’m not accusing you of shit. I’m telling you outright that you’re ripping us off.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you gotta lotta nerve.”

Panic was drowning you, filling your veins with ice as you watched them bicker back and forth. The longer it went on, the more certain you were that Dabi was effectively burning the only strong bridge you had that made you even remotely valuable to the League. Lose Yatsumoto, and you lose... everything.

“Dabi, STOP!!” you finally yelled.

The sound of his name made him freeze and stare at you. Even with most of his face covered, you could see the shock and incredulity in his expression.

You froze, wide-eyed.

You’d used his name. His Villain name, the one that was plastered on wanted posters and shown on the late-night news.

“Dabi??” Yatsumoto’s voice made you turn and look at him. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, the color of his cheeks drained. “I need to speak to you.” He glared at Dabi. “Alone.”

You followed Yatsumoto into his bedroom where he promptly slammed the door. You winced at the sound; your arms crossed over your chest.

“Dabi?? Dabi?? As in Dabi from the League of Villains?? Damn it, Y/N!” Yatsumoto’s hands were in his dark curls as he paced. “Is that who you’re involved with??”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

Yatsumoto pointed an accusatory finger at you. “I thought you were smarter than this. Damn it, you are smarter than this. What the hell are you doing?”

“Why does this shock you?” you replied angrily. “You have an entire undercover operation here that you’re raking in MILLIONS of yen on. Are you telling me that you don’t sell to villains?? Do you really sit here and vet everyone that comes through?”

Yatsumoto’s jaw clenched tight. “That’s not the point.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” you replied.

“This isn’t like an organized crime syndicate like the M.L.A. or the Yakuza. They have rules. At least the M.L.A. would have made sense since I know your stance on quirk suppression. But this... this is something else entirely.” Yatsumoto began pacing again. “This is The League of fucking Villains. They are the most wanted group out there. They allied themselves with All For One, who nearly defeated All Might, for fuck’s sake. They attacked high school students and abducted a fucking kid. And you’re okay with all of this??”

“You talk about them like they’re the Boogie Man. They’re not.”

“They are!” Yatsumoto shot back.

“They’re not!” you insisted. “I’ve spent time with them, Yatsu. I’ve gotten to know them.”

Yatsumoto shook his head as he stared at you, his disgust evident on his face. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Don’t.” your voice wavered. “Don’t say that. I’m still me, Yatsu. I still care about people. I still want to help people. And right now, I’m helping him.” You pointed at the closed door where Dabi stood on the other side. “Do you know what his quirk does to his body? How much pain he’s in all the time?”

“Did you know that he’s a murderer?” Yatsumoto shot back. Your jaw clenched to the point of aching. “Did you know that he burned up a group of street thugs not too long ago? It was all over the news.”

“It was self-defense.”

“It was a slaughter.” Yatsumoto shot back. “They could only identify them by their dental records.”

A chill went down your spine, but you pushed it away, struggling to ignore it. You didn’t want to think about it... not right now, not with Dabi...

“You’re such a hypocrite,” you whispered. “The League aren’t the only ones who have blood on their hands. Where did the old receptionist go, huh, Yatsumoto? You said you took care of it... where is he now?”

“That is—”

“What? Different? Oh, because it matters to you. It protects you. That’s what this is all about, right? It’s about covering your ass. You make it sound like it’s because you care, like you’re morally above them, but in reality, all you care about is yourself and your goddamn drug empire.”

“The empire that you’re a part of, that you depend on.” Yatsumoto corrected.

He stared at you a moment longer, before finally sitting on the end of his bed. The fight that had been in him deflated slightly and his shoulders slumped.

“You’re right...” he finally said as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “I have to protect myself and my assets. And The League... the risk is too high with them. They’re too reckless. The last thing I need is for it to get back to me. Why them, Y/N? Why not someone else, anyone else?”

“I... I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Yatsumoto’s tone softened. “That’s a lie and you know it.” He pinned you with a familiar, warm gaze. “You always had a place here, remember?”

You looked away. “You know that wouldn’t have worked out.”

“Why not?”

You looked up at him and tilted your head slightly. “You know why.”

Yatsumoto stared at you for a long moment before looking away, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah... yeah, I guess you’re right. But why the League? Why not the Meta Liberation Army?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times before finally finding your voice. “The League can give me something the Liberation army can’t.”

Yatsumoto furrowed his brow. “And what’s that?”

You stared at the closed door, knowing Dabi was listening intently on the other side.

“My brother.”

Shock crossed Yatsumoto’s handsome features. “Your brother is in Tartarus.”

“I know.”

“No one leaves Tartarus.”

“I know. But he said he could do it if I helped the League.”

“Who said that?”

You gave Yatsumoto a long stare, allowing him to put the pieces together. There was only one villain strong enough to make such a brazen promise. Yatsumoto’s grey eyes widened behind his glasses.

“Wait, you mean—” Yatsumoto’s voice lowered. “You met him?”

“No, not directly. But he passed the message on to me through one of the League members.”

“Was this before or after All Might beat his ass at Kamino?”

“After.”

“So, he’s able to communicate with the outside world even though he’s locked inside Tartarus?” Yatsumoto let out a low whistle and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is bigger than I thought. You’ve really got yourself in deep.”

Tears brimmed your eyes. “I have to try, Yatsu. He’s been in there for so long...”

Yatsumoto put a comforting arm around you, and you leaned into his hold. “I know. But... it’s Tartarus. All of hero society would have to collapse before Tartarus would fall.”

Your expression hardened as you stared blankly ahead of you. “Yeah… I know.”

Deep down, a loathsome, unforgiving part of you wanted that. It wanted to tear it all apart. The entire barrel of apples was rotten, so better to dump them out and start over.

Yatsumoto slowly removed his arm from your shoulders and stared at you. For the first time, he seemed... scared of you, and you realized that maybe…

Maybe you and Dabi weren’t so different after all.

But this desire for violence was one thing you didn’t want to have in common with him. You put your head in your hands, confused.

“I just... I hope it doesn’t come to that,” you whispered. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I just want my brother back.”

Yatsumoto stared at you long and hard before looking away again. “I don’t think it’s something you have much control over. Unrest has been building for a while now. Eventually it’s going to bleed into all of hero society, and when that happens, there’s going to be casualties.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you stared at your friend. “I—”

A knock at the door cut your words short, followed by Dabi opening the door without waiting for an invitation. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed as he stared down at you before pinning Yatsumoto with a narrowed gaze. His glasses were off his face and his face mask pulled down to his chin now that his cover had been blown. Yatsumoto stiffened at the sight of him.

“You ready, doll?” Dabi asked. “Or are ya gonna chat all day?”

You took a breath and blinked away your tears. “I’m ready. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dabi gave you a long, lazy look before stepping away again, his arms behind his head as he stretched.

Yatsumoto eyed him as Dabi walked out of his line of sight. “I don’t trust him.”

You chuckled. “I don’t think he trusts you either.”

Yatsumoto eyed you again, and you could see the hesitation in his posture. “Are you sure you’re okay with him?”

You smiled as you stared at Dabi’s back. “I’ve never been safer.”

You stood up to follow Dabi, but Yatsumoto grabbed your wrist. You turned to look at him. He stared up at you with concern. “I mean it, Y/N. Be careful with him. Please. You already know what he’s capable of.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to communicate how certain you were that Dabi would never hurt you. But you knew whatever you said would be futile, so you opted for cooperation.

“I will,” you reassured. “I promise. So does this mean you’ll keep helping me out?”

Yatsumoto sighed and scratched the back of his head again. “To be honest, I don’t really want to. But I don’t think I have much choice at this point. I don’t need the League coming after me because I’ve refused to supply them.”

“They wouldn’t...” but your words faltered, swallowed up by uncertainty. You thought they wouldn’t, but you couldn’t say for sure, and that realization brought a new kind of discomfort.

Yatsumoto tilted his head at you knowingly. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“I’m sorry...” you muttered.

Yatsumoto placed a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

You walked out from under his palm and made your way over to Dabi. His posture relaxed slightly once you were next to him again, safely within his reach.

You held out your hand.

Dabi stared at it.

“What?”

“The pills.” You pinned him with a look. “Hand ‘em over.”

He let out an annoyed sigh and took the bottle out of the pocket of his hoodie and put it in your hand.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” you whispered to him teasingly.

Dabi raised an annoyed eyebrow at you. “Just like you thought I wouldn’t notice you lowered my dose?” he shot back.

You raised your own eyebrow at him in return. Without speaking, you opened the bottle and counted the contents onto the table. The amount matched the prescription and you put the pills back in, satisfied. It wasn’t just to make sure Dabi didn’t take any; it was to make sure you were getting what you paid for. You trusted Yatsumoto completely, but you knew Dabi didn’t, so the action was more to ease his own nerves. You pulled out the cash from your pocket and counted out the bills into Yatsumoto’s open palm.

“Here you go, as we discussed.”

You bid your goodbyes to Yatsumoto as you left, Dabi following behind you in silence with his disguise back in place.

As soon as you were back in the elevator, Dabi let loose the question that burned at his tongue.

“Why did you order a smaller dose?” he demanded.

“Because you’ve been on mine for a couple weeks, so going back to the amount you were taking before would be a very bad idea.”

“Tch.” Dabi frowned and looked away. “I don’t need you making those kinds of decisions without me, you got that? That’s not your call to make.”

You stared at him in reproach. “Actually, it kind of is. I refuse to be responsible for you overdosing. Again.”

“Yeah? And what if they don’t fucking work? What then? All this would be just a waste of fucking time.”

“It’ll still work,” you reassured. “You know that, right? They’re extended release, so they’re meant to last longer than your originals.”

Dabi liked them even less.

“Whatever…” he muttered. “Nice blowing my cover, by the way.”

You sucked your cheek. The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied. “But maybe next time when I’m telling you to stop, you’ll listen.”

Dabi buried his hands deep in his pockets. “Maybe next time you’ll give me a heads up. I wouldn’t have thought he was taking advantage if you’d told me what you did.”

He had you there.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” You finally said.

Dabi glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything. Your lips pressed together in frustration, his lack of reciprocal apology for his behavior making the resolution feel incomplete. But you held your piece for now as you made your way out of the parlor and into the street.

As you stepped out, you noticed a yatai across the street, pictures of yakitori on the side of it.

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

Dabi followed your gaze. “Yeah.”

“Come on, I’ve got a little money left over.”

Ten minutes later, and the two of you were tucked in an alley away from the bustling crowds as you ate. Dabi’s mask was pulled down to his chin again as he ate the chicken off the skewer. The sour mood of before was lightened thanks to your meal, and you decided to extend an olive branch.

“How’re you doing?” you asked around a mouth full of food.

Dabi swallowed. “It’s too bright outside.”

You stared up at the overcast sky, grey clouds low with the promise of more nighttime rain.

“Do you need me to touch you up with my quirk?” you asked.

Dabi shook his head. “I’m fine, doll. Just a little uncomfortable.”

The nickname he used for you had become one of the many ways you gauged Dabi’s mood, the term of endearment coming up only when he was comfortable and at ease. Hearing it now gave you a little bit of the comfort you needed, letting you know he had let go of his frustrations from earlier.

You looked out at the passing throngs of people. There were a wide variety of ages, looks, attire... they milled along, unaware of your watching.

“Dabi...”

“Yeah?”

“Say everything works out the way we want, and we come out on the other side... where do you see yourself?”

Your question was so left field, that Dabi had to do a double take. “What??”

“Like, what are your plans if we win?”

Dabi fell silent, the truth trapped behind tight lips. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that he didn’t have plans for after. He’d never planned on living past his confrontation with his father.

“I don’t know,” he said evasively.

“Well, when you think of a happy life, what do you picture?” you looked at him. “Toga wants to be able to love how she wants. Twice just wants to be around people he cares about. Shigaraki... well...”

“Let’s not think about what Shigaraki wants,” Dabi replied.

Destruction. Destruction, and nothing else. The thought had never bothered Dabi before, because he’d never planned to live long enough to see the totality of it all anyway. But now...

He watched you as you watched the people passing.

“What do you want?” you continued. “To live alone at the top of a mountain? To stay with the League? Find a stable job?”

You watched as a child ran by you, a balloon in tow, and you smirked. “A house and kids?”

It was a joke, of course; you were already sure of the answer.

Dabi choked on his last bite of yakitori, coughing and clearing his throat. “Oh hell no,” he replied adamantly.

You laughed at him.

“No kids, not ever,” he continued.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you chuckled.

“Fortunately, that’s something I’ll never have to worry about.”

You finally tore your gaze away from the crowds and looked at him as he tossed his skewer into a trashcan and put his mask back into place.

“Fun side effect of my quirk being incompatible with my body is that I’m shootin’ blanks.”

“Wait, seriously??”

“Sperm don’t do well with heat. Might’ve been fine if my body was fire resistant, but… y’know…” He smirked. “Little swimmers never stood a chance.”

“Oh…”

“C’mon, little doctor. Didn’t you learn about the birds and the bees at your fancy school?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course we did. I guess I just never thought about it, is all.”

You were both done eating so you began walking down the street towards the train station.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

Dabi scoffed. “Of course not. It’s a damn blessing.”

“Yeah, but this is like... you never even had a choice.”

“Even if I did, I would have gotten myself snipped by now anyway. All it did was save me from a very painful recovery period.”

“Good point... so no white picket fence for you. What would make you happy then?” you asked.

The blue of Dabi’s eye caught yours behind his sunglasses as he glanced at you while you walked. He was quiet for so long that you wondered if he even had an answer. But finally, he replied, “Justice.”

You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. It didn’t matter; you didn’t need him to. You already had enough information to fill in the blanks, thanks to the little bit of digging you did through old news articles on your phone yesterday while you were stuck waiting for Dabi to answer your calls.

It had shocked you to your core when you’d confirmed what you had suspected, but by now you’d adjusted to it. There was a certain poetry to it all, between your history and his all being tied to the same man, and it only served to deepen your empathy for him.

You knew Endeavor was his father, you knew who he really was. And with that information, while you didn’t have the full details of his story, you had enough to understand why he wanted to bring his father down.

All you had to do at this point was hear it from Dabi’s own lips, to confirm what you already knew. For now, though, his lips remained sealed, and you didn’t press the issue further. Instead, you changed the topic.

“So,” you prodded, “How much did you hear earlier with Yatsumoto?”

Dabi gave another side glance at you. “Some of it.”

You stared at him.

“Okay, most of it.”

You couldn’t help the smug grin that pried your lips apart. “I thought so.”

Now that it was all out in the open, Dabi had no reservations in asking all the questions that had piled up over the past couple of weeks.

“So, your brother’s locked up, huh?”

“Yeah...” you replied.

All the pieces were finally falling into place. Dabi had always wondered how someone like you ended up with the League of Villains. Now it made perfect sense.

“What did he do?” Dabi asked as his eyes following the sudden mass movement of the people around him. No doubt a popular hero showed up nearby...

He waited for your response, but it never came. He looked next to him, but you weren’t there.

Panic ran hot through Dabi’s veins until he saw you frozen in your tracks thirty feet behind him. Your eyes were wide with fear, and even from this distance he could see the way your chest heaved as if you were gasping for air.

Dabi followed your gaze, and then he saw it... across the street, three buildings down, stood Endeavor surrounded by a crowd of civilians. Cameras flashed and phones were held high in the air to get pictures with the new number one ‘hero.’

Dabi’s blood instantly boiled, his heart rate tripling in his chest as his quirk itched at his fingertips. A giddiness filled him, every nerve ready to spring into action.

He was right there. Finally.

He felt the pull of all his hatred, his pain, focalize into a single point on his father’s face in the distance. It was a face that was burned into his memory with every insult he received, with every punch he had to endure, despite the additional years added to the old man’s face since he’d last seen him. It was almost as if no time had passed at all, the fire of rage burning as bright as it had on the night he’d committed himself to bringing him down.

All he had to do was go to him.

But something nagged and pulled at the back of his mind, forcing his focus away from the man ahead, from his past, his future.

Dabi looked back at you. Your hand was clutching your chest and you looked ready to faint, your skin sheened with sweat. Dabi stood rooted, torn between his zealous wrath and you, trapped and vulnerable. He wanted to yell at you, to tell you to hide, to take cover. But he knew just by looking at you that you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself.

Damn it, why did this have to happen now?? What was wrong with you??

Dabi recalled the scar across your back, remembered how you’d reacted to seeing Endeavor’s face on the television that one night, every nerve in your body tense. And now, it looked as if you were seeing the devil himself.

It was the nail in the coffin, verifying what Dabi had already suspected. His father, his dear old dad, the number one hero, had given you that scar. You, a harmless civilian. The reality didn’t surprise him. It was just another skeleton in his father’s closet. Instead, it made the anger and hatred in his veins burn hotter still, the vengeance twice as strong as it had been a moment before. The need for retribution stretched beyond just himself; now that retribution included you as well.

He wanted to beat his father’s ass, tear him limb from limb, watch him cry and snivel and beg for mercy as Dabi threw his flames back in his face until the flesh burned away. He wanted you to watch, to see how weak the old man was, to see that he’d never be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again.

Black smoke began to flavor Dabi’s tongue, his hands burning hot within his gloves that began to bubble and peel. Dabi stepped forward, ready to act, and yet... something in him hesitated.

On the brink of eruption, he forced himself to reason, assessing the situation.

It’s not the right time, not with all of these people here and other heroes close by.

And not with you frozen on the sidewalk, at risk of getting struck by his flames.

You’d already been burned by one Todoroki. He refused to let you be burned by another. That was his father’s legacy etched into your skin, not his.

It would never be his.

He had to get his father alone, without you nearby and when Dabi had more than just his weak, broken body to face him.

His father’s words rattled in his skull, mocking him.

You’re not strong enough.

It took every ounce of strength for Dabi to turn his back on his father and go to you, a growl gurgling low in his chest at the frustration of it all. The first step was the hardest, turning on his heel, putting his target behind him. But with each step it became easier, his frustration being forced to the backburner as his steps quickened into a sprint towards you.

“Hey,” Dabi called as soon as he reached you.

You didn’t respond; you couldn’t. Fear had a tight grip on your throat, your brain so consumed by it that you couldn’t even hear Dabi’s voice.

Dabi grabbed you by your shoulders. “Hey!”

Still, you didn’t respond, your eyes glued beyond Dabi, across the street. It was like you weren’t even here with him, your breaths gasping, your eyes wide like a frightened animal. He cupped your face in his hands and turned your face towards his.

“Look at me, look at me.”

Dabi’s eyes found yours, but it made no difference. You began to hyperventilate as your heart pounded with such strength you were sure it’d burst from your rib cage to land at your feet. You could feel your world spin beneath you. All of your senses were thrown into hyper awareness, like a scared rabbit catching the scent of a predator you couldn’t see.

But you could see. You could see the red of his hair, his broad shoulders well above the crowd. And if you could see him, then he could see you. All he had to do was look in your direction…

There was a crushing weight on your chest, and you knew that any moment now, he would get you, hurt you, kill you. You were dying, you realized; the life was squeezing out of your lungs with each shallow breath, your vision blurred.

All you could see was red and orange flames, angry blue eyes. You heard the sound of screaming that sounded like your voice, yet it wasn’t, because you couldn’t produce words, you couldn’t even breathe.

You barely registered the feeling of Dabi’s hand holding yours, of the tug on your arm. It brought forth the ghost of a memory, of a different hand dragging you down winding back streets.

‘Go! RUN!’

It wasn’t Dabi’s voice in your head. It was your brother’s, loud and frantic.

You don’t remember running. You don’t even remember moving. One moment you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring at the man who’d ruined your life, to leaning against a hard wall behind a dumpster.

You sank down to your heels, your knees drawn up as you covered your ears. Your panicked breaths ripped themselves out of your chest until your lungs ached and your face was streaked with tears. Your entire body shook, ready to flee as soon as you could get your damn legs to work.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe...

The mantra ran through your head in a loop.

He’s coming... I’m going to die...

The faint recognition of warm, rough skin on your hand cut through your fog just enough to allow your other senses to pick up your environment.

“Y/N...” the voice was deep, familiar. “Y/N, you’re safe now.”

You shook your head. It was a lie. He was coming. He would find you, and then it would all be over...

The hand cupped your cheek, and dark bangs and blue eyes came into your field of view, framed in a black hoodie. You shied from them at first, the blue so familiar, so dangerous. But your vision focused when you heard his voice again, familiar and safe. And his eyes... they weren’t filled with fiery fury like you remembered. They were clear, shallow pools of aqua, black brows drawn together as they searched for you, finding you, trying to save you from the dark waters of your memories. But the waves of trauma were great, huge swells that dragged you under with each beat of your heart against your rib cage and burning of your lungs.

Dabi stared at you, watching you fall apart in front of him, as an unwelcome sense of helplessness drowned his chest. Familiarity pulled deep from his mind, old memories rising to the surface. He’d seen this before...

‘Touya...’

The memory of his mother’s face, her hair fallen forward as she shook and gasped. This very thing had happened so many times, especially towards the end...

‘I’m here, mom.’

He’d learned how to respond, how to help. Memories sharpened, bringing forth experience like an old guidebook that had been lost but whose pages had been memorized.

Dabi moved on instinct. He took your hand and placed it against his chest. You could feel the warmth, feel the cotton of his shirt where he’d unzipped his hoodie. “Feel my heartbeat,” he said.

You could feel it, slow and steady.

“Focus on the feeling. Right here.” He tapped his hand over yours to the rhythm of his heart that pounded strong beneath his sternum.

You forced yourself to focus on it.

“Good. Now count them.”

You couldn’t get your body to move, couldn’t get enough air in your lungs to speak.

“Count,” Dabi repeated. His heart vibrated beneath your palm. “One...”

Your mouth shaped the word, but there was no sound. ‘One.’

“Two...”

“Two...” your voice now carried on the smallest breath.

Now, with your voice coming back, you counted together in unison as Dabi helped your body slowly release the fear that had a chokehold over you.

“Three... four.... five....”

Dabi kept his hand over yours, while his other cupped your cheek again, making you look into his eyes.

“Eight... nine... ten.”

Your world came back into focus, and with it came the great cresting wave of emotion. It rolled through you now, your body shuddering like it was sloughing a second skin, and fresh sobs fell from your throat.

“Dabi...” you whispered. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. He held you tight against him as your sobs became heavy, your body purging the marathon of stress it’d just endured.

Your senses came back full force, everything around you sensitive and raw. The feel of Dabi’s hand on your back, the heat emanating from him, the musky moist smell of his hoodie mingling with the distinct smell of smoke. You felt safe, protected, as long as Dabi continued to hold you, his body surrounding you like a barrier against the world.

When you finally calmed down, you realized that you were both on the ground, with Dabi’s legs bent on either side of you as you leaned against him. You sat up just enough to look at him, tears still stuck to your lashes and wet on your cheeks. Dabi’s eyes took in every inch of your face. You were so close now that you could feel his breath on your skin, see the details of his irises. The band-aid still covered his cheek, the skin beneath it purple where it had bruised from the torn staple.

Dabi’s thumbs wiped away at the tear tracks on your cheeks as he finished his inspection of you.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and straightened up. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

A mild, numb sense of shock settled over you as you watched him stand up and dust the dirt from his jeans. He extended his hand out to help you up, and you took it gratefully.

“How did you... where did you learn to do that?” you finally asked as you brushed off your own clothes and adjusted your jacket.

Dabi put his sunglasses back on and placed his mask over his mouth. “My mom used to get panic attacks,” he replied.

You stared at Dabi for a long moment.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a new, unfamiliar voice spoke in your periphery.

“Hey, is everything okay here?”

You spun to come face to chest with a tall man with spiked white hair and grey eyes. He had a strong jaw that was familiar in its shape, but you couldn’t immediately place it, too dazed still from your panic attack.

“What??” you asked dumbly.

The man looked from Dabi to you, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I wanted to see if you were okay. I saw you across the street, it looked like you were having a panic attack.”

You glanced at Dabi, and immediately noticed how rigid his posture became, how he was practically holding his breath as he stared at the man in front of him who was a head taller than him. You waited to see if Dabi would answer, but he fell strangely silent.

“I’m okay,” you replied, giving the stranger your best smile. You locked your fingers with Dabi’s and leaned into him; you realized his gloves didn’t feel right, and you glanced down to notice the damage on them for the first time.

Had he used his quirk??

No. If he had, you’d both be caught by heroes by now. But it had come close...

You cleared your throat, realizing you’d gotten briefly distracted.

“I just don’t do well with big crowds,” you lied. “He helped me through it.”

You patted Dabi’s chest and gave him an affectionate glance, playing the role of the sweet girlfriend. Anything to try to soften his rough edges and aloof behavior that was making him look more suspicious by the second.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad you’re okay now. Do you need anything?”

This guy was nice, just another Good Samaritan. So why did it seem like Dabi wanted to run?

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Something in Dabi snapped. “She said she’s fine.”

The man turned and stared at Dabi, and for the briefest moment, it felt like time stood still as they looked at each other. There was something in the air, an energy that you couldn’t place. You watched with bated breath, waiting for something to happen. But the moment passed, and the man put his hands up and backed off slightly.

“Hey, no need to get mad. I was just checking.”

Dabi turned and looked at you, and his hold on your hand tightened. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you replied.

Dabi brushed by the white-haired man, pulling you with him. “Thanks for the help,” he said gruffly without so much as a glance.

You had to practically jog to keep up with Dabi as he whisked you away down the sidewalk, the man left standing behind you to watch your retreat.

As soon as the two of you had entered the train station, Dabi slowed to a stop and leaned against a concrete column.

“What was that about?” you asked, looking back over your shoulder. The man didn’t follow, but you half expected him to.

“Nothing.” Dabi replied. “Train’s here, let’s go.”

He led you by the hand into the railcar and picked out a couple of seats towards the back where he could have a clear line of sight of anyone who came in or out of the train. Dabi didn’t relax until the doors had closed and the train began to move. Then he slumped into his seat and leaned his head back against the wall behind him, his eyes closed behind his sunglasses. He still held your hand but he hardly noticed, his mind racing.

That was close. Too fucking close. He’d managed to keep away from his family for literally years, and now, today of all days, he managed to see not one, but two Todorokis. Dabi didn’t startle easily. But coming face to face with Natsuo was not something he had ever considered a possibility until ten minutes ago. At first, he feared that he’d recognize him, even with his face nearly entirely covered and his hair dyed. He was eternally grateful when his brother’s grey eyes showed no signs of recognition. But then Dabi had to open his stupid mouth…

It almost stung when his own brother hadn’t recognized his voice. But then again, how often did people keep an eye out for ghosts?

Dabi was yanked from his thoughts when he felt the weight of your head on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked down to see you resting against him as you gazed ahead. That’s right… you’d gone through an ordeal yourself. He was sure you were feeling fatigued now in the comedown.

Dabi stared at the crown of your head and the intrusive thought of planting a kiss on the top of it invaded his mind. He shoved it aside. Instead, he subtly pulled his mask down just enough for his nose to peek out above. Instantly, the smell of your hair drifted up and he inhaled gently, letting the scent of you calm him as he leaned his head back against the wall.

As the train moved, Dabi felt the slow creep of his nerve pain and drug withdrawal return. He suppressed the small pangs of pain that ran along his body; he didn’t want you to know, he didn’t want you to worry. You had enough on your mind. Besides, you were close to home, and you finally had his pills. Eagerness and relief filled his chest, allowing him to breathe easier through the discomfort. He’d waited for so long, what was a little longer?

The train finally reached your stop, and you sat up begrudgingly. You expected Dabi to let go of your hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he led you out of the railcar and into the late afternoon. Once you were on the sidewalk, he casually put his arm over your shoulders, his hand hanging lazily over the edge. You glanced at him, surprised by the gesture, but he didn’t return your gaze, his mind deep in thought as he kept his eyes ahead of him. You could tell he was thinking about something, because of the way his brows were pulled together.

So, you leaned into his hold, enjoying the closeness and the warmth, even though your mind was screaming internally as your heart floundered in the gray area of whatever this was. Nothing had been said outright about last night; but each day, each moment, brought more and more dismantling of barriers.

And yet, so much was still left unsaid.

His arm left your shoulders once you approached the back entrance of the old run-down hotel, his hand finding yours again as he took the lead up the stairs. But as Dabi began to take the steps up, you halted, frozen in your tracks.

The tug on Dabi’s arm made him stop and turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You stared up at the building with a mixture of relief and trepidation. You couldn’t entirely put into words why you were hesitating going in. A part of you wanted to. While the building wasn’t much to look at, it spoke of home, of familiarity. And right now, familiarity was what you needed.

But it also spoke of isolation, of separation from the world around you. With its run-down façade, old single-pane windows and leaky pipes, it spoke of a place forgotten, a place haunted by ghosts. And in a way, that’s how you felt; a ghost, existing unseen in hero society, swept under the rug when you no longer fit their perfectly cut box. You were all ghosts, here; nightmares created by others, hiding away to find solace in each other’s loneliness.

“I... I don’t know...” you whispered. You looked at the ground with a frown.

Dabi stepped towards you. “You don’t wanna go in?”

You shook your head silently. Your answer surprised Dabi; when his mother had her panic attacks, she always sought a safe place after to recuperate. He had assumed that meant you’d want to go back to the hideout.

So, did you not feel safe here? That possibility bothered him. Maybe that friend of yours had gotten into your head earlier...

Dabi’s jaw clenched. He hated that guy.

He turned around and came back down the steps towards you. You let go of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest protectively, and Dabi shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked.

“I dunno...” you confessed with a shrug. You didn’t have a plan; it was all just feelings.

Dull pain bloomed across Dabi’s neck and he rubbed at it subconsciously. You saw.

“My pills and my quirk are wearing off, aren’t they?” you asked. “We should get you inside.”

Your steps up the stairs were heavy, filled with resistance. Dabi watched you as guilt chewed at his bones.

“I thought you didn’t want to go in,” he said.

“I’ll be fine,” you replied. “I’m just... in a weird place right now.”

“How about you just give me a couple of my pills and then we can go somewhere else.”

You smiled at his effort to try to find a solution that worked for both of you, but you shook your head. “I don’t want you going out there on your first dose. I’m not sure how your body will handle getting back on it again. Yesterday you lost hours, remember?”

You reached the top of the step, your hand on the doorknob. You hesitated again, staring at the worn, dented metal.

Dabi sighed. You were right, of course. Again. You were always right. The last thing either of you needed was Dabi high off his ass in the middle of the city with you in tow, vulnerable and scared. Dabi chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling a ring with his tongue.

A solution popped into his head, a solution he didn’t like.

“Give me your pills,” he said.

Your hand fell from the doorknob, and you turned to look at him with surprise. “What?”

“Give me your pills,” he repeated. “We already know they work okay.”

It wouldn’t fix it completely; Dabi would still feel the pain. But it’d be muted, dulled. He could manage that for a few hours.

You hesitated with your lip caught between your teeth. Dabi eyed the action intently.

Dabi joined you on the last step in front of the door. “C’mon, doll. Trust me for once.”

Let me take care of you.

Your gaze was pensive as you weighed the pros and cons. “Okay,” you finally breathed.

Dabi grinned. “Atta girl. C’mon, I gotta change my clothes first. I hate this fucking hoodie.”

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Chapter 16

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#Dabi x reader #Dabi x you #Touya x reader #Touya x you #soft dabi #dabi fanfic #dabi fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #touya #dabi slow burn #slow burn #pining #angst #hurt/comfort

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lonleydweller · 8 months

Note

Hi Dwell! Is it ok if I call you that? (Please let me know)

I'm the anon who requested brittle bones darling with scarecrow and riddler

(Which was amazing as I've mentioned before ♥️)

and I was wondering....

Could you write yandere platonic scarecrow and riddler (again..sorry 😅) with a teenager that they want to make their protégé / and or heir to their work/ villain persona?

Like maby they knew the teen in the past?

(PLEASE Take your time. Remember to stay hydrated and well fed and take breaks regularly your writing is improving so much! Your one of my favourite blogs ♥️♥️)

🥀Platonic Yandere Arkham Knight Riddler and Scarecrow with a teen protégé🥀

Of course!! Also don't be afraid to give yourself a proper anon name if you want! Assuming by your wording as well that this most likely a kid they snatched off the streets or someone else in this case! And don't worry, I'm probably overhydrated than anything else.

!Warnings!: this content contains, toxic family dynamic, platonic yandere trope, alluded kidnapping, controlling behavior, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting.

Yanderes are OK in fiction. They should stay fiction. They are not example of healthy relationships. These behaviors are NOT okay in real life. This is for entertainment purposes

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Riddler

●Welp hope you enjoy being trapped in a bunker full of strewn about scrap metal, machinery, robots, and random shit. An absolute mess. It's a surprise he can even meet your basic needs. Your room is most likely a small extra storage closet he emptied out. It's decent, probably the only clean part of the base, granted you're the only one who uses or maintains it. However you barely get privacy.

●He'll force you to be beside him for a good chunk of the day, berating you and lecturing you about topics you barely understand. Forcing you to help a bit with schemes. You'll need the experience after all if you are to take after him aren't you? Maybe if you do something right he'll give you some fatherly praise and encouragement. Otherwise don't expect much from him.

●Correction. You are going to take after him. There is no if. He fully expects you to do so and will drill it into your head. If you have any dreams, any aspirations, any careers you want, he'll shoot them down. Get that nonsense out of your head. No doubt you two get into shouting matches about this topic and the fact he's not your real dad.

●You're allowed very few personal items. A notebook, pencil, puzzles, rubix cubes, crosswords. Things that he believe will help challenge your brain. Maybe if you're lucky he'll gift you something you actually want. No electronics however. Under any circumstance. Nothing that allows you to communicate with the outside world. He isn't a fool.

●Oh, yeah, and he dosen't allow you outside. At all. He says it's for your own good. Which is debatable. All of this is. You should be grateful he didn't leave you on the streets where your brain would inevitably melt from the stupidity! Not to mention the various thugs, criminals, the bat, and other rouges that are just waiting to snacth you up. Really it's safer with him.

●He will absolutely look through your notebook, journal, or any personal belongings while you sleep. Looking around your room to make sure you aren't hiding anything.

●He has many precautions to make sure you can't go sneaking out and running away. Him keeping an extremely close eye on you isn't enough. His robots are stationed at almost every door, roaming around, camreas placed just outside the base, throughout the city, and more than likely a tracker on something you own. Say maybe a pair of shoes or a shirt.

●Overall you're stuck with a controlling, brash, overprotective, overbearing narcissist as a barely father figure.

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Scarecrow

●With Dr.Crane at least you get a proper decent room, and a home that's not full of tripping hazard. It's actually somewhat barren. Your needs are met all the same, but don't be mistaken, you're still surrounded by manipulation and villainy.

●He'll let you have more freetime compared to Edward. He'll show you bits of his work here and there. He wants to try and get you interested on your own accord, but he'll give you a nudge if need be. The more your young minds curiosity is peaked, the more he'll teach you about his toxins and work.

●It may seems nice, but of course it's only manipulation. After all if he forced you to do it, you'd resent him, resent his work. Once he was gone, you'd just move on as an adult. If he gets you interested at a young age, ignite the passion for fear in you and engrain it, you'd be more willing to carry on his legacy wouldn't you?

●You're mainly gifted books, art supplies, or other things if you request them and he's deemed you've earned them. However he's strict on electronics as well. Maybe if you prove you aren't going to run away or snicth on him anytime soon he'll give you a phone or laptop. It won't be able to connect to the internet and will be heavily monitored.

●He won't let you outside too much either. Unless you're monitored by him or his men. Even then you won't go far from his domain. He fears Batman or another member of the Rouges Gallery might snacth you up if they realize your association with him.

●He won't really root through your personal belongings unless he feels there a sudden shift in your behavior or some cause for concern. He trusts he's manipulated treated you fairly well enough to where you aren't scheming behind his back.

●He still has security in place. It's Gotham city, many things can go awry. Camreas here and there, thugs, maybe a tracking device if need be. If it really calls for it he'll get the help of the Arkham Knight and his army.

●He'll hides his manipulation under a calm, reasonable, and collected demeanor.

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honimello · 6 months

Text

all papas general headcanons

basically just headcanons i have about their past, childhood, and personalities! and some other stuff like physical description and personal experiences.

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a/n: these honestly probably might not fit the canon like at all or what some of you might head canon but that’s okay cus i’m just letting my brainrot fester at this point. i left their relationships open ended so there would be imagination room for like an x reader thing lol. also i picked their birth dates based on vibes alone and i know very little about the zodiac signs i just thought it would be fun lol

warnings: angst, vaguely implied abuse, poor childhoods, character death, mentions of sex and sexual orientations, (nihil fucking sucks and sister imperator kinda does too), (also all papas are alive), vague mention of eating issues, mentions of wanting children, mentions of marriage, one nsfw bullet point for each so 18+ MDNI!! also not proofread

primo: 68, born september 14th, 1955 virgo

5’10, around 140ish pounds, blonde with shaved hair, but used to have long hair that he would braid and came down to below his lower back. speaking of his back, he has a hard time standing up straight now so he appears shorter than he is.

his mother was a random woman from a bar, nihil only found out about her pregnancy until she was 7 months pregnant. sister imperator was rightfully very angry finding out about this, but she had her suspicions of his promiscuity. she often took out her anger on primo, especially when he became papa and she gave him more work than he probably should’ve been doing. although, she did slightly lessen up on him around the time when he had taken in copia.

he’s actually quite sad he never really got to meet his mother, but he didn’t have much time to think about it once his brothers started coming along. he stepped up more often than not in taking care of them, he was more of a father (and a mother honestly) than nihil would ever be. and sister never really had any interest in interacting with him or his brothers, except for copia.

speaking of copia, primo found out about him when copia was around 11-12 and he took him in quite fast. it only took one look at that little boy for primo to know it was his brother. when he was younger he used to get a little jealous that sister imperator was so invested in copia’s wellbeing and upbringing given that she had never been a mother to him or his other brothers but primo eventually just found himself feeling grateful copia had a mother, even if she wasn’t a very good one.

when primo became papa he got rid of the prime mover position, seeing how it destroyed sister and nihils marriage as well as his brothers childhoods made him incredibly angry. he also didn’t care for the connotation that women are made to have children and carry on the bloodline only. he’s a romantic (and a feminist), and that notion always made him nauseous.

secondo visits primo the most out of all his brothers, copia often visits too but doesn’t have much time. terzo only really visits when he is having some sort of emotional or personal dilemma that he cant figure out on his own. primo doesn’t mind, he’s willing to help his brothers and see them whenever he can. though in his old age he does get quite lonely and wishes they could make more time for him, but he doesn’t hold it against them.

primo finds himself wanting children now that he’s older, even if he might not be able to bare his own anymore he often entertains the idea of adopting one of the orphans at the ministry. he wishes he had someone by his side as well, and while his random sexual encounters with few siblings are enjoyable, he longs for a more steady companionship.

it’s harder for him to get erections now but still enjoys having sex, even if he doesn’t always come. is very good at oral and fingering and definitely loves to spoil his partner. will probably cry happy tears if someone sucked him off even if he couldn’t get hard all the way, he still enjoys it. can still fuck hard but will probably be very sore afterwards. pls give the old guy a nice warm bath after and maybe a kiss on his wittle head.

secondo: 57, born august 18th, 1966 leo

6’2, around 180ish pounds, brunette but has shaved his head since he was 20, huge resting bitchface even when he was a baby, muscular but has put on some pudge since becoming papa.

his mother was the first prime mover in around 100 years, she was a sibling of sin who nihil had a passing attraction towards and decided to torture sister imperator by naming her prime mover. she died giving birth to secondo. secondo blames himself, and tends to despise himself because of this.

in his teenage years he often spent sleepless nights crying for her, how much he wished he could’ve met her or at least seen her as there were no pictures of her. he wondered if she would love him, be proud of him, or fight to be his mother like terzo’s mother did. or if she would leave and never come back like primo’s. now, in his older age he has come to reconcile with the fact that he will never know. but even though he never got to know her, he still misses her dearly.

after secondo loses his papacy, he throws himself into ministry work. he works long hours, well into the night and spilling over into the weekends. he’s an archivist and restoration expert, working on artifacts important to the church. he feels like this is the only way he will not go insane. he loves terzo but he does not believe him to be ready or fit to be papa when it comes terzo’s time. and he is partially right, as terzo definitely lets the power go to his head but over time he becomes more in control. secondo finds himself feeling sorry for his little brother when terzo loses his papacy, it was wrong of sister imperator to take it away from him like that and secondo hates to see what losing the limelight has done to his brother.

secondo is known around the ministry for his intimidating visage and aura, as well as his wrath. but what people don’t pay attention to, is just how often he bites his words. he has worked very hard to keep his anger at bay, even going to therapy to find more healthy ways to cope with his trauma and rage. in fact, he does his best to be polite and kind to everyone in the ministry. but his kind is different than others kind, he comes off as cold and calculating. his emotional range is very limited and he finds himself struggling to open up to anyone. the only person he’s ever opened up to was primo, and even then it isn’t really opening up if his brother can just read him like a book. secondo often doesn’t have to say much for primo to understand what he’s going through. primo helps him through it regardless, as he’s always done since secondo was a baby.

secondo isn’t sure if he would want kids of his own, but he does love children very much and is very good with them. he often volunteers to run events for the orphans at the ministry.

he would like to fall in love but thinks he is much too old and not nearly attractive enough to find a long term partner. has flings here and there with some siblings of sin but they aren’t very serious. he isn’t sure if he’s really quite ready to give up the party life yet no matter how much his aching bones say otherwise.

does frequent bars and clubs to feel like he’s still a part of the scene after losing papacy, but it doesn’t quite feel the same and most nights he leaves drunk, angry and alone. the few nights when he finds company are not as fulfilling as he hopes they would be, and it isn’t the other persons fault it’s his. he feels so melancholy now it’s hard to focus on simple pleasures like sex, especially when he hardly has the time with how hard he works. he often lays away most nights wishing he could’ve done better as papa, even though he knows people love him and respect him he still feels like he never quite did enough. he feels like he isn’t enough.

loves sex, and can get quite rough but is very, very good at aftercare. definitely not picky about sexual partners but tends to prefer people who are shy cus he enjoys bringing them out of their shells and getting them to snap at him. secretly wants to be fucked and dominated.

terzo: 54, born june 12th, 1969 gemini

5’3, around 120ish pounds, black hair like nihil and wishes he looked more like his mother who was a redhead, definitely spot treats grey hairs, hates the idea of getting old and is very insecure about having wrinkles, is quite small but still a little chubby, though he lost lots of weight since losing papacy. might be bigender or genderfluid but is afraid to really think about it too hard.

his mother was also a prime mover, but she fought to be in his life even as sister imperator tried to push her out. she was a very loving mother who did everything she could to teach him to be a good man, to be nothing like his father who she had come to despise. she taught him many things, she taught him how to dance, to draw and to cook. he loved her very, very much and it tore him up when she passed. he was 14 years old, and that’s when he decided to put up a façade. he did not want to be vulnerable anymore, he didn’t want to have to be sad or scared at least not where anyone could see him.

primo often held him in his bed when he would cry about losing his mother, he had nightmares for years. he vowed to himself to not let himself ever be so vulnerable in front of any one again. to this day thinking about her kills him little by little, though he is much better at expressing his feelings.

his flirtatious and playful persona is something he really relies on in his older age, he thinks it’s all he’s really good for anymore. a show and a good lay. and when he loses his papacy he absolutely crumbles. the persona completely falls away and he hides himself in his quarters most days. he loses weight and wallows, he becomes enraged by fate but he finds he could never really be mad at copia for taking over, it’s not his fault anyways.

in his teenage years he was quite promiscuous and took on many lovers, and while he still has casual flings with some siblings of sin, he never lets partners overlap anymore. he’s a gentle soul at heart and he learned that very fast, he can’t stand seeing someone upset, even if he’s only attracted to them in a more primal way it would kill him to see someone upset because of him.

i believe he is very loyal and if he were to get into a relationship with someone, even if they didn’t state that they were exclusive, he would still ere on the side of caution and not have sex with anyone else. i think if he were in love he would be hopelessly devoted, he’s more sensitive than he tends to let on and cheating is not something he would let himself do. maybe when he was young, he might’ve slipped up somehow, but not now. he’s much too intelligent and much too mature, he’s grown and he knows how to control himself now.

and while he does have quite a lot of sex, i think the sheer abundance of partners has been greatly exaggerated through false rumors and gossip. people tend to lie about having slept with him just for the five seconds of fame it brings them, and that often causes problems with people thinking he has cheated on many people.

is terrified of marriage but longs for it desperately, he wants to feel like someone wants him for him and not because he is/was papa. he’s not sure if he wants kids, he’s horribly afraid of being a bad father.

is horrified of being like nihil in any way, and nearly throws up when someone mentions that he has the most resemblance to nihil out of all his brothers.

is a huge giver sexually, could literally come from just watching someone else come. loves to overstimulate and go above and beyond. doesn’t really require someone to reciprocate and take care of him as well but it is deeply appreciated as he can also be quite the pillow princess.

copia: 52, born october 15th, 1971 libra

5’8, around 130ish pounds, light brunette hair that is going grey at the sides, is very petite but with a softness to him especially around his belly, hips, and thighs, he has light freckles all over his body,

he was an accident, sister imperator never meant to get pregnant but she had planned to tell nihil about the baby until she had caught him with yet another sibling of sin. she decided it would be better for copia to grow up as an orphan in the church, and to be raised by her secretly. copia didn’t even find out she was his mother til primo had found him and taken him in at age 11. sister often pushes copia to work harder, her hopes for him to become papa one day slowly begin to become his hopes as well. and it’s hard for him to say if he really wants the papacy or if he just wants her to be proud of him.

he grew up very lonely and outcast, the other orphans in the ministry thought him strange and unappealing. he had been told from a young age that he was ugly and weird. now that he’s older, he’s since found out that he’s autistic, but he knows that’s not the entire reason they didn’t like him. he thinks maybe he really is just strange and ugly. and as a young boy, when he’d found a rat scavenging for food outside of the ministry, he thought to himself he’d finally found a friend who was like him. unloveable and unwanted. misunderstood.

growing up he never understood the importance put on sex and romance, it isn’t until he’s older that he realizes that he’s demisexual and demiromantic, but it doesn’t really phase him. he never really cared about those things, he doesn’t care that he’s old now and hasn’t had sex, it’s not something he would want unless he really loved someone and had a deeper connection to than just passing lust. although, at night he often dreams of meeting someone he could have a connection with, and those nights are the only ones he really partakes in lust alone in his bed. dreaming of something that could be, but in his mind, is more likely to be just a dream.

when he becomes papa he is terrified, not only of the immense pressure on him to be the best he can be and do good for the church but also of losing himself. yes, he loves the new attention this is giving him and yes, he loves feeling important now. but something just doesn’t sit right in his stomach. again, he’s not sure if he really wanted to be papa anyway or if he just wanted to complete a goal that was thrust upon him at a young age. he tries not to let his papacy change him, and for the most part all it really changes is it brings him out of his shell a little more. he begins talking to more siblings and higher clergy members, but like always, he ends up lonely. they’re never quite interested in copia and more interested in papa, and he doesn’t understand because to him they are one in the same.

his stage presence is very different to his real presence, he likes to let out his “wild side”, as he calls it, when he’s on stage. he feels more comfortable, more free to be sexual and flirty, as well as quite commanding, when he is in front of the crowd. mostly because he knows they like him, that they’re there to see him. it gives him quite the confidence boost, in his performance and his personal life. he doesn’t get quite as depressed as often as he did as cardinal but now his depression holds much harder topics to grasp. things like his identity and where he belongs in the grand scheme of things, and if he will turn bitter like terzo when he eventually is traded in for a newer papa. he hopes not, but envy was a sin that often came easily to him.

is terrified of aging in a similar way to terzo, he feels like he is already very ugly and now that he is getting older he feels like he is becoming even more unattractive. he tends to avoid mirrors as much as possible because his reflection nauseates him, he hates his face and his body with a burning passion.

he does not indulge in the willingness of siblings like his brothers do, while his stage presence may suggest he is a sexual person (which he is honestly) he hasn’t felt any sexual attraction to any sibling of sin so far. most of which only really approach him because he is papa, and while he has no problem with guiding and helping his flock, he does have a problem with it when they ask for him to fuck them. it’s not something he wants.

is also the only papa to not participate in sexual rituals and black masses, though he does oversee them and encourage siblings of sin to participate if comfortable. he celebrates others choice to lust but doesn’t feel tempted to lust for anyone else.

when he is in a relationship with someone, and he does feel sexually attracted to them, he is incredibly eager. he has done his research i can assure you, countless videos and articles on sex and hours of “research” watching porn of the porniest variety. he gets quite horny, and before his partner he masturbated quite often, he isn’t innocent by any means. he is a virgin and is quite awkward, tends to fumble and trip over himself a lot but he isn’t subtle about wanting someone when he does want them. definitely a switch, pls someone peg this guy.

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hope you liked these!! and if u have any questions or just wanna indulge me in conversation, i would love to talk more in depth about these headcanons!!!

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