#but it was apparently what opened the floodgates

[piratekane]

She’s bone-tired, aches in places she didn’t know could ache and muscles stretched out in a way they haven’t been for a long time. Since her physical therapy, at least. The rock climbing a few weeks ago certainly hadn’t helped, but there was no way she was going to stay with her feet rooted to the floor. Not when she could climb up 15 feet and hang there like Spider-man. Better than Spider-man.

Suck it, Tom Holland.

She paid for it later, though, and spent the next day letting her body remember how to stretch, going through yoga poses and washing her breakfast down with ibuprofen. 

It was worth it, still, to see the look on Bea’s friend’s faces. Mary was impressed, clapping her on the shoulder when she got to the bottom and telling Camila - who made it up the wall the fastest - that she had competition. Even Lilith regarded her with a level of approval that Ava ate up. She’s going to make Lilith like her. Or at least smile politely, even if it is with all her teeth.

But it was Bea’s face that made it even better. 

She hasn’t known Bea long - she’s known others longer, including that one cafeteria lady who always saves her a side of mac and cheese because Ava said one time that it was her favorite - but she already knows that a big part of her wants to impress Bea. She can’t quite put it into words. There’s something about Bea that makes Ava want to show off. Maybe it’s because one thing she’s learned about Beatrice is that her smiles are fleeting. Ava wants to collect every one of them.

She’ll have a lot of opportunities, now that Bea is her friend and her roommate.

“Where do you want this one?” Beatrice asks from the doorway. She’s holding a paper box with tons of smiley faces drawn on it in a thick-tipped permanent marker. There’s a method to her packing madness, but Ava is big enough to admit that she has no idea what’s in this particular box.

“Here is fine.” She shifts in the computer chair Bea got her, a slight pinch in her back.

Bea looks down at the last few inches of floor where Ava points and frowns. “How will you get out?”

Ava lifts her legs, wiggling her socked toes. “I’ll jump. Have you jumped on this bed? Is it a solid bed for jumping?”

“Jumped on the…” Beatrice blinks at her. “No, Ava. I haven’t jumped on the bed.”

Ava shrugs. “You’re missing out. My dorm room was not good jumping material. When’s the last time you jumped on a bed?”

“Nev-never.”

Her mouth drops open. “Never?” She immediately frowns. Beatrice wasn’t kidding when she told her that her life hadn’t been normal kid stuff and her parents were hardly around. They had that in common: a girl who lived in an orphanage and a girl who grew up alone. It makes her a little sad for Bea. “We have to fix this.”

“I am not jumping on the bed,” Bea says firmly.

Ava shrugs. Today is not the day, and tomorrow won’t be either, but soon. She stands and stretches her arms above her head, immediately dropping them so that her shirt doesn’t ride up any higher. Bea seems like the kind of girl who appreciates a little modesty. Ava can do that. Or, she can try really hard to do that.

“I am officially all moved in.” She grins, surveying her kingdom. There’s a desk in one corner, left behind by Bea’s roommate who went to study abroad and didn’t come back. A nightstand by the bed has her lamp and her hat on it. She’ll have to hang her clothes, fill the dresser, find a few posters to put up on the walls. But it’s hers. “So, roomie, what’s next?”

Bea looks around, clasping her hands behind her. “I believe those are all your things.”

“Except for the kitchen stuff.”

“Yes.” There’s a faint smile on Bea’s face and Ava feels a thrill, knowing she put it there. “How could I forget your… hot dog maker.”

“Not sure. It’s fire engine red.” But she looks around too. “I think we’re done. Now we can get ready for movie night!”

A proper end to moving day. Movie night with an Ava-curated predetermined list, tons of drinks and movie theater popcorn and Bea’s friends. She had hesitantly suggested it to Bea a few days ago. She’d never done a movie night and her College Experiences bucket list clearly had it marked as item #8. But Bea had said yes almost immediately, and Ava went to work, making a list of options in between packing and classes and meals with Bea and her friends.

They’re going to be my friends, she decides. That’s on her bucket list too.

Now she just needed them to get here. The minutes have been dragging on as she’s waited as patiently as possible. But time didn’t seem to be cooperating. It’s doing its best to drag its heels. Ava wants to grab it by the neck and shake it.

Bea seems to notice that. “They’ll be here soon.” She says it very patiently, like she already knows Ava does terrible with waiting. And Ava likes that. She likes that Bea is paying attention to her enough to notice these things.

Bea’s going to be a great roommate. Ava wants to be just as good. She looks around her room, satisfied. She can unpack later - there’s enough space to get from the bed to the door and Bea insisted she make the bed first, almost like she knew that Ava was going to stack everything in insurmountable piles and try her best to get around them.

See? she thinks. She knows me already.

She’s about to say that, to tell Bea that she’s already killing this ‘best roommate’ contest that Bea doesn’t know they’re having, when someone knocks on the door. Once, twice, three times.

Ava does jump on the bed this time, beating Beatrice to the door and pulling it open to find Camila on the other side. 

Ava beams. “Movie night!”

~

“Is the whole movie about… biking?” Lilith makes it seem like a swear word.

Ava grins, shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth, and says, “id bub nimnasts.” Everyone turns to her. She swallows and smiles more sheepishly this time. “It’s about gymnastics.”

Lilith heaves a long-suffering sound. “Gymnastics.” It’s really a testament to her disdain for everyday things, that everything that comes out of her mouth sounds like she’s spitting it from between her teeth. But then the running biker rips off her helmet and it’s Missy Peregrym and even Lilith seems interested.

Ava gets it. She does. This is peak Missy Peregrym. And it only gets better. She stops watching the movie when Missy Peregrym’s character, Haley, finds her way back to the gym and on Vanessa Lengies’ character, Joanne’s, last nerve and starts watching the room instead. Onscreen, Haley pretends to be on the phone while Joanne stomps her foot angrily, and Mary snorts, lips curled up in a smile, and that’s when Ava knows this is a good choice.

She wants to impress them so badly. It consumes her. Partly because she thinks they’re really cool, even Lilith. And partly because she thinks Bea is amazing and these people agree. Sister Frances always told her to stop wasting her time and do everyone the favor of aligning herself with the right people. Ava is pretty sure she was saying it to get rid of her, to go out and be someone else’s problem, but Ava thinks she found the right people all the same.

“Isn’t that the guy from Twilight?” Camila asks, abandoning her popcorn. Ava meets Bea’s eyes and smiles. Bea shakes her head fondly at Camila and Ava wonders when she’ll get the same look. Someday, she thinks. She looks back at Camila, leaning forward in her seat on the bean bag chair she wrestled through their front door earlier. “He’s the cute one, I think. The other one kind of freaked me out. I don’t think he ever blinked.”

Their front door. Ava’s heart beats a little harder.

Ava could go into detail about Twilight - it was basically contraband at the orphanage. But they’re in the middle of a movie. And she thinks Lilith might actually throw a soda at her. She doesn’t think Bea would appreciate the mess. So that’s a Camila-and-Ava conversation for later.

“Yikes. Ice baths.” Shannon shudders. “I used to do those in high school, during the season. Need a wake up call? Submerge yourself in a metal tub of ice cubes.” She points her entire soda towards the screen. “Though, I never looked like that doing it.”

Mary snakes her arm across the back of Shannon’s shoulder. “No, you didn’t.”

Ava slaps her hand over her mouth to keep in her laugh but Shannon rolls her eyes and elbows Mary gently. “You’re right. I looked better.”

“Damn right you did.” Mary meets Ava’s eye and smirks. It feels like a secret between them. That swelling feeling in her chest reaches a crescendo.

She shoves another handful of popcorn into her mouth and spares a glance at Bea, finding that Bea is already looking back at her. She inhales, nearly choking on a kernel. Bea sits forward, worry on her face, but Ava holds up a hand, stopping her. She swallows a few times, washes down what she can with her soda, and takes a deep breath.

“Do you like it?” Ava whispers, aware that she can be too loud sometimes. 

Bea has to lean closer to hear her. “It’s entertaining.”

Ava’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t know what that word means to Bea yet. Sometimes entertaining means not good, and sometimes it means the best thing I’ve watched in my whole life. She’s still learning to read her.

“Good,” Bea fills in. Ava exhales in relief. “Gymnastics takes a considerable amount of skill.”

“You could do it,” Ava says confidently. She nods when Bea goes to argue with her. “I saw you rock climbing. And all the martial arts you talk about? I bet you could beat Nastia Liukin.”

Bea’s cheeks might redden but Ava can’t tell in the dim light. “Actual Olympic gold medalist Nastia Liukin? I doubt that.”

Ava shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to call her and find out. But my money's on you.”

Lilith shushes them, glaring. Ava puts one hand up in surrender and grins at Bea when Lilith turns back to the movie. She pushes the popcorn back to Bea and waits expectantly. Bea is much more graceful than Ava, picking out a few pieces delicately. Ava doesn’t offer the same grace; she shoves her hand in and grabs as much as she can. 

“Wait, her mom cheated on her dad with her coach?” Lilith doesn’t pull her eyes away from the screen, but scoffs. “Pathetic.”

Camila claps when it ends, grinning. Ava matches her smile, looking around excitedly. 

She pats herself on the shoulder mentally, though her hand itches to do it physically. She made a good choice, a strong start. She stands up, twists her back side to side so she can stretch it out, and grins. “Who wants more popcorn?”

~

She waits until a quiet moment, after everyone has been settled into movie and Bea has finished what Ava is sure to be the first of many comments on the historical validity of The Mummy before she says:

“This movie was my bisexual awakening.”

There’s a cough and sputter from her left where Beatrice is sitting. She thinks about reaching out and giving her a friendly whack on the back, to clear out whatever has gotten stuck in her windpipe, but Mary laughs so loudly, Ava just ends up grinning instead.

Lilith eyes her critically. “Brendan Fraser isn’t the worst you could do, I suppose.”

It’s a glowing compliment coming from Lilith. Ava files it away for the next time she inevitably says something that isn’t.

Camila leans her head back, staring at Ava upside down. “Rachel Weisz is my ‘if I had to pick a girl’.”

“Fraser is not the guy I’d pick,” Mary says firmly. “I’m more of an Usher kind of girl.”

Shannon shrugs. “I think I’d take Mummy-Fraser over Tarzan-Fraser. The long hair is… Eh.”

The TV flickers, brightening the room as Rick O’Connell crosses the screen with a torch in his hand. Ava turns expectantly to Bea. “What about you?”

“What about-” Bea’s voice is slightly squeaky, if Ava had to put a word to it. Almost as if she doesn’t know where to break the syllables. “This movie was not my bisexual awakening,” she finally says.

“Well, of course not.” Ava reaches over and does touch Bea this time, patting her knee gently. “I assume you’d be too focused on the truth of all this history stuff to even focus on either of them.” She smiles warmly. “Am I right?”

Everyone seems to be looking at the two of them. Ava feels the room tip a little. She’s suddenly worried she said the wrong thing. She just thought, with Mary and Shannon clearly dating, that it’d be okay to say something like that. They seem to be open enough, not shying away from each other. But maybe she shouldn’t have. Or maybe it’s the movie choice. Catherine Zeta-Jones and Antonio Banderas also had something good going on.

Bea stares and Ava starts to count the seconds as they stretch.

“I’m not—” Bea begins haltingly, then stops. 

A tendril of panic curls around Ava’s chest. She just assumed. Sure, Bea never explicitly said she liked girls, but Ava isn’t usually wrong about this kind of stuff. Maybe she did get it wrong. Or maybe she just said it too loud. She has a tendency to barrel head first into things without thinking.

Bea clears her throat. “I suppose…” Her eyes dart over Ava’s shoulder to where Mary and Shannon are. Ava looks, smiling a little, still confused. “I suppose… Rachel Weisz is someone a person might find appealing.”

“Attractive,” Ava corrects, slightly relieved that she didn’t read Bea incorrectly. “And good choice.” She nods in total agreement. Bea’s taste is up there. 

She shoves her hand into the candy bowl that’s replaced the popcorn. M&Ms in this bowl, but Bea has Junior Mints. She looks up, mouth full, and finds Bea still staring back at her. An M&M falls out of her mouth and lands in her hand. She feels her face flush and she quickly tosses it back in.

Lilith’s face is twisted in disgust. There goes that good favor. But Mary and Shannon are looking at her too, and Ava gets a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “I think I said something wrong.” Even though she has no clue what that might be. Her worry that she’s made Bea uncomfortable by talking about her sexuality rises again in her head. 

There’s quiet for a moment before Bea says, “No.” She reaches forward like she’s trying to get Ava to understand something but her hand hovers over Ava’s, the one with a small chocolate smudge on it, and she pulls it back into her own lap. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind…” Ava blinks, looks back again. Mary is staring at her and there’s a slight edge she hasn’t seen before. “That you like Rachel Weisz?” No one says yes or no and she’s still so confused. “I totally don’t mind, if that’s what you think. Like I said.” She points both of her thumbs back at herself and tries to smile in a way she knows is charming. “Awakening.”

Bea’s face is pinched, though. Ava has the strongest urge to press her hands to it and smooth it out. Mary clears her throat and Bea’s face does it all on its own.

“I mean, I’d still be okay with it if you liked Patricia Velasquez better,” Ava admits. “The gold costume was…” She whistles low and reaches out a hand, nudging Bea in the shoulder. Bea sways away and back in again stiffly, but she seems to be breathing out.

Ava exhales. She looks back over her shoulder and Mary is still looking at her but she’s smiling too, nodding once at her. Whatever test that was, she knows she passed it. And honestly, Bea can’t go wrong with either choice. And if she is into someone like Patricia Velasquez, Ava knows a girl in her Humanities class who can pull off that same kind of eyeliner.

She offers Bea the bowl of M&Ms silently, gesturing for the Junior Mints. Bea hands it over slowly, her eyes still searching Ava’s face. She hopes Bea finds whatever she’s looking for. Because she wants to show Bea that she’s someone to trust, that Bea made a good decision, and that moving in was something that was going to be great. 

She smiles encouragingly and Bea smiles back, ducking her head slightly. Ava turns back to the TV screen, silently passing Camila the bowl of Junior Mints in return for the Skittles. 

“Actually,” Bea says quietly, almost as if she’s only talking to Ava. “Did you know that Medjay, the Pharoh’s bodyguards in the movie, actually refers to people from the land of Medja. It was believed to be located in Nubia, near the Second Nile Cataract.”

Ava abandons the screen, turning to Bea now. “How do you know this stuff?”

Bea shrugs a shoulder. “I like knowing things.”

“We’re finding a trivia night and going out,” Ava decides. Lilith shushes her and she ignores it. “The brains between you, Shannon, and Camila, plus my good looks, Mary’s brawn, and the whole… scary thing Lilith has going on, we’ll clean up.”

Bea smiles fully this time. A pillow hits Ava in the side of the head but it doesn’t stop her from smiling back at Bea before snatching the pillow off the floor and holding onto it until Lilith wrestles it out of her hands ten minutes later.

~

They’ve moved onto pizza by the time Atlantis queues up on the TV. Six different boxes sit open on the breakfast bar, greasy plates on the floor and coffee table. Ava rests a hand on her stomach, her whole body stretched out and her socked feet dangerously close to a mushroom sliding around in a puddle of grease. She peers down. Bea’s plate is full of mushrooms, picked out from the other toppings.

Huh. No mushrooms. Maybe Bea does have a flaw.

“I dated a guy who looked like Milo once,” Camila offers. “Soft spoken, too.” She squints, looking into the middle distance. “I think his name was Ted.”

“Ted.” Mary wrinkles her nose. “There was a Ted in my Women’s Safety class freshman year. Thought it was an easy A and he’d get to feel up a few girls.” She scoffs. “He sure felt my fist in his stomach.”

Ava lifts an arm in solidarity, her whole body weighed down with hot dough and spicy tomato sauce. “I beat up someone once. When I was 6. He broke my ant farm.” She gets a sudden burst of energy as damp anger flows through her. She sits up. “I was the one who got in trouble though, the little jerk.”

Lilith pushes a piece of half-eaten veggie pizza towards Ava. Ava’s stomach protests, but the mushrooms are just that good, so she takes it and polishes off the rest of it. Lilith is warming up to her and Ava revels in it. It’s all part of her master plan to win Lilith over, one small step at a time.

With the understanding, of course, that she’s going to go backwards more than she goes forward. But she can tell how much Lilith means to Beatrice and she can play the long game. It’ll be a good exercise in patience.

“What about you, Beatrice? Beat a lot of people up? I know you can, like, kill a man with your bare hands.”

Lilith snorts. “Beatrice would never.”

Ava grins. “So you would?”

“No,” Bea says loudly over Lilith opening her mouth. “Our training is for self-defense. I have never found any reason to escalate a fight outside of tournaments and educational exercises.” She sees Ava’s eyes tracking the table and nudges the plate of mushroom slices towards her. She thinks she sees Bea’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Okay, but, if someone like Helga Sinclair - a total babe, by the way - came charging at you, you wouldn’t fight her?” Ava points at the screen where Helga is lifting boxes up, just to show off her muscles. Her mind gets stuck for a minute. They’re impressive arms. But then, Bea’s arms kind of look the same, now that she thinks about it. Helga has more of a Lilith-attitude, though.

Bea blinks. “She’s a cartoon character.”

“But if she was real,” Ava stresses. “Are you just too proud to tell me you’d wipe the floor with her pretty, 2-dimensional face?” She looks at Shannon. “Is she always this modest?”

Shannon snorts softly. “Yeah, Beatrice never really sells herself well.”

“We’re going to fix that,” Ava decides. Bea opens her mouth but Ava shakes her head. “It’s decided. Operation Beatrice is a Badass henceforth commences tonight, on this Saturday, in Apartment 3B. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Order.”

Bea’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “That’s not at all how that goes.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say,” Lilith mutters.

“It was kind of sweet,” Camila says kindly. “I think Beatrice needs a personal cheerleader.”

“Seems like Ava is up for the job,” Mary says. Her eyes are on Beatrice, a small smirk on her face. “I say go for it.”

Ava beams. “That’s four votes yes.”

Shannon hums. “I didn’t vote.”

“My vote counts twice,” Ava says without even looking at her. She goes to say something else, but Atlantis comes into view and she forgets what she was going to say, staring in wonder as Milo sees the lost city for the first time.

She watched this movie a lot when she was in the orphanage. Sister Frances was fond of donations and didn’t usually splurge on new things; a handful of DVDs, including Atlantis, were the last thing that showed up that wasn’t already in pieces by the time it got to them. Osmosis Jones was the other one, but one of the older boys broke it when he thought Osmosis Jones was living inside his body. 

Atlantis always caught her attention, though. The idea that there was a secret world out there where anything was possible? It was all she dreamed about as a kid, confined to a bed and locked away under Sister Frances’ crow-like eyes. She imagined she was Milo, on the hunt for the one thing that would make her life make sense. Sure, she never found her Atlantis, but Milo did. And she could live through that.

Her eyes stray to Bea. She’s caught herself doing that all night - constantly tuned into Bea, wondering what she’s thinking or if she likes Ava’s choices or if she’s regretting agreeing to this new living situation. She thinks everyone is warming up to her and it makes her grin. Friends. Friends she can hang out with and do movie nights and trivia nights and lunch dates like the one she has scheduled with Camila on Monday between her morning and afternoon classes.

And all thanks to the person who is quickly becoming her favorite person. Bea is her Princess Kira, showing her a whole new world. She frowns. Wrong movie. But then she shrugs; the point still stands.

“Well, you eat enough for two people,” Mary says, pulling Ava’s attention back in. She sounds impressed, though. “I’ve never seen anyone put away what you have in the last few hours.”

Ava grins and pats her stomach. “There’s still room in this ol’ thing. Just you wait.”

Mary shakes her head, a smile on her face. “Okay, baby girl. Whatever you say.”

A rush of affection swells in her chest. No one has ever called her ‘baby girl’ before. Or said it with a smile like Mary’s, like it’s some secret between the two of them. She holds onto it. She wants to wear it again. She wonders what Bea will call her, what her nickname will be. 

“None of you seem to understand what a movie night is, do you?” Lilith cuts in. She has her arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed. “It means watching a movie, not talking through it.”

“I didn’t realize you liked this movie so much,” Mary says lightly. “If we knew it was your favorite-”

“Not my favorite,” Lilith sniffs.

“-we would have quieted down,” she finishes. “You heard her, ladies, no talking through Lilith’s favorite movie.”

Mary, unlike Ava, catches the pillow Lilith throws and chucks it right back, hitting her right in the face. Ava gasps but the sound is swallowed up by the growl of disbelief from Lilith, the weary groan from Beatrice, Shannon tutting, and Camila clapping her hands together lightly.

It takes considerable effort, and they have to rewind twice, missing the mark both times and just giving up, but now Ava can put an X across the “bloodshed” square on her “how to be friends with girls” bingo card.

Lilith pouts for the next twenty minutes, Mary gloats, and Ava eats two more pieces of pizza, chewing happily.

~

“You’ll like this one,” Ava promises Bea as she loads the DVD unseen into the player. “It’s Shakespeare.”

A soccer ball bounces across the screen and the look of confusion on Bea’s face deepens. Ava holds out a hand, anticipating a question.

“Just wait, okay? This is pop culture history.” 

Bea looks skeptical. “It really is,” Ava insists. “It takes Shakespeare and modernizes it. Think 10 Things I Hate About You. Think Romeo + Juliet. This is a cinematic marvel.”

“Sit down,” Shannon says without any bite. “We’ve liked the other ones so far.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lilith mutters. She scowls, but closes her mouth when Camila looks at her. 

Ava doesn’t let it bother her. She swears she saw Lilith crying at the end of Atlantis. But Shannon’s words give her enough courage to take her seat again and watch Bea’s face, eager to see her reaction. She doesn’t have to wait long.

“I love this movie!”

“Not this one.”

Ava looks between Shannon and Mary. They look at each other.

Shannon blinks first. “You don’t like this movie?”

“I want to strangle her boyfriend every time he’s on screen.” Mary scowls, like she’s imagining his throat under her hand. “And Channing Tatum is just…”

“He’s a baby in this movie.”

“He’s not a good actor in this movie.”

Camila raises her hand weakly. “I like him in Magic Mike.” She balks at everyone’s sudden frown. Ava shakes her head. “My freshman year roommate was, like, obsessed with him. Actually, I think her mom was. And it just sort of… trickled down.”

Ava reaches out and pats her head gently. “I’m so sorry. That sounds terrible.”

Camila shrugs. “We traded off. Horror movies for me-”

“Horibble movies for her,” Mary finishes.

Shannon shrugs. “Well, I like this movie. Though, Olivia and Viola should have ended up together.”

That, Ava can get behind. She nods furiously. “Best chemistry, definitely.” She reaches for her bowl of ice cream - she has a scoop of every flavor they got at the grocery store. She digs into it, lifting her spoon to her mouth before she pauses, speaking first. “Do you think Amanda Bynes really knows how to play soccer?”

“No,” echoes around her.

She shrugs. “Didn’t think so.”

They turn their attention back to the movie, ignoring the comments Lilith makes critiquing Sebastian’s girlfriend and Marcus the creep and the principal - who she says reminds her of her tutor. The one you made cry? Bea asks. Lilith grins with all her teeth. 

Ava soaks it in like the sun on a beach. She catalogues the way Bea laughs at the pizza shop scene, the way she repeats the ug-lay as if it’s some foreign word she’s learning for the first time. She wonders if she’ll ever hear Bea say it out loud. Maybe she’ll wear something really loud - a word she picked up from Chanel - and see what the reaction is. She watches the way Mary and Shannon whisper to each other, soft murmurs over Olivia and Viola-Sebasatian arguing about cutting open a frog. Even Lilith makes a noise that sounds like a short laugh when Duke shoves a tampon up his nose. Camila mouths the words along with the characters, body jerking a little as if she’s the one playing soccer on the screen.

If 12-year-old Ava could see her now. If 17-year-old Ava could see her now. She wouldn’t believe it. She’d think her whole world extended only as far as the four walls of that orphanage. But it doesn’t. It’s bigger and brighter and filled with the coolest people she’s ever met.

Amanda Bynes flashes the soccer team and Ava laughs and laughs until Bea is smiling and shaking her head - that look, the one Ava saw Bea give Camila, that slight hint of fondness, is aimed directly at her.

The Illyria soccer team wins against Cornwall and Ava feels like she’s won something too.

~

She barely hears the door click shut as Lilith closes it behind her, the last one to leave. 

Ava had watched Camila wrestle her bean bag back out into the hallway, smiling too brightly for someone still up at two-thirty in the morning before she slumped back down on the couch, her energy spent. Mary patted the top of her head with a heavy hand, smoothing it out with a smile, and Shannon had squeezed her shoulder gently in a goodbye before they followed Camila. Lilith had stayed, helping to pick up a few things and talking quietly with Bea. Quiet enough that Ava couldn’t hear it - and too tired to tune into.

The popcorn and the candy and the pizza and the ice cream were catching up to her, making her a little nauseous and a lot full. She slumped down further on the couch and watched Lilith move through the apartment like she knew all its corners. She couldn’t wait until she could do the same.

Bea closes the refrigerator now and turns to Ava, smiling. “Did you have fun?”

“Best night ever.” It’s not a lie. This has kicked ‘First Night out with Chanel’ off the top of her list without a care in the world. “Did you?”

“I had a very nice time. We haven’t done that in a long time.” Bea drifts closer. She sits on the edge of the couch, hovering a little above the cushion.

“Monthly movie nights, then.” A thought crosses her mind and she pouts. “Hey, we forgot National Treasure.”

Bea laughs breathlessly. “I think four movies in one night is more than enough, Ava. There will be more nights for movies.  We can watch it another time.” 

Ava nods decisively. “Monthly movie nights. We have all the time in the world.” 

“We do,” Bea says, and it feels a little bit like they’ll have this forever.

Ava reaches behind her, groping at the back of the couch until she finds the corner of the blanket she’s searching for. She pulls it down over her head.

She thinks she hears Bea laugh, soft and melodic. But she could be imagining it, a holdover from her being hyper-aware of each time she did during movie night. She curls into it and smiles into the arm of the couch. She doesn’t know how she started sliding down, but it’s comfortable here.

“Ava,” Beatrice says gently. “You have a bed.”

Ava pulls the blanket off her head and throws it onto her legs. She squirms, trying to get it to settle over her body. “But this is so comfortable. Where did you find this couch?”

“Shannon picked it out. I’ll ask her the next time I talk to her.”

“I’ve always wanted a couch like this,” she admits. “Big, comfy. Just for us.” Her eyes flutter closed and the room goes hazy before her vision goes dark. “I’m going to sleep here.” She wiggles again. The blanket tangles around her waist. 

Bea is quiet for a moment. “Come on. I have something for you.”

Her eyes open quickly, rolling off the couch and onto her feet. “What is it?”

Bea looks nervous but crosses the room to her bedroom, slipping in through the closed door. Ava hears some things moving and then Bea is in the living room again, hands clasped behind her back. She’s holding something.

“It’s- Now that I have it, I’m not sure it-” Bea takes a deep breath and smiles tightly. “I got you something. A sort of housewarming present.”

Ava grins. “I love presents. What is it?”

There’s still an undercurrent of nervousness in the way Bea uncharacteristically shifts. “Hold out your hands. And close your eyes.”

Ava immediately slams her eyes closed and thrusts her hands out. The air feels still but not uncomfortable. Silences with Bea don’t feel weird, which is crazy. So she doesn’t mind the wait as Bea obviously works up the courage to put something in her hands. After a long moment, she feels something soft and nearly weightless drop into her cupped palms.

Bea clears her throat. “You can open your eyes.”

Ava does. She blinks. A long, thin, soft stuffed animal with a white belly and tiger stripes stares back at her. She’s confused for a moment before the pieces slot into her place in her mind. “Is this… Is this Hobbes? From Calvin and Hobbes?

Bea’s cheeks are just the slightest hint of pink. She clears her throat again. “I’m sorry if this is overstepping.”

“It’s really not,” Ava rushes out. Her heart is too big in her chest. Her eyes start to burn a little, hot beads forming in the corners. “How did you-”

“The internet is more than just Wikipedia and Reddit.” Bea’s hands are tucked back behind her again. “But after our conversation…”

Their conversation. 

The one where Ava told Bea everything: her accident and the grueling years of work, the orphanage, years spent in the libraries reading everything she could get her hands on. She told her about the Peanuts comics she liked and how one of the older kids had called her Linus because she carried around a blue blanket for a few years. She told Bea about the hours she would spend reading the Calvin and Hobbes comic collections and pretending she could join them on their adventures: riding in a wagon, bubble bath statues, exploring the forest, sledding, waiting for the school bus.

She told Bea she always wanted a Hobbes stuffed animal to take with her on her own adventures, just as soon as she could go and have them. She’d never admitted that to anyone else, not even Diego, the little boy she shared a room with. But something about Bea made it easy to talk about these kinds of things, Maybe it was the way she listened. She didn’t judge, she didn’t laugh.

Ava knows that’s going to be a problem. She’s going to end up telling Bea everything all the time.

And when Bea is ready to talk more about herself, about what her parents were like and how they were never around, Ava is going to be ready to listen.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says quietly.

Bea’s voice is just as quiet. “I wanted to. You deserve to go on adventures.”

She breathes in slowly. “Today was an adventure. The best kind. And I know there’s going to be a million more.” She hugs Hobbes to her chest. “Because now I have someone. Two someones.” She smiles softly at Bea. “Hobbes. And you.”

Bea’s cheeks pinken just a hint more. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but closes it again. Ava doesn’t want to say anything either, afraid to break this precarious moment. So she just looks at Hobbes, her Hobbes, and feels her chest swell with affection for this new friend she’s found.

‘Thank you,” she whispers. Bea doesn’t whisper back, but Ava doesn't think she needs to. She places Hobbes carefully on the couch. She strokes down his soft belly, fingers lingering before she turns to Bea. “I’m going to hug you. Brace yourself.”

She sees Bea physically prepare for it, watches the muscles under her thin cotton shirt tense. And she laughs, inwardly, that Bea seems to ready herself, as if Ava is going to knock her down. But she doesn’t blame her. Ava crashes into her, arms tight around her middle, trapping Bea’s arms against her sides. She feels Bea struggle for a moment before she frees her arms. Hands hover above her back before Bea pats her gently. Ava grins into the soft skin of Bea's arm.

“I think we’re going to be best friends,” she says quietly in the space between them.

She doesn’t break away from the hug until her arms start to ache. Then she steps back, giving Bea a hesitant smile before she ducks around her, headed to her new bedroom with Hobbies in her hands. With a soft goodnight, she lets Bea have a moment to herself. She seems like the type of person who needs to recover from a hug, but Ava will take care of that.

She’s a very good hugger. And they have time.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #forever roommates #this was supposed to be a movie night FICLET #okay listen #this got SO FAR out of hand i cannot even begin to tell you what happened #everyone say thank you kay thank you kay #because she pushed for this and now you get to read if you'd like to #and she spent her time looking it over so she deserves extra thanks #also shout out to dren who opened a floodgate that i didn't realize needed to be let loose #is there a word limit to posts? #apparently not #for those counting along at home it's 6k #i can rest now

[katamarigender]

crushing a can against my forehead talking to this person grAH

#and not in a good funny way. #I LOVE YOU. WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO TO PROVE THAT I ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT YOU. DO YOU WANT ME TO CLONE MYSELF? #MOVE TO YOUR CITY SO I'M WITHIN DRIVING DISTANCE WHENEVER YOU'RE NOT FEELING GOOD? SAY *EXACTLY* WHAT YOU NEED TO HEAR AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT? #you're making it sound like you want to meet me halfway but you keep. moving. the middle point. to be closer to you. #we're good friends when you're happy but any time you're feeling Less Than Chipper i'm suddenly not good enough? #IS it actually all my fault and i've secretly been horrible at communicating this whole time??? #do i not bare enough of my soul to you. is that it. am i too quiet for you. #well guess what! i don't open the floodgates cause i'm not sure you can take it! to be quite honest! #i tell you how i feel and suddenly i'm making things about myself and being dismissive of your feelings. #but it's okay if i sit there and let all your thoughts and feelings wash over me #and you expect me to just nod my head and tell you how valid you are. every. single. time. #you're lucky i'm not sick of it. #or maybe not because APPARENTLY you have a plethora of other people and friends you can go to. to get the response you actually want. #so why do you even still talk to me about it if you believe i'm just going to respond wrong every time... that's what i'm wondering. #maybe this is too mean...

[naradreamt]

Oh btw ummmm thanks ig lmao

#I didn't actually expect people to legit clamor over all of my scans gonna be honest #I had gotten a scanner after building up some of my hide collection last year and was like #''bro i kinda want some of these as wallpapers I can use on my phone'' #I had NO idea about the fucking floodgates that I was about to apparently open #I know a majority of these are because of the scans btw because for the longest time I actually hid my blog publicly #idk what I did but apparently I'm feeding whatever fandom x/hide has here so you're welcome

[wannashiver]

Let yourself get into shibari, spreader bars, blindfolds and the rest. Don't you want be an obedient good girl? Don't you want to be played with?

now that sounds like permission

#you just know im going to get so into pretty ropes 😔 #rip my bank account already #also whoops i forgot about the inbox for this blog #im not doing great with managing a sideblog lmao #it's 8 in the morning and i am squirming around #shibari and spreaders and blindfolds oh my #being called a good girl is a weakness for me apparently #it doesnt take much for me to do what you tell me to do apparently 😅 #already looking up ropes #oooooh a gag? a collar? #oh no the floodgates have been opened

[arceus-ex-machina]

I wish I were better at making fandom friends and joining discords and stuff bc rosebird is NOT leaving my head and I n e e d to talk about it but what would I even say I'm just doing the ol' blorbo microwave

#my thoughts pretty much amount to #'......?!?!?!?!!?!' #*in italics this time* '.......?!?!?!!????!!?!?!??!?!??!?!!' #i don't have any theories on what they were doing and im struggling to come up with a heterosexual explanation for ravens awkwardness #im just sitting here having intense but undirected feelings and thinking that maybe they should kiss if they haven't already #rwby #oh and typing out the occasional fic (there's been one) but they may never see the light of day on account of they're bad (all one of them) #(there will probably be more. the floodgate has been opened. however they will also be bad bc apparently i have forgotten how to write) #(turns out if you never do it you get worse at it)

[viperwhispered]

Welp, the plot bunnies sure are multiplying on me

#haven't written fic for a while #and now that I get back to it apparently it's just opening the floodgates #jamil what are you doing to me #also I wonder if I should actually get a tag for personal rambles #mayhaps #ner talks

[bigfatbimbo]

Sweeter than Wine, Softer than a Summer Night

627 words,, Vox x reader

a/n — Look at this silly. He is literally the silliest ever what is happening right now.

summary — After a long day of work, Vox comes home in a stubbornly apparent bad mood. The reader takes some actions to fix that.

warnings — literally just fluff, Vox gets tickled, in a cute way not a kink way, I guess hurt/comfort but not really

Your evening had been quiet, to say the least. Vox was working late and you were laying on your bed with nothing else to do but scroll on your phone.

You had been excited when you got his ‘headed home’ text because, hopefully his entertainingly loud presence would liven up your otherwise dull night.

If you were lucky, he’d even be worked up about something at work and break out onto a passionate speech on his strong feelings for the matter.

However, although you greeted him with a bright smile when he entered your bedroom, it was not returned. A deep frown was practically engraved on his face, only tightening when you happily asked, “Hey, baby. How was your day?”

Unfortunately, you didn’t get much of a reaction. Simply put, he looked worn and upset.

“Perfect.” He grumbled, undoing his tie in the mirror and slipping off his suit jacket. “My day was perfect.”

Jesus, you think, even his sarcasm was lack luster.

Vox sulks over to the bed with a permanently irritated expression etched onto his face. He falls down with a huff and crosses his arms, practically refusing to get comfortable.

“Vox,” you say putting your phone down and turn to him, “Honey, whats wrong? Bad day?”

He doesn’t look at you, but his frown deepens and his shoulders tense, as if recalling a particularly troubling memory.

“Sweetheart, look at me. It was that bad?” Your concern grows momentarily before you analyze his face.

Vox lets out a huff of annoyance and looks down.

He wasn’t sad, nor was he mad at you. He was pouting because, after his long day he didn’t have the energy to explain his feelings to you, and he didn’t want to, and instead compensated with obvious distress.

You sigh and consider a new approach. All of a sudden, a light bulb goes off over your head and a small smile grows on your lips.

“C’mon sweetheart,” gently you pull him into your lap, “Let’s see that pretty smile of yours.”

Your words are laced with a playfulness that temporarily confuses Vox before your fingers start raking up his sides.

Although he tries to hold his stubborn silence, a laugh is stuck in his throat. He bites his lip and squirms away from you but is pulled back, causing him to release a small choked chuckle.

And then the floodgates are open. Giggles spill out of his lips and you tickle his sides. His serious, tired demeanor is gone in seconds as he laughs loudly.

“Oh come on— fuck you!” he says through giggles, “That wasn’t fair!”

You smile and blow a rasberry into his neck, “There’s that adorable laugh. I missed your happy face, baby!”

His laughter continues for another moment as he curses you out under his breath, but momentarily forgets his troubles.

Finally, your arms slow down and Vox’s giggles get lighter and lighter, ending up an uncharacteristically soft smile.

He gets off your lap after a moment and settles for leaning into your side, shutting his eyes tightly and feeling the weight of exhaustion.

“We don’t have to talk about your day, Vox. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

He nuzzled into your arms furthers and traces your hand with his nail, thinking of what to say.

“It was just meetings and—“ all of a sudden it didn’t seem so severe, “—people being pricks. I don’t know.”

He sighs and continues fiddling with hand before you gently grab his and bring his knuckles up to your lips.

Whether he likes it or not, the action causes a smile to tug at his lips once more. He hides his face in your chest so you couldn’t see his content expression.

“I am, by the way,” he mutters, feeling sleep cloud his mind.

“‘am what?”

He didn’t respond, but you knew the answer; happy.

a/n — The song lyric title today was more obscure so anyways it’s from This Magic Moment by The Drifters.

Wow! 1950s love song for a Vox fic. Don’t ever say i’m not creative.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #inbox open #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x you

[barcaatthemoon]

the truth || jenni hermoso x reader ||

on a night out with the team, the truth comes out about your breakup with jenni.

you didn't know where to look. the room felt so tense to you. it was like every few seconds your eyes drifted over to where jenni was drinking with alexia, mapi, and leila. you had left barcelona first, so that was on you. afterwards, jenni ran away to mexico, which was much further away than you were in germany. however, you had left first, which meant everybody blamed you for the way things happened.

jenni swore up and down that she had left barcelona for reasons unrelated to you, but everybody knew that was bullshit. a drunken voicemail you had yet to delete was all the evidence you needed to call jenni a liar. apparently, your national squad teammates didn't even need to know about voicemail to push the blame on you. now, you felt like you were an outcast in the group that had once been your family.

"another please," you said to the bartender as he walked your way. the club was packed full of people in your team's circle. friends and girlfriends, including jenni's new one from mexico. she had found somebody to move on with, but you hadn't been able to get your mind off of her.

technically, the breakup had been her fault. she was the one who had come to you saying that it was a bad idea. jenni had rattled off reason after reason as to why you couldn't be together anymore. all the while, you had fiddled with the engagement ring in your pocket. you waited patiently until jenni's tirade was finished, ignoring the smell of alcohol on her breath as she ranted on and on. once that was over, you had taken the ring out of your pocket and handed it to her unceremoniously.

jenni had tried contacting you for two weeks before she gave up. the ring found its way back to you through alexia the same day that you had elected not to renew your barcelona contract. she looked disappointed, but you wondered what story jenni had spun for her. you wondered what jenni even remembered from that night because from the way that she acted, you doubted she realized who instigated the fight in the first place.

"how many have you had?" even in your drunken state, alexia's stern tone was unmistakable. you turned towards her with your new drink in hand, but once you lost the support of the bar, you nearly fell forward. alexia plucked the drink out of your hand as she caught you.

"hey, that's mine," you slurred. alexia cursed under her breath as she pulled you onto your feet. you tried reaching for your drink, nearly causing the both of you to tumble to the floor. alexia caught herself, but dropped you onto the ground in the process. you hit the ground with a heavy thud, seemingly unbothered about laying in a puddle of your spilled drink. however, you were very upset about your drink.

"jesus christ," alexia swore as you broke out into a fit of tears. she tried to pull you up onto your feet, but it was no use. you weren't moving because you didn't want to. "(y/n), get up. come on, you're making a scene."

"leave me here, it's not like any of you like me anymore." you knew that you were acting like a child, but you couldn't help it. the floodgates had opened up and everything was spilling out. alexia sighed as she motioned a couple of the more sober girls over to help her pick you up. they all managed to get you out of the club together, which had not been an easy task.

"i've never seen her like this before," you heard one of them say quietly. they all stood behind you as you sat on a bench. you could hear them, every single word as they went on and on like you weren't there.

"you don't think this is because of jenni, do you?" you were pretty sure that one was leila. alexia sighed as she looked at you, very obviously a shell of your former self. if any of them had been paying attention to you, they all would have noticed the ways that you had been changing.

"i don't know, but i'm going to get her back to the hotel. please keep an eye on jenni for me," alexia told them. she scooped you up as she helped you onto your feet, the two of you stumbling down the sidewalk together towards your team's hotel. "what happened (y/n)?"

"i drank," you muttered quietly. alexia wondered if you indulged like this often. you had been playing well at your club, but you'd been a bit sluggish during the practices earlier in the week. your name had gone from the starting xi to the reserves quickly. if you weren't careful, they'd take your name off of the roster completely. although, as alexia half-carried you, she wondered if maybe that was what you wanted.

"how much do you usually drink?" alexia asked. she was afraid of the answer. you had once been like a little sister to her, and maybe she had let her closeness with jenni distract her from the fact that she cared about you too. most of the team had followed suit and iced out the younger player because of the obvious pain that their star striker was in.

"until i don't remember anymore," you admitted. "it never works. i always remember what she said to me."

"what who said?" alexia knew the answer already. she had picked up the pieces of jenni the morning after. jenni hadn't completely opened up, but she didn't remember everything. all jenni had known that morning was that the two of you had fought and you threw a ring at her, claiming you couldn't believe you almost let yourself propose.

"jenni. i love her, and she hurt me. you don't hurt someone you love like that." you dropped down onto your knees on the sidewalk. alexia struggled to get you back up to your feet after that. she opted for not hurting herself trying to take care of you and decided to call a couple of teammates to come and get you. she had expected mapi and leila to join her, and they had shown up, but with the addition of jenni.

"oh, mi amor," jenni sighed as she saw the sight of you. internally, you were battling between running from her and running right into her arms. the part of you that wanted her won out first, and you found yourself crawling on the sidewalk towards her. your other teammates frowned at the sight, never having seen you like that for anybody. jenni knelt down and opened her arms, unable to deny you anything in the moment.

"they hate me, it's awful," you cried into her arms. jenni wrapped her arms around you as she held you. "they all hate me because you left. they think you left because i did, but i only left because you didn't want me anymore. i want you so bad it hurts, but you don't love me anymore. i want to hate you, but the only person i can hate is myself. it makes me so angry."

"i'm sorry," jenni apologized. she looked around at her teammates for help, but none of them were sure what to do. she pulled you up to your feet and handed you off to alexia and leila. they got you back to the hotel and safely tucked into mapi's bed for the night.

"jenni, who broke up with who?" mapi asked as she glanced down at her younger teammate. everybody had a few reservations whenever jenni announced to the team that the two of you were together, but they never could have imagined it go as badly as it had.

"i-i think i broke up with her. i don't really know, it's all kind of fuzzy," jenni admitted. mapi's face hardened with a look of anger. jenni knew that whatever came her way was deserved, it had been a few months coming at this point. "i wanted to make up with her, but she wouldn't talk to me. after our fight, all she said was that she was going to germany."

"for (y/n)'s sake, and yours, fix this," mapi ordered. jenni knew that she really did need to figure out a way to do that, but she had no idea where to even begin. you avoided her at all costs, and there was a good chance that a few of the younger players would keep jenni from you on their own. they may have followed in the elder players' footsteps, but leaving you behind had not been an easy decision for any of them.

#jenni hermoso imagine #jenni hermoso x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

[xstevex-world]

Steve Harrington’s favourite musician has been the same since he was 17.

He distinctly remembers hearing Chrissy Cunningham play in his car radio during his senior year, subsequently listening to nothing but her breakout EP for a week straight - and that was just the beginning.

He followed all of work for over the past 7 years: bought physical and digital copies of all her albums, watched every music video multiple times, read every interview, saved up enough while working weekend shifts at scoops to get tickets to her sold out shows in Indiana - he had so much merch that Jonathan Byers once joked that Steve could probably make a shrine to his idol.

He had even kept up during her hitatus, almost two full years of radio silence from the star, like she had disappeared off the face of the earth. It wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened, but it didn’t help that it overlapped with him dropping out of business school to pursue a career in cosmetology and that final falling out he had with his father over his choice in education.

The day she came back felt like Christmas.

Her comeback announcement dropped on June 13th - and it wasn’t just a new post on social media or a candid shot online someone managed to snap.

It was a whole EP drop, 4 entire songs (and a music video) that he knew he was going to play on repeat after 716 days of radio silence.

That opened the floodgates for everything to start again: she went back on social media, thanked her fans for their wholehearted response to her new releases. She started doing interviews again: discussing her mental health and the impact of her mothers control in her life; her reunion with her best friend (and apparent ex) from high school; her label dropping her after it was found that her “momager” had embezzled a huge amount of money from said company, releasing her from her contract early and allowing her to find new partners, new producers, new projects.

She talks about how she’s never been happier, and Steve can’t help but beam at it. He can hear it in her music, how it’s going more against the grain of what’s popular, opting instead for etherial synths mixed with heavy guitars. She sings about heartbreak and moving on and being better than then the people who brought her down for long, now that she’s starting fresh.

Steve loves it, thinks some of the changes have something to with Eddie Munson’s name appearing in the credits of all her new material.

Truthfully, he got curious after someone on Twitter posted a screengrab of cameos made by Munson and his own bandmates in all of her new music videos. He thankful someone else made the connection, and although he’s not the biggest fan of Corroded Coffin’s music (apart from the collaboration EP they did with Chrissy: “CCxCC presents Satanic Slumber Party”, that was incredible), he would lying if he didn’t say he was totally enamoured by Eddie goddamn Munson.

Let alone the fact that he’s totally Steve’s type (big hair, bigger eyes, a complete dork with a heart of gold but who also looks like he would bite someone in both a feral dog and a “please take me to your bedroom right now” kind of way), the guy is a genius when it comes to music, spending interviews talking about the process of artistry and the importance of storytelling - even when they’re discussing songs about him, written by Chrissy about their break up, he’s still so passionate and witty, the two of them spending interviews bouncing off each other in a way that would rival his relationship Robin.

He’s fine, really, he knows logically this is just a celebrity crush that will pass if he stops thinking about it for long enough, but he’s certain that this could develop into one of those all encompassing obsessions if he doesn’t curb it now- and that’s exact what he does. He tries to put that energy into school, excelling more than he ever did in an academic setting. He meets up more often with Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle and Barb, inviting them over more often for dinner or drinks, sometimes even just because he wants to make a breakfast feast and need someone else to eat it.

It’s at times like this that he misses Robin, who only has about 6 weeks left of her internship in Paris - he hasn’t seen her in person since he went to visit her a few months ago during spring break. He wishes she was her to openly judge him over this, before rambling on about her own current hyperfixation or moaning about her lack of romantic adventures since she and Vickie broke up.

They still talk on the phone every afternoon (nighttime for her), ranting to each other about their perspective day and sharing any worthwhile gossip.

Tonight’s no different, he’s telling her about the current drama happening in his classes when Robin says:

“I met someone today.”

He’s ecstatic - in his opinion robin deserves the world and the fact she’s met someone on her own in a city where she has been finding it hard interacting with people outside of her placement is a miracle in itself.

She tells him more: how she met this girl that morning at café, acting as a knight in shining armour (Robin’s words, not Steve’s) when the girl got flustered trying to order her coffee in broken French; how she spent the day showing this girl around to her favourite shops and parks and museums; how they spent hours talking about everything and nothing; how Robin hasn’t felt this way about someone since Vickie.

“So then we had dinner at that Italian place, the one I took you to, and, Steve, oh my goddess, she has the cutest little laugh-“

“Did you get her name?”

“Oh, sorry” he can hear her move the phone from one ear to the other. “Yeah it’s Chrissy.”

Steve stops his pacing. That would be one hell of a coincidence, if it was Chrissy Cunningham. She is playing in Paris the following night, the penultimate stop of her current tour. (The very show that he had been tempted to go to, since he could stay with Robin. It absolutely wasn’t because Corroded Coffin was joining her for the European leg of the tour - acting as her band, as well as performing songs from their collaboration as the encore - something that did not happen at any of the American shows). It couldn’t be the same Chrissy that Robin had fallen head over heels for in the space of a few hours, right?

“Did you get any of her socials?” He asks, cautiously.

“Nope,” she answers, popping the p for emphasis. “I didn’t think to ask, because I’m an idiot and all that-“

“Robs,” he interrupts, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re not an idiot.”

Her hears her laugh on the other end of the line, the same kind of self-deprecating giggle she uses when she’s nervous. He wishes he was there with her so she could see him roll his eyes at her, their main way of communicating their love.

“What did she look like?”

“Oh!” She exclaims as he hears her tumbling over something (knowing Robin, probably herself). “We took a picture together, hold on, I’ll send it over.”

His phone vibrates against his ear, so he brings it in front of him, putting Robin on speaker so he can see the photo.

And.

Holy fuck.

“Robin,” he says slowly, because he actually can’t believe it himself. “Do you know who that is?”

((Part 2))

#stranger things #stranger things au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #Steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #Buckingham #bandcheer #robin x chrissy #robin buckley x chrissy cunningham #Luci’s ST thoughts

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Shadowhunters

Enthrallment by smilebackwards

It does look a little bad, Parmela thinks, looking at it from outside. As more specialists had been called in for consultation, they’d decamped to one of the larger conference rooms—eschewing attendance at A, B, AB, & O: The Impact of Blood Type on Non Subject Specific Blood Magic, because this was vastly more interesting and potentially important—and there are a round dozen high-level warlocks clustered around Alec, poking at him with magic.

Or: Alec attends the Magical Inventions and Advances convention in hopes of recruiting warlocks for another Downworld Cabinet. The warlocks, however, are more interested—and concerned—by the blue magical aura following Alec around.

DC

temporal fraternity by envysparkler

Damian clears his throat. “I require your assistance.”

The words come out easier with the benefit of practice and the knowledge that no one will remember them tomorrow. Today. Tomorrow-today.

The Umbrella Academy

cut me open and i still bleed red by aletterinthenameofsanity

Part 1 of the odds were never in our favor

Ben knows his fellow mentors pretty well, for how long he's spent here, behind the screens of the Games, watching as his tributes die.

Allison, from District One, has a way with the sponsors. Just a word placed here or there, stealthily dropped into conversation, and she can get her tributes the shit they need.

In his time as a Mentor, Klaus has developed a habit of drinking to get through the Games, and through the rest of his life, really- anything to avoid the truth of what's happening, the ghosts of the children he and Ben have sent to their deaths.

Very few people remember what Five’s name was before the Games. Caesar Flickerman and the Gamemakers nicknamed him that when he took out the entire Career Pack on his second day in the Arena.

Vanya’s the newest Mentor, the victor of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games.

Diego’s one of Ben’s oldest not-quite friends. A Victor from District Ten, he’d gone into the Games knowing how to kill an animal.

All the other Mentors Ben knows try never to get attached. Luther, on the other hand, doesn't forget a single name.

(A story of seven victors of the Hunger Games and the lives they live as Mentors.)

Danny Phantom

The Promised Land by redrobin1989

Danny Fenton has been running for years, from his abusive parents, from Vlad's experiments, from his freakish powers. He expected to be running his whole life until he found his way to a small town that felt like the home he'd never had.

M!ik

Study Dates Are Not Real Dates by StormySteady

A very important exam is coming up, and Asmodeus is trying his hardest to get Iruma and Clara to study for it. But his soulmates have other ideas.

Star Wars

Starlight, In All Its Forms by Soap_And_Lye

When Luke was eight, he was taken from his home on Tatooine and delivered into the hands of the emperor and his right hand.

When Luke was sixteen, he overheard the emperor's plans to steal a tiny Force sensitive child and saves him first, before being caught and dragged back to his masters' keeping.

When Luke was eighteen, he finds that same child on Gideon's cruiser, and spares both him and his family, including a silver clad Mandalorian.

And when Luke was twenty-four, he is captured by the Rebellion (captured or did he just let it happen? Really up for debate) and secretly sent as a prisoner to Mandalore, where Mand'alor Din Djarin rebuilds his planet and raises his son.

And the rest was history. Or the beginning.

Clone Wars

will you be an anarchist with me? by a_alene

Once the Kenobi floodgates are opened, they cannot be closed. Cody has apparently been keeping an itemized list of disagreements, and he is determined to tell Rex each and every one of them.

Kenobi refuses to listen to Cody’s input. Kenobi throws himself into battle with no regard for previously established battle plans. Kenobi uses the Force so recklessly and obviously that every undercover assignment is blown within the first few minutes. Kenobi is a hypocrite who berates Cody for sidestepping protocol, but flouts it himself at every opportunity.

CT-7567: bet you wish you had skywalker now

CC-2224: I wish for nothing but the cold embrace of space

Right. And he says Kenobi’s dramatic.

(Marshal Commander Cody and High General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the 212th cannot stand each other. Rex doesn't know why this is his problem.)

poetry is what you find (in the dirt in the corner) by fivecenturiesverse

(In which Cody becomes an anonymous poet after the war and his brothers find out.)

Rex launches forwards immediately and so does Bly, because he can admit to himself that he likes gifts. He likes gifts a whole lot more than Cody and Wolffe, anyway, who both act like martyrs who don’t need any material love. “Poetry, vod?” Bly asks, incredulous. “Cody’s right, you are going soft.”

“It’s by a clone,” Fox says, defensively, “it’s quite good, actually. For poetry. It made Sergeant Hound cry at the service.

#happy monday everyone xx #weekly fic round up #fic recs #my posts #sw recs #shadowhunters recs #m!ik recs #dp recs #tua recs #dc recs #misc recs #7 different fandoms on this round up and it doesn't even capture all the different fandoms i've been reading #just the ones containing fics i want to rec #goddamn

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link

@babydollbaron I need you to know your tags basically changed the trajectory of this fic

In the mornings, Steve dropped Shawn off at the before care offered by the school and then went to work. Afterwards, Shawn took the school bus home and went over to a neighbor's house, Miss Robin, until his dad got home from work.

Because of this, Steve knew he would hardly have a reason to see Eddie outside school functions and conferences. Which was fine. It was totally fine. He absolutely was not spending nights thinking about those curls under his fingers. Whenever Shawn had a story from school to tell, he hung on every word. And it was only because these were the formative years of Shawn's life.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Munson asked about our practice and I got to tell him all about it", Shawn said.

Steve paused in his current task, which was the dishes while Shawn did his homework at the kitchen table. He knew exactly what his son was talking about.

"Oh? How'd that come up?"

"I told him about it before but I didn't get to tell him about it before Yasmin started crying. He asked me and I told him."

Steve currently taught middle school, but he'd had a little experience with the younger ones. When it got close to Shawn starting school, he did his best to make sure he was prepared. And to make things a little easier on whoever was teaching him. Steve tried to be subtle with his next words.

"Tell me more about Mr. Munson."

And then the floodgates opened. Mostly because it seemed Mr. Munson was very open about his personal life. Apparently, anytime the students had a question, he answered it. Just in this five minutes between drying the dishes and plating up dinner, Steve learned that Mr. Munson played guitar, loved the color red, played a game about dragons, and was single.

"Wait, how do you know he's not married?", Steve asked.

"Because Briana asked him and he said he's not married", Shawn answered easily.

---------------------

Steve tried not to think too hard about it. Mr. Munson being single didn't change anything. Not a single thing. But a really hot alpha who was unattached and also happened to be really good with kids who his kid loved was kind of the ultimate wet dream.

For Halloween, the students were allowed to come in costume and before the day was over, Steve's email was blessed with a collection of pictures of the class, including one where several superheroes, princesses, and even a kid dressed as Chucky defeated the mighty Munson dragon.

It was so cute that Steve had half a mind to send a reply that said so but second guessed it. He didn't need to tell Shawn's teacher it was a cute picture that was the whole reason he sent it. He had to keep all correspondence professional. But it was a picture of Shawn so he was well within his rights to save all of them to his phone.

"You ha~ve a cru~ush~", Robin sang on the phone. She was pulling some dino nuggets from the oven in preparation for Shawn coming over.

"Shut up, I don't!", Steve hissed on the other end. School had just ended but there would be a staff meeting in about five minutes. "I didn't tell you so you could make fun of me-"

"Come on, you knew it was coming-"

"I told you because I just had to tell someone." Steve sighed and took of his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's not creepy if he's Shawn's former teacher, right?"

"Steve, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think it's creepy now." Robin picked up one of the nuggets and chomped on it. "It's kind of crazy how we have dino nuggets and animal crackers but not the other way around."

"Please save that for Shawn when he gets there. What do you mean? Wouldn't it be weird?"

"You're both two grown adults. I don't see the harm in asking him out", Robin said.

Steve slouched in his chair behind his desk. "That's not the only fact here. There's the fact that he's teaching my son. If any of the other parents find out, they'll think I'm sleeping my son's way to the top."

"....In first grade? That would be pathetic."

"Most suburban gossip is, but you already know this. It's not me I'm worried about really, it's Shawn. Kids talk too and what if they make fun of him?"

"Oh no! My awesome dad is dating my awesome teacher! Whatever will I do?!", Robin wailed.

"He thinks we're awesome separately. There's no telling what he'll think of us together. And I...I don't want to give him false hope."

"Steve...when was the last time you went on a date?"

Steve let out a puff of air. "Does that one guy who ogled me a few years ago count?"

"Gross! Steve! No! Do you mean the guy who was just staring at you breast feeding?"

"Serves me right for doing it in public. And in shorts."

"Hey, no, there will be no slut-shaming in this household." Robin paused when she heard the door open and the bounding of feet. "Your gremlin is here."

"I think you mean my precious miracle from above. And you will treat him as such. My only gremlins are my sixth graders."

"Whatever. Just get your shipwreck together and decide what you want to do."

Turns out, Steve didn't have to wait long for an opportunity. Shawn had come home that day with a flyer for a Thanksgiving performance and was asking for parent volunteers.

---------------------

Eddie wasn't like, actively hoping that he would see Shawn's dad again. But when the fliers went home asking for volunteers, as well as an email, there was something going up. But it wasn't hope. It definitely wasn't hope. It couldn't possibly be hope. That way nothing could be dashed when nothing came of it.

So when he came into the auditorium after school, he was simply pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Harrington there. Not elated. Not ecstatic. Just appropriately pleased.

He greeted all the parents of his students, of which he only saw two others before coming to Mr. Harrington.

"Nice to see you again", he said with a handshake.

"And you as well", Mr. Harrington replied.

Eddie was sure he was imagining the electricity passing through their touch.

"Well, welcome to elementary theatre. Where we're gonna nurture any and all blossoming passions in the arts."

"Can't wait to see it. Um, so what exactly will they be doing?", Steve asked.

"The first grade class as the honor of doing a little song on what they're thankful for. Mrs. Clifford usually accompanies them by piano, but this year I'm hoping to get some more instrumentation for it."

"Oh, Shawn told me you play guitar."

Eddie's first instinct was to twirl his hair to hide his smile but it was still up in a bun, so he tried to fix his face to not be too obvious but he was sure it came out as a weird grimace.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Been playing for years. What about you, any instrumental skills?"

"None", Mr. Harrington shook his head. "My parents tried piano lessons, but I never took them for long. Just long enough to learn 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."

"Everybody's got their talents. And no better place to showcase them", Eddie thrust his arms out around them.

"Well for now, I'm volunteering my time being a watchful eye and working on backgrounds and costumes. Plus snacks."

"Wait, did you bring the chips and sliders?", Eddie jutted a thumb toward the table near the stage.

Mr. Harrington shrugged. "It's just turkey and ham. And I know how ravenous kids can get."

"Are you guys talking about me?", Shawn asked, coming up to them.

Eddie watched the odd look on Mr. Harrington's face and was sure his must've looked similar. This was probably the longest he'd been talking to a parent without talking about their kid.

"I was just about to bow to your dad's culinary prowess", Eddie said. "Apparently, he made the snacks for this evening."

"I asked him to make his stuffing because, you know, Thanksgiving, but he said it was too early", Shawn said.

"I'm sure his stuffing is delicious", Eddie smiled down at him.

"You should come to our house and try it", Shawn beamed, leaning his head against his dad's hip.

Eddie looked back up at Mr. Harrington. "I'd love it if I could do that."

----------------------------

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Steve was thankfully saved from replying to that by rehearsal starting and so Mr. Munson's attention was drawn away but seriously. What the fuck was that? Was that man inviting himself over to his house? Was it simple small talk? What was it all supposed to mean?

He was put on costume duty while the children practiced which kept his hands busy but not his brain, so he spent the next hour over thinking about that one line, which led to him overanalyzing the entire conversation. When practice ended, the teachers stood by the front entrance to wait for any parents that weren't already there or hadn't shown up toward the end to get their kids.

Mr. Munson waved off the last of his students just as Shawn finished in the bathroom and Steve helped him get his coat on. He looked hesitant before speaking up.

"Looks like you're my last one. I can walk you to your car if you want. It's pretty dark out."

Pretty dark was an understatement. It was near pitch black and the parking lot had bare minimum lighting. Steve definitely would've felt better about it if he had someone on the other side of Shawn.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

And without being told so, Mr. Munson put Shawn between them as they left the school and walked out into the parking lot. He gave a whistle once they got to Steve's BMW.

"Nice car."

"Thanks. She's been pretty faithful to me all these years." Steve unlocked the car and let Shawn into the backseat first. When he closed the door, he smiled at the alpha before him. "Thanks for walking us out.

"Consider it a routine then. At least until this place can afford to fully light up the lot."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." There must have been the tiniest bit of a lull in the conversation because suddenly Shawn piped up from inside the car.

"Dad, can we get tacos for dinner?"

Steve snapped out of whatever staring contest he was having with Mr. Munson and looked down affectionately at his son. "What? My casserole not good enough all of a sudden?" He opened the driver side door and got in, turning the ignition on.

With them safely in the car, Eddie went over to his van and got in, waiting until he saw Mr. Harrington pull out before going his own way.

Later that night, after putting Shawn to bed, Steve was left alone with his thoughts again as he graded papers using an answer key at the kitchen table. It was easy to let his mind drift into just how...how wonderful Mr. Munson seemed.

He bit his lip and squeezed his legs together. Mr. Munson was handsome, and charismatic, and so safe, so much the perfect alpha that he'd been led to believe didn't exist. He could protect him and his pup... and Steve could give him more pups...

Steve's hand drifted down between his legs and he let it stroke a few times before freezing and closing his grade book. Time for something more mentally stimulating.

"Guess I'm lesson planning tonight."

Part 3

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

[aquilaofarkham]

Dying Has Never Frightened Us: Intergenerational Trauma, Healing, & the Burden of Legacy in Castlevania

An analytical and interpretation essay that discusses how the concept of family legacy and duty can lead to intergenerational trauma in the Castlevania franchise. Focuses primarily on the Belmont who found strength from his pain by honouring his family’s legacy no matter how heavy it felt or the burden that came with it and the Belmont who found his own strength from the ones he loved and who loved him in return.

☽ Read the full piece here or click the read more for the text only version ☽

THE BURNING NEED FOR RETRIBUTION: INTRODUCTION

The world has trauma. It is deep, collective, spanning its roots over centuries and territories dating back to when the borders of today never existed, and it has largely gone untreated—but not undiscussed.

From children’s cartoons to award winning dramas, trauma has become one of the most common topics for media to discuss, depict, and dissect. It makes sense given the sort of physical and mental gauntlet which society has been through in the past five years. Sometimes even in just the past twenty-four hours. From an uptick in disasters stemming from climate change, the rise of publicised policy brutality, genocide as a result of settler colonisation, new developments coming to light after decades of denial regarding the residential school system in Canada, and of course a global pandemic which is still making ripples. Then there is the recent examination of generational trauma which differs from culture to culture. The open wounds we’ve already left and will be leaving for future age groups.

Seeing how fiction reflects reality and vice versa, it isn’t any wonder that movies, television shows, and video games find ways of processing this worldwide sensation of frustrated ennui along with the need to find answers as to how regular citizens can fix things, including ourselves, when politicians and world leaders cannot. When reality cannot provide satisfying resolutions, when we are left confused and even angrier than before due to the apparent shortcomings of institutions meant to provide relief towards the average person, it’s natural to look towards specific media. Whether for coping mechanisms, validation for this collective and personal trauma, or simply for cathartic release so the emotions don’t have to remain bottled up.

Castlevania , both its original 2017 series and the most recent entry of Castlevania: Nocturne (as well as the video games which the show is inspired by), is no stranger to this popular trend of storytelling and characterisation. Yet this trend also comes with its own controversy. When done with a deft writer’s hand and a layer of empathetic critical thinking, trauma in fiction and how we heal from its intergenerational effects can be a powerful tool in raising awareness in regards to something left forgotten by the larger public or it can allow viewers to look inwards at themselves. Done poorly or with a lack of empathy and taste, then the floodgates open.

But beyond the usual discourse surrounding trauma in fiction (how to portray a “realistic” panic attack, what makes a “good” victim, the problematic connotations of forgiving one’s abuser, etc.), Castlevania has its own things to say about the lingering effects of grief, guilt, and pain over the course of thirty-two episodes (now a fourty episode runtime with the inclusion of Castlevania: Nocturne season one). The series—particularly the first which ran from 2017 to 2021—has now gained a reputation for being one of the darker animated ventures tackling themes of religious corruption, abuse, sexual manipulation, and injustice among many others. The value and thoughtfulness of each depicted theme ranges from being genuinely compelling to delving into mere shock value yet the series is also known for its uplifting ending and cathartic release from such dark themes.

One could write entire dissertations on each complicated character and their developments. From Dracula’s suicidal tendencies as a result of unchecked grief to Isaac’s conflicted redemptive journey beginning with his unflinching loyalty to the king of vampires and ending with him forging down his own path in life. How characters such as Carmilla, consumed by her inner agonies and burning hatred towards the world to the bitter end, was left isolated from her sisters until she was forced to choose the terms of her own death, while others like Alucard, Sypha, and to an extent Hector rose above their individual torments in favour of hope and survival. However, this examination will focus on the series’ titular family of vampire hunters. Namely, the Belmont who found strength from his pain by honouring his family’s legacy no matter how heavy it felt or the burden that came with it and the Belmont who found his own strength from the ones he loved and who loved him in return.

Note: this essay will delve into speculations and purely interpretative hypotheses stemming from the author’s own opinions in regards to how they personally read the presented text. It will also discuss heavy spoilers for the majority of Castlevania games and the first season of Castlevania: Nocturne.

—

WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT FOR A CURSE: THE CYCLE OF TRAGEDY IN THE CASTLEVANIA GAMES

This examination begins in the exact same place as the show began with its inspirations and references: the original video games developed and distributed by Konami Group Corporations. It’s easy to get swept up in the notion that because of the technological limitations with video games at the time, the Castlevania games are devoid of story or characterization. Yet even the most bare bones of a story found in the games can still have something to say about the burden of legacy and how trauma left unconfronted has the possibility of tearing down that legacy. The most prominent example being Castlevania: Symphony of the Night , arguably the first game to begin delving into a deeper story and character driven narrative. It follows the events of Castlevania: Rondo of Blood , a game which portrayed its protagonist Richter Belmont as a force of nature in the face of evil, always knowing what to do, what to say, and emerging victorious without so much as breaking a sweat (or candelabra).

In keeping with the time of its release and the landscape of popular media particularly in Japan, Rondo of Blood feels like a traditional 1990s action anime complete with brightly coloured cutscenes and character designs reminiscent of Rumiko Takahashi and Rui Araizumi (despite the usual classic horror elements present in every Castlevania game). This is most evident with Maria Renard, the second playable protagonist who attacks with her own arsenal of magical animals and even has her own upbeat theme music during the credits when players complete the main story in “Maria mode”. Richter also shares many similar personality traits with his counterpart, namely his optimism in the face of danger and the confidence that he will be the hero of this narrative.

Of course all this changed in the direct follow-up to Rondo of Blood , the aforementioned Symphony of the Night . Arguably the new staple of future Castlevania games to come, not only did it change the gameplay and aesthetic, it changed the very core of the characters as well. The game even begins with the same ending as Rondo of Blood where Richter fights and defeats Dracula with the help of Maria. Then during the opening crawl, we discover that during a time skip, Richter has vanished and Maria is searching for him. Surely this will be nothing less than a heroic rescue and the most powerful Belmont of his century will be restored to his rightful pedestal.

Yet for the first half of Symphony of the Night , the player is faced with a sobering realisation—the villain we’re supposed to be fighting, the one responsible for conjuring Dracula’s castle back into existence, is Richter himself. No longer the hero we’ve come to adore and look up to from the previous game. Of course, the player along with new protagonist Alucard both know that something isn’t right; perhaps Richter isn’t in his sound mind or some nefarious force is possessing him to commit evil deeds. But unless the player solves the right puzzles and find the right in-game items, Symphony ends with Alucard putting down Richter like a rabid dog. However, this ending can be avoided and a whole second half of the game is revealed.

Richter’s canonical ending is left ambiguous at best, tragic at worst. He laments over his moment of weakness, claiming the events of the game were his fault despite Alucard’s insistence that confronting Dracula was always going to be inevitable. Still, the tragedy of Richter’s fate and how he is portrayed in Symphony of the Night comes much later, when it’s implied the Belmonts are no longer capable of wielding the fabled Vampire Killer, a leather whip imbued with supernatural properties that has been passed down generation after generation. One mistake and misjudgment left the Belmont legacy in a perpetual long lasting limbo with the titular hunters themselves seemingly disappearing from history as well, leaving others such as the Order of Ecclesia to pick up the fight against Dracula’s eventual resurgence. It isn’t until the height of World War II (the setting of Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin ) when the whip’s true potential is finally set free thanks to the actions of Jonathan Morris, a distant relative of the infamous vampire slaying family. However, the only way in which Jonathan can reawaken the Vampire Killer is by defeating a manifestation of the person who last wielded it and also whom the whip abandoned nearly two hundred years prior—Richter Belmont.

Yet players and fans don’t get to see it in the hands of another Belmont until the events of 1999 when Julius Belmont defeats the latest incarnation of Dracula and seals his castle away in a solar eclipse. Even then, he loses his memory until thirty years pass and he’s forced to do battle with Soma Cruz, an innocent transfer student who is also the reincarnation of Dracula. If the protagonist of Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow succeeds in defeating the cosmic threat that has awakened his supposed “evil” destiny, then Julius can finally lay down the Vampire Killer in peace (until the sequel Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow , of course). If not, the game ends with Julius keeping his promise to Soma should he lose sight of his human side and let Dracula be reborn once again. In a scene that directly mirrors the beginning of Symphony , Julius enters the castle throne room, Soma throws down his wine goblet, and the screen goes black. The cycle continues anew. Julius has upheld the duty of his family name but at what cost.

The theme of tragedy getting passed down through different generations, permeating from person to person even with those who are not Belmonts, is a staple of later Castlevania games following Symphony of the Night . In some instances, pain and trauma is what jumpstarts the story moving forward. Castlevania: Curse of Darkness begins with its protagonist Hector in a direct parallel to Dracula swearing revenge on the one responsible for the murder of his wife; an ultimatum that follows him every step of the way, fuelling his rage and determination up until the penultimate moment when his goal is within reach. Yet even then he cries out, claiming this “murderous impulse” isn’t truly him—it’s the result of an outside force he himself once aided before defecting before the events of the game.

Something similar occurs in Castlevania: Lords of Shadow , an alternative reimagining of the franchise that while still a topic of division amongst most die hard fans has also seen a resurgence of popularity and reevaluation. It begins with Gabriel Belmont grieving over the death of his own wife (a trope which is unfortunately common amongst the majority of Castlevania titles). This is a wound that follows him throughout his journey until an even more painful and shattering twist regarding Marie Belmont’s demise is revealed to Gabriel later in the game.

However, there is one example from the games that stands above the rest in regards to the sort of damage which generational trauma as a result of familial duty and legacy, upheld to an almost religious degree, can inflict. So much so that even a declaration of retribution can evolve into a generational curse.

—

HUNT THE NIGHT: LEON BELMONT & THE MYTH OF FREE WILL

The Castlevania timeline didn’t always have a set beginning. An inciting incident by which all future stories, characters, and inevitable calamities could base themselves off of. Rather it changed from game to game until a definitive origin was settled in 2003 with the release of Castlevania: Lament of Innocence . For at least two games, the starting point was supposed to be with Simon Belmont, making his way through a labyrinth of dark forests and cursed towns, before finally traversing the ever changing fortress in Transylvania to defeat Dracula. He even went as far as to gather the remains and resurrect the eponymous lord of his own choice just to rid himself of another curse entirely. 

Castlevania protagonists are always cursed by something. Whether it be the cause of Dracula’s influence, their own actions as seen in Lords of Shadow , a curse of the flesh like how Simon had to tackle his own ailment in Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest , or something else just as common as Dracula’s curse: the burden of honouring a family duty.

A basic yet iconic 1986 entry followed by a sequel that had potential especially with the first appearance of the now famous “Bloody Tears” track but suffered from a rather confusing and lacklustre end product. Then suddenly the starting point for the franchise timeline changed drastically. Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse despite the numerical inclusion in its title stands as more of a prequel, detailing the exploits of the Belmont who came before Simon. Not much was altered in the grand scheme of things; the titular vampire hunter still essentially slays Dracula with the help of three other playable characters, said final boss having been driven mad and more violent than ever by humanity’s slight against him. However, not only were the methods by which Dracula is defeated changed but players were given more insight into the sort of burden placed upon the Belmont family name.

When the story of Dracula’s Curse begins, protagonist Trevor Belmont isn’t revered as a legend or hero but rather a blight on larger society who the people only turn to as a last ditch effort against rising evil. The regular god-fearing people of Wallachia now fear the Belmonts and their power (it is also implied that some still feared the barbarian-esque Simon despite his legendary status) so the family is excommunicated. Trevor is forced to enlist three other outcasts—or simply two other fighters, depending on which version of the story you examine—in order to carry out the family business. Even when the rest of the world has shunned them and there are plenty of others just as capable of stopping the forces of evil, a Belmont still has a destiny to fulfil. 

Yet once a series has gone on for long enough, things within the established canon are bound to change—again and again. Whether through re-examination in order to line it up better with present day morals and sensibilities, or through good old fashioned retconning in favour of something more interesting, more thought out, or less convoluted. Other times, it’s simply because either the creator or viewers wanted it to happen. In 1997, this occurred with the release of Castlevania Legends on the GameBoy, a prequel to Dracula’s Curse that was meant to serve as the actual origin for the Belmonts, Dracula, and even his son Alucard. Instead of Trevor, the very first Belmont to fight Dracula is now his mother, Sonia Belmont, seventeen years old and already burdened with the glorious purpose of her bloodline.

Sonia is undoubtedly the protagonist of her own story with agency and drive. However, the game ends with a stark reminder of why the Belmonts have a place in the Castlevania universe. The last we see of Sonia in Legends is in the form of an epilogue where she holds her newborn child and states that one day when he’s grown, he will “be praised by all the people as a hero”. Despite her triumph over Dracula—a monumental feat itself—it seems that her purpose in the end (the purpose of most Belmonts other than to forever fight evil in fact) was to merely continue the bloodline so that descendants can carry out a promise made centuries before by another Belmont—someone that neither Simon, Trevor, Julius, or Richter ever knew.

The inevitability of sudden retcons within long-running media was not as kind to Legends as it was to Dracula’s Curse . Because of how the in-game events conflicted with subsequent entries (for example the implication that Trevor is actually the son of Alucard, thus further tying the Belmonts to Dracula through blood as well as duty), both Legends and Sonia were completely removed from the canon timeline. This is merely one reason why the next attempt at creating the definitive origin for the franchise, now a cult favourite among certain subsections of the fan community, was regarded with some animosity. However, twenty years after its release, Castlevania: Lament of Innocence is considered by many as an underrated entry. It is certainly the darker title where both the hero and villain stumble through their own hardships yet neither emerges completely victorious by the end.

The opening narration crawl of Lament of Innocence describes the lives of Leon Belmont and Mathias Cronqvist. They spend most of their lives as reflections of each other; one grows into more of a fighter while the second is coveted for his intellect and ambition. Both are valorous, honourable, and products of their own respective plights. Despite his service to the church, Leon is soon systematically stripped of everything save for the clothes on his back because he wouldn’t follow their orders blindly. While Mathias is forced to watch as an uncaring god (the very same god he serves) takes away a figure of pure virtue and love. This figure, Elisabeta Cronqvist who appears to be a splitting image of Dracula’s next deceased wife Lisa Tepes, was the last remaining tie Mathias still had to whatever bit of morality he still feels, which he eventually throws away when deciding to drag his only friend and everything he holds dear into hell alongside him.

The difference is how both men react to those personal horrors and how they let it govern their pasts, presents, and futures not just for themselves but for others who follow after the dust has supposedly settled. Two men, two best friends turned hateful enemies because of an interlinked tragedy. Not only that, but also because of their perspectives, morals, and the way they view a world that is unkind to them. Both were spurred by the death of loved ones, both used it as a conduit, or rather a catalyst for the radically opposing directions in which their choices take them and their families. Leon chooses to struggle onwards towards a world free from darkness and horror despite his pain. Mathias chooses to revel in that very same darkness and pain with a fire that would burn for aeons. In the end, one thing is absolute. A single thing the two men can agree upon as they flee down adverse paths: one of them will destroy the other.

Yet the timeline of Castlevania proves that this choice comes at a great cost for the Belmonts in particular. By the end of Lament of Innocence , Mathias has revealed himself to be the great manipulator pulling the strings behind the scenes. Due to the immense grief he felt over losing Elisabeta to a presumably common illness made untreatable because of the time period’s medical limitations (coupled with his own arrogance and narcissism), Mathias finally becomes Dracula. Dominion over death and even god by has been achieved by doing what Leon’s righteously moral mind cannot comprehend: transforming himself into an immortal creature driven by bloodlust. All he had to do was lie, cheat, and cruelly outsmart everyone else around him. That of course includes Leon as Mathias’ manipulation tactics were also the cause of the mercy killing of Sara Tarantoul, Leon’s fiance, to stop her from turning into a vampire herself. After watching his former friend escape before the sun can rise and disposing of Dracula’s constant right hand man Death, Leon finally feels his anger over such a betrayal boil over. He gives one final message to Mathias, now the new king of the vampires: “This whip and my kinsmen will destroy you someday. From this day on, the Belmont Clan will hunt the night.”

This is how Castlevania: Lament of Innocence ends. Unlike other entries like Symphony of the Night, Aria of Sorrow, or Harmony of Dissonance , there is no good, neutral, or bad ending that can be achieved if the player is aware of certain secrets and tricks. There is only one for Leon and Mathias. The inclusion of multiple endings in some Castlevania games versus a singular set ending in others may seem like a small coincidental narrative choice in conjunction with evolving gameplay, but it matters in the case of Lament of Innocence. From the moment Leon enters the castle to rescue his fiance, the wheel has already started turning and his fate is sealed. Mathias has already won and Sara, along with future Belmonts, are already doomed. And Leon’s ultimatum made in the heat of the moment would go on to have repercussions centuries later. “Hunting the night” gave the Belmonts purpose but it also burdened them with that exact purpose. While Dracula deals in curses, so does the Belmont family—a curse of duty that gets passed down throughout the bloodline.

Leon Belmont was of course never malicious or cruel like Mathias was. He never wanted to deliberately curse his family because he suffered and so should they. His choice was made out of anger and retribution. Still, it goes on to affect Simon, Sonia, Julius, and others in drastic yet different ways. Yet in the case of specific Belmonts like Trevor and Richter, we see how this family legacy can have varied consequences in far more detail through the introduction of animation and serialised writing into the Castlevania franchise.

—

SOMETHING BETTER THAN A PILE OF RUINS: TREVOR BELMONT & STRENGTH FROM LEGACY

If there’s one thing that Castlevania makes abundantly clear with its four season runtime, it is that trauma does not inherently make people better or more virtuous. We of course see this from the games with Mathias and his personal crusade against god which leads to the complete dissolvement of his closest friendship. Or with Hector and the rage he feels towards his wife’s murderer, who also happens to be his former comrade under Dracula’s employment. Even Leon’s promise to both his friend, now his most despised enemy, and future descendants can also be an example of how gut reactions to pain, grief, and betrayal can have damaging consequences in the long run. This particular dissection of trauma when it affects a survivor negatively and in almost life-altering ways while still giving them a chance at achieving their own method of healing is most apparent with the animated representation of Trevor Belmont.

At its core, the first season of Castlevania airing in July of 2017 with four episodes in total is inspired by the events of Dracula’s Curse with the following seasons taking more from Curse of Darkness along with original story elements. It begins with the brutal execution of Lisa Tepes after she is falsely accused of being a witch. Shortly afterwards, Dracula declares war on all of humanity in an explosion of grief-riddled vengeance (a declaration that is not dissimilar to Mathias’ cursing of god after Elisabeta’s admittedly more natural death). Hundreds of civilians are slaughtered in the capital city Targoviste and hoards of night creatures descend upon more townships across Wallachia. 

This would be the perfect opportunity for a Belmont to stand up and fight back except there is one problem: the Belmonts have been eradicated from this world on false grounds of black magic and aiding the vampire lords instead of hunting them—much like how Lisa was slandered and paid the price with her own life.

The only Belmont left surviving is Trevor himself and his introduction does not paint him in the most optimistic or even heroic light. In the midst of being excommunicated by the church, he’s been wandering aimlessly for the past few years while languishing in whatever tavern he stumbles upon. In one particular bar Trevor finds himself in, he overhears the other patrons cursing the Belmonts and blaming them for Dracula’s siege upon humanity. He tries to stay out of it and not bring too much attention to himself until one glance at the family emblem stitched into his shirt breast is enough to ignite an all out skirmish.

Trevor hides his true identity not because he’s ashamed of it, but for his own safety and self preservation. In fact, the opinion he holds of his family is the total opposite from disdain for the sort of legacy they have saddled him with even in death. He reacts strongly to false accusations directed towards the Belmonts, angrily correcting the bar patrons by stating that his family fought monsters. However, he quickly realises he’s said too much and tries saving face by once again detaching himself from possibly being connected to the aforementioned Belmonts.

It’s only when Trevor is backed into a corner and is fresh out of snappy drunk retorts (thanks to a few hard hits to his nether regions) does he finally admit to his real lineage. As mentioned earlier, Trevor finds himself caught up in the first real brawl of the series not because of the pride he feels in himself but the immense pride he feels for his bloodline. All the while, he’s given up trying to hide what he is—a Belmont—and what he was born to do—fight fucking vampires.

Every time Trevor has the opportunity to bring up his bloodline whether in a fight or in conversation, it’s usually spoken with some bravado and weight even when he’s inebriated. However, when visiting the ruins of the Belmont ancestral home in season two and thus directly confronted with what little remains of his family legacy, Trevor loses all that previous bluster and becomes far more contemplative. He doesn’t reveal much of what it was like to actually live as a Belmont, only that it was “fine” and “no one was lonely in this house”. Even when staring up at the portrait of Leon Belmont, he says nothing and instead firmly  grips the very weapons which his ancestor must have also wielded.

It’s clear that Trevor feels no shame, bitterness, or lack of respect towards his family history despite the hardships that have come with it. Still, it’s difficult for him to truly accept the duty of being a Belmont and Trevor continually struggles with it over the course of two full seasons. Upon arriving at the ruined city of Gresit which is under constant threat of night creature attacks, Trevor doesn’t seem particularly concerned with the people’s plight or with helping them. He inquires about what’s been happening by speaking with a few local merchants but it’s only in order for him to gain a better picture of the situation that Gresit finds itself in. Otherwise, he’s simply passing through on his way to another tavern, fist fight, sleeping spot, or all three. Until he puts aside his own needs for self-protection in favour of saving an elder Speaker (a fictionalised group of nomads original to the Castlevania show who have made it their mission to help less fortunate communities and pass on their histories via oral tradition) from a potential hate crime committed by two supposed men of the cloth.

This moment acts as a representation of the first chip in Trevor’s carefully maintained armour. During the bar fight, he claimed over and over again that he was a Belmont in both skill and purpose. However, Trevor hasn’t done much to prove such a proclamation. Because of his ennui and poor coping mechanisms due to lingering trauma, he’s been all talk and not a lot of action—until this point. At first he tells himself to walk away, this sort of confrontation doesn’t concern him. Then he remembers where he comes from and uses the very same family heirloom to help someone physically weaker than himself.

Yet when he accompanies the elder back to where the other Speakers have found shelter from the monsters repeatedly demanding their heads as well as future night creature attacks, Trevor’s metaphorical walls are erected back up. He won’t take any part in this eradication of humanity whether as a victim or perpetrator and especially not to stop it. The people of Wallachia made their choice in the unjust murder of Dracula’s innocent wife, they made their choice when they decided to massacre what was left of his family, and the church made their choice when they decided to fight Dracula’s armies themselves without the Belmonts. Why should he lift a finger (or whip) to save the masses?

Despite this nihilistic attitude, Trevor proves to be a poor defeatist. He still desperately wants to protect the Speakers and warns them of an oncoming pogrom planned for them. A massive hate crime fueled by superstition and facilitated by the corrupt Bishop of Gresit which will supposedly save the city from night creature ambushes (this can be interpreted as a direct allegory meant to comment on how minority groups such as Jewish and Romani communities were used as scapegoats during the Mediaeval period). However, the Speakers refuse to budge and decide to face the angry and misled crowds head-on. They instead tell Trevor to leave in their place which, in a burst of frustration, spurs him to finally act like a member of his clan should. 

What follows next is one of the most defining moments of the series for Trevor, cementing his place as a Belmont. Another corrupt member of the church demands to know what he could possibly stand to gain from fighting back considering his downtrodden state and the fact that he’s entirely outnumbered. Trevor’s answer is simple: nothing. The Belmonts don’t protect everyday people for any great reward or because of any strong personal ties. They do it because it’s their duty and the right thing to do. Trevor even mirrors something which the elder Speaker told him; a family mantra that encompasses the very purpose of the Belmonts, dating back to Leon: “It’s not the dying that frightens us. It’s never having stood up and fought for you.”

Trevor’s healing journey does not end at this moment. He still has moments of hesitation where someone like Alucard has to forcibly remind him of his place as Belmont, saying he needs to choose whether he’s really the last of a long line of hunters or a drunkard. This leads to a fight sequence that nearly spans the length of an entire episode where Trevor further proves himself by taking on at least three different creatures all with varying degrees of strength, skill, and fortitude. Episode six of season two is the ideal example of not only Trevor’s determination but also his quick thinking. Moments such as him wrapping his cloak around his hand so that it doesn’t get cut while his sword slices through the throat of a minotaur or using a set of sticks to beat against an adversary when his whip is knocked away. Being a Belmont means using one’s intellect (no matter how unconventional it may seem) as well as one’s muscles. 

There is also another albeit less violent instance at the start of season three where he still feels the need to hide his surname while in an unfamiliar village. Then there is the revelation that malicious stories about the Belmonts and their supposed demise still circulate amongst rural Wallachian communities. Yet despite coming from a family of old killers (a term Trevor uses before facing off against Death in the final season) his family name remains his strength and the weight of both the Vampire Killer and Morningstar whip keep him grounded rather than burden him. The Belmont name carries such weight throughout the series that by the end, there is strong consideration from Alucard of naming a new township nestled in the shadow of Dracula’s castle after that family.

Trevor deals with his pain and trauma quietly, almost numbing it with the assistance of alcohol and dodging the harder questions regarding what his family was really like. He still finds strength in remembering what the Belmonts are here for despite the tribulations that come with the family name. Hardships that continue and evolve nearly three hundred years later.

—

THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME WHO I AM: RICHTER BELMONT & STRENGTH FROM LOVE

Depending on what sort of mood you might find the author of this essay in, their favourite Castlevania game will vary. At the moment, it’s a three way tie between Symphony of the Night for its artistry, Lament of Innocence for its story and characterisation, and Aria of Sorrow for its evolved gameplay. However, one personal decision remains relatively consistent no matter the mood or time of day: Richter Belmont is the author’s favourite Belmont and the inclusion of him in the latest animated adaptation Castlevania: Nocturne has only cemented that fact.

It makes sense from both a narrative and marketing standpoint as to why we’ve suddenly gone from the events of Dracula’s Curse/Curse of Darkness depicted in the previous series all the way three hundred years later to Rondo of Blood . Narratively, Richter and his companion Maria Renard already have a direct link to Alucard through the events of Symphony , which Nocturne will most likely cover and be inspired by in its second season. Marketing wise while also appealing to the largest demographic possible (even those less familiar with the games), amongst more recurring characters like Dracula and Alucard, Richter is arguably one of the most recognisable Castlevania figures right down to his design.

Certain traits and visual motifs of other Belmonts have changed drastically over the years and with each iteration. Meanwhile, from Rondo and Symphony , to Harmony of Despair and the mobile game Grimoire of Souls , to finally Nocturne and the inclusion of Richter as a playable character in the fighting game Super Smash Bros Ultimate , specific elements of Richter never waver. This includes his blue colour scheme, his tousled brown hair, and his iconic white headband. All of which carry over in the first season of Nocturne which not only expands upon Richter’s character first established in Rondo of Blood but also further examines said character.

For example, Richter’s true introduction directly following the downer cold opening is without a doubt the farest cry from Trevor’s. While Trevor’s first scene acted as a sobering depiction of what happens when physically/mentally damaging coping mechanisms mix with unacknowledged grief, Richter’s first fight gets the audience’s blood pumping, complete with a triumphant musical score and a showcase of his skill with the Vampire Killer. Richter is cocky, but not reckless. He’s sarcastic, but not sullen like Trevor was. Because of his upbringing after the death of his mother, filled with positive affirmations, he values the wellbeing of others along with their fighting experience. Yet his confidence does not overshadow his acknowledgement of the family burden. Richter is well aware of how heavy the Belmont legacy and duty can weigh upon an individual’s shoulders along with how closely it can tie itself around a person’s life and their death—a reminder as well as memory which haunts him for nine years.

When Nocturne begins, its first major fight sequence takes place between Richter’s mother Julia Belmont (an original character for the show) and the vampire Olrox, an enemy taken from Symphony of the Night now reimagined as a seductive, complex Indigenous vampire on his own path towards vengeance against the very person who took away the one he loved most in this world—just one of many thematic parallels to the first series, this time referencing Dracula’s motives and justification for his grief. Just when it seems like Julia has the upper hand thanks to her magical prowess, Olrox transforms and ends her life in a swift yet brutal manner. All of which happens right before ten-year-old Richter’s eyes.

Julia was simply doing her duty as a vampire hunter and her life as a Belmont ended the same as most of her ancestors did: in battle while fighting for the life of another. Why then did it hurt Richter most of all? Why does it haunt him well into his early adult years? And why was it seemingly more so than how Trevor’s trauma haunted him? There are two probable answers to this, one being that Richter was only a child, directly confronted by the cause for his mother’s sudden and graphic death with no way of fighting back despite being a Belmont.

In the case of Trevor, although he was a few years older than Richter when his entire family and ancestral home were burned in front of his eyes presumably by the same people they were supposed to be defending, the circumstances which followed them afterwards are vastly different. For nine years Richter was surrounded by those who loved and cared for him whereas Trevor only had himself and the hoards of average Wallachians who hated him because of superstitious rumours and the church’s condemnation. Trevor had over a decade’s worth of experience in becoming desensitised to his pain and trauma, masking it beneath self deprecation and numbing it with alcohol. He wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was a deeply sad and lonely individual until Sypha pointed it out to him.

Despite his bravado and brighter personality than his ancestor, Richter is also an incredibly sad, hurt person who suffers somewhat from tunnel vision. He obviously has empathy and wants to protect people from monsters, vampires, and the like. More so than Trevor did during his introduction before his moment of self-made rehabilitation. However, he doesn’t seem to care much about the revolution itself or what it stands for. He attends Maria’s rally meetings but he doesn’t take active part in them, opting to stay back and keep a watch out for any vampire ambushes. He admits that he doesn’t really listen to Maria’s speeches about liberty, equality, and fraternity. And in the most prominent example of his disillusionment with fighting for a larger righteous cause, when given a revolutionary’s headband, he shoves it into his pocket and mumbles about how tired he is of everything.

This could be interpreted as defeatist if Richter wasn’t already trying so hard to uphold his family duty and maintain a level head. He needs to have a sense of control and almost achieves it until Olrox so casually confronts him in the middle of a battle which Richter and his friends seemed to be winning until they’re forced to flee close behind him. When Richter runs away and emotionally breaks down the moment he’s finally alone, it isn’t because he’s weak or cowardly. On a surface level, it was due to his fear and panic over not being able to face his mother’s killer (someone who has proven to be much, much stronger and more powerful than any Belmont). Yet it was also a form of harsh admission to himself. He couldn’t maintain that aforementioned sense of control and perhaps he never will, not where he is right now at least.

It isn’t until he’s reunited with his grandfather Juste Belmont (long thought to have died, leaving Richter as the final Belmont) that this negative mindset brought on by unresolved trauma begins to shift. In many ways, Juste is another callback to what happened with Trevor. He suffered an immense tragedy in the past and has since spent his entire life drifting from tavern to tavern, avoiding his own grandson and instead leaving him in the care of people far more capable of raising him and instilling better morals within the youngest Belmont.

Other mentor-esque characters appear in Nocturne such as Tera who raised Richter alongside her biological daughter Maria. There is also Cecile, the leader of a Maroon group which Annette joins after escaping slavery. Despite their individual pains, these two women maintain the hope that humanity can be changed and the evils of the world can be defeated. Meanwhile, Juste has thoroughly lost his own hope. He reveals to Richter that “evil will always win” because of how it permeates everything and is far stronger than any Belmont, even the most magically inclined members. No matter how many Draculas, Carmillas, or Lord Ruthvens are defeated, it will always find a way to creep back to the surface whether through the upper class of France or through the very colonisation that nearly wiped out Olrox’s people or enslaved Annette’s family. 

One of the first things that Juste says to Richter directly references the sheer weight of the Belmont legacy, all of which culminates within the whip itself. This can also be a reference to the Vampire Killer carrying a living soul as Leon Belmont was only able to awaken its true power by sacrificing Sara Tarantoul. The whip has both a metaphorical and literal weight which the Belmonts must come to terms with.

Yet for Richter, family is maintained not through blood ties, which can easily die out or be abandoned because of generational trauma, but through the people we find and attach ourselves to. Under the immediate threat of losing his found family, all of Richter’s pain and anguish explodes when his magical powers violently return to him in one of the most visually impressive and cathartic moments of Nocturne season one, complete with an orchestral and operatic rendition of “Divine Bloodlines” taken straight from Rondo of Blood as he ties the same headband he nearly discarded earlier around his head. Then once the dust settles and Richter is asked by Juste how he managed to tap back into that great power, he simply responds with the most obvious answer he can come up with: there are people who love him and he loves them in return. 

This is reiterated when Richter is reunited with Annette and describes the same revelation when she asks how he was able to regain his magic. Not just a mental revelation but for Richter, it was a physical sensation as well. Just when he believed he had lost everything, something reminded him of all the things worth protecting in his life and all the pain he’s had to endure.

Richter finally donning his iconic white headband is symbolic of not only his decision to actively join the French Revolution but also his revelation that the love he feels for Maria, Annette, and Tera is his own righteous cause. That, to him, is worth defending just as much if not more than the concept of a centuries old curse turned legacy.

—

SLAVES TO OUR FAMILIES' WISHES: CONCLUSION

Richter, both his game depiction and his recent Nocturne iteration, acts as a reflection and subversion of what a Belmont is along with what that family duty means to different members. Trevor found healing from his trauma through his duty. Richter found his healing through love. Of course Trevor loved Sypha and Alucard in his own way, but throughout the entire first series, from the moment he removed his cloak at the end of season one to standing up against Death in the finale, his driving motivation was always to preserve his family’s legacy despite his own shortcomings. The Belmonts were all but gone and Trevor had been exiled, excommunicated, and turned into a societal pariah. Had he given into despair and continued with his vagabond ways, who else would wield the Morningstar, the Vampire Killer, or any of the knowledge cultivated by previous Belmont generations?

But for Richter, family legacy is more of a nebulous concept. It gets mentioned in conversations and we see its varying effects on individuals, but even when Richter is reunited with Juste, the immediate priorities of his found family takes the place of his blood family. This, according to him, makes him a Belmont. 

It is also important to consider that we are still only on the first season of Castlevania: Nocturne with season two having been renewed and in production merely a week after its initial premiere. With the reveal of Alucard as a last minute cliffhanger in the penultimate episode, it will be interesting to see how his own characterisation as well as his close tie with both the Belmonts and his own family burden will further develop especially after three hundred years within the show’s timeline. One of the biggest possibilities is that in contrast with his youthful brashness and instability that was the crux of his character in the first series, Alucard might serve as a sort of mentor figure or perhaps his own generational pain will bond him further to Richter and Maria, more so than he was in Symphony of the Night . Then there is the question of whether Richter in the midst of the apparent losses he suffered during the finale of season one will follow down the same path that his video game counterpart did.

In 2020, the author wrote another Castlevania -centric essay which detailed the visual, thematic, and aesthetical shifts of the franchise from its inception during the 1980s all the way to the 2017 adaptation through focusing on how these changes affected Alucard. By the end of that essay, it was mentioned that despite the show being renewed for at least one more season, the overall future of Castlevania remained unknown. This is still the case for now. 

Though one can make educated assumptions and theories, there’s no way of knowing what sort of direction season two of Nocturne will take with its themes and characters. This is doubly true for the games themselves. Despite the anticipated releases of the Silent HIll 2 and Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater remakes, as of now Konami has not revealed any official decisions to remake, rerelease, or produce new Castlevania titles. One can hope that due to the success of both shows along with the anticipation for Silent Hill and Metal Gear Solid remakes that something new will be in store for Castlevania in the near future.

Castlevania , both its games and animation adaptations, prove that there is a place in this world for every kind of story. In the last episode of season one airing in July 2017, Alucard states what could very well be the thesis of the entire franchise: “We are all, in the end, slaves to our families’ wishes”. Yet even if we cannot escape the narrative we’ve been latched onto or, for dramatic purposes, cursed with, there are ways in which we can combat it and forge our own healing process.

—

MEDIA REFERENCED

Castlevania (1986)

Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest (1987)

Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse (1989)

Castlevania: Rondo of Blood (1993)

Castlevania Legends (1997)

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (1997)

Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow (2003)

Castlevania: Lament of Innocence (2003)

Castlevania: Curse of Darkness (2005)

Castlevania: Lords of Shadow (2011)

Castlevania (2017—2021)

Castlevania: Nocturne (2023—)

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne #trevor belmont #richter belmont #leon belmont #castlevania symphony of the night #my writing #god its been so long since i wrote an actual essay pls be gentle with me.....

[runnning-outof-time]

You know I had to do another one! 💙🥂

From the 5 word list, #16 - “Please stay with me tonight.” - with John or Tommy (that's up to you!)

(2 of 2)

Thanks for sending this one in also, Bri! I went with John on it so that I could break to the little Tommy steak that was going on before this! I also may be bending canon a little bit here, but oh well. And I couldn’t resist the silly title. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Gangsters Have Feelings…?

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, smoking, one sexual reference

Word Count: 1017

Summary: John calls on (Y/N) when he’s having trouble coping with the decisions of his brother, Tommy. (Y/N)’s quite honestly surprised to see this side of him.

(Y/N) took the moment of pause in the conversation she was having to wonder just how in the hell she’d wound up in this position. She never could have expected that her on the fly befriending of John Shelby one evening at the Eden Club would have led to showing up at his hotel room because he needed someone to talk to.

Hell, this brought on a whole new question…gangsters have feelings?

She hadn’t thought of it before, but it was becoming clear that they did…or this one did at least.

From the second she entered the suite, she knew that John was upset. She felt it. The usual energy that he exuded whenever she was around him was missing, and he wasn’t paying much care to his appearance at the moment. His usual three-piece suit had been exchanged for a pair of slacks and a messily tucked in undershirt.

The reason for his calling became apparent the second she asked him what had been going on. A simple question opened the floodgates of complaints of how his brother had been running the business; putting a much younger cousin in a more respectable position while he and his other brother were expected to keep up with the unmentionable side of things.

“You know I never had any ambition to sit in an office and jerk around over some fucking papers, but it’s just that…that’s me own fucking brother making the calls. I mean…it’s gotta count for something, right?” John started talking again, making (Y/N) focus back in on the conversation.

“It should,” she offered a comment, letting him know that she was actively listening to his plight.

John sighed and carded his fingers through the longer parts of his hair before bringing the cigar he’d been smoking up to his lips. He took a deep drag and blew the smoke out in a steady stream as he peered through the window. “And now Michael’s in the office and Arthur’s in charge of London, and I ain’t got nothin’. Tommy doesn’t care though because all I am is some fuckin’ yes man who takes care of errands for him.”

“I…” (Y/N) stopped herself before she could continue. She didn’t really know what to say. Talking hadn’t been placed that high on the agenda of their previous visits. (Y/N) didn’t really know anything about John Shelby…other than he most certainly knew what to do in bed. So she wasn’t sure what type of can of worms she could open by giving improper advice. She could tell that he was looking for it though; advice. “I’m sure that Tommy cares about you, John. You’re his brother,” she started off with a vague statement.

“That’s about all I am,” John mumbled as he shook his head, his eyes focused on the floor.

(Y/N) sighed as she stood from the chair she’d been sitting on. She silently moved over to the window sill he’d been sitting on and took a seat on the corner of it that had been left open. “Look, John…” she paused again, trying to come up with how she was going to finish the rest of her statement. She hated that she didn’t know exactly what to say. “I don’t know much detail about the area of business that you and your family work in, but I do know the man that you are. I know that you care, that you give your all to what you’re doing, and that you’re damn good at it.” She didn’t take his eyes off of him after she finished speaking, watching for any little movement he might make.

Instead of saying anything, John just shook his head. It didn’t seem as though he was shaking off her statement, but rather shaking his head at the situation in general.

“John,” she spoke his name like a breath, hoping that he’d at least look at her. She was really struggling with what more she could add in to help the situation. There had to be some reason he called her to come over, right?

Thankfully, her attempt worked, and he lifted his downtrodden eyes up to match hers. The hopeless expression that was etched into his features made her frown, and she couldn’t stop from reaching out and cupping his cheek with her hand. She brushed her thumb against his skin while keeping eye contact, hoping that her comforting actions would make up for the fact that she had no clue of what to say.

Some time - (Y/N) wasn’t even sure how much - passed before she spoke again. “John, I’m sorry…I want to help, but I’m struggling with what more I should add,” she finally came clean, explaining her internal dilemma before she sent a sympathetic look his way.

“You comin’ here is help enough, love,” he answered her, leaning into her touch. His statement made the smallest smile form on (Y/N)’s face, and that alone helped him start to forget about his woes.

“I…um…” she stuttered over her words as she tired to think of what to say next.

“Please stay with me tonight,” John - thankfully - cut her off. The sentence, which was usually asked as a question, was spoken by the Birmingham gangster as a statement.

“You want me to?” she checked before giving her answer.

“I need you to,” he answered with a reworded version of her statement.

(Y/N) thought for a moment. This question - that John had been asked her many times before - sounded different now. He needed her in a way that he hadn’t before. The thought of that made her heart start to beat faster.

“Will you?” he asked after a few beats had passed.

“I will,” she nodded, sending him a smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, taking her by surprise as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t pull back from it though, immediately kissing him back. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he pulled away just enough to say before his lips were on hers again.

**taglists are added in the reblogs!

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[lace-coffin]

hellooo :) I love your hcs and I was wondering if maybe you could write like (nsfw??) hcs for lie Jason, chromeskull, and Asa? Like they capture a police officer s/o and how they would treat the s/o. It’s okay if it’s just like one instead, (if you even do this xdd) but overall your writing is so ?? Amazing.

Slashers with captured!police!S/O (Nsfw)

Slashers x gn!Reader

Requests are closed! (For now)

I’m so happy to hear you like my writing omg!! That means so much T T

Jason voorhees

Jason doesn’t have a set view on police officers, whilst his mother taught him they protect citizens and put criminals away he’s still not fond of them. Considering the police did nothing to help when Jason was essentially murdered he’s not too happy about interacting with them.

Jason was nervous and jumpy in the early days of your meeting, convinced you were only trying to get close to him to turn him in, why else would you ever attempt to bond with someone like him? (Incorrect, I love jay) this meant that your little rendezvous only ever happened in the woods of crystal lake or the campsite, never in Jason’s home, he needed some sort of privacy and to feel like he had some leverage if it did turn out to be a ruse.

Thankfully after weeks of reassurance and even showing him you left your phone in the car when you visited he began to trust you. Learning you genuinely just wanted to know him and there was no ulterior motive opened the floodgates within him. Jason has a lot of love to give once he’s happy to be vulnerable with you. Jason has never had many friends or family in his short life, so the ones he does have are held very closely.

You found out quickly that cuffs weren’t something that would even be helpful against Jason should you want to subdue him for whatever reason. You once put him in them as a joke after he’d been eyeing the shiny metal hanging from your trouser loops. It may as well been string the way he snapped them like it was nothing, hearing one of his traps being set of and instantly snapping the cuffs in his haste to move. Once he’d realised what he’d done his face darkened cutely in embarrassment. The sight of Jason blushing in cuffs is something you could appreciate.

Using cuffs is less of a physical restraint and more of a show of submission with Jason, sure he could snap them and not break a sweat if he really wanted to, but he wants to be good for you, pliant for you. It’s almost like the cuffs signify that he can let go, pass over the power to you for the evening. Watching him squirm under you whilst you work over his cock feels filthy and you can’t get enough. He groans and tugs against the restraints, frustrated from your teasing but not enough to break free and have you scold him.

If it’s been one of those days where Jason is particularly riled up the cuffs might not be enough. Teasing him when he’s already wound up tight may lead to him snapping the cuffs and fucking you into mattress < 3

Chromeskull (Jesse cromeans)

Jesse was less than pleased to see you. Police officers were his least favourite people, always on his trail and in his business though thankfully never quick enough to catch him. Imagine his surprise when he found a police badge in his new piggy’s possessions that he’d confiscated. It made his heart pick up in a strange way, palms sweaty from the danger of it but equally interested in the thrill.

It became apparent he wanted to put you to good use, sending multiple videos of you bound and weeping to the precinct as some kind of sick taunt to the officers you used to work with. He knew it was a risky move but couldn’t care less, to delighted in the idea of your past coworkers opening the file with baited breath, only to see you bound, bruised and totally submissive to the man at large. He imagined it made them sick, seeing you shake as he runs the knife under your chin, boasting how he caught one pig, and soon he’ll have the rest at the station.

Jesse was quick to press you for information when you first came into his possession, wanting any useful evidence the station may have against him. You were considerably less stubborn with a gun pressed into the underside of your jaw.

Unsurprisingly Jesse is partial to weapons in the bedroom, namely the same gun you arrived with. He finds it amusing how the power is literally in the other hand now, gloved fingers gripping the trigger. Some videos he makes are to be kept in his private collection, the camera on his shoulder recording every moan and yelp that leaves your mouth.

Jesse will grab your jaw and manhandle you to look into the camera, prompting you to degrade yourself for his and the imaginary audiences pleasure. “I-I’m a stupid piggy who got caught, now I’m nothing but a stupid slut for daddy” your eyes are wild from the gun wedged into your hole, slowly being fucked in and out by your owner. It’s unloaded but he would never tell you that, loving the pure terror that paints your expression when he adjusts his finger on the trigger.

Asa Emory

Your capture and subsequent placement in the collection were meticulously planned, what’s a better warning/taunt to the cops than one of the head officers on the case seemingly going missing overnight. Originally you were just supposed to be used as bait and discarded quickly after, not a fan of having police this close to his place of operations.

This didn’t end up being the case, Asa fell in love with the irony and power play of it, the head officer once on his case now a mindless pet below him. He took every opportunity to taunt you about this, how humiliating it was that you’d fallen this low, sitting like a well trained mutt at the feet of the enemy.

Asa takes a lot of joy in dressing you up in your blood stained uniform, reliving the moments he spent breaking you down, ripping the fabric and forcing your tie into your mouth to muffle your cries.

On the opposite side of this once he trusts you enough he lets you in on his fantasy of being caught and dominated, finally apprehended and fucked into the sheets like a slut. Cuff his hands and slam him against the wall, tell him he has no where to run and won’t be leaving without being handed to the station unless he lets you use him to get off. Point your gun to his head whilst he chokes you down, thighs crushing his head.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #writing #my writing #jason vorhees x reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th franchise #friday the 13th #chromeskull #jesse cromeans #chromeskull x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #the collector x reader #the collector

[olichat-reads]

Mrow | Part Four

Bakugou x roomate!reader

Summary: you finally get answers on how to break the quirk & return human

Words:

A/n: yall i fucked up :D this isn't the last chapter

Part Three

🌟

Zigzagging through the crowd you kept your eyes on your target, little legs racing as fast as they can, determined not to lose sight of what might be your key to undoing this quirk.

Having not notice the tiny ball of fur barelling towards her, the girl in question yelped in surprise as you launched yourself onto her leg, determined to latch on like a fucking leech until you had answers.

"Its you!" She cried out, big doe eyes looking down at you, snarling & fur bristling.

Yeah its me! Now turn me back human for the love of god!!

You honestly doubt a small furball yowling up at a full grown person was even the slightest bit threatening but the girl looked as if she might keel over in fear. Her wide eyes darted around to uncaring passerbys before returning to peer down at you.

"Please can we go somewhere less, um, crowded first?"

🌟

You ended up at the park not far away, not completely empty but a definite upgrade from the bustling streets.

Wait. You understand me?

"Um. Yeah. Kinda comes with the quirk," she started, fidgeting with her hands before the floodgates burst open with her rambling. "I'm so, so sorry for turning you into a cat. And- and about the other day! I don't do those kinds of things. I was just being stupid. I knew it was a bad idea even if my friends said otherwise-"

You watched the girl as she went on a tangent, babbling on frantically. You sighed, she was young, probably a highschooler.

Alright, alright. Calm down, kid, you're gonna scare yourself into a panic attack. I'm not turning you in, okay? I get it, you made a mistake. And honestly I don't think you could pull of a crime even if you tried, kid.

The girl cracked a nervous smile at that.

"Thanks Ms Y/n." You smiled at the use of your hero name. You didn't mind not being a big shot like Bakugou, but it felt nice to be recognized every once & a while.

Nah, I get it. I did stupid things too when I was your age. Oh. What's your name?

"Its Miyo."

Miyo. You smiled at that, lifting a furry paw to pat her knee. So now, can you turn me back human please?

"Oh, um," she stuttered, her entire demeanor dulling again. "I can't actually."

You felt your fluffy ears droop at that. What do you mean?

"The quirk breaks when you have an unbridled want to turn back human. To be honest, I thought you would've returned human by now. But I guess its not the most predictable, I'm sorry," she said remorsefully.

I just need to want to turn human? You ask, confused. Did you not want to return human this whole time?

"Sort of. But it has to be a very, very strong feeling to override the quirk. Most of the time it helps to feel extreme emotions that associate with needing to be human again. Like intense desperation, fear, stuff like that. Ultimately its all on you though, Ms Y/n," Miyo explained with apologetic eyes.

You sighed at that. Well, at least it was something. Thanks, Miyo. I-

You were interrupted by a loud explosion that made the ground beneath you shook. Switching into prohero mode, your body kick started into action, racing into the streets. Though you skid to a halt before disappearing into the sea of people, throwing one last glance to Miyo.

I'm going to be naked when I turn back human, aren't I?

"Yeah! Sorry again, Ms. Y/n!"

You sighed internally at that. Well. Nothing you could do about that.

Another explosion sending the ground shaking tore you out of your thoughts & had you throwing yourself into the crowd, darting towards the direction of the commotion, the adrenaline in your veins guiding you through the chaos.

"YOU FUCKING PSYCHO-"

You hear his booming voice before you caught sight of the explossive blonde. You took note of the two women that were apparently the cause of all the commotion & Bakugou's arms that covered in frost. You watched as one of the villains aimed for his arms again, creating chunks of ice that engulfed his hands all the way over his elbows. Bakugou blasted them off but you could tell he was struggling, his explosions smaller than usual.

They were aiming to weaken his quirk, you realized.

Bakugou didn't have his gauntlets. Added with the cold weather & the nature of the villain's quirk he was at a massive disadvantage.

Bakugou! You yelped as the other threw your roomate into a wall, her attack reminding you a lot of Nejire's wave motion.

Fuck. Fuck. What do you do. What do you do?? You didn't have your quirk. Even hand to hand combat was out of the question. You were a cat for god's sake!

You felt your heart drop when when you watch the shockwave wielder take aim for another attack.

Yea, no, fuck it.

You let the adrenaline take over & before you know it, you're rushing forward, little claws & teeth digging into the flesh of the villain's calf, eliciting a pained yelp from her. Distracted, she missed her shot, just barely missing Bakugou, her blunder allowing him to dodge.

You didn't have time to feel relieved though, having her attention turn to your little self, uselessly hanging off her leg.

Fuck.

"Sunny, get away from there!" That was all you heard before familiar hands intercepted you as Bakugou dove in for cover with you, narrowly avoiding a hit from the ice quirk's partner.

Having decent cover, those glaring red eyes looked over at you. "Are you insane?! What the hell is wrong with you??"

Bitch, I was trying to save your ass! Fuck off with the name calling-

You were interrupted with another blast that sent the two of you crashing into a boutique, the display of clothes cushioning what would've been a painful slam to Bakugou's back while you flew out off his hold, landing with a thud a little distance away.

Bakugou!

Dread filled your veins as you watched the pair tag team your roomate. You scrambled to get to him despite knowing there is little you can do. You couldn't just watch! But before you could even get close an explosion was sent your way, forcing you to hop backwards to avoid it, stopping you from getting too close.

Bakugou, you bastard!

"Fuck off, pipsqueak. I can handle this on my own," he growled out, eyes ahead but you could tell was directed to you.

Aiming a blast at the ice wielder, Bakugou risked a glance at you. "I mean it, Sunny- FUCK!" he got cut off as the other villain caught him in her wave motion, slamming him into a wall & pining him there.

No.

No no no-

Human. You needed to turn back human.

Now.

C'mon. C'mon c'mon c'mon please.

You wanted to. You needed to. Please. Please.

Please.

You gasped at the sudden shock that rushed through your body. Your sight glowed pure white, before everything stopped.

You dropped to the ground like a ragdoll.

You couldn't move.

You couldn't move. You couldn't open your eyes. It felt like all the energy was zapped from your body. Your heart seemed to beat in your ears. Once. Twice. Faint yelling seemed to seep into the black. You recognized that voice.

"-nny! Wh s wro ith ou-"

The cotton in your head made it hard to hear. But you knew that voice. You were sure of it.

"SUNNY!!"

Bakugou. Its Bakugou, right? He gave you that name?

That's right. You need to help him.

But you couldn't move.

Move, dammit.

You mustered everything to will yourself to get up, to fucking move, but your body didn't listen to you. Even a finger felt too heavy.

"HURRY THE FUCK UP, SHITTY HAIR!"

Bakugou is calling for help? Bakugou? Fuck, things must've gotten bad.

C'mon get up.

You needed to get up. You needed to help him.

"FUCK-"

You heard Bakugou's voice cut off as if he had the air knocked out of him.

You haven't thanked him yet.

He had to be okay.

You still owe him that hug you vowed to give him.

He HAD to be okay.

You felt your heart clench at every pained groan the villains beat out of your roomate. Your throat tightened up with guilt.

COME ON GET UP!

You'd cry if your body worked right now. Unshed tears burned the back of your eyes. You were begging at this point.

PLEASE.

Then, everything came rushing back.

Your eyes snapped back open, before immediately fluttering shut from the bright contrast. Pulling yourself up, you groaned as you reached a hand up to your pounding head. Wait. Hand. Hand!

A rush of victory tore through you, making you force your eyes back open to confirm your suspicions- only to have your heart drop immediately.

Fuck. Thats right. You changed back naked.

A/n: thank youuuu for being so patient with me. i know i take a WHILE to cough out fics but i'm doing my best i promise 🥺. i hope you enjoyed this part. hope the 'action' portion isn't too scuffed. AND I HOPE THE NEXT AND LAST (I SWEAR IT WILL BE THE LAST) CHAPTER WON'T TAKE AS LONG.

🌟

Part Five

Series taglist: @deadpoolsvodka @zbeez-outlet @fixed211 @arael-asuka @sadcookie365 @phrogfungi @trash-heichou-kacchan @sad0ni0n @woodzonesworld @mushi42 @yappydoo @kazxtora @nnubee @chuugarettes @voidsatoru @freakyundercover @momdisappointment @simp4rengoku @yaskna @zane2408 @lynn-writes-things @dinodumbass @jihyuniepark @julietdelamare @captainchrisstan @atrainb @wannabewolf @cupidcole @atsushiki @trashbin-nie @mothmanuwu @skyesayshi @nezykoi @theredtater06 @lanaxians-2 @alextheknight707 @vollkornpraline @misakik28 @carnationhcs @some-ryvant @blubearxy @dangerousluv1 @seokjin-bby @slytherclaw1227 @tjmaxx556 @kuleo26 @answer-the-sirens @stxrrielle @call-me-drartemis @ouch-thats-harsh @coodoritoss @thychuvaluswife @dynakats @naneko-nakooooo @letharue @sleepylittlebarista @moonbinnie0983 @ninashellhole @lovra974

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #cat dad!bakugou #mrow #oliwrites

[gragrace]

Unveiling Shadows: A Profiler's Love Story

Summary: "Unveiling Shadows" follows Spencer Reid and Y/n as their unspoken connection in the BAU evolves into a complex romance. Navigating cases and emotions, they discover love amidst the chaos, proving that understanding the human mind extends beyond profiling criminals.

AN: this is my first published fic, I’d love some feedback! But please be gentle 🩷

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer Reid stood outside the BAU headquarters, adjusting his tie with uncharacteristic nervousness. The anticipation of his first official date with Y/n, a colleague he'd grown close to over shared cases and late-night profiling sessions, filled the air with a palpable tension.

Y/n approached, wearing a tasteful yet casual outfit that seemed to amplify the excitement in the air. "Hey, Spencer," she greeted with a warm smile.

"Hi, Y/n," he replied, offering a smile that concealed the swirling emotions within. "You look amazing."

As they headed to a quaint restaurant, Spencer couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had led them to this moment. Their connection had gradually deepened over time, born out of shared passions for criminal profiling and a mutual understanding of the darker aspects of human behavior.

In the BAU, where emotions often took a back seat to logic and analysis, the unspoken dynamics between Spencer and Y/n had been growing steadily. Late-night conversations about obscure facts and shared intellectual pursuits had become the norm, and with each passing day, the emotional undercurrent between them became more apparent.

The team had noticed the subtle shift, the unspoken connection that lingered between the two brilliant profilers. Morgan had teased Spencer about his newfound partner in crime, while Garcia playfully nudged Y/n about the "Reid effect." Yet, both Spencer and Y/n chose to remain silent about the emotions that simmered beneath the surface.

Their first official date was both a culmination of those unspoken feelings and a testing ground for what lay ahead. The air was thick with anticipation as they navigated through the initial awkwardness of small talk, both acutely aware of the emotional complexity that existed between them.

Over dinner, the conversation flowed effortlessly, a mix of shared laughter and hesitant glances. Spencer couldn't help but admire Y/n's intelligence and wit, qualities that had drawn him to her in the first place. Yet, the elephant in the room – their unacknowledged feelings – cast a shadow over the evening.

Midway through their meal, Spencer's phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, he sighed. "We have a case," he informed Y/n regretfully.

Y/n nodded, understanding the unpredictable nature of their work. "Let's finish this quickly, and then we can deal with the case... and us."

The urgency of the investigation became a metaphor for the unresolved tension between them. As they delved into the case, the emotions that had been lingering beneath the surface became more apparent, influencing their interactions and shared glances.

Hours later, they cracked the case, the exhilaration of the breakthrough mingling with the unspoken emotions that hung in the air. Spencer and Y/n found themselves standing in the aftermath of shared success, the tension between them no longer ignorable.

Spencer turned to Y/n, vulnerability in his eyes. "We've been dancing around this for too long," he confessed.

Y/n met his gaze, her own walls crumbling. "I know, Spencer. It's time we admit what we feel."

The admission opened the floodgates of their emotions, and in that charged moment, they found solace in each other's arms. The investigation had not only unveiled a criminal but had also unraveled the emotional knots that had kept them apart.

As they left the BAU headquarters hand in hand, the night sky seemed to reflect the newfound clarity in their connection. The investigation had not only brought closure to a case but had also opened the door to a new chapter in their lives – one where they no longer hesitated to admit the depth of their feelings for each other.

Over the subsequent weeks, Spencer and Y/n navigated the uncharted territory of a blossoming relationship within the confines of the BAU. The team, perceptive as ever, quickly caught on to the shift in dynamics, and playful comments from Morgan and Garcia added a touch of humor to their budding romance.

The pair found solace in the quiet moments – stolen glances across the profiling room, shared lunches in the BAU kitchen, and the occasional late-night banter that had been a precursor to their romantic journey. The once-unspoken became a source of strength, anchoring them amidst the chaos of their demanding jobs.

However, as their relationship deepened, so did the challenges. The nature of their work often meant long hours, unpredictable schedules, and the constant specter of danger. Yet, they faced each hurdle as a team, relying on their shared understanding of the complexities of the human mind to navigate the intricacies of their evolving relationship.

Their love story became intertwined with the cases they solved together, the adrenaline-fueled highs and the emotionally taxing lows serving as a backdrop to their personal journey. Each investigation strengthened their bond, reinforcing the idea that they were not only partners in crime-solving but also in the intricate dance of love.

As the weeks turned into months, Spencer and Y/n found a delicate balance between their personal and professional lives. The BAU, once a place of stoic logic, became a witness to the emotional depth that unfolded between them. The unspoken tension that had defined their interactions transformed into a shared understanding, a silent language that transcended words.

One evening, after a particularly challenging case, Spencer and Y/n found themselves on the familiar steps outside the BAU headquarters. The weight of the day's events lingered in the air, and without the need for words, they sought comfort in each other's presence.

"I never thought I'd find this level of connection in a job like ours," Y/n admitted, her eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude.

Spencer nodded, his hand finding hers. "It's rare, but when you find it, it's worth holding onto."

Their journey, marked by unspoken words and shared experiences, had led them to this moment of quiet revelation. The vulnerabilities that had once fueled the tension between them now served as the foundation of a relationship built on trust, understanding, and a shared passion for unraveling the mysteries of the human mind

As they entered the BAU headquarters, hand in hand, the team looked on with knowing smiles. The once-unspoken connection between Spencer and Y/n had blossomed into a love story, a testament to the resilience of the human heart amidst the challenges of their demanding profession.

Their journey continued, both in solving the intricate puzzles presented by their cases and in navigating the complexities of love. The uncharted territory they once feared had become a familiar landscape, shaped by the shared experiences that had brought them together in the first place. In the ever-evolving tapestry of their lives, Spencer and Y/n had found a profound and enduring connection that transcended the boundaries of the BAU and the mysteries they faced together.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader