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[hollymacycomic]

Holly & Macy November 2024 BIG Progress Update!!

Hi, everyone! I've written up a fairly exhaustive progress update about the status of Holly & Macy and Everyone Else. You can read the whole thing (and view the included pictures) on my Patreon. The Patreon post is public, so you do not need to be a member of my Patreon to view it. It should be available for free to everyone. I'll very briefly summarize the main points below. The gist of it is:

Holly & Macy will officially resume weekly updates starting Wednesday January 29th 2025. From then on, the comic will update on Wednesdays at 11am PST. That’s 1pm CST, 2 hours later than the previous update time.

ALSO I am open for commissions right now! I’ve joined an artist collective raising funds to help Shimaa’s family in Gaza. If you donate to Shimaa’s gofundme, you can get some lovely art from me in exchange! More information about how this works, the vetting process, and the participating artists can be found via our carrd. If you have further questions, you can also reach out to my good friend Matty (@maddzroks) who is spearheading this project. At the time of writing, I have 2 slots open for commissions. Let’s do our best to help Shimaa and her family out! 

Thank you all for your support and excitement, and for your incredible patience! Whether you’re a long-time fan or a new casual reader, your presence means very much. I draw comics to share them with people like you. See you again in January!

-Teratoaster <3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: I'll Never Let You Go Again Like I Did

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Little bit sad, DENIAL, Homophobic Comments (Soldier Boy), Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of using drugs, Sexism, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of torture (Soldier Boy's Time in Russia) Loneliness, Longing (I mean… as close as Soldier Boy can get to it), Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.4K

Song Inspiration For This Chapter: Until I Found You (chapter title is lyric from this song) and Coming Back For You

Note: Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

Playlist for Series (Spotify)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Oh my goodness I'm so excited about this series and thank you so much to everyone for all the wonderful love and support so far! It really means the world to me 🥰

One Year Ago: Ben POV

Ben squinted his eyes as he stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of the early morning, shouldering the strap of his worn backpack with a huff. The people on the crowded, gum covered sidewalks shot him odd looks and gave him a wide birth as he made his way down the path, but he didn't care, in fact he didn't notice them. His mind was somewhere else.

He wasn't sure where he was going, just that something in the pit of his stomach was pointing him in this direction. Ben had started walking in what he thought was the way to Legend's apartment, but the streets looked so different than the last time he was in New York and he was a little turned around, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone.

And there was something in the pit of his stomach, some instinct or gut feeling, that was telling him he needed to go this way.

It was an odd feeling that prickled on the back of his neck, as if he'd forgotten something. Ben wondered what exactly it was that he'd forgotten. He hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone other than the scientists who kept him locked in a cage so he didn’t exactly have a social calendar to follow up on.

I've been locked in a lab for forty fucking years, what is there to forget?

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed just out of reach.

Ben raised his eyes from the sidewalk with a sigh to look at the people passing by, taking in their new clothing and different hairstyles to distract himself. He frowned at the bizarre groups of people to him that flit by on their merry way, muttering little things under his breath about how things used to be.

Ben had a feeling that he was going to be doing that a lot.

New York City was different, the same, but different. Even though Ben had been gone for forty years, it still felt like the center of the universe. There were still hot dog vendors on every street corner, still magazine stands with freshly printed newspapers that smelled like ink and were warm to the touch, still coffee shops that lined the streets and caffeinated the masses, and there were still cab drivers who wove through traffic as if they were unstoppable shouting at pedestrians as they went.

The memories he had of old New York City merged together with what he was seeing around him and felt himself slipping into the past only to be jolted back into reality by the strangeness of the future.

He didn't like feeling disoriented, but it was there, brimming just under the surface. His body was tense as he walked prepared for anything, unable to relax as he continued on his way to wherever the hell it was he was going.

The morning sunlight reflected off the glass windows of the skyscrapers that worshiped the rising sun and the sounds of the city vibrated against the brick and mortar. There was a buzz of electricity in the air, the low hum of power that Ben could always hear beneath it all. Cars honked sharply, people shouted in colorful language to one another, and the wind rustled through the long strands of Ben's hair crinkling against his ears and scratching against his neck.

He hadn't had time to cut it or his beard and it didn't seem to be as important as finding Legend and getting his affairs in order.

The smell of hotdogs, earth, cologne, and heavy perfume wafted up with the breeze that tugged and pulled at his sweatsuit. The same stained sweatsuit he had found in a rust covered locker before hiding in the cargo hold of a plane headed back to the U.S that was probably almost as old as him. The plane ride had been long, but when he'd been in a lab for the past forty years it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He spent the whole time stewing in his thoughts. He'd slept enough and like hell he was going to drift off and let those Russian fucks take him again.

Ben sighed when he felt his memories begin to unravel on the edge of his mind, unfurling and asking to be relived. It wasn't unusual or unwelcome. Ben was using those memories to justify what he was going to do to his old team. As long as the rage continued to burn against his skin, Ben would have no problem breaking each of them down piece by piece.

Ben didn't understand how his team could have done that to him or why they'd done it to him. He thought that he'd been a good leader, a good American, a good soldier, a good hero, and yet they'd all stabbed him in the back. Sure, maybe he'd been a little rough on them, but Ben saw it as the only way to toughen them up. They needed thicker skin if they were going to survive in a world like this.

All I've done is give my fucking life to this country and what did they do? They gave me to the fucking reds.

His hand tightens on the strap of his backpack as he weaves through the crowds, trying his best to keep to himself when all he can feel is his anger and frustration building and burning hot under his rib cage. His new power stirred beneath the surface, energy beginning to travel through his body, tracing his veins and pulsing in the center of his chest.

I should have seen it coming. I should have killed that entire fucking bunch of pussies the second I had the chance. Especially that bitch.

His frowned at the thought of Countess.

Truthfully, when the two of them started messing around it was only because Countess's soulmate had died a few years before and Ben knew he wasn't going to meet his soon if anytime. He'd messed around with plenty of other women for the same reason and well…

Ben's frown deepened as he stepped around a couple that was walking arm and arm, the dates on their wrists flashing gold in the sunlight. He ignores the feeling that comes when he sees them, pushes it down into the deep recesses of his mind as he has done his whole life.

Since he was a kid, Ben wasn't sure that he believed the "soulmate thing." Sure he'd seen hundreds of other people around him find "the one," but Ben wasn't sure that he was made to be a soulmate. Especially not with a birthdate on his wrist so far in the future. He assumed that it meant he wasn't going to get a soulmate and he'd spent the better part of his life pretending that he didn't care about that. He was a man after all, and Ben didn't want to need anyone. At least, that was what he told himself.

Ben had lived long enough to see other soulmates find one another, witnessed the goofy looks on their faces when they locked eyes for the first time, and had the super hearing to listen to what came next.

But instead of focusing on the impossibility to meeting his own, Ben focused on the lie he told himself, that it seemed ridiculous to be intertwined with someone as soon as he was born. Not to mention that Ben wasn't sure that he wanted to be with someone, not when he didn't age and not when he'd have to watch whoever it was, if anyone turn to dust.

Yes, he could see himself settling down with someone, having a few kids, but Ben wasn't sure that whoever was supposed to be his other half was within reach anyway so why care? Ben knew that he didn't age, but he didn't actually think he'd ever get to meet you or that you would actually ever exist. Not when you were born so far away from him and not when he'd been trapped in that lab.

But that didn't stop a part of him from thinking about the possibility of meeting you. When things were quiet in the lab and he was left alone for a few precious moments, he felt his mind begin to slip into the question of what if?

What if you existed and what if you came for him?

He knew that it was a long shot. The only people that knew he was there were the people who stabbed him in the back. And Ben didn't want to cling to some fantasy, it felt feminine to fanaticize about the person who was supposedly meant for him breaking down the thick metal door and pulling him from the lab.

Again, Ben was trying not to believe in the "soulmate bullshit."

Countess had been a way of passing the time as had the numerous other women, but with them were moments when he'd feel something odd settle in his chest, something that he never could put a name to. In those moments he would raise his right arm and look at the birthdate printed on his wrist, the same one that Ben had kept hidden for most of his life, the one that when he was a boy people mocked him for, and the one his father chastised him for having as if it was Ben's fault that some celestial body had decided to single him out.

All of his childhood friends had found their soulmates and Ben had spent the better part of his life covering it up to avoid the conversation that always happened when someone saw the date. No ones soulmate was born so far in the future and Ben’s father had spent a lot of money making sure that word didn’t get out his son was a freak.

His father already made Ben feel like a disappointment and a fuck-up, but Ben was already thinking it himself every time he looked at the date printed on his wrist that seemed impossible. When his mother was alive she would try her best to make Ben feel better telling him that it wasn't impossible, that one day it would all make sense, but after her death Ben stopped feeling comfort, joy, and anything warm. All he felt was the cold shoulder from his father and the words that Ben pretended didn't hurt when his father was halfway through his second bottle of scotch with a third prepped and waiting on the kitchen table.

It made Ben feel like a pussy every time he looked at the mark and thought about his future soulmate, but he did it in private, usually after he'd had a few glasses of something and a few puffs or snuffs of something else to numb his mind. And he'd allow himself a single moment to think of you, wonder if he'd ever meet you, and wondered if you'd ever actually exist. In those few fleeting moments he believed in soulmates, but then he'd snap out of it and wake up the woman in bed next to him to distract him for another hour or so.

Ben's eyes flick to his right wrist covered by the gray and maroon tracksuit, his brow furrowing together. He was trying not to think about you or rather the possibility of you today. He didn't have time for that, not when all he wanted was to make his old team pay for everything they did to him.

But there was a little whisper of something in his ear, a small wisp of hope that he had finally made it to you, the one thing he didn’t think would ever happen, that he lived long enough to be alive the same year you were, and that you were out there somewhere waiting for him.

No. Ben tenses. I'm not going to think about her, not when those butt fucks need to be dealt with. I'm going to go to Legend's and then I'm going to-

He didn't see you in front of him until it was too late to move out of the way. Your body hits his full on in the chest, sending the bagel between your lips tumbling into the street, but Ben barely feels the hit, what he does feel is the dam he built forever ago burst open and warmth soaks into his body. Electricity skitters along his skin, crackling in the air as his eyes lock with yours only for a second. He feels like he's caught fire, as if the pieces of himself deep down inside are overheating and vibrating until there's nothing left, but you and him.

Any thoughts he had of his team and revenge are lost in the flood of emotions that fill the hole inside he tried so hard to ignore with the lie he continued to tell himself: “I don't believe in soulmates.”

And yet, there you were.

He can hear his heart and yours beating together as one, his own pounding so hard under his ribcage as if it wishes to break free and cross the space between your bodies. Seeing you for the first time feels like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp jolt backwards when it lands and the pinch of flesh against Kevlar. It was worth the bruise if looking at you was the same way each time.

Ben can feel the world slipping away, going silent, and in that silence Ben is lost in you.

Holy Fuck.

You were the perfect amalgamation of every single beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen and fantasized about in his entire life. And yet you weren't what he was expecting. Over the years Ben had bedded many women, the ones who captured his attention for a night, but none of them were anything like you.

In all the ways those women were bold and dramatic you were confident, but not boisterous, beautiful but not haughty, respectful but not prude, and there was a kindness reflected in the warmth of your eyes that Ben had never seen before, but there it was staring back at him unblinkingly.

You reminded him of the women that came arm in arm with men to his parents lavish parties when he was a boy, the ones who were classically beautiful and reserved with the golden dates on their wrists catching in the light. The exact kind of woman he hadn’t seen for the better part of eighty years and the opposite of the women who had thrown themselves at his feet forty years ago.

Your hair falls forward into your face from the force of your body hitting his and Ben itches to push it back, to touch you, to feel his skin against yours to quench the burning that he can feel in his soul.

All of his instincts are telling him to pull you against him, that you're too far away even though you're standing only inches apart.  That he needs to breathe the same air and feel the warmth of your skin against his rough fingertips.

The birthmark on his right wrist sears his skin and he knows what it means, that you're the woman he's been looking for his whole life, the woman that always seemed just out of his grasp, the woman that was made just for him, and the woman he thought would never exist.

He watches your eyes widen with the same realization about him behind your round glasses, eyes that are the perfect color and eyes that Ben can imagine staring in to every day for the rest of his life. He'd never wanted to spend more than one night with a woman, never wanted more, but all of that fades into you.

The idea of a soulmate no longer seems ridiculous, no longer seems like something he’d never have, not when he’s looking into your eyes and nothing else seems to matter.

Not when looking at you is like seeing the sun sink into the earth at the end of the day and feeling the hope that it'll rise the next morning.

The lie he told himself for so long is slipping away the longer he stares at you, because although he never wanted to want anyone he knows that he needs you. It's an odd feeling for him. He's never once cared about anyone, told himself that it was weak to, that having a soulmate was a stupid idea and not for him, but all of the things he ever thought about soulmates is evaporating in the heat that is consuming his body by being in your presence.

Why now?

The thought makes the world come back into sharper focus.

I've lived decades without her and now the moment I come back to the U.S I just run into her?

It was laughable .

The moment of clarity allows the fantasies of his revenge to come creeping in and Ben feels the anger and rage ebbing on the edge of the wonderful feeling building in his chest when he looks at you.

You weren't a supe. Ben could tell that just by looking at you. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so soft and yet someone that he wanted to possess so badly that it almost hurt to stand inches away from you.

I don't want her to be apart of this.

The thought is immediate, stirring some primal urge within to protect what's his. Because you were his. You were the missing piece that he pretended not to need and the woman who always seemed to slip into his mind when he was alone and all was quiet,.

The thoughts of what he's about to do to his teammates come surging up and he didn't want you involved in any of that. Not when he knew that he needed to protect you, that he'd drag you along, and you'd see all the ugly parts of him and see the horror of what he was about to do.

He didn't want that for you, he didn’t want the first time that he met you to be like this, him looking like he'd crawled out from under a rock and full of so much anger, rage, and frustration it felt like he was going to explode, him having a new uncontrollable power that meant he might hurt you, and him being unable to give you his full attention when all he could think about was the team that stabbed him in the back.

What he was, was selfish, he knew that about himself.

But I won't be this selfish.

Ben had made many mistakes his life, he knew that, had done some things that he wasn't proud of, but you wouldn’t be one of them. He didn't want to put you in danger and realized that there was only one way to protect you, because after all, he was the only one who knew that you existed.

His eyes trace your face one more time, memorizing it before he does what he thinks is right. Ben turns away from you and forces himself to keep walking. Each cell in his body is screaming at him to turn around, to run back to you, but he can't. He doesn't want it to be like this and he knows that you deserve better.

I won't do this to her.

“Wait-“ He hears you shout over the sounds of the street.

The sound of your voice is a soothing melody, a warm soak in a hot bath, a steady hand against his back, and a salve over the gaping hole where a piece of him was missing for so long, the hole that he tried to ignore  his whole life. He grits his teeth and continues to walk away from you, each step feeling like he's walking through tar the further he gets.

And deep down Ben is hoping that he did the right thing and makes a promise that he'll come back for you.

Present Day Ben POV

Why the fuck am I coming to this thing again?

Ben thought to himself standing outside the closed apartment door holding an expensive bottle of scotch. The same bottle of scotch that he was going to break open as soon as he crossed the threshold to get through this. He didn’t think that Hughie would appreciate it the way he would anyway.

Probably drinks those fucking fruity drinks with the umbrellas.

Ben didn’t understand why Hughie had invited him to this party or why Annie would let him invite Ben to it. Ben knew how much she hated him and the feeling was mutual.

Ben sighs as he stares at the door thinking about walking back to the elevator. 

Invited was a strong word. Ben had overheard Hughie talking about it in the break room with MM and when Ben walked in, Hughie felt the need to fill the awkward silence by inviting Ben to the housewarming party. 

Ben didn't know why anyone needed a housewarming party, but he chocked it up to another thing about the 21st century that he didn't quite understand.

He thought about all the people inside that he saw at work everyday, the ones that he tried to avoid all shoved in the apartment in front of him and groaned to himself.

Fuck, I should just go home.

Ben frowned at the thought of going back to his extravagant penthouse apartment downtown. The one that was two stories with a private balcony, six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, a media room, an exercise room, and overlooked Central Park with a view that would make anyone else salivate. His real estate agent had been surprised when Ben hadn't batted an eye at the price, but Ben didn't think about money the same way everyone else did.

He didn't have to, not with the money he'd earned over the years and not with the money his father, grandfather, and great grandfather in his accounts.

When he'd first bought the apartment he had been happy to get out from under Butcher's eye, who had a tendency to watch Ben like a hawk whenever he thought that Ben wasn't paying attention. But the apartment was large and cold, furnished with furniture that Ben had hired some twenty year old interior designer to buy, who charged him an outrageous amount of money to do absolutely nothing. She'd called it "minimalism," Ben called it "a fucking rip off."

Not one piece of furniture was comfortable to him and being there never felt like home. Then again, Ben didn't have a "home" to compare it to. His family mansion back in Philadelphia after his mother died had been cold and most of the rooms were closed off and the apartment he had in New York before he went to Russia was almost as big as his new one, but it never seemed like home. It always seemed like a way station, a place for Ben to entertain women for a short while before he went to a commercial shoot, a party, or on location for a film.

Even his cleaning lady and housekeeper would comment on the little things about his apartment that Ben tried to ignore. Honestly, Ben thought that she was fucking nosy, but she did her job well so he kept her on.

That and because he couldn't seem to remember her name no matter how many checks he wrote.

Ben didn’t like being in his apartment at all, but he knew that it wouldn't change if he moved. It wasn't where he lived that was the problem, it was that you weren't there with him.

It had been an entire year since he'd seen you and every day Ben walked the same path he had the day he met you for the first time hoping to run in to you. He didn’t have your name or your address or anything that he could have someone at work plug into a computer to find you. He'd tried to "google" you, but there was only so much he could do with the little information he had and he didn't understand how to find you other than the old fashioned way.

So he was back to sitting home alone every night trying his best not to notice how empty the apartment was, the one he bought that was more than big enough for two people. Sometimes he tried to stay out as long as he could to avoid going back to it, but each time he went through the front door it only emphasized how empty it was.

Ben's life was empty. He hadn't realized that before, but nowadays he was hyperaware of it. In the past he would have filled his life with women eager to warm his bed, but ever since he saw you Ben hadn't been able to think about anyone else.

Ben couldn't remember the last time he felt this frustrated and it only made everything harder for him. And as much as he tried to relieve the tension it never seemed like it was enough. He needed you.

And after he spent twelve months trying his best and he was tired of feeling restless he tried to pick up a woman in a bar.

Every cell in his body screamed wrong at the top of its lungs when he spoke to her, using lines that he'd perfected since he was a teenager. Ben knew he was good at that, but he fumbled the ball each time he opened his mouth. He tried to shake off the ghost of you, but when he spoke to the woman leaning against the aged wooden bar with a martini in her hand and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination, he got a flash in the corner of his eye of someone coming in through the door and he'd thought it was you.

He hadn't been expected to feel so ashamed, guilty, and embarrassed at the thought of you catching him with someone else. He'd been sleeping with women longer than you'd been alive and he'd never felt that way, but now that he knew you existed and knew there was a possibility of you running in to him, it was all different.

Ben's outlook on soulmates being "ridiculous" had evaporated on the spot the moment he locked eyes with you. He couldn't pretend that he didn't care anymore and couldn't pretend that you didn't exist.

How could he when you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen? How could he when a piece of him was with you? How could he when you were always on his mind?

He'd never had a woman have a hold on him so completely in his entire life, but you did.

She fucking does and I only saw her once.

It only made him feel worse. He wondered if he'd made the right decision when he turned his back on you.

Sometimes he liked to think back to the moment of when he first saw you when everything was quiet and he was sitting up in his bed staring down at the mark on his wrist that shone a brilliant gold. His mind would slip into those few moments of bliss and he would wonder what would have happened f he just said "fuck it" and didn't go after Payback, if he'd stopped and asked for your name, and allowed you to let him forget everything that happened in the past forty years so he could start his life with you.

Unfortunately, those moments were usually followed by the same self-deprecating thoughts that Ben had, the chauvinistic ones that he'd carried with him over the years, and the ones that his father had impressed on him from the moment he could walk and Ben couldn't seem to shake.

He'd berate himself about how it was stupid and pussy-like to pine over a woman.

Because that's what he was doing, he was pining over you and he didn't like it.

He didn't want to think of you as much as he did, but he couldn't help it. Now that Ben knew you existed he didn't want to miss out on another moment of your life.

Of course, he couldn't find you and that was the problem. Sometimes he wondered if you were looking for him as hard as he was looking for you, if you walked the same way each hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The dreams didn't make it any better. He'd never heard of someone living the memories of their soulmate when they slept, but every night he was subjected to watching your life and it only made him want to find you more.

He'd never knew that someone could feel so lonely surrounded by people, never knew that someone could feel so out of place, and never knew that someone could be as sad as you were, but each time he relieved a memory of yours at night Ben could feel his heart twinge.

Ben watched the lonely birthdays you spent with a cupcake and a beer for him, saw the jeers of the people in your hometown and the pitying looks from your parents, felt your shoulders shake when you cried alone in your room and stared at the birthdate on your wrist, and he felt you losing hope as each year passed.

Ben didn't usually allow himself to feel emotion like that, but watching you go through it all hurt him more than anything those Russian fucks did to him. He wasn't used to that and he wasn't used to thinking about other people as much as he thought about you.

But something about him felt different after meeting you.

Ben had asked Legend about soulmates, specifically the dreams, but Legend had muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took another snort of cocaine from the mirror on the coffee table instead of answering. Their relationship had been a little awkward after Ben slept with Legend's soulmate forty years ago, but Legend didn’t seem to be too upset about it… anymore. Mostly because Legend's soulmate tried to pull a Lorena Bobbitt one night and Legend caught her before any permanent damage was done.

She was in prison, and Ben didn't understand why Legend still went to see her for conjugal visits, but he figured that she was as much of a freak as his old handler.

Just rip the bandaid off you fucking pussy.

Ben thought staring at the clean white door in front of him.

Truthfully, Ben was tired. He'd been running himself harder for the last month, throwing himself into his work because he was starting to believe that he was never going to meet you again, and it seemed like work was the only thing that could distract him long enough. But he couldn't escape sleep.

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had avoided sleeping the best way he could and he got through a few days before he collapsed. The first dream he'd had of you had come on suddenly, but clear as day.

You reading on your bed in your apartment smiling down at the pages as if it the book was telling you a secret.

Ben wasn't a reader, didn't see any merit in it if it wasn't a western or a war book. The most he could tolerate was Ernest Hemingway, but he could have sat there and watched you read forever. You looked so peaceful, content, and happy that Ben was afraid to interrupt you even though it was just a dream.

But whenever he thought about you dreaming his memories, something dark settled in the back of his mind, because what were you seeing? He'd done a few things he wasn't proud of and Ben didn't want you to think that he wasn't a hero or that he was a bad guy.

Ben sighs and raises his hand to knock hard against the door with his free hand, trying not to open the bottle preemptively before entering the apartment.

"Ben?" Hughie says it like a question when he opens the door, eyes wide with the same stupid look on his face that always grates on Ben.

Ben forces his signature tight lipped smile that he flashes around the office. "Hey there sport."

"Hey. Wow, you're here." Hughie clears his throat and looks over his shoulder as if he's nervous about something.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I was invited."

"Well yes but-"

"But?"

"Um-"

"Spit it out dipstick."

Hughie clears his throat. "I didn't think you would come."

Fuck I should have stayed home. He doesn't want me here, neither does his fucking beard.

Ben frowns listening to where Annie groans under her breath further inside the apartment and talks low under her breath to someone that Ben can't see.

"Well surprise and congratulations or whatever." Ben rolls his eyes holding out the bottle of scotch. He was hesitant to lose sight of it, not when talking to Hughie for less than five minutes made him want to down the whole bottle.

"Oh wow this is really," Hughie's eyes widen as he takes in the label and realize how much money Ben spent on the bottle. "Expensive stuff, thanks Ben."

"It'll put some hair on your chest." Ben claps Hughie hard on the shoulder as he pushes past him into the foyer of the apartment.

The entire apartment could have fit in Ben's living room and kitchen. It was made in a similar fashion to his, sleek white walls, sterling silver appliances, large glass windows that let in the light-

Ben stops so suddenly inside the area that leads into the kitchen that Hughie plows into his back, but Ben doesn't feel it.

He can't move, can't breathe, because he's noticed the person talking to Annie is you. This was the last place that he'd expected you to be, but he doesn't care, because you're here and you're more beautiful than he remembers.

You're standing there pouring ice from a large bag into a pink acrylic bucket with an adorable amount of concentration for such a simple task wearing the same sweater you were the day he first saw you. You're also wearing a little more makeup and your hair is longer, and not pulled back into the messy bun as it was that day, but you’re still you and you’re here.

His fingers twitch with the urge to run his hands through the tangled tresses, to feel if they're as soft as he imagined for so long.

Ben's body swells with emotion, goosebumps flicker over his skin, and all other sounds in the room vanish, because seeing you was like watching the sun rise and feeling the world hold it's breath as it basks in the early morning rays.

And Ben wanted to bask in everything you were, every day for the rest of his life. Now that he found you again he wasn't going to let you out of his sight.

Your soul sings to him as he nears you, the cells in his body vibrating so fast that he can feel every single one begging him to touch you.

You turn into him by accident, sending the bag of ice tumbling to the floor, but feeling your body against his sends him into overdrive and he can't hold back anymore. He reaches out to grab your shoulder as gently as he can without hurting you.

Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. And because you weren’t a supe he knew how fragile you were.

You gasp under your breath at the contact from his hand, but to Ben it sounds thunderous in his ears. Ben trails his hand across your shoulder, up your neck, to cup your chin and raise your face to look at him. He feels like his whole body is igniting as he makes contact with your skin.

He can feel an odd vibration in his chest as he does so, energy crackling and pulsing around the two of you, but the rest of the room falls silent. He can’t look away from you, not when seeing you again is like staring too long at the sun and he's left with the imprint of your light and beauty on the inside of his eyelids.

Ben can't focus on anything else, doesn’t hear the awkward chatter, doesn't feel the discomfort he had upon his arrival, doesn't notice the way everyone has turned to stare at the two of you, and doesn't feel the air conditioning turn on and blow cool air against his warm freckled skin.

All he knows is you.

Your eyes are wide and he suspects his are as well, pupils blown but still beautiful and hypnotic as they were one year ago. Ben feels a smile pulling at his lips and he lets it go, because standing in front of you, feeling like this, it’s impossible to do much else.

Your skin is warm to the touch beneath the roughness of his fingertips and he touches you with a reverence that he has never graced anyone else with, because you were his. Every part of you was made for him just as every part of him was made for you.

The your soul was calling out to him, weaving a golden cord of energy in his mind that snagged in the center of his chest and made him feel whole for the first time in life.

You reach out to touch him, the soft palm of your hand falling just over his heart and it makes something inside him break open to flood the space between the two of you.

Hope stirs in his chest with your gentle touch and your unblinking gaze, warmth trailing from where your hand lays against his shirt. His eyes drop to the wrist to see his birthdate, a glowing ember against your skin where the sleeve of your sweater has fallen down an inch.

Your eyes lock with his once more, full lips slightly parted, and breathless.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." Ben murmurs, trailing his thumb across your cheek with a gentleness that he's never possessed.

Ben was not a gentle man, but for you he would try. He would be anything you wished him to be, for as long as he lived, because now that he found you, he was never going to let you go.

And he welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to stand in his way.

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always welcome and appreciated! I really love hearing what y'all think. ❤️ If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@reidtomewinchester @livya99 @pascal-rascal424 @xaviersgifted @zepskies

@bagpussjocken @bitchykittenconnoisseur @kamisobsessed @goldenmaknaes @ophennie

@infinityonhighhhhh @modiddys-blog @globetrotter28 @roseblue373 @tulipsvanilla

@annoyingrebelsoul @soldiergrimes @megara0224 @zpandaqueen @ladykitana90

@corruptedcruiser @podiumackles @criminalyetminimal

@deangirl96 @kr804573 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn

@52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

@bookchik26 @anna6307

[la2yn0va]

Streamer Male Reader x Self-Aware HSR part 3(?)

Finally remembered about this series that pretty much blasted me off, so here’s a part 3 to it, where reader is ISEKAI’D into the game.

Warnings: idk, Take your pick

——

Getting insekai’d into a gacha games was NOT on your 2024 bingo card. But then again, nothing that happened this year was on anyone’s bingo card.

But, it was definitely the most exciting part of this year.. yet terrifying. Finding out that everyone KNEW they were in the game and how they worshipped you as the ‘Omni-Aeon’ had scary possibilities.

But to your… extremely limited knowledge, it wasn’t all that crazy of a worship (stay ignorant, trust me)

Being coddled and wanted by everyone and thing was definitely a new experience for you. From wanting you for academic wants, desires to be saved, or for… romantic/sexual wants, EVERYONE wanted a piece of you.

And, seeing how everyone wanted you and your apparent powers were weak due to being away for GOD knows how long… or I guess, YOU knows how long (get it?)

So, to satisfy everyone’s needs, you use your streaming experience, to stream your exploits in learning the HSR universe.

Going planet to planet, learning cultures and history along with factions and philosophy’s, how to fight, playing games tasting foods, and getting protection from certain characters.

But only characters who traverse the universe such as Argenti, Acheron, Boothill, Sparkle. Never taking those who’re bound by responsibilities such as the generals or people in the genius society.

And luckily for you, money rolls in like Typhlosions seeing a minor (I am NOT sorry)

An average billion viewership would do that for you (if you think in this universe you wouldn’t get a billion viewership, your wrong)

Of course, your bodyguard for the day is considered the guest star along with you, inflicting a level of jealousy on the universe never seen before.

M/n: Hey genti, can you get that for me.

Argenti: Without hesitation, my eternal grace~

Viewers begin spamming hate towards Argenti, making M/n sigh, unfortunately used to this negativity. The beautiful knight comes back, getting on his knees and presenting the item his grace had commanded him to bring him.

Argenti: As you requested, my grace.

He carefully brought it up to you, with a gentleness never seen before in history. This item mustn’t be desecrated in any way by his mortal hands.

M/n: Thanks genti. Your always a massive help

He takes the item and pats Argenti, presenting it to the stream and fawning over it and what he learned about it, not noticing the now red skinned Argenti and the seething rage of jealousy from the viewers.

…

M/n: Acheron, can you—

Acheron: Here you are. As you requested.

Acheron already had the spoon in her hand, bringing it and its contents to m/n’s face, preparing to feed him. A blank expression yet having the smallest of smiles on her face.

M/n: Uh… n-no I was gonna ask—

Acheron slowly put the spoon in his mouth, much to his surprise, but she was careful enough to not make him choke.

Acheron: Chew slowly my grace.

She advised, ignoring the messages on your little device. She knew this was what you needed, of course it was. Ignore these… distractions and listen to her.

M/n sighed through his mouth and swallowed the food

M/n: Thanks acheron. Don’t do that again please.

Acheron: Oh… I apologize for my ignorance. I will accept any punishment.

M/n: W-wait I didn’t—

Acheron: Do you wish for my head?

She takes her sword out and you quickly stop her

M/n: NO STOP!! L-LISTEN TO ME ACHERON!!

…

Boothill: What’d you say muddle-fudger!!?

Boothill points his trusty pistol to the head of a vender, who had accidentally mistaken his grace for an impostor. The vender shook uncontrollably fearfully as m/n placed the camera down, coincidentally, aiming it at them, allowing the viewers to see what blasphemy had occurred.

Vender: PLEASE!! I-IM SORRY! TRULY!!

Boothill: Shut your blasphemy spewing fudging mouth—!!

M/n: Boothill stop! It’s fine, really!!

Boothill pauses, looking at m/n for a nice long 3 seconds before reluctantly putting away his gun, and the vender dropped to his knees, forehead buried into the dirty, filthy ground.

Vender: THANK YOU, YOUR GRACE!! THANK YOU FOR BLESSING ME WITH UNDESERVED MERCY!!!

He cried out as m/n awkwardly stated down, not used to this ‘god privilege’

M/n: I-It’s fine… I-I’m gonna go grab my camera

M/n walks off, leaving Boothill and the vender, who fearfully looked up to be met with a disgusted glare from the space cowboy

Boothill: Be grateful MY grace, spared your sub-human forking life!

Vender: I AM!! I AAAMMMM!!

….

Sparkle: Ehe~ you look so much more beautiful with this one my grace~!

Sparkle hands m/n a kitsune mask, softly putting it on the side of his head and showing him off to the stream, who yelled at sparkle to be more careful with the graces divine body, or yelled warning at m/n for handing out with sparkle/a masked fool.

M/n: I’m really digging it! Nice color mixing and it feels nice

Sparkle: Of course! Only the best for you~! Now come! I have a ‘special’ outfit for you to try~

M/n: But the camera’s right—

Sparkle takes his hand and yanks him off screen, much to the horror of the viewers

GamerW01F: GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!!

Sampo: STOP HERE MADNESS!!

Aventurine: How much money for @SilverGunman to kill that masked fool?

SilverGunMan: Zero. Forking. Money!

Ninja-Rappa: I’m comin to!

Dr. Ratio: Did you just… censor your own text?

SilverGunMan: Force of habit. Let me do that again.. ZERO FUCKING DOLLARS!!

Caelus/Stelle: 20 POINTS!!

Dr. Ratio: Die.

Meanwhile with sparkle and m/n, the god in mortal shell stares at the three mannequins infront of him. One had a shirt on, another had pants on, and the last one had nothing on.

M/n: Uh… I-I don’t get it—

Sparkle: Let me help you!

She shoved the naked mannequin to m/n, much to his confusion.

M/n: Whaaat am I supposed to—

Sparkle: TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!! PLEASE~!!!

-The End-

Chat did I cook?

[mrshowlettsgarden]

hii!!

i just read your prompt list and was wondering if i could request prompt 8

thank you smm!!

─➭ Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy! - Kaya <3 (prompt list)

Tell Me Who Did It - Logan Howlett: the one where you got hurt by accident

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x wife!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: prompt #8, wife!reader, fluff, protective!logan, bruises(?)

─➭ take a walk in the greenhouse (master list)

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You were setting up the Christmas decorations around the mansion to get ready for the festivities coming up. Due to the high walls and ceilings, decorating the house was a chore and needed a freakishly tall ladder to put them in place. Unfortunately for you, Logan wasn’t here to help since he was out with Charles for a mission, and he won’t be back till tomorrow, so you had Scott help you out since everyone else had classes to teach. 

The both of you found the garlands to put up around the house and well that’s when things took a turn…

While you were trying place the garlands around the staircase, Scott was holding the ladder down for you to keep it steady but the one thing you both didn’t take account of was teenagers fucking horse playing inside. 

Billy and the other boys decided it was a perfect time to play football indoors then long story short Billy threw one of the boys with an unnecessary amount of force launching him into the ladder knocking you and Scott down hard.

Not to be dramatic but it’s like your life flashed before your eyes when you realized that you were falling and that’s all you remember after that.

You woke up less than an hour later with a small concussion but a huge bruise from your forehead and around your eyebrow. Now, that was a tender spot to not touch for the next couple of weeks. 

Billy and the boys were reprimanded for their behavior and accident by Scott - whose ribs are bruised from the ladder falling on him - and Jean but there was one person who they forgot about. 

No, no. Not Charles. 

Logan.

Logan and Charles came back the next day and you swear you didn’t think it was that big of a deal till Logan laid his eyes on your face when you were walking to greet him at the front door with everyone else. 

Yes, you did forget about the bruising. Your husband was home? That’s all that’s on your mind. 

You weren’t even down the stairs yet and Logan was on you in milliseconds. 

“Sweets,” his gaze zeroed in on your bruise as he gently cupped your cheeks to move your face to the side so he could get a better look at it. Once he fully saw the severity of your purple bruise it was obvious that it wasn’t a simple bump that happened. 

You’re hurt. And he wasn’t here to prevent that. 

Were you on a mission too? No, no, that can’t be because he doesn’t see anymore bruises on the rest of your body. He also doesn’t smell any blood on you so nothing he can go from there. 

As he was looking for what you assume is further injuries his eyes split into an angry look as you felt his body and hands tighten under your touch. “I’m going to ask you one and one time, baby,” his voice deepened as a scowl formed on his face, “Tell me who did this to you. Now.”

It wasn’t a question more of a demand but that’s not up for debate right now. 

You forgot there was an audience around you so you nervously laugh at the realization and try to calm him down. Him pissed off after any mission is asking for destruction.

 “I’m okay, my love,” you kiss his cheek, “Welcome ho-“

“Sweetheart,” he cut you off as he moved his hands from your jaw down to your hips to slightly move you away from him, “who the fuck did it?”

“Billy did,” Rogue said nonchalantly as she pointed at him, “He knocked her off a ladder when she was putting up the decorations.”

Your eyes grew wider as your head snapped at Rogue and told her to shush. Before you could call her out for calling Billy out, Logan’s warm hands left your body and was stomping his way towards Billy who was already on his way to run for his life. 

You cried out a laugh as you chased Logan down to stop him from possibly killing Billy. “Logan!! Stop! Stop! I’m okay! It’s okay, it was an accident,” you cry out as you try pulling Logan’s arm back. 

“Bullshit!” he snaps as he practically drags you with him on his chase, “Nothin’s an accident with that shitass kid!” 

“Rogue! Storm!! Help me!!” you give a panicky look at Rogue and Storm who were just watching and laughing in entertainment. Then they ran over to help you pull your husband back but that wasn’t enough close to helping. 

Logan followed Billy out to the driveway of the mansion with pure rage and determination. If you weren't trying to save a child's life right now, you'd be way more turned on than you are at the moment.

It took a lot of laughable begging from you and Billy - who was being held up in the air by the collar of his shirt - to get Logan to relax and listen to the story but it went in one ear and out the other. Plus, it didn’t help that Rogue kept adding fuel to the fire just because she felt like stirring the pot more. 

Storm ended up just walking Billy back to Charles’ office to not only get reprimanded more but for protection away from Logan. You looked back at Logan to see his back to you and as well as him panting with pent up aggression. 

“Honey,” you say smoothly as you move yourself in front of him, “I’m good okay? You know I’ve been through worse.”

“That doesn’t help, darlin’”

“I know, I know but still,” you smile as you pull him into your embrace, and he immediately melts into your arms. He buried his face into the crook of you neck and took one deep breath then finally relaxed. "Just relax for a minute, Lo," you say in a comforting tone.

“I’m away for one day and you get hurt,” he scoffs playfully, “Did you even have anyone hold that dingy ladder down for you?”

You were mindlessly scratching the back of Logan’s hair on his neck when you hummed out, “Yeah, Scott was holding it.” And with that Logan tenses again under your hold. 

Shit…

He pulls away with the same determination to break someone in half and the next victim was poor, poor Scott. 

“Summers?” he growls and you nervously laugh again, “Couldn’t even hold a god damn ladder.” 

The next thing you knew he was back inside the mansion yelling out Scott’s full government name with a venomous tone. 

Oh no… Not again…

“Scott! Run!” you laugh as you run for Logan again. 

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[endearng]

Special guest

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: Olivia's birthday is coming up. She has a special guest in mind. WC: 1.7k Warnings: mentions of absent fathers (sorry); reader is borderline paranoid about letting her kid down; they are pining hard - Spencer looks at reader not so respectfully. Please, let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I try my best to not describe the reader so that everyone feels included, but I feel like I should work better on that. If you have any advice on it, I'd be very thankful to hear it! Second fic in less than 24h, ohmy. This is a second part to 'Stranger danger' Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist

A few weeks had passed after the incident with the power in your building. Since then, you saw Spencer sometimes and he always greeted you politely. Olivia once told you that she liked him so much because he was a nice ghost — he told her stories about the books he read and she absolutely loved them, going to the point of asking if she could borrow them once he had finished reading.

Little did she know, she would never have to wait long.

Their interactions always made you speechless. How was your 5-year-old daughter better than you at starting conversations? You could barely look him in the eye, despite the fact that he always made sure to flash you the brightest smiles. You reciprocated, but then Olivia always had something to say: about his funny clothes, about the book she was reading for school, about your moments together — you had a scheduled commitment every Friday, to take Olivia to wherever she wanted to go. She was very observant, and, just like you, had the habit of taking mental notes of the beautiful places you saw during your walks. That's how she knew where the public library was and knew the best coffee in town — she demanded having the same beverage as you, but you told the barista secretly to make it decaf.

As you both put on your shoes in the morning to leave the apartment, you said, "Oli, your birthday is coming up. Do you want to do anything with mommy?"

"I want a birthday party."

That made you freeze in your tracks for a moment. You've been avoiding throwing birthday parties for two years now, because Olivia's day always ended with a tinge of heartbreak by the absence of her father, who had decided to leave the both of you and move overseas to, maybe, start over. It hurt you to try to comfort her with something you didn't have control of, but you did it anyway because you'd rather hurt yourself than let your baby go through that kind of disappointment alone. You didn't really know what he was up to, and honestly, you didn't want to, either. You were doing just fine without him, but she was his daughter and still a child, so you knew she still missed him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you tied her shoelaces. "Bunny ears, remember?" You asked softly, showing her how to do it: you always did it in the mornings, but you made sure to teach her in case they undid during her day at school. She nodded at you, flashing a little toothless smile. "Okay, baby, we'll do that," you smiled, trying to ease off the tension.

"I want invitation cards. Like the ones you had!" She said, excitedly. You huffed out a laugh, endeared by the fact that she remembered all the papers you showed her with photos and other memories of your childhood.

"No problem, baby," you said, getting up, smoothing your pencil skirt and opening the door. She went to the hall to press the elevator button, "we can do it." You said, more to yourself than to her.

Two weeks passed and you had everything ready for Olivia's birthday with the help of your closests friends, Victoria and Jude. You were planning on throwing her party at your parents' house, which had a big, beautiful yard with space enough for the kids to play all they wanted. You had ordered Olivia's favorite cake, red velvet, and a lot of other treats that you knew she loved.

"You know she'll be drunk on sugar, right?" Victoria asked, laughing. She remembered the last time she took Olivia to the movies and she was electric during the way back.

"It's her birthday, once a year won't kill her. Maybe it'll kill me, but eh, what's the matter?" You joked lightly and your friends laughed.

Jude had a checklist in her hands. "Okay, let's go over this so we can go back to our yearly drinking like there's no tomorrow date. We have the place, the food, the decoration... oh, no. Where are the invitations?"

"Oh, I got it. They're in my room. I had to put it away because Oli wanted to read them over and over again."

They nodded as you left your living room, walking down the hall so you could get said invitations. You felt dread creeping up on you when you couldn't find them in the top drawer of your bedside table. "I can't find them!" You yelled loud enough for the women to hear you.

"Are you sure you placed them here?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Not sure what happened, though." You murmured, already feeling a little disappointed. "I gotta look for it now. She drew it herself and I took a lot of copies. I can't possibly tell her I lost them, she would be heartbroken." You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Victoria approached you to rub your arm, trying to comfort you. "Hey, we can look for it. We still have time." Jude said, smiling reassuringly.

"I know, I just don't wanna be too late." You said, giving them a tight-lipped smile.

So, you started looking for it in every corner of your apartment. You stayed in your bedroom, while Jude and Victoria went to Olivia's. You had cleaned the apartment today, a Saturday, when your daughter usually went to your parents', so that you'd have free time to spend and catch up with your friends. It was almost sundown, daylight fading softly and the lighting in your room was becoming darker as time went by. Suddenly, you heard your bell. Weird. You weren't expecting anybody.

"I'll get that!" You let your friends know.

Opening the door, you weren't expecting your neighbor. Rephrasing: the neighbor who Olivia adored so much. Spencer. That works, too. He has a name, after all. "Hey, hi!" He greeted you with a grin, looking shy.

"Hey, you!" You greeted him back. "Is everything okay?" You asked, a little unsure.

You took in his appearance. He looked tired, that's for sure, but it didn't stop him from looking like the most gorgeous man in existence. He wore his usual attire, carrying his caramel satchel leather bag. You didn't have an immediate answer, so you gulped when you noticed that you were looking a little longer than what's socially acceptable.

"Yeah, it's fine," he chuckled, unable to hold your stare for a moment longer. He considered, for a moment, that your daughter was the element needed for him to have a little confidence to speak when you were around. Well, shit. "I — um. I think these belong to you. I found it when I opened the door to my apartment." He extended you a bunch of papers. You blushed. You busied yourself so much with admiring him that you failed to notice that he had something in his hands.

He studied you for a moment. You looked beautiful that day. Not that you didn't look beautiful all the times you've seen him, but oh, well. Like the first time you met, you were wearing a dress. It was blue and it stopped mid-thigh. He had to stop himself from gulping at the sight of your bare, plush legs. It was different from what he was used to seeing you wear during working days, during the eventual elevator meetings. The dress hugged your curves beautifully, there was no question, like it had been made just for you. Your hair was loose and it fell over your shoulders. When you first answered the door, you had a worried frown on your face, but it quickly disappeared with his words. He felt relieved to see you get rid of your distress.

"Oh, goodness! Sorry about that. I was just looking for these." You gladly took them from his hand and your fingers accidentally brushed his. His hands were warm. "Olivia must have slided those under your door gap," you laughed nervously. You could feel two pairs of eyes looking at the interaction before them. You needed to brace yourself for their questions and very much possible teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I supposed she did that, too." He laughed, quietly.

You thought for a moment. "You know, you should go. She really likes you. Talks about your conversations all the time and says she misses you when we don't run into you at some point." You revealed. It made Spencer's heart soar in his chest.

"Really?" He couldn't help but smile, even if he couldn't believe it. Not that you were a liar, but that it meant so much to your daughter to talk to him now and then. He felt alive at that moment, felt wanted. “I don’t want to impose.”

"Yeah, I mean, no! No problem, you wouldn’t be. We’d like to have you." You said, smiling adorning your face. You took a card from your hands, offering it to him. "With us, I mean. It's going to be at my parents' house, we'll have a bunch of kids running around and cake." You surely looked like an idiot.

We’d like to have you, was all that he could hear.

Did you want him there for him or just because he was kind to your daughter?

Either way, "Thanks. I'll do my best to be there." He said, utterly happy. Saying your name lowly, followed by a 'goodbye', made your heart jump in your chest. You replied with a wave and a small grin. Your cheeks were sore from all the smiling. It was inevitable.

You turned around and had barely closed the door when Jude said, a little louder than her usual tone, "So, I see you found the invitation cards. I hope you gave one for Olivia's birthday party, not for a hot date." She playfully scolded you.

With wide eyes, you banged the door closed and turned around to yell, "Jude! What???"

Little did you know, Spencer heard it all. You know, thin walls, small distance and all. He grinned to himself, face flushed a deep red.

He was definitely looking forward to seeing you. And Olivia, too, of course. It was her birthday, after all.

[kingkat12]

romans your best friend and keeps flirting with you maybe nsfw 🤔 up to you

HEY YOU!! you bet i'm late as fuck to this, but i have boarded the inspiration station (no i was not on the toxic gossip train) (i'm sorry to everyone that gets the reference) but AGHHH I LOVE THIS ONE!! thank you so so much for this request, keep 'em coming!! 🩷💕✨

i don't smoke (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: smoking, mature themes, ish fluff, aggressive flirting, name calling, forced smoking, Roman is a cunt<33

summary: your new friend, Roman, insists he's not friends with girls. to quote him directly, he simply doesn't do that. still, he enjoys your company during a small smoke break as you skip class... but he insists; you're never going to be just friends, and he's determined to prove his point.

word count: 1,081

a/n: this gif of him smoking two cigarettes killed me, then gave me life and inspo<333 brain going brrrr, and YES OMG i'm doing oneshots and requests again!! enjoy, my loves!<3

I knew Roman would think I was the biggest loser on earth the second those three dreaded words escaped me; "I don't smoke,"

He remained emotionless, shrugging as he retreated the box of cigarettes he had been holding out in front of me. We stood behind the school, our backs leaning against the hard concrete wall as the sun fried the top of our heads. "Freak," he mumbled, rummaging his pockets in search of his lighter. 

Excuse me? "You're a much bigger freak than I am," I felt my jaw clench involuntarily-- my frustration was certainly building. "At least I'm not smoking myself dumb."

Roman cocked a brow as amusement danced in his deep, green eyes; "Yeah?" he said, fishing two cigarettes out of the box. Why two? "And who are you to call me dumb? If anything, we're both dumb. We only know each other because we failed a test and had to retake it."

I hated how right he was. I hated any instance in which he was correct. A few weeks ago, we had gotten acquainted in that small room in building B during a retake of the hardest math test I had ever encountered-- the difference was that I had actually studied for the first one, and Roman had simply not shown up for it. It was only me, Roman, and some random substitute teacher who had been called in to make sure we wouldn't cheat. Thankfully, the teacher was incompetent enough to leave the room to chat with a friend on the phone, which was when Roman leaned over my desk and said we could use the calculator he had smuggled in under his shirt.

I would've failed that test if it hadn't been for him. And now, I was failing to show up to class because he said he didn't want to smoke by himself. I wasn't sure why I had agreed, seeing as I didn't smoke (clearly), but... it was Roman Godfrey. One look from him was enough to make any girl at this school faint, and being seen with him gave me a new status as one of the cool ones. I loved that feeling, reveled in the looks I would get walking down the hallway with him, and I honestly enjoyed it more than I probably should-- 

And ever since the retake, Roman and I had been friends.

Only friends. 

Friends. Just friends. I wanted it to stay that way-- the Godfrey circus was not one I ever wanted to join.

Many things had changed in the weeks we had become acquainted, but one thing would not; I was not going to smoke. "Fine," I eventually muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. "We're both dumb, then."

Roman shifted, turning to me. Reacting, my eyes darted up at him, but I frowned as I was reminded of the amount of cigarettes in his mouth. Again-- why two? "Okay, Roman, that's taking the addiction too far,"

"Nu-uh," he managed to say with his mouth full. He also managed to smile, a knowing look in his eyes as he brought his hand up to his face. Roman left one cigarette between his plush lips, and I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to realize what he was planning to do with the other one.

I glared up at Roman as he held out the lit cancer-stick for me to take. "No," I prompted, shaking my head.

"Don't be a fucking wuss," he bit back, grinning down at me. 

"I'm not!"

Roman rolled his eyes, kicking off the wall. "Come on, open up,"

I felt my breath catch in my chest as he placed himself in front of me. He was towering over me, practically caging me in-- "No," 

Roman's laugh was warm, yet menacing. "Have a puff, at least,"

"No!"

"What is up with you? Have you never smoked or something?" 

"... Yeah, I haven't. So what?"

The following laugh was just as sinister. "I'll teach you, then,"

"I don't want you to teach me, drop it!--"

What happened next was beyond unexpected. Roman reached forward with his free hand, squeezing my nose shut with a harshness that hurt, which ultimately forced me to breathe through my mouth. Swiftly, he placed the cigarette between my lips, calmly taking a drag of his own before he pulled away.

As I inhaled the smoke, I managed to give him a proper kick before I succumbed to a heavy cough.

Roman only laughed. Over and over. The ridiculously pretty sound of it echoed through my brain as tears filled my eyes-- it felt like I was being choked by fire. Fire and smoke. Where was the fire alarm when I needed it? In my second act of rebellion, I threw my cigarette to the floor, stomping it repeatedly. "Hate you," was all I managed to force out, rubbing the tears out of my eyes.

Roman hummed, looking as amused as ever. He took a long drag from his cigarette, savouring the taste, savouring the smoke, before blowing out a perfect ring. It was clear that he had practiced that numerous times. I watched it evaporate into thin air as I tried to catch my breath, my gaze now darting to the single strand of brown hair that strayed from Roman's stylings, hanging over his eyes in a perfect, soft wave. 

He caught me staring, his green eyes darting back at me with newfound challenge. His voice lowered, his next words coming out in a husky breath; "I'm gonna make you smoke yourself dumb if you don't stay away. Do you know that?" Roman watched my every reaction, my every movement-- "I told you I'm not just friends with girls. That's not how I operate."

I did my best not to shudder, but it was damn near impossible. Sure, Roman was pretty and he had told me this numerous times, but there was no way in hell anything would happen between us. I would never allow myself to fall into that category of girls. "We can be friends," I tried, blinking away my remaining tears.

Roman sighed, tilting his head as he stared at me like I was the dumbest little puppy he had ever seen. "No," he said, effectively sinking his words into stone. They were permanent, a statement to remember. "We're not going to be friends."

"... Why not?"

With a simple shrug, Roman threw his finished cigarette to the ground. "Because people don't usually want to fuck their friends," His strikingly green eyes darted back at me as a smirk formed across his lips. "And I so desperately want to fuck you."

[lostintransist]

Liaison | Part 5 | Big Austrian Bastard

Check out part 1 here. Check out the rest of the story on AO3, up to chapter 33 over there.

After you won the bet with Ghost you became something of a tourist attraction. Every man who moved through the office would stop by your desk. Often you were on a phone but many would wait for a chance to ask how you won the bet with Ghost or if you had any dating advice. When Roach finally appeared back in the office after a month you asked him about it.

“Why does it feel like my desk is the hottest place to be in the office? Don’t these guys have paperwork to be doing?”

Roach replies, the clack of his keys not even faded before the message hits your screen.

>No one deals with Ghost like you do. Word has gotten around that you two fight and he loses more often than he wins.

“I can’t say that I think he has won once.”

>Exactly, plus everyone wants to witness another showdown. Anyone who wasn’t at the bar when you took that hot redhead home has heard the story about a dozen times from someone who has. Plus all the bets on what crazy nonsense you two will fight about next. And I know at least some of the guys want to know how you got such a bombshell to go home with you.

It takes three reads over the message before you are semi-confident that you understood everything.

“How much money is in these betting pools?” You rub a single finger against the headache forming behind your forehead.

>Would say a several thousand at this point.

“And what exactly was the defining moment that everyone decided to start taking bets?” You have a sneaking suspicion you know what it was.

>The lap dancer.

“Yeah,” you suck your teeth, “I thought that might have been it. Now for the record Roach and you tell this to anyone who will listen; I didn’t know he had already booked her. It’s not my fault she chose my pretty face over his ugly mask. And if he could string two sentences together to a woman that didn’t leave her wanting to slap him he wouldn’t have to pay for company in or out of his bed.”

>Behind you.

“Thanks, Roach,” you deadpan, “What a great job saving the day.”

Spinning around you see Ghost standing at the edge of your desk.

“You know I think you would pay for male company as well, I’m not really one to judge.”

Without a word, he drops several files on your desk and turns on his heel leaving you and Roach with more questions than before. Not picking a fight over your words felt outside of Ghost’s character. You tuck the information away for later. No one had died recently and there were no issues with any other companies or governments. No obvious reasons surfaced as to his dour mood.

Your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number.

>Can you make gingersnaps?

<Yes. Fresh ginger okay?

>👍

<Should have a dozen ready by 3.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you unplug your computer. You’ve figured out how to read emails while creaming butter by hand. Emails consumed you as grated ginger and sifted flour into your wet ingredients. Once the dough had started chilling you got a call. It took twenty minutes to look up the temperature conversion to turn on the oven since the other party had some extremely specific requests and questions that had you searching skills and cross-referencing times when certain guys would be free.

“Okay, for the final time, the timeline you need this job completed on will not allow for me to get Price and Reb on the same job. I have a different sniper who can complete the task or I can have a different lead but they are not available at the same time,” You wave at Harold as he leads a beast of a man down the hall. “At this point, you can trust me to schedule a team who can handle the task or I can send you the contact info for my counterpart at KorTac.”

You rattled off the number for KorTac as the cookies came out of the oven. Disconnecting the call you stretched your arms high and set about moving the cookies to the rack to cool down. In the five minutes they take to cool you reply to seven emails. God, you needed to talk to Kate about an assistant. The number of emails was becoming untenable. Storing the cookies in a dish you hide in your cabinet you take a quick picture of the completed request.

Cleaning up from baking had become its own soothing ritual. Once you have everything set out to dry you head back down the hall. You forget to send the text message since an email reply comes into a proposal you had just sent off.

“If those motherfuckers want to change up the date again…“ you mumble to yourself.

You kick something as you approach your desk. The beast of a man Harold had walked back to the desks is reclined in your chair and snoring. You can’t tell past the sniper’s hood draped across his head if he is asleep. Looking around you find the bay of computers empty. With a sigh, you set your computer awkwardly on the desk and remember your message about the cookies.

Sending the message a phone ding sounds before you. The man rouses, pulls a phone from his pocket, checks the message, and startles when he sees you standing at his feet.

“You the one who wanted the gingersnaps?” You ask carefully. One man in a mask you know could almost be considered a friend, the other firmly a foe.

“Ja.” He stands, towering over your frame.

Blowing a breath out your nose you make a decision. Better to have fewer foes if possible.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where I put your cookies.”

The only sound following you is the rare swish of fabric. Stepping into the kitchen you open the cabinet that held your cookies. Pulling them down you place them in his waiting hands. More men covering up like the devil would worm his way in through any flash of flesh. This man wore gloves too.

“Ah! Liaison you found the big Austrian bastard! We’ve been all over the office looking for him.”

If you hadn’t been standing so close to him you would have missed the flinch in the big man. Something about someone so strong-looking taking pain from words wormed into your heart.

“Tactic I swear to god if you don’t think before you speak.” You snap at him. “Obviously this man is on loan to the 141 and you know what we don’t do to people who are here to help us? We don’t insult them. It makes my job to fucking hard when you can’t keep your jackass statements inside.”

Tactic’s mouth shut with a click.

“Anything else clever to say?” you push.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to my friend here.”

“Sorry König.”

Spence, who had been standing behind Tactic, fled the moment your tone turned angry.

“Now unless you have a hard leave time I am going to sit down and enjoy some cookies with Konig and will deliver him to a conference room when we are done. Got a problem with that?” You aggressively lifted a brow at Tactic.

He backed out of the kitchen slowly.

“Whatever you say Liaison, sorry again König.”

With a huff, you turned back around and smiled up at the big man.

“Do you want to sit down and enjoy your cookies? I appreciate any feedback you can give.”

He looked you over, neither his expression nor his body language giving away his thoughts. König sits at one table, pushing out another chair with the toe of his boot. Settling in you wait to see what he does next. You fold your arms and rest them on the table.

“We friends?”

You find him watching you with guarded eyes.

“Do you want to be friends?”

“Ja. Name is König, not Konig.”

You repeat his name a few times to solidify the pronunciation in your brain.

“Okay, well you’re my first friend here so I will now text you random updates on my life. Feel free to do the same.”

Sitting in silence you tap out random beats on your fingers as König lifts his cowl to eat his treat.

“Da cookies are good.”

You send him a bright smile. “I’m glad you like them. Whenever you are ready I can deliver you to the conference room.”

He nods once before closing the container of cookies. He stands and slides the whole box into a side pocket on his pants. There isn’t even a bulge against the fabric. You can’t prevent a sneer at the now offensive pants.

The tension rises in König, you can feel it wafting off him in waves.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the patriarchy that doesn’t give me pockets I can hide cookies in without getting caught,” you fold your arms and puff air into your cheeks.

The booming laughter from König brings a smile to your face. It sounded rusty as if he didn’t get a chance to use it often.

Part 4

Masterlist @nicroyal02

[dissociative-misinfo]

"If you really had DID, you wouldn't know!"

Says who?!

The idea that people with dissociative identity disorder (DID) can't be aware of their symptoms until they're diagnosed... This is a huge myth about DID and similar experiences; one that has been debunked again and again by experts. Yet it remains! Here are a few examples of this misconception being spread around online: source.

People with DID can be, and often are, aware of their DID symptoms before ever speaking to a clinician.

Where is the proof? Khan (2024) states that, while it's normal for dissociative people to not realize the full extent of their symptoms, trauma, or alters, they can still become aware of any of these things at any point. Source. Dell (2006) actually considers the awareness of alters before diagnosis to be a "common occurrence in DID" which has been widely documented in studies. Multiple diagnostic screening tools inquire about awareness of alters for this reason. Source.

Additionally, alters can have varying degrees of awareness of each other and their symptoms. To quote Howell (2011) from her book, on pages 3-4: Source.

"Different dissociative parts may or may not have knowledge of the affects, behaviors, histories, motives, and thoughts of other parts. How coconscious patients are also varies—that is, the extent to which they have knowledge of and are privy to the thoughts, history, and affairs of the other parts varies. Often, the part of the self that is in executive control is unaware of the thoughts and activities of other parts (often called one-way amnesia). However, this is a tricky topic to try to make clear. For example, coconsciousness may be minimal before beginning psychotherapy for DID but tends to increase considerably in the course of appropriate psychotherapeutic work. Although parts other than the part who is most often in executive control (often called the “host”) are more likely to know of each other and of the host, this is not always the case and is not always the same for different parts of the same patient. Some parts may be unknown by many of the others. The dissociative structure of each patient is different."

Even in the case someone has no memory of their symptoms, they can be made aware through external evidence such as finding purchases or notes that other alters made, police reports confirming traumatic events, someone pointing out their dissociation, etc.

Now let’s talk about something that I feel goes frequently unrecognized: becoming aware of symptoms is often a positive thing! For many people, recognizing their own symptoms is the first step to seeking help for them. As mental health awareness and access to useful information increases, we will likely see an uptick in people with DID developing more awareness of their symptoms and getting help sooner. That’s incredibly positive!

Finally, a small note about diagnosis... Diagnosis is its own loaded topic for a different day. However, I want to point out that people diagnosed with DID still had the DID before their diagnosis. The symptoms were still there, whether they were aware of it or not.

Furthermore, not everyone with DID can obtain a diagnosis or even wants one. There are a myriad of potential reasons for that and I encourage you to do your own research on it. These articles can be a good starting point: source, source, source.

Thanks for reading!

[skzhocomments]

The Rising Empress (Bang Chan) - Chapter 2 - The Wedding

General Masterlist

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

---

Chapter 2 - The Wedding

Chapter word count: 6.4k words

~present day~

The road to the Capital of the Empire of the Sun is long and unpleasant for Aristia, who’s never had to travel outside the castle before. The carriage is small and uncomfortable, only having enough space to accommodate two people: herself, and one of her maids. She has motion sickness and is on the verge of throwing up multiple times throughout the journey, to everyone’s displeasure, who don’t shy away from scowling at her whenever she asks for a little break.

Not many people are inconvenienced by her, as she’s not accompanied by too many anyway: only a handful of knights and a few maids. With how small their convoy is, no one would assume a princess is travelling in one of the carriages. Still, they condemn her for being sent away from the Kingdom to accompany her, as if it was her fault.

She makes a mental note to send everyone back as soon as she’s settled in the Empire.

However unpleasant the atmosphere in the convoy is, Aristia tries to enjoy the unfamiliar sightseeing of meadows and mountains and streams as she moves across her Kingdom. She smiles gleefully as she is able to point out the names of the rivers and the small towns she briefly passes through on the way to her new home; after all, she memorised the maps in her geography books by heart. If someone dropped her in the middle of nowhere, chances are she’d figure out her location with ease. The maid in her carriage smiles at her and shows some curious expressions when Aristia tells her about the history of the places they’re going through, or what each village and town is known for, and she is grateful to have a partner to converse with until the maid loses interest and falls asleep.

With so many breaks along the way, the journey lasts almost two weeks, and with each passing day, Aristia’s heart beats louder in her chest. She wishes she could escape the inevitable, run away somehow and start a new life far away from the Kingdom and the Empire.

She knows she can’t. The cards fate dealt her seem to ensure that she’d be hated wherever she goes, anyway.

She’s heard that the Emperor of the Sun is a kind man; perhaps he would be kind to her as well, even if their nations are enemies. He’s the one who asked for her hand in marriage, after all.

And if not kind, perhaps at least indifferent. She hopes he won’t abuse her like her father did. She hopes he won’t hit her until she’s sore and has difficulty moving the next day.

That’s not too much to ask for, is it?

When she arrives, a knight opens her carriage and helps her step down. Not that she needs much help, anyway. She’s dressed modestly. Unlike a rightful princess, her dress is not big and elaborate, and she has no difficulty moving herself. It seems unsuited for the Capital. There are a lot of people waiting for her, and despite the contempt in their eyes at the sight of her – which she expected – she can’t help but feel they are disappointed by what little things her father sent her with.

A couple carriages, a few servants and a modest dress, totally inappropriate for the grandeur of the Empire. This thought only gets reinforced when she watches the intricate embroideries of jewels on the knight’s clothes. He looks like a princess more than she does.

She wants to laugh thinking about it, but she keeps a straight face as the man bows to her.

“Future Moon of our Empire, welcome to Your new home.” He says respectfully, but his words are empty, and his eyes cold.

Aristia smiles in return, trying to think of this as a warm welcome. It is anything but. “Thank you. What is your name?”

“Lee Know, Your Highness.”

“Nice to meet you, Lee Know. Would you be so kind to show my attendants to their temporary residence for the night, and assure they are well fed? Please talk to the cooks and prepare enough food for them to pack tomorrow, as they have a long way back to the Kingdom.” Aristia commands like a true princess, just as her maid taught her. She keeps her head high, even if the words feel foreign on her tongue.

“Your Highness?” Lee Know tilts his head. He was definitely not expecting this. Doesn’t the princess know that she has no allies in the castle? Why would she send everyone back home?

“Hm?” Aristia forces a smile. A knight should always respect her commands, her maid made sure she remembered this.

“My apologies, I was just assuming His Excellency The Emperor should know of this beforehand.”

“Oh, is that so? I don’t see him around, though? Unless I’m mistaken.”

“Unfortunately, His Highness had some urgent matters to attend to and was not able to come meet Your Grace.”

“I guess it can’t be helped, then.” Aristia smiles again. “Since the Emperor is not here, I am the highest authority.” She challenges him. She notices he has something he’d like to say, but he bites his tongue back, much to her pleasure. The power is indeed delicious, and it gives her a little rush, even though the command is not difficult. She doubts the Emperor would have much to object anyway, as he most definitely considers everyone in the Kingdom an enemy.

“But Princess, how could we go back-” Her maid starts but shuts up instantly, a look of panic crossing her face, that only intensifies once Aristia turns to her. She has no authority to speak before the princess, unless explicitly given permission to, and the fact that she ignored these customs in front of all the maids, butlers and knights of the Empire that came to welcome her shows just how little everyone in the Kingdom respects her. She knew she needed to cut her losses, but this blatant disrespect only intensifies the burning wish she has to get rid of everyone that ever looked down on her.

God knows she’s going to have a lot more people showing her the same disrespect in the Empire. She doesn’t need anyone from the Kingdom to do so as well.

The maid immediately avoids her gaze and bows, so Aristia ignores her and starts walking towards her chambers, guided by Lee Know. She gets introduced to a couple of maids as well, who are supposed to assist her going further.

Spies, Aristia thinks. She knows that every move she makes will be tracked and reported to the Emperor.

She also gets introduced to a dress maker who hastily takes her measurements for her wedding dress, who throws her nasty looks for refusing to take off all her garments. How could she, when her back has such ugly scars from the abuse she endured?

When every appointment for the day is done, she asks one of her new maids to prepare a bath for her. The maid bows in her direction, but Aristia can already sense the disdain coming from her. Her suspicions are verified as soon as she checks the bath water.

It’s freezing cold.

~

“They are really brave for this move.” Jisung chuckles and shakes his head, amusement plastered on his face.

“They must think we are fools.” Chan laughs along. “I can’t believe they only sent 100 gold as dowry. What kind of princess marries with such a laughable amount?”

“Right? Besides, isn’t the King rumoured to adore his daughter? What is going on?”

“We won’t forget this for sure when the time comes.” Seungmin shakes his head.

The council formed of him, Jisung and the Emperor is currently seated around a table, together with Lee Know, one of Bang Chan’s most trusted knights.

“How did she seem to you, Minho?” Chan asks.

“Mhm, quite unpredictable. I told you already that she asked me to send all of her attendants home.”

“Foolish girl.” Seungmin shakes his head. “Doesn’t she know she has no allies here?”

“She didn’t seem particularly close to the people in the Kingdom either.” Lee Know shrugs.

“Maybe it’s all a façade to gain our trust.” Jisung suggests. “If we let our guard down now, she could find out that we’re planning to uncover the documents for the mine and start a war in two years.”

“We’ll see.” Chan replies. “Anything else about her, Minho?”

“Yes. I received word that she had her measurements taken yesterday, and apparently made quite a fuss about not wanting anyone to see her naked. She didn’t let the maids assist her washing either.”

Chan chuckled. “What, is she shy?”

“Quite unusual for a princess to wash herself.” Seungmin observes. “When are you planning to meet her?”

“I’d say never. But realistically, during our wedding.”

“What, you won’t go see her even once?” Jisung’s eyes grow large. “I knew you were cruel, but that’s another level, Chan.”

“Don’t call me cruel, I’ll have your head cut off for treason.” The Emperor threatens jokingly. When it’s just them in the secrecy of the council room, they don’t have to keep appearances. Sure, Bang Chan is the Emperor of the Sun, but he’s grown up with a handful of loyal people around him he considers as close as family, so he allowed them to drop the honorifics when in private settings. “Felix keeps beating around the bush to go meet her, he’s quite curious.”

“Dangerously curious.” Seungmin adds.

“I’m also curious.” Jisung admits.

“She’s just a spoilt rotten princess of our enemies. What is there to be curious of?” Lee Know asks the men around the table.

“I agree. Nothing good about getting acquainted with someone like her. Our original plan of ignoring her completely seems to be the best to ensure nothing unwanted gets to her ears.” Seungmin says.

“All I know is that I’m not looking forward to the wedding.” Bang Chan remarks.

~

“Your Highness, may we enter now?” The attendants softly open the door to Aristia’s chambers, keeping their heads down.

“Yes, come help me.” She commands. She managed to put on the large wedding dress on her own, making sure to cover her back completely before allowing the attendants to come finish dressing her.

The wedding dress is the most beautiful garment Aristia’s ever seen. It’s white, embellished with beautiful green and golden jewels and white pearls all over; its sleeves are puffy, made of a soft, see-through organza that is not so heavy on her arms, and looking in the mirror, she’s barely able to recognise herself. Her train is so long, she is sure it’s going to catch everyone’s attention as soon as she steps in the room.

Dressed in the white and golden colours of the Empire, she notices, as if for the first time, that she is really beautiful. She looks like a true princess, like the future Empress. Her garments are also adorned with green emeralds, much like her wrists and neck, a symbol of her former Kingdom, which she finds quite ironic.

‘The jewellery has been chosen by the Sun Himself’, as one of her attendants said.

Why would he want her to wear green, and not gold?

Is this his way of welcoming her, somehow telling her that she should feel as if she’s still home, or is this some sort of threat informing her that she’s never going to be accepted fully?

The green emeralds all over the dress also make this last thought a bit more obvious to her, but she decides not to ponder on it.

Maybe I’m overthinking. Aristia shakes her head and informs the maids that she’s ready.

As she gets out of her rooms, two knights bow in her direction and start escorting her towards the church. One of them she recognises. She even remembers his name: Lee Know, the first face she’s seen when she stepped out of the carriage, the man who first welcomed her into the Empire. It’s the first time she sees the second one, though. He’s a bit shorter than Lee Know, and his arms are a bit buffer too. His expression seems softer.

Since he came to escort her, he must also be an important knight.

Once they reach the church, Aristia tries to not look too much around. She’s curious, but she keeps her eyes from searching the faces of the people looking at her, following her every move. She breathes in and makes her way towards the Altar, where a man dressed in the same colours as her - only without the green emeralds - is waiting with his back turned.

The Emperor, she thinks as she steps up next to him. He doesn’t spare her even one glance, and she refrains from turning her head to watch him. Instead, she side-eyes him and notices a sharp jaw as if he’s clenching it, a perfectly sculpted nose and brown eyes. She averts her gaze a few seconds later, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she’s curious about him.

Still, isn’t curiosity normal? He’s never come visit her ever since she got to the Empire, not even once, and before they officially get married, she doesn’t have a high enough authority to go see him first, unless he asks for her, or unless she requests an audience.

Every muscle in Chan’s body gives him away. He is displeased to be at the Altar next to a bride he doesn’t like one bit, nor want, nor even need.

Well, the last bit is false, even if just a tad, and he knows it. He does need her for this marriage, giving him an easy temporary alliance to her nation, but he’s counting the days until he’d be able to get rid of her, even if they haven’t shared one word so far. He knows he dislikes her without having to talk to her. The fact that she hasn’t looked for him or even asked someone if she can see him tells him how arrogant the princess is, too.

Tsk. He almost clicks his tongue out loud in annoyance.

He is not the only one displeased to be there, though. Aristia is as well, and so is everybody in the church. The only delighted ones are the people of the Empire whose sons have been drafted to join the army at a young age for wars that seem to be without end.

Aristia is discontented with this situation; she’s the daughter of a King who didn’t want her, sent over like a sacrificial lamb to his enemy, a man who doesn’t want her either, who won’t even cast a look at her. She decides she won’t look at him either. Two can play this game.

Let’s just look at these flowers and not think. She repeats in her head as she admires the bouquet of white peonies.

The priest begins talking, spewing nonsense about eternal love and about how they will always have each other’s back. As if for the first time, Aristia realises that even though they are a fake couple, the marriage is very much real. What a shuddering thought, to be forever tied to this man she knows nothing about.

By the end of the priest’s long speech, it’s traditional for the couple to kiss, so Chan turns his body towards the princess, and she is able to see him properly for the first time.

The Emperor is good looking, she notices, but his gaze pierces, pulling at Aristia’s heart strings. She doesn’t know how someone can throw her such a malevolent stare, and she almost shakes when he firmly rests his right hand on her neck right under her jaw, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. He uses that same hand to lift her head up, their eyes fighting a silent battle.

She expects a kiss and closes her eyes instinctively, but instead, she feels him remove his hand from under her jaw, and moments later, her head is weighted heavily by what she assumes is the Empress’ crown. Her left hand moves towards the foreign object on her head and touches it unsurely, but the darkness in the Emperor’s eyes tells her she is indeed wearing the crown of the Empire, matching his golden one.

She is only able to see her own reflection in his eyes, and she tries her hardest to keep her composure and show him that she can also be Empress, not a simple toy he brought over from the Kingdom.

The next time his hand rests under her jaw, she decides against closing her eyes. She will no longer be taken by surprise. He hesitates for a bit when seeing the new-found determination in her orbs, but eventually moves closer and presses his plum lips against her decisively, and people start clapping, for the Sun of the Empire has finally welcomed his Moon.

~

Following the church service, a great ball takes place in one of the rooms of the castle. The atmosphere is radiant, filled with chatter and laughter and sounds of glasses clinking against one another as people get drunker and drunker, celebrating the union between The Kingdom of the South and The Empire of the Sun. In earnest, everyone is toasting for the beginning of a time of peace and tranquillity, as the Empire has always been at war due to the large ambitions of the previous Emperor, Chan’s father, who wanted nothing more than to see their Empire conquer all that used to belong to them centuries ago.

Chan has much of the same ambitions, and even after his father’s sudden passing, he’s managed to fulfil his wishes and brought the Empire to the largest it’s ever been. Despite this being a good thing in terms of the Empire’s prosperity, it’s also been tiring on its people, who’ve seen their sons, husbands and fathers sent off to war, to never return back home.

The Sun and the Moon are seated together at a table overviewing the banquet hall, sitting in silence. He doesn’t address her any words, so she doesn’t bother to strike up a conversation either.

What a lonely place this is, up on a throne with no one by your side but a betrothed that doesn’t want you, while everyone else is having fun right in front of you.

Even during their first dance, Chan barely looked at Aristia, and he hadn't spoken to her at all. The disgust plastered on his face during their first dance was obvious, and his indifference now regarding her presence is, too.

Truly, she was nervous during their first dance, but she realised quickly that Chris was at best unconcerned about their wedding and the dance. He simply took the lead, as men must do during a dance, and she followed him, but they didn't say a word, nor did they smile or show any kind of expression signalling they at least get along. She assumes they looked like those rigid, stiff wooden figures in the music boxes, and she dreads the plays that will inevitably get written about them and the royal wedding.

Aristia starts wondering if the people in the room are also able to notice the height of the wall between them but realises it’s a pointless thought to have. She focuses on the chalice of wine in her hand instead, that’s already been emptied and refilled a couple of times. She can’t help but feel how uncomfortable the crown is on her head, how it’s making her scalp hurt.

She wishes she could take it off, throw it across the room and run away.

The ridiculously large dress would make it hard to do so. She thinks, and almost lets a chuckle escape past her lips.

The alcohol is getting to her head and it’s getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open, which is exactly what she is hoping for. She hopes she’ll pass out as soon as she gets into the Emperor’s chambers. Like any woman on her wedding night, she is expected to offer herself wholly to her husband, and hopefully bear his children as soon as possible. She doesn’t want it, but it’s her duty as a married woman, and even more so as the Empress. If she’s drunk enough, the man next to her can do whatever he wants to her body, and she won’t feel a thing during the deed. She almost winces imagining the horrendous pain she’s going to be faced with tomorrow after The Emperor has had his fun, but her many years of training to be a respectable Crown Princess aid her in keeping a straight face.

Besides, whatever he does to her can’t be worse than what her father’s done up until this point, can it? A beating must certainly hurt way worse than sexual intercourse. That’s what she hopes for, anyway, burying all the books on marriage etiquette she had to read deep in her head, trying not to think of the lines describing the numbing pain women feel under their partner the first time, and, if they’re unlucky, during every intercourse.

“Sun and Moon of the Empire, I congratulate you on your marriage. May you live happily ever after together and be blessed with many children.” A young blonde approaches the table and bows respectfully, and Chan starts smiling.

“Felix, no need to be so formal.” He says but doesn’t bother introducing Felix to Aristia or explaining who he is.

She can guess, though, since Felix is also wearing white and gold, the colours of the royal family, and his head is adorned by a crown, albeit smaller than Chan’s. Considering the fact that he also addressed them first, without waiting for permission to speak, he must be the younger prince.

“Are you having fun, brother? You haven’t even gotten up since the first dance. I’m sure Her Highness must be bored.” He says, looking expectantly at Aristia.

“Not at all, His Highness is great company.” She replies in an almost mocking tone, concentrating hard to not slur her words.

“I must apologise for interrupting you two, I’m sure there’s a lot to talk about as you get to know each other. However, I’d really love it if Her Highness would join me for a dance.” He offers Aristia his hand.

“Oh, I’m afraid I might step on your toes. I’m not a good dancer, and I’ve quite enjoyed the wine from the northern region this evening.” She chuckles and tries to play it off and politely decline his invitation, but Felix doesn’t back down.

“Not to worry, Your Highness, I am quite strong and an excellent dancer.”

To that, Aristia can’t object anymore, and so she places her hand in his and stands up with his help, rearranging the uncomfortably large dress and instinctively placing her hand on her crown, making sure it stays in place.

Felix guides her to the dance floor and places his left hand firmly around her waist, keeping her right hand in a strong hold.

They start spinning to the music, looking elegant under the delightful gazes of all the people in attendance. Despite being quite intoxicated, Aristia matches Felix’ lead perfectly.

“My sister-in-law said she’s a bad dancer, but it doesn’t look like it.” He remarks, and Aristia can’t help herself but joke around a bit, and steps on his foot.

“Oops.” She smiles, and Felix starts laughing brightly. Aristia thinks the title of ‘Sun of the Empire’ would be better fitted for him, with how radiant his smile is, compared to his brother’s piercing gaze that’s been throwing daggers in her back ever since she stood up from the throne.

“Why are you trying to get drunk?” He asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, I’m not just trying to. I’m also succeeding.” She chuckles, and Felix laughs again warmly.

She is a beautiful woman, and he can’t help but feel bad for her; all alone, in an unfamiliar nation, married by force to someone she doesn’t know, who hasn’t spoken to her at all since the night began. He can’t imagine how suffocating that must be. She must also feel intimidated by his brother, since she’s also quite young. If he’s not wrong, she’s 2 years younger than himself, which means she’s 5 years younger than Chris.

“I’m Felix, by the way. Chan’s younger brother. He hasn’t introduced us, that rude rascal.”

“Rascal?” Aristia chuckles again. “Isn’t it treason to talk like that about the Emperor?”

“He’s a quite forgiving man.”

“He doesn’t strike me as such, but what do I know?” She fakes another smile as she hints at the fact that today is the first time she’s ever meeting the Emperor. “My name is Aristia.”

“I love your name. Rising Empress. How fitting!”

He exclaims, and she just smiles. Fake, fake, fake, fake. She always thought balls are tiring, but since her father hasn’t allowed her to join too many, it’s hard to get used to this.

She misses the confines of her room back in the Kingdom, the shelves with books to keep her company, and most of all, her loyal maid, taken away by sickness too long ago.

There is no sense of familiarity for Aristia in this place, no refuge. Only the suffocating dress, the heavy crown, the way too crowded ballroom, and a dagger stabbed in her back by her own husband, that’s making it hard to breathe and almost impossible to focus on the smiling man in front of her.

“He hasn’t talked to you much, has he?” Felix asks, as if he’s only now figuring out her earlier allusions.

“I enjoy silence.” She retorts.

“I’m sorry…” Felix smiles sympathetically. “So… back to my original question, is his company that bad that you have to be drunk to be in his presence?”

“Such is the fate of a bride. There’ll be plenty of time for us to spend together without knowing each other, and I feel woefully unprepared.”

She confesses, and Felix hums, barely audible over the loud music. Just as he wants to say something comforting, the music briefly stops as the musical ensemble prepares itself for a next song, and people come to compliment the two on their perfect dancing. They surround Aristia and start asking her all sorts of questions, definitely curious about her, and it’s becoming a bit too overwhelming, and she’s getting dizzy.

It’s too hot, and she’s had too much wine, and her corset is way too tight, and her head can’t seem to get used to the weight of the crown; it hurts. Aristia finds herself missing the tranquillity and comfort of loneliness that her throne provides, far away from everyone. She just wants to excuse herself and go back on her throne so she can breathe, but there are customs to be respected, and she doesn’t want to come across as rude and leave in the middle of a conversation. She starts scanning the room with her eyes, until they finally fall on the bulky guard that escorted her with Lee Know in the morning.

He’s not too far away from her; he’s there for her protection, and his gaze is also stuck on her. As soon as they make eye contact, it’s as if he understands that something is wrong; he sees the urgency in her eyes and instantly begins moving towards Aristia, asking everyone else to step aside.

“His Majesty requested The Moon’s presence, please excuse us.” He says with a bow and begins guiding the Empress away, ignoring the protests of the disappointed crowd, and she’s never been more thankful.

“Thank you.” She whispers as soon as they are a bit further away.

“I apologise, but… Are you feeling sick? You seem pale… if I may.” He whispers back, and Aristia nods.

“Just needed some air. What’s your name?”

“It’s Changbin, Your Highness.” He bows again as soon as Aristia reaches the steps to the two thrones and the table where only she and her husband are sat. She avoids looking into Chan’s eyes as he scans her face, and simply nods towards Changbin and goes to sit down.

For the first time ever, someone noticed her discomfort, and actively did something to help, and she is truly grateful. She hopes the banquet will end on a positive note at least, although it seems far from over, and just rests comfortably against the backrest of her throne, wishing for time to pass quicker.

After about an hour, a young woman approaches their table and bows respectfully, waiting for her or the Emperor to say something first. Being the highest authority in the Empire, unless the Empress or Emperor addresses you first, you are unable to speak to them.

“Arabella.” Chan says as soon as he notices her, a large smile plastered on his face, which makes Aristia involuntarily raise an eyebrow.

“I greet the Sun of the Empire and congratulate you for your marriage.” She says respectfully, almost making Aristia scoff.

She is the Empress now, but this girl – Arabella – hasn’t even bowed towards her, nor addressed her in the salutation. This in itself would be considered inexcusable behaviour, but Chris doesn’t seem to regard her as his wife either, so he doesn’t bat an eye at the ignorance.

“You may raise your head.”

“You look as healthy as ever.” She bows again, shorter this time, with an intoxicating giggle that is quick to reach Chan’s ears, and Aristia doesn’t fail to notice the way her husband’s cheeks receive prominent dimples as he smiles at the compliment.

“And you as well. Your father must be pleased to be able to pride himself with such a beautiful jewel.”

“Your Majesty, I am unworthy of your praises.”

My ass. Aristia thinks briefly and stops herself from rolling her eyes at this exchange. How blatantly rude, to flirt in front of her so openly. Does Chris want a concubine already?

“The night sky is truly beautiful tonight, Your Majesty. I wish you could see it as well.”

“If I weren’t confined in this ballroom, I would. You, however, should go and dance and enjoy yourself.”

Arabella. Aristia observes the girl walk away. I shall not forget this name.

~

The banquet lasts for a few more hours, which Aristia uses wisely to drink a bit more wine to the point where walking towards her room to change from the dress is almost impossible without the help of the maids.

When she gets there, she almost lets them undress her, until she remembers about the scars on her back. She doesn’t want anyone else to know about them. The Emperor would probably see them tonight, but that’s something Aristia could deal with, since he is unlikely to spread any rumours about her. He still has a reputation to keep, and marrying a broken princess of the enemy kingdom would not be a flattering appeal.

The maids are, however, a different story entirely. They feed on the insecurities of their masters and whisper between themselves late at night about all the affairs of the house. She knew it all too well, for she’s heard them many times before, when she was still living in the Kingdom.

So, she sends them away and begins taking off her garments excruciatingly slowly. After getting undressed from the large dress, Aristia is quick to discard it somewhere on the floor and begins changing into tonight’s outfit, which consists of garments that leave little to the imagination. Beautifully delicate lace lingerie, ruffled garters and a flimsy night robe hug her body, and on top of it, a fur coat she should wear until she reaches The Emperor’s chambers. Everything is easily discardable, but she tries not to linger on it for too long.

Before exiting the room, she places the crown firmly against her head, as she shouldn’t be seen anywhere without it. Even if she’s worn it for hours already, she simply can’t get used to the heaviness on her scalp, and she can already feel the impending headache. She’s never had to wear any crowns in the Kingdom; her father wouldn’t allow it, not wanting to recognise her status as the Crown Princess.

The knight who’s helped her earlier, Changbin, comes to escort her to Chris, and she can’t help but feel yet again like a sacrificial lamb served on a platter for her husband to devour. Changbin bows at The Moon briefly and avoids her eyes at all costs.

Is it embarrassing, knowing you’re escorting a half-naked Empress to your master, so she could be fucked like a whore for the whole night? Aristia almost wants to ask but keeps it to herself once again.

The wine is making me have foul thoughts. She rationalises in her head, for it’s way easier to blame alcohol than to blame the actual problem: a vulgar personality that comes out anytime she feels like fighting the whole world for dealing her a bad hand.

Once she enters the room, she is quite pleased to find it empty. This means a bit more time to prepare, and she suddenly doesn’t feel drunk enough.

She scans the table for more wine but is unsuccessful to find any until the door opens, revealing The Emperor.

“You’re here.” He states, as if surprised.

Aristia nods.

“Of course you are.” He mumbles. “Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, it’s truly a misfortune.” She replies, and he lets out a short, mocking laugh. She involuntarily hugs the fur coat tighter, as if to protect her body from his sight.

“You see, it’s quite funny that you’re here, actually. Wanna know why?”

“… Why?”

“Because I asked them not to bring you.” He smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Is that so? I shall take my leave, then.” She starts going towards the door, hoping he’d just let her pass. She brushes past him, and as soon as she raises her hand to open the door, she hears him curse under his breath.

“Fucking whore.”

She stops, her hand on the handle, as if she’s frozen. Anger is boiling up inside of her, but the rational side of her knows it would be better to simply get out and not look back. He doesn’t want to sleep with her, so she’s free to go and end the day without having to go through any abuse.

She should go.

Simple enough.

But how dare he?

How dare he not address her one word the whole night, and once he does, it’s to affront her?

“What did you just say to me?” She turns around, anger lacing her tone, and watches him right in the eyes.

“I said,” he smiles again, this time larger and more menacing, “fucking whore.”

“Whore?” Aristia chuckles. “Is that what you think of me? God, how ironic this is. You don’t know anything about who I am, but still dare to call me names.”

“Listen up, I can call you whatever the fuck I want. So, whore, kindly get out of my room before I also treat you like one.”

“No. You listen up. You might be Emperor, but you married me, so now I am your Empress. Act like it.”

“How daring.” He chuckles again, but then his face turns serious all of a sudden, and he starts aggressively walking towards Aristia, taking the crown off her head in one swift motion and throwing it across the room. He then grabs her wrist tightly and drags her away from the door, throwing her on the bed.

She freezes, just as she always did whenever her father would grab and hit her.

As soon as her back is against the mattress, the fur coat separates in the middle and lies flat on the bed, exposing Aristia’s body under the flimsy nightgown. She wants to cover herself from Chan’s sight, but he gets on top of her and pins her hands apart, looking sharply into her eyes.

“The temerity you have.” He starts, this time no longer smiling, and a chill makes its way towards Aristia’s spine. She’s scared of him, she’s sure of it now, and she’s crossed the line. “Do you think you’re truly an Empress? Let me break it to you: you’re not, and you’ll never be. Never. So, just stay somewhere, quietly and out of my sight, and I’ll leave you be as well. Is that clear?”

Will he hit me like my dad if I oppose him?

“You asked for my hand-”

“No. What I asked for was peace, so don’t flatter yourself. You and that father of yours who claims to be King are only thieves, stealing away our gems and claiming them as yours. But for the sake of peace for my people, I’m willing to turn a blind eye. That’s why you’re here. Of course, a foolish girl like you would have no way of knowing such things.” He spits out. “Do you have any idea how much you disgust me? Kissing you in that church today has easily been the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“You must’ve had an easy life, then.” She blurts out, annoyed with the way he’s patronising her, and something shifts in Chan’s gaze.

“You must be extremely intoxicated to keep talking back to me.”

“Tsk. Not enough.”

“Still keeping your head up after all I’ve said? Fine. Want me to show you that you’re nothing in this place?”

He aggressively rips away her nightgown and her bralette, leaving her exposed under him, and then presses his body on hers, his lips mere centimetres away from her neck.

“You mean nothing to me. You are nothing. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you, and no one would bat an eye. You know why?” He whispers in her ear. “Because I am the Emperor, and you’re merely a tool.”

Aristia doesn’t say anything, her body trembling in fear when Chan separates himself from her.

“Didn’t you notice that I didn’t even let you wear golden jewels today? You are not part of my family. Is that clear to you now? Get the fuck out of my rooms, and don’t come back.”

She listens this time, hugging the fur coat as tightly as possible around her and sprinting to the door, opening it in a rush. She doesn’t even notice that she’s forgotten to pick the crown back up, not that she knew where it fell, anyway.

On the other side, Lee Know and Changbin are guarding the door. As soon as he sees her, Changbin’s expression changes to surprise, while Lee Know’s stays neutral.

Aristia musters up the last bit of dignity she has left, and looks into Changbin’s eyes, commanding him.

“Take me back to my rooms.”

It’s hard to fight back the tears that want to spill from her eyes, but she does so successfully until she’s alone. She heads towards the small balcony attached to her room and glances outside, hugging the fur coat tighter than ever, but doesn’t open the door. She simply looks outside, crying in silence, and tries to focus on something else – anything to take her mind away from her husband who loathes her and the reality of the fact that she’ll have to wake up in this Empire from now on.

Her eyes fall on the countless stars above, that give her a sense of peace. It’s always a humbling experience to watch the Universe and realise how small you are in the grand scheme of things. So, that’s what Aristia does. She just watches the stars dance and sparkle in front of her eyes, mesmerised by their grandeur.

That Arabella bitch was right. The night sky is truly beautiful tonight.

~

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[murfpersonalblog]

This is so cool; omg, monsters are my favorite thing to talk about; thanks for opening this discussion! Long-form content FTW! <3

Other than children's vampires (The Count in Sesame Street & COUNT DUCKULA!!!!!) my introduction to vampires was through Anne Rice. I began reading The Vampire Chronicles when I was around 12 and they were my first 'grown-up' vampires. I didn't read or see a monster-vampire till I eventually saw and read Dracula... but I would have been over 18 by then. By which point, Anne's style of vampire was The style of vampire to me. I know in a theoretical way and in the sense that you know any thing that is a general part of culture that the fully monster-vampire exists and predates Anne's style of vampire. But to me, Anne's style of vampire is *the* vampire as it was the first time I encountered vampires in a completely realised and more complex than a kid's cartoon way and I suppose because of that, I view all other vampires I later encountered through the lens of what Anne's vampires are. How strange. I'd never really thought about it this way, but it is how it is for me... You could say that Anne slightly ruined monster-vampires for me. I desire the longing and the yearning and the eternal feeling that you can never belong and never know the entirety of if existence has any meaning at all... and the sensuality of the blood and of Death and of existence and being alive itself. And so when a vampire is more-beast than this, I'm like "Oh!" :( and I yearn myself for my yearning vampires, hehe!

Amazing. 👏 I was a teen when I started getting heavy into Anne Rice--my aunt was like: I know you love vampires; here's this really great series I know you'll like. Woman changed my life. Anne Rice is my favorite author of all time--she's crazy, but she's also the goat. IWTV was the first time I saw a "human" vampire. Like, Dracula has all these disguises & forms, inc. the suave Gentleman Death, a la Bela Lugosi, but AR was the first time I saw vampires that had extensive human backgrounds & personalities, that affected how they approached vampirism--the time period they lived & died in really affected how they saw & interacted with the world. It's something I don't think fans appreciate enough--what does it mean to be a being who lived & died & was reborn before Jesus was even a thing, in ancient Rome, or Egypt, or Mesopotamia, these "cradles" of civilization? What kind of complexes does that give you, when whole religions of salvation were born out of something you see as damnation? What does vampirism give humans, and what does it take away, if they're still effing miserable? What does it mean to be broke as a joke during the most hedonistic period of Rococo France, then die and get everything you ever wanted?

Like, Lestat's super modern(TM), but all the way to Blood Communion he doesn't give up his Rococo velvet & lace--it's what he feels he deserves & earned, after being raped into Darkness by Magnus; and inheriting all his money & finery to live the life he always wanted as a penniless human.

I mean, doesn't *everyone* feel like they are odd and out of place and like *the other*?

Exactly. Like, Lugosi/Oldman!Dracula wear Victorian tuxedos cuz they wake up in a Victorian period & need to blend in so they can hunt & seduce & kill--and their human faces disguise the abominable demonic forms Oldman!Dracula truly has. It dulls their sharp edges so they seem "safe" & "normal." But AR's Lestat flips that, redefining the Gothic monster. Unlike Dorian Grey, Lestat's no shriveled husk pretending to be hot--his natural form IS beautiful. But it's his flashy clothes that he weaponizes; a power move that allows him to embrace standing out & being unique & a Gothic icon; cuz he DOES feel out-of-place/time, but makes the most of it. It's home to him.

"I was starting to think more of my own life and points of view about existence, and being in Lestat's mind in many of these books gave me another voice with which, in a weird way to discuss my own world-view with. I often agreed with his thinking, and from there I could explore my own thoughts on way more topics. And stuff like these books and the film The Piano, which my Dad had recorded off the telly and unbeknownst to my parents, I used to watch it over and over again (I used to get up at 5am to practise violin and piano as I hated being HEARD and then from around 6:30 I rewarded myself with either listening to music or watching a film, alone, before anyone else woke up!) Anyway, yeah - basically The Vampire Chronicles and The Piano (Oh and Amadeus I watched over and over too!)... and a few other books I read around the time with purely human, but transgressive stories were my sensual awakening. Funny to reflect on, really. I was never all that interested in love. But sensuality and meaning, and existential questions and - I suppose sensual feeling was as close as I got to finding love interesting?"

AR definitely played a part in my exposure to sensuality & love, yup. Like, it wasn't necessarily Vampires As A Genre that did it for me, but rather the Brontes & Jane Austen, plus a heavy dose of Disney & anime love stories. But yeah, TVA was THE sensual/sexual book of AR's for me--book!Armand's struggles just CLICKED with me; I love him so much. 😭

Ghosts were the supernatural beings I was personally obsessed with since I was a tiny child... until I read The Vampire Chronicles.... I ADORED creepy ghost stories, especially of malevolent ghosts wreaking revenge on those who killed them or deserved it, hehe... and I loved to think about both malevolent and benevolent ghosts.) I suppose there's an essence in which you could compare ghosts to Anne Rice style vampires - both immortal beings, with their human feelings mainly intact, and yet an inability to fully integrate with humanity. And I guess I related.

THIS RIGHT HERE IS WHY I LOVE ANNE. Although she's famous for her vamps, IMO her best stories are her ghost stories. The way her mysteries build up & plots unravel, and then there's these big reveals? 🤌 I LOVE the Witching Hour, Blackwood Farm, Servant of the Bones--and then ofc QotD & PLatRoA drop the bombshell that even AR's vampires are just the result of a ghost possession, like.... 🤯

"(I was at one point going to mention witches in here too, but I figured since they're human and this is already long to just avoid witches here!)"

Nonononono--TALK 👏 YOUR 👏 ISH!!!! 👏 It's 100% relevant to vampires, talking about GHOSTS & Amel & his twin witches. Cuz AR's grasp of witchcraft as spirit-summoning rewired my whole brain; how it's invisible ghosts/spirits/"gods" in the aether that affect the elements & see the past/present/future, and pass that arcane knowledge on to their witches thru cannibalism & seances & blood sacrifices--and what happens when a ghost becomes a demon/devil that has those same powers, but are inextricably linked to blood & blood magic...it's effing incredible. As a baby goth, I'd never read something so insightful in my life.

"I used to say I could see ghosts in walls, in the bark of trees, in the glow on my violin strings. I even used to personify things in ghostly ways (I used to imagine street lights were fireflies when you weren't looking - some good, some evil...."

That's such beautiful imagery. And yup, pareidolia's wild; I sometimes think I can see faces in the branches of trees, like the Green Man of the Forest, or Grandmother Willow.

Obviously, Anne Rice's vampires are often monstrous in what they do. But I think (if I can remember my child and teen self) I loved how monstrous acts always reflect back into the monstrous capacity within humans too. Like, I always loved a ghost story where some moral wrongdoing from which someone might have hoped for personal gain (as an example) instead led to death and then the eternal inability to ever solve the lesson now-learned. Or as I said before when a ghosts wreaks their own revenge.

And AR snaps when she has ghost!Claudia, and Garwain Blackwood, and even Amel as ghosts, whom she always first introduces to us as people with human emotion & sentimentality, where we KNOW they have the capacity for goodness...then something goes wrong and they die or whatever, and now you've got a full-fledged demon wreaking havoc. Azriel in Servant of the Bones breaks the mold, cuz he never loses his sense of self & soul; but then you have Memnoch, where you're like WTF is this dude's malfunction?! 😅

But yeah, I can enjoy a werewolf and take that concept a lot more lightly and more monster-y I suppose. And werewolves can have fascinating allegories to human experiences too. And I've watched/read other vampires too (I adore the film of What we do in the Shadows (watched a bit of the series, but didn't continue), and I've seen Buffy and The Vampire diaries... though I was never adoring of either of those...) but yeah... interesting!

Ohhhh, keep watching What We Do In The Shadows! The eps are for the most part anthologies & self-contained, so you can skip around a bit; and sometimes they're hit or miss (I'm not particularly liking Season 6 as much as the others so far, which isn't great, since this is the final season). But like, definitely watch 2x10 "Theatre des Vampires;" they directly parody The Trial from IWTV, it's hilarious.

I found it so interesting to read your comparison of vampires and zombies. For me, I always hated zombies in fiction (speaking of film - I've never read about zombies) because I found the soulless aspect so unnerving. It isn't surprising when you think why I love ghosts and vampires, I suppose. To watch something with zombies gives me this weird, unsettling, sick feeling, like I just want to escape the entire story and am trapped. (Unless a very atypical zombie story!)

I grapple with how I feel about zombies in pop culture, cuz there's been quite a few phases that have redefined them. Zombies are originally from Afro-Haitian culture, where they were directly tied with the concept of the soul/spirit, which a god/witch/priest(ess) could thus control. And some European vampires have similar connections to spirits/souls gone awry. IMO the most "soulful" zombie in pop culture is Frankenstein--in him we see crossovers with undead corpses & the manipulation of the human soul. Modern zombies like in Resident Evil & The Last of Us are mindless corpses; but then there's In the Flesh, where they retain their souls and medicine's created a treatment to keep necrosis/zombification down. They're all still dealing with the Gothic question of what makes a monster, but the genre's devolved & spiraled where zombies tend to only represent The Horde(TM) & apocalypse, rather than as individuals struggling with monstrous immortality. It sucks.

I feel like this was incredibly waffly. Welcome to the stream-of-thought that is my mind! Now I'm curious what style of vampire everyone else perceives all vampires through the lens of!?! Or maybe some people have a multifaceted lens, informed by many different vampire-types?

Waffle away, this was the best thread/poll I've seen in months. <3

Immortal, bloodthirsty creatures that feed on humans - they have sharp fangs and a hatred for sunlight and garlic.

Vampires might not be the hero you typically root for, but they have transfixed us for centuries.

The first short story about the monster written in the English language was John Polidori's The Vampyre in 1819.

More followed, with Bram Stoker's Dracula in 1897 inspiring F.W. Murnau's silent film Nosferatu in 1922. This is now being remade by Robert Eggers and is set to be released in the UK in 2025, starring Bill Skarsgård, Lily-Rose Depp and Nicholas Hoult.

But what's driving our hunger for vampire stories?

For writer and actor Mark Gatiss, his fascination with vampires started early. The co-writer of BBC drama series Sherlock and Dracula has been a "horror obsessive" for as long as he can remember.

Gatiss went on from a childhood love of scary stories to star as Dracula in an audio production, made a documentary on the monster as well as a 2020 BBC series, which sees the Count (played by Claes Bang) venture to London.

He says the opportunity to bring Stoker's iconic vampire to life felt "too good to be true".

"Like Sherlock Holmes, it's an imperishable myth and, really, if anyone gives you the chance to have a go at it - you have to do it," he explains.

Gatiss explains an image of Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes "silhouetted against a doorway when he comes back from the dead with his collar up" helped spark the 2020 Dracula series with Claes Bang

Rolin Jones is an executive producer and a writer on the TV adaptation of Interview with the Vampire, based on Anne Rice's collection of novels.

The series, available on BBC iPlayer, follows vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac (played by Jacob Anderson) who shares the story of his life and relationship with Lestat de Lioncourt (played by Sam Reid) with a journalist.

He explains stories about the vampires "come back over and over again" because they "get in your bones and haunt you," with many raising questions of immortality, death and love.

The modern popularity of the figures can be seen on social media with #vampire having 2.7 million posts on TikTok.

Jones adds that each day he will see more people tattooing the characters' faces on their body, explaining "this is a rabid fan base".

"They're really tense and complex characters", Jones says

'Scared me to death'

While the characteristics of fictional vampires have changed throughout history - some burn to a crisp in the sunlight, others have famously sparkly skin - they have one thing in common: immortality.

Dr Sam George - an associate professor at the University of Hertfordshire who taught students about vampires in fiction - explains that part of the reason the monster endures is because they "get us to think about the big questions that concern us, ideas about ageing" as well as "what happens beyond the grave".

She adds that "the vampire's always been linked very strongly with disease, with contagion," adding that if we look back in history we can see that our interest in the immortal monster seems to pique around times of mass disease.

"When the first fictional vampire appeared in 1819, there was a strong link with tuberculosis," she says.

"Nosferatu is made to actually look like plague rats," Dr George explains

She adds that F.W. Murnau's silent film Nosferatu in 1922, centring on a character famous for the plagued rats he brought in his wake, came shortly after the Spanish influenza pandemic.

The academic adds that this is "really important to why vampires are so popular and on trend now, when you think of Nosferatu and its link to the plague, post Covid we're very interested in the vampire as contagion."

Executive producer Jones adds that a key point of interest for him lies in working out why vampires want to keep living. "You take mortality out of any drama, and it's quite interesting," he says.

Jones adds that Ms Rice herself wrote the novel after losing her daughter and that this sense of "grief and mourning" is "exceptionally articulated" in the book.

'They seduce you'

"There's this allure to them," Jones says of vampires - like Assad Zaman, who plays the vampire Armand and Jacob Anderson, who plays Louis de Pointe du Lac

While vampires may let us play out our fears about mortality and death, Jones adds that there is something else that draws us to the fanged figures.

"They're the sexiest, the most sensual of monsters," he says. "They seduce you."

Jones adds that when he first picked up the novel Interview with the Vampire, "it seemed to me what I was reading was this really repressed and really messy love story."

Dr George agrees, explaining "vampires have gotten younger and better looking over the years" and notes the difference between Nosferatu and Twilight's Edward Cullen (played by Robert Pattinson).

The academic adds there has been "a shift" in the way people read vampire fiction, explaining there has been a lot of interest in the topic of sexuality and vampires, like the "queer family" presented in Ms Rice's novel. 

The combination of love and immortality, Dr George says, is also seen in Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 film Bram Stoker's Dracula, which ran with the tagline "love never dies".

For Dr George, the "sense that the vampire can address a number of questions all at once," from death to love is the reason it stays with us today.

This article made me curious (I haven't put combination of some/all as an option as 100% would vote for it, as of course it isn't just one thing... so I ask the *most* significant thing for you)...

Edit to add that this is very difficult even for me to answer and I created the poll. Now, I'd say existential questions would be my top answer, but when I first read the books, it was the exploration of the outsider/difference I think for me, so perhaps that's the truest answer?

[seaofreverie]

GUUUYYUYSSSD !!!!!

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

KIMONO MY HOUSE VINYL!!!!!!

Also funny story which is that when my brother took these to the cashier he said something like "oh... Sparks... they were here one year ago"

[fidgetspringer]

It’s fox terrier timeeeee, what are doing???

Her name would be Teak!

We'd probably try to find someone doing barn hunt over here, which i'm not sure is a thing. She'd be my hot water bottle during the winter and she'd nip at people when we go sledding.

[spectrearia]

God is so good. miracles are real and prayer is so, so powerful 😭💕

[tojiscrack]

WHOO HWKKWNE A 20.06k YAYYAYA i’m not sleeping when it comes out

(meet frank)!

22k now that we mention it 😭 it’s 2:22am where i live rn, so i’ll continue writing tmr but school’s starting again so it’ll be a little harder to continue. it’s the most important year for me since i’ll be applying for uni now 😟

but i recommend you get a GOOD night’s sleep BEFORE it’s released bcz it’s a long one with soo many things going on.

on another note, i’m here for the support and it motivates me more than you know :)))

hi frank! 🤭

[runefactorynonsense]

Cozytober - Day 31 - Feast (for my eyes!)

🎃Happy Halloween , 2023 🎃

[anotherfandomtrash]

Soooooooo, out of curiosity I've tried to draw some girls from WaP by their actual descriptions from the book. The art itself without any text is under the cut